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Hank. Of course, he had to have been her rescuer.
Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she tried to wriggle free. His heat seeped through the thin material of her navy-blue wrap dress. Although it was closed tight, allowing only a sliver of skin to show, Beth felt exposed and vulnerable. As she looked up into his hazel eyes, the world stopping turning. Deep worry lines carved crevices into his forehead.
“Not a good idea unless you want to fall flat on your face.” He pulled her tighter against his hard body.
Unable to stop herself, she brushed a thumb across his warm brow, and the wrinkles smoothed beneath her caress. A thrill skittered down her spine. Why did she always fight the attraction? Damned if she could remember. She wiggled closer to him, brushing against the growing bulge in his pants.
His fingers flexed against the curve of her waist. “Be careful, Beth.”
“Why? I'm careful too much.” She rubbed her hand against his hard biceps.
“But you aren't in the condition to deliver on the promises your delicious body is making to mine,” he whispered in her ear.
He was right, but the instant rejection stung nonetheless. “Oh, look who's got sh-tandards all the shudden.”
“Honey, you look near comatose. Any other time…”
His gruff voice sounded far too close to her ear, and she couldn't deny the hot surge of want, but she sure as hell didn't need his help. Determined to make it to her hotel on her own, she pushed away. The move set her off balance, and she stumbled backward. Hank yanked her upright.
“Seems you save damsels in distress even
when you're out of your jurisdiction, Sheriff.” Ed Webster turned to Beth. “Are you okay?”
Hank twisted to face her senior partner, and heat climbed up Beth's cheeks as she faced the superior smirks on three of the firm's junior partners. Phil Harris, Mason Carter and Charles McMillian chuckled and sipped their bourbon.
“Nice one,” Mason said.
Phil slapped Mason on the back. “Yeah, where's your posse, Sheriff?”
“Cut it out, you two.” Concern wrinkled Ed’s brow. “Do you need some help?”
Ed was the last person Beth wanted to witness her humiliation. Well, make that second-to-last.
Hank effortlessly turned Beth toward the door, moved a hand to the small of her back and guided her forward. “See ya later, Ed.”
They wove their way through the throng of people. Hank's large hand pressed firmly against her lower back, bedeviling her nerves and making her knees quake for reasons that had nothing to do with champagne and everything to do with lust.
Dry desert air enveloped Beth after the club's automatic doors swished closed behind them. She staggered to the line for a cab and stumbled into Hank's arms. Her breasts pressed against his wide chest, her head on his shoulder. The woodsy amber scent of his cologne took her back to that summer night before her junior year in college.
His hands had skimmed over her bare skin above her jeans. His kiss had consumed her, a dream come true for the geek who'd worshiped him since she was twelve years old. She'd never forget the pop, pop, pop of her button-fly jeans being pulled open. When only one button remained, she’d told him she was a virgin. He’d stopped, telling her that he couldn’t do it and adding some bullshit about it being the right thing to do.
Hank pushed her upright. “Just how much did you drink tonight?”
Seeing three of him, she focused on the one in the middle. “Jusss one.”
The raised eyebrows on the three Hanks said plainly he didn't believe her.
Beth stomped her foot, the action making her list to one side. “Is true you jig berk.” That didn't come out right. “I mean big jerk.”
“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.” Hank glanced over her shoulder. “OK, here's the cab. Which hotel are you at?”
She blanked out on the hotel's name. Fumbling for a way to describe it, she leaned forward and played with his shirt collar. “Has a fountain and a big, soft bed.”
Chapter Ten
The arrival of the yellow cab saved Hank from the mental image of a naked Beth lain out on silk sheets in a huge bed. He poured her lithe frame into the back of the cab and slid in beside her.
Only one hotel on the Las Vegas strip fit her description. “Bellagio, please,” he told the driver.
