was feeling relaxed, feeling the effects of the champagne and having a really nice time when Dallas walked up to the group. He was wearing black jeans, black ostrich boots, a black western-cut sport coat over a pale blue shirt, and his usual black felt hat, though this one wasn’t sweat-stained and dusty and was obviously a lot more expensive, something like a twenty X beaver.
He looked good. Too damned good.
“I thought I’d be here sooner. I got tied up with the Tony Llama commercial. Those things are harder than they look.”
But she bet he was great in the ad, like the Marlboro man with Paul Newman eyes, only younger and even better-looking.
“So, how’s the party?” he asked, his attention swinging to her.
“So far it’s been interesting.” Patience surveyed the growing array of guests, everyone from wealthy local types to tall, blond showgirls. The Las Vegas night never ended and apparently no one thought a thing about arriving at midnight.
“Greenwood spares no expense,” Dallas said, his gaze following hers. “It gets pretty wild as the evening goes on, but it’s always entertaining.” For the first time he noticed what she was wearing and the drink in his hand paused on its journey to his lips. “Sweet Mother Mary.”
Color poured into her cheeks. “I, um…wasn’t exactly sure what to wear.”
His gaze dropped to her boots, slowly traveled the length of her legs, paused a moment on her breasts, then returned to her face. “You did just fine, darlin’. Just don’t get too close to poor old Roy. You’re liable to give him a heart attack.”
Darlin’. It rolled off his tongue as sweet as maple syrup and her stomach floated up beneath her ribs. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.
“You want to dance?”
She cast him a slightly wary glance, remembering the last time they had danced together.
As if he read her mind, a corner of his mouth edged up. “I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
The area in front of the band was crowded, but they were playing a nice slow Willie Nelson song, and she found herself looking up at him and nodding. “All right.”
His hand captured hers and he led her toward the dance floor. He pulled her into his arms, but not too close, determined, it seemed, to keep his word. Couples were moving in a slow circle and Dallas fell into the rhythm with ease. She liked his cologne, something that reminded her of spice and leather mingled with a sexy male scent that was Dallas’s own.
Her pulse kicked up. She tried to tell herself the man had no effect on her, but her heart was pounding and she was sure any minute her palms would begin to sweat.
“I’ve never been to Las Vegas before,” she said, hoping to hide her nervousness. “It’s really an amazing place.”
Dallas’s gaze flicked over the throng of partygoers in their psuedo-cowboy clothes. “You can say that again.”
“The town hasn’t really been here all that long, you know. It was discovered back in 1829 by a man named Rafael Rivera who was looking for water on a trip to Los Angeles. Rivera found an aquifer here. He named it Las Vegas. That means—”
“The meadow.” Dallas smiled at the look on her face. “Everyone in Texas speaks a little Spanish.” He turned her gently around a corner of the dance floor and pulled her a little closer. “You were telling me about Vegas.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t mean to get started. I doubt you’re really interested.”
“Sure I am.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“All right. Well, the Mormons came in the 1850s, but the conditions were too harsh and they didn’t last long. It was the railroad that finally put Las Vegas on the map.” She grinned. “And Bugsy Siegel, of course.”
Dallas flashed one of his devastating smiles. “How come you know so much about western history?”
She shrugged and glanced away. “I guess I watched too many John Wayne movies when I was a kid.”
“I didn’t know there was such a thing as
He looked good. Too damned good.
“I thought I’d be here sooner. I got tied up with the Tony Llama commercial. Those things are harder than they look.”
But she bet he was great in the ad, like the Marlboro man with Paul Newman eyes, only younger and even better-looking.
“So, how’s the party?” he asked, his attention swinging to her.
“So far it’s been interesting.” Patience surveyed the growing array of guests, everyone from wealthy local types to tall, blond showgirls. The Las Vegas night never ended and apparently no one thought a thing about arriving at midnight.
“Greenwood spares no expense,” Dallas said, his gaze following hers. “It gets pretty wild as the evening goes on, but it’s always entertaining.” For the first time he noticed what she was wearing and the drink in his hand paused on its journey to his lips. “Sweet Mother Mary.”
Color poured into her cheeks. “I, um…wasn’t exactly sure what to wear.”
His gaze dropped to her boots, slowly traveled the length of her legs, paused a moment on her breasts, then returned to her face. “You did just fine, darlin’. Just don’t get too close to poor old Roy. You’re liable to give him a heart attack.”
Darlin’. It rolled off his tongue as sweet as maple syrup and her stomach floated up beneath her ribs. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.
“You want to dance?”
She cast him a slightly wary glance, remembering the last time they had danced together.
As if he read her mind, a corner of his mouth edged up. “I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
The area in front of the band was crowded, but they were playing a nice slow Willie Nelson song, and she found herself looking up at him and nodding. “All right.”
His hand captured hers and he led her toward the dance floor. He pulled her into his arms, but not too close, determined, it seemed, to keep his word. Couples were moving in a slow circle and Dallas fell into the rhythm with ease. She liked his cologne, something that reminded her of spice and leather mingled with a sexy male scent that was Dallas’s own.
Her pulse kicked up. She tried to tell herself the man had no effect on her, but her heart was pounding and she was sure any minute her palms would begin to sweat.
“I’ve never been to Las Vegas before,” she said, hoping to hide her nervousness. “It’s really an amazing place.”
Dallas’s gaze flicked over the throng of partygoers in their psuedo-cowboy clothes. “You can say that again.”
“The town hasn’t really been here all that long, you know. It was discovered back in 1829 by a man named Rafael Rivera who was looking for water on a trip to Los Angeles. Rivera found an aquifer here. He named it Las Vegas. That means—”
“The meadow.” Dallas smiled at the look on her face. “Everyone in Texas speaks a little Spanish.” He turned her gently around a corner of the dance floor and pulled her a little closer. “You were telling me about Vegas.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t mean to get started. I doubt you’re really interested.”
“Sure I am.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“All right. Well, the Mormons came in the 1850s, but the conditions were too harsh and they didn’t last long. It was the railroad that finally put Las Vegas on the map.” She grinned. “And Bugsy Siegel, of course.”
Dallas flashed one of his devastating smiles. “How come you know so much about western history?”
She shrugged and glanced away. “I guess I watched too many John Wayne movies when I was a kid.”
“I didn’t know there was such a thing as
Similar Books
