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He hit send, then turned off his cell and slipped it into his pocket.
He returned his attention to Harper, and a dizzying current raced through his body. He’d had a strong reaction to her presence in the past, but it was nothing like this.
Why was that?
The answer hit him like a Mack truck.
He’d never had her all to himself. They’d been physically together plenty of times, but they’d always been in a group buffered by their friends.
This encounter was different.
Tonight, she was alone in Las Vegas. It was only the two of them in a city built for sin.
He zeroed in on the beguiling brunette, then frowned.
What the hell was she wearing?
Was that a brown tutu?
And what shapes were printed on her tiny top?
He squinted.
Were those bonbons?
And why was she wearing a sash like she’d nabbed the grand prize in a beauty contest?
He scanned the club and spied a group of women dressed like sexy ballerinas.
Was this a piano teacher thing? Did they moonlight as sexy, club-hopping, techno-loving dancers?
She turned, and he noticed something in her hands.
A lollipop?
Was she a sexy, club-hopping, bonbon-wearing, candy-eating ballerina on the down-low?
She lowered her arms, licked the treat, then slid the candy into her mouth.
And holy shit! Whatever she was, it triggered his entire blood supply to head south in one hell of a hurry. Harper Presley dressed like sexy chocolate and indulging in a lollipop while dancing like a sensual goddess had him hard in seconds.
But he wasn’t the only one who noticed her.
A man on the dance floor moved in. This sweaty, Don Juan wannabe with one too many buttons undone on his shirt came up from behind and gripped her hips, grinding into her tutu-covered ass.
Who the hell did this guy think he was?
Despite the darkness, all he saw was red.
Harper swatted the dude’s hands away. She didn’t seem too bothered by the guy, but he didn’t take the hint. He tried again and rested his hand on the small of her back. This got her attention, and she turned on a dime. Her serene musical goddess expression made way for a look he knew well. She glared up at the guy, then tried to push him away. But he didn’t budge. Instead, he gripped her wrist and pulled her to his chest.
This prick just made the biggest mistake of his life.
The thumping bass faded along with the rise and fall of the house music. He couldn’t hear anything besides the blood pounding in his ears. It was as if his sense of sight had funneled power away from his other senses. He left the cushion on a barstool and closed the distance between himself and the jerk manhandling Harper.
He rested his hand on the guy’s shoulder and dug his fingertips into the man’s skin. “Get your hands off of her,” he snarled.
The guy shifted his stance, taking Harper with him in a clumsy turn. “Who the hell are you?” the guy slurred. He was a run-of-the-mill drunken Vegas tourist reeking of cologne, cigars, and alcohol.
