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“Look,” Landon whispered, cutting into her thoughts. He gestured with his chin toward the security guards exiting the stairwell—empty-handed. Two men fanned out and walked the club’s perimeter while the third held up a tutu—her tutu—and inspected it.
Landon planted a kiss on her cheek. “Give me a second, bonbon,” he said, then jogged over to the man.
What was he doing? They were in the clear.
She watched in horror as he greeted the man, then gestured to the smattering of tutu-wearing women on the dance floor. Barely able to breathe, she observed the exchange. They spoke some more before the big guard handed Landon the tutu.
Score!
He strutted toward her and raised the tutu triumphantly.
“Are you crazy? What if they recognized you?” she asked, accepting the garment.
“I told them I was with the wedding party and would be sure to return this to the bridesmaid who’dmisplacedit.”
She pressed the brown material to her chest. “You didn’t have to do that. It was a thrift store tutu.”
He touched her cheek. “Yeah, I did. You said you loved that tutu.”
“I do-do,” she sang like a total weirdo, but it made Landon smile.
Her heart swelled. She couldn’t let this gesture go to her head.
All the man had done was retrieve the tutu he’d ripped off her to screw her into oblivion.
No, it was more than that. He cared enough to risk getting caught.
And there it was again—the kernel of hope warming her chest.
“Thank you, heartthrob,” she said, and she meant it.
She’d promised herself she’d never swoon over a man again, but God help her, Landon Paige was wearing her down. She leaned forward, prepared to kiss him until her lips went numb, when she shifted on the stool. “What the heck am I sitting on?”
His body vibrated with laughter. “That would be my face.”
She gave him a healthy dose of stink eye. “I think I would know if I was sitting on your face.”
A dirty grin stretched across his lips. “You would know. I guarantee it. Stand up. I’ll show you. There’s a design on the pillow.”
She hopped off the stool. “Do you make it a habit to carry a pillow around Vegas with you?”
“It was a gift from a fan.”
She narrowed her gaze, trying to decipher a design stitched on the pillow. “What is that? I need a little more light to see.”
“Let’s head to the lobby. I think we’ve worn out our welcome here.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and they left the club.
The Luxe Grandiose lobby still buzzed with activity. She turned the cushion around in her hands, then busted out laughing.
“Wow, this is kind of creepy yet really well made.” She glanced at him, then ran her hand across the meticulous design. “It says a lot about you that your fans connect with your music. It’s the greatest gift a performer can get.”
He could do that. She already knew this because he’d done it with her.
A blush graced his cheeks. “The fan told me she made two pillows. One for me and one for her to sit on when she eats burritos.”
She tried to keep a straight face. “A woman out there eats burritos while sitting on your pillow face?”
His pink cheeks bloomed scarlet. “Apparently,” he answered as they dissolved into another round of giggles.
