She reached over to grab her purse then did one last sweep of the room.
A man towered in the entrance with an authoritative power that shot tingles down her spine. Like a deer caught in the headlights, she sensed a predator and stilled. Please don’t let this be my date.
He met her gaze head on.
Oh, God.
He looked like Thor.
Her eyes widened. He easily stood over six feet, with massive shoulders and muscled arms that seemed able to rip a tree out of the ground. Thick white-blond hair tumbled over his brow, a little long and shaggy around the edges. His face was a contradiction of hard and soft with a strong jaw, slashing cheekbones, and full lips. Black pants and a silk button down shirt only accented his power. Energy shimmered around him and pumped up the room. There probably wasn’t a female within miles who didn’t bend to his unconscious male will. The group by the bar halted their conversation to stare.
Her heart stopped—then pounded against her chest in something close to a panic attack. It was him. Why did he look so different in his picture? There was no way she’d spend a night with him. He’d tear her apart.
She reached down and gripped the edge of the table. Breathe. She’d talk to him for a few minutes, explain she changed her mind, and walk away. Who cared if he was literally sex-on-a-stick? No way would she sleep with someone more attractive than her. With her fat ass and scars, she needed someone to ease her into the experience, someone with gentleness and compassion. Not Thor, who’d burn up her panties in seconds and have her running in terror for the door. Her ex had ruined her for normal sex. She’d be lucky to get through the experience without flinching, and no way did she want to embarrass herself with this man.
He walked over.
She cleared her throat and forced herself to appear calm.
“Tara Denton?” His question was more of a command.
She had no spit left when she opened her mouth to answer, and managed only a squeak. “Yes.”
“Good. I’m Rick Steele.” His green-gold eyes gentled as he pulled back a stool and took a seat. “Don’t you like your drink? I’d be happy to get you another.”
She looked down at her barely touched concoction and shook her head. “This is fine, thank you.” She took a large sip and swallowed, as if proving her point. The sweetness was a bit cloying on her tongue, but the vodka burned hot down her throat. Since she rarely drank, she fought a cough, determined to act cool. The slight curl of his lip told her she’d failed.
He signaled the waiter over and ordered a beer. She forced her gaze upward, away from the large fingers inches from her own. Fingers that looked talented. Her cheeks heated at the sudden image of his hands gripping her hips as he thrust inside of her. She took a deep breath and discreetly wiped her damp palms on her skirt. “Well, Mr. Steele–”
“Rick.” Another quirk of amusement curved his lip. “I think we should at least be on a first name basis, don’t you?”
His drawl reminded her of smoke, sex, and sweat. She folded and refolded the cocktail napkin so she didn’t pick her fingers and ruin her new manicure. “Oh, yes, of course. Well, I just wanted to let you know it will be perfectly acceptable if you’d like to cancel. I’m not sure if you saw my photo or read my requirements, but I understand if you decide to leave after our drinks.”
He took a long pull of his beer, then pushed away from the table and studied her with interest. “You don’t like me?”
She sputtered with embarrassment. “God, no! I mean, you seem fine. You’re attractive, and I’m sure you’re experienced. But this is new to me. I just don’t think I’m the type you expected for this, for a….”
“One-night stand?”
“Yes, that’s right.” She nodded again and cleared her throat. “Please don’t feel bad. I appreciate you meeting me.”
One brow shot up. “That’s quite polite of you. But unnecessary.” A wolfish grin transformed his face. A rush of sexual heat squeezed through her blood and settled between her thighs in an ache. “You see, I’m just counting the minutes until I get you into bed.”
The breath whooshed out of her lungs. She blinked in confusion. Had she heard him correctly? No, he seemed to be staring at her with an open sort of...hunger. Nerves and arousal mingled and fought for dominance. She took another gulp of her drink then looked him squarely in the eye. “Why?”
He laughed. The sound drifted across her ears in a caress, and her tummy dipped. She squirmed on the narrow seat. What’s happening to me? Her body revved like a race car ready to shoot from the starting gate. She’d specifically requested a gentle, unassuming man who could slowly introduce her again to the art of lovemaking. How long had it been since she’d desired a man? Most of the time she needed to force herself out of the physical deep freeze with her vibrator. With her ex, sex followed a beating, so she’d learned not to anticipate it. Men usually caused a fear within her that drained away any lingering passion.
But not Rick Steele.
Hell, he’d probably command her body and soul if he got the chance. His dominant personality leaked from his every pore. Why on earth would this type of man ever be attracted to me?
She waited with curiosity for his response.
“I think the question is more like why wouldn’t I? You have a figure to die for, and in a matter of two minutes, you’ve made me laugh. Let’s just say I’m dying to find out how many shades of blue your eyes will turn when I thrust between your thighs.”
Hot color flooded her face. She shook her head and steeled herself to face the truth. Maybe Madame Eve hadn’t told him. Damn it, she’d thought the man meeting her would know a bit about her past and what he’d walked into. She gritted her teeth and lifted her chin in pride. “I’m sorry, but you must not have heard. I don’t…I don’t have a good body. Something happened to me and I have several deep scars that are quite…well, ugly. The man I met tonight was supposed to know that.”
His tawny eyes turned ice cold and his voice lashed like a whip across tender flesh. “I know about your scars. I will not allow you to call them ugly again in my presence. Scars are the evidence of survival and life. Now, I’d suggest we continue this conversation in my suite.”
He dropped a few bills on the table, stood and offered his hand.
Seconds ticked by. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. Her gut screamed in warning. The moment she touched him, she’d lose all control over the date, and be led down a path Frost would term ‘the road less traveled.’
She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her out.
Chapter Two
The door clicked shut behind them.
Rick stepped back and let her gain her bearings. Jackson had set him up with the luxury suite for agreeing to meet Tara, and the opulence stunned most newcomers. He watched with amusement as she tried not to let her eyes pop out of her head. Her gaze swept over the rich burgundy carpeting, expensive watercolors, and 14-carat gold trim on the walls. The living area showcased a series of plush cream sofas with plump pillows, a large wet bar, and a private balcony that overlooked the entire skyline of Vegas. The tables were burnished mahogany and held endless vases of exotic blooms, their scent curling into the air in sensual abandon. Through the hallway, the bedroom beckoned. The oversized king bed, covered with a spread of rich silvers and gold, sat so high he’d need to lift her up. The image of her stretched naked on it teased him mercilessly. He imagined milky skin and gorgeous strawberry blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, her aqua blue eyes begging him to take her.