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I can’t tell my dad I know West. I sure as hell can’t confess to sleeping with the man in Las Vegas, not after what happened the last time I was there.
I push back from my chair and stand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Weston. As much as I hate admitting this in front of my father, I’m not opposed to day drinking.”
My dad and Trent both let out a laugh.
West doesn’t.
He doubles down. “We’ve met before.”
I shake my head and lie through my teeth. “We haven’t.”
“I have the extra glass,” Hal announces as he steps into the conference room. “You’re all set.”
West looks back at Hal before he turns toward me again. “I didn’t get your name.”
“Linny,” I say quietly. “I’m Linny Faye.”
West reaches out his hand. “I look forward to working with you, Linny.”
I hesitate before I take his hand in mine, knowing that my body is going to react. My nipples are already hard and aching from the sound
of his voice and the look in his eyes.
The moment I feel my hand brush his, wild desire races through me. I pull back and close my eyes to try and quiet the need to touch more of him.
“It’s time to toast. Everyone grab a glass.” Mitchell’s voice cuts through the air.
I take a deep breath and open my eyes to find West smiling with two shot glasses in his hands. He offers one to me. I try to calm my shaking hand as I reach for it but it’s futile.
He lifts his glass in the air, clinking it against mine. “To Vegas nights and New York days. Both are better with…”
“Rizon vanilla vodka,” Trent interrupts.
I bring my glass to my lips and down the vodka in one swallow.
West watches intently, waiting until I place the glass down on the table before he leans closer and whispers, “Both are better with an angel.”
My heart thuds as I look past him to where my dad, Mitchell, and Trent are gathered in a huddle pouring another round.
“I know it’s you,” West says smoothly. “You’re a woman no man could ever forget.”
Chapter 15
Jeremy
She’s ignored me throughout this meeting.
The beautiful woman I fucked two months ago in Las Vegas is acting like she doesn’t know me.
She’s doing a piss poor job of it.
Her hair is a shade darker than it was the night we met and the eyeglasses she’s wearing shield her gorgeous green eyes and long lashes, but I’d know her anywhere.
Everything about her is unforgettable. I have zero doubt in my mind that my Vegas angel is sitting across this conference table from me chewing on the end of a pen while Mitchell Bilton lays out some bullshit, lackluster plan to launch my vanilla vodka.
“I’m interested in hearing Linny’s ideas,” I interrupt Mitchell mid-sentence because I know what a goddamn television is and I’m not interested in paying hundreds of thousands of dollars to produce a thirty-second spot to air on a network channel during a game show that most of the population has never tuned into.
“I wasn’t finished,” Mitchell whines.
