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But the woman was just too goddamn smart. Even after four bourbons, her brain was working well enough for her to say, “Wait. Adam, how does Maurice Knoll fit into your Five Step Process? You didn’t say anything about diamond smugglers. Or anything like this at all. This project is a complete anomaly for you, isn’t it?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Yes.”
She cocked her head. “So...why?”
He was suddenly angry at everything. Angry at himself that he’d told her too much. Angry at her for looking interested and sympathetic and so damn beautiful.
He stood and threw some cash on the table. “Because Knoll’s not the only one with debts to pay, okay, Blondie? Don’t ask me about it again.”
* * *
Jess woke up feeling hungover and sorry for herself. Another marathon shower in the fabulous Wynn bathroom and three Advil did wonders for the headache, but little for her bruised feelings and unsatisfied body. She pulled on the hotel’s white terry cloth robe and climbed back into bed.
Last night had not gone as she thought it would. After Adam tailed her to the tango show and they agreed to meet at the dive bar, she’d been ninety-five percent sure they’d end up in bed together. The 5% uncertainty was in case she chickened out. But he had been the one to walk away. After he’d snapped at her and thrown money on the table, he hadn’t spoken to her again. He watched to make sure she got a cab safely, but that was it.
The worst part was that it was her own fault. I pushed too hard. She wasn’t under any illusions here. She and Adam weren’t living in some sexy fairy tale. She just got carried away with all the sharing and laughing. She almost never talked about her family, and she doubted he routinely explained how he thrived as thief. Early on in the conversation, she realized that he didn’t want to discuss his uncle...but he did, at least a little. He seemed to need to connect as much as she did, if only briefly. Yet she’d still managed to kill their flirtatious fun a little later on. If she hadn’t been feeling so close to him, she never would have pried about his motivations for robbing Knoll. Damn it.
It wasn’t any of her business anyway...or was it? He knew why she was desperate to bust Knoll with the diamonds. If they were really partners, why shouldn’t she know why he was so desperate to take the diamonds from Knoll? Why this job when it was so different from his typical targets?
Sexually frustrated and wide awake, the question wouldn’t leave her mind. So, she did what she always did with a puzzle—she pulled out her laptop. It took her longer than usual because of the bourbon, but by 3:00 am, she was pretty sure she knew why Adam was so focused on Knoll. But finding the answer didn’t satisfy her like solving puzzles usually did. She had a feeling that only one particular activity would bring her satisfaction right now. A naked, sweaty activity. With one particular person. She huffed a breath and flopped back against her pillow.
Sleeping with him wouldn’
t have been smart. But she would have bet everything in her pathetic bank account that it would have been good. Her life was sorely in need of a little good. What was the worst that could happen anyway? She’d never tell anyone about this interlude of her life. No one would believe it anyway.
Maybe she’d get another chance. Maybe they’d stay in Vegas another night. It wasn’t like either of them had a normal job to rush back to. The idea perked her up enough so that she brushed her teeth and blew dry her hair.
She was trying to decide what to wear when someone knocked on her door. Looking through the peephole, she saw Adam’s face under a gray hoodie. Just seeing him was the equivalent of someone giving her spirits a shot of adrenaline. Instead of feeling gray and hungover, she felt buoyant and fizzy.
She opened the door. “You’re the Unabomber today?”
He walked in and took a seat on the couch. “Don’t knock the classics. It’s low tech, yet strangely effective.”
Wondering why he hadn’t just let himself in as he had every other time, Jess fidgeted with the belt on her robe. “What’s up?”
“Knoll and Sedarno both left Vegas this morning, so our work here is done.” He put a small jump drive on the coffee table. “I made a copy of their golf cart conversation for you. Also got you a ticket on the first flight back to Chicago that had a first-class seat open, which unfortunately, isn’t until the red eye tonight.”
He shuffled on the seat, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’ll call you in a week or so and we can talk about the recording.”
Jess sat on the bed, all fizziness gone. “You’re not on the flight with me?”
“No. I have a job in Nashville on Wednesday. I’m going to hang around here for another day or two and then fly straight there.” His voice was bland, like he was discussing travel with his dry cleaner.
Well now, this all felt very familiar. Painful, but familiar. She was entirely used to men not wanting her around. Her father, her brothers. Hell, her goddamn boss took money to get rid of her.
If she’d wanted to, she could have put her poker face up and said a cheery “Goodbye then!” And he’d never know how close she was to either crying or punching him. So—she didn’t. She didn’t say anything at all, but she let her face and her eyes do the talking.
He rose immediately and took a half step toward her. “What’s wrong? Why are you sad?”
“I’m not sad,” she snapped. “I’m disappointed.”
The pissy tone took him back a step. “Why are you disappointed?”
Oh please. She let her eyes wander over his legs, his mid-section, his chest, his mouth. When she finally got to his eyes, she was pleased to see them dilated. “Why do you think?” she bit out.
His nostrils flared. “I’m no good for you, Blondie.”
“Thank you for that shocking announcement,” she said, sarcasm coloring her voice so heavily it almost didn’t sound like hers.
