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But she didn’t want to look like death warmed over, either.
She washed her face with a damp paper towel and re-applied her makeup, slicking her lips with a sheen of cherry red. The tired blond waves of her hair were beyond recovery. She frowned, held her hair up off her neck, then twisted it up into a messy bun, fiddled a few pencils from her purse, and used them to pin her hair into place. It left her with a tumbled spray that looked as if she’d deliberately left it this messy, falling artfully into her face and wisping out from the bun. It would have to do.
Her reflection looked back at her with lips pinched in disapproval. What was she doing? It had been years since she’d tried to look good for a date…or for a man. Part of her had died with Michael. The part that made her feel like a woman. She wasn’t sure what was looking back at her from the mirror with wide, worried eyes: a woman or an androgynous business professional.
She shrugged out of her jacket, tossed it onto her desk chair, and flicked open the top two buttons of her blouse. A woman. Tonight she would be a woman, and even if she wasn’t really dressed for a date, at least she looked a little less uptight.
Though she wouldn’t let him past her defenses.
He had an agenda and she was part of it. This was simply another kind of business. Men like him knew how to schmooze, and thought their abs, shoulders, and cocks were just more bargaining chips on the boardroom table. He’d try to bag her and the deal all in one.
She squared her shoulders and slipped out through the casino and to the door. The hot Vegas evening opened before her like a sweltering, wet mouth. She perched her sunglasses on her nose. A few feet ahead, a man stood with his back to her, motionless beneath the shadow of the walkway’s overhang. Even from the back, she recognized him. The way he carried himself was distinctive. Underneath that practiced slickness was a certain grave, quiet authority and a brooding restlessness that spoke louder than the glib spiel he’d trotted out over lunch.
His white dress shirt clung to his back and biceps. She wondered if he’d done that on purpose. Dazzled her. Taunted her with the hard lines of his body. Made her want him until she wasn’t thinking about anything else.
If he thought she’d stammer and drool her way through dinner, he had another thing coming.
She lifted her chin and strode forward. She would get through this evening with dignity. “Thomas.”
He tensed, then turned. “Brianna.”
His gaze roamed her body, darkening with each moment, heated. When his eyes met hers again, the molten intensity there stole her voice and ran titillating fingers down her spine. He had this down to an art form, didn’t he? Slick.
“You look lovely,” he said.
“I’m wearing the exact same thing I had on at lunch.”
; “A little less of it, actually.” He smiled, but something about it caught her. It wasn’t a real smile. It was too smooth, too practiced.
She tilted her head, studying him. He was smiling because it was appropriate at the moment, she thought. Not because he meant it.
He raked another look over her. “But if you’re that worried, we can swing by your place—”
“No.” Her heart seized. She forcibly lowered her voice and took a slow breath. “I mean, no. I’m fine, really. There’s no need.”
His brows rose with a subtly mocking tilt. “I’m not a serial killer. You can show me your house without fearing I’ll come back and kill you in your sleep.”
“I’m sure Ted Bundy said the same.” No way he was getting inside her house.
“I don’t think Ted Bundy would be able to bring himself to ruin your beauty.”
Oh, God. Was it going to be one of those nights? Brianna sighed. “That is the worst line I’ve ever heard.”
“Then you haven’t heard the rest of my repertoire.” This time his small, withdrawn smile was a touch more genuine. “But it got you to relax a little bit.”
She couldn’t stop her laugh. “Yes, it did.” She glanced at the door of the casino. “If you’ll come inside, I can give you the tour.”
“No need. I checked out the layout earlier. A little mystery shopping just to get the lay of the battlefield.”
“I didn’t even see you. When did you—?”
He caught her chin in his fingers and tipped her face up to his. Her voice shriveled in her throat. His eyes glittered in the descending red-gold twilight. “I told you when I want something, I’ll go after it. I want this account. And I want you.”
She swallowed. Her throat was as dry as the desert. “You can’t have us both.”
“We shall see.”
