Hot on His Heels (What Happens in Vegas) Page 3

  “No. Maybe tonight, when it cools off a little.” Sadie erased a word and replaced it with a better one. “I’d rather stay here and work on my book.”

  “You are such an old lady.” Offsetting the harsh words by blowing a kiss over her shoulder, Amelia checked herself in the mirror one last time, then pulled the door open.

  “Drink lots of water,” Sadie called out as her friend stepped out into the hall.

  “Yes, Granny.” The words echoed back from the hallway.

  Sadie stared at the words on the computer screen in front of her.

  Nope. It was no good. She wouldn’t be able to finish this chapter unless she had Jocelyn Dellarivier’s input.

  Until I have Jocelyn’s input, she corrected herself silently.

  In the meantime, though, she could try to track down other editors to get their takes on the issue of feminism in romance novels.

  Even though she was convinced that no one would truly get it the way Jocelyn would.

  In any case, she could go hang out in the bar and scan name tags until she saw an agent or editor. Or maybe an author Sadie used in her book.

  Ugh. She really needed Amelia here to break the ice with people. Sadie knew that she came across as stiff and unfriendly, no matter how hard she tried. Her teaching evaluations almost always included some version of “once she warms up, Professor Quinn is wonderful.”

  With a silent curse, she went into the bathroom to tug a brush through her hair, trying to tame it back into a sleek chignon.

  More like a scraggly bun. She stared at it critically. Oh well.

  Straightening her shoulders, she began the usual pep talk that came with going out alone.

  You are a professional adult. You stand up in front of classes to give talks all the time. This is no different. It’s simply discussing things one-on-one instead of in a large group.

  How was it that she could be terrified of individual interactions, when giving public presentations topped the list of most people’s fears?

  These authors are here to meet readers, she reminded herself. They don’t come to a conference to hide from readers.

  So why did Jocelyn Dellarivier stay incognito at these things?

  From where it was charging beside the computer, Sadie’s phone jingled—the tone she had set to alert her whenever Jocelyn posted something. She almost leaped over the chair to reach it and read the tweet: Headed to the bar. Drinks with some of my favorite girls!

  Well. That felt like karma. Or kismet. She always got those two confused.

  Either way, it felt like the universe was giving her a shove to go down to the bar and see what she could figure out about getting interviews from some of these people.

  Wrapping her soft gray sweater around her shoulders, Sadie slipped on her flats and headed out the door.

  …

  The instant he pressed send on his phone, Jake regretted the tweet.

  Granted, he had agreed to participate in Kamille’s scheme to make Jocelyn more visible on social media, but he hadn’t planned to limit his own life in the process. He hadn’t actually meant to go to the hotel bar, but now that he had posted it to Twitter, he really did want a drink. Several drinks.

  He’d skipped out of a set of panels to work on the book he needed to get back to an author as soon as possible. But now he had been staring at the manuscript for over an hour and hardly managed to make any useful comments at all.

  Screw it. He could take a break—go down to the bar, have a drink, relax a little, then come back up and finish his work.

  It’s not like anyone knows who I really am. I’m just Kamille’s assistant. No one suspects anything. Why would they?

  Of course, if he continued to broadcast all his moves to the world at large, someone might actually figure out who he really was.

  Like the professor with the amazing eyes and porcelain skin, whose hands fluttered around her face like delicate birds when the conversation turned to her own academic book.

  Yeah. He definitely needed a drink.

  Less than five minutes later, he stood in the hall, waiting for the elevator to arrive. When the door opened, he was checking his phone to see how many people had already retweeted Jocelyn’s post.

  Over two hundred.

  He definitely needed to be careful, or he would get caught. Ian would never forgive him if Jake’s slightly scandalous alter ego torpedoed his run for office. Jake had almost ruined Ian’s first, local campaign years ago by letting it slip in an interview that Ian’s wife had already been pregnant when they married. Jake hadn’t seen a problem with it, but apparently some of Ian’s more conservative constituents did. His brother’s latest campaign was already on the brink, and even the tiniest of scandals would be enough to push it over the edge.

  It wasn’t until the elevator doors shut that he felt the change in the atmosphere and realized that someone else was in the elevator, too.

  She was so small, so drab at first glance, that she almost blended into the background in the otherwise empty elevator. Until he made eye contact with her.

  She might try to hide herself in shapeless dresses and sweaters and by pulling her hair back into a tight bun, but there was no escaping those eyes. They blazed with intelligence, and something more.

  This was a woman who played shy, but underneath it all, she radiated a raw sensuality that he guessed few men bothered to discover.

  “Hello again,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  She nodded but otherwise didn’t respond. Her cheeks flamed a hot red, and he found himself smiling in an attempt to put her at ease.

  Why was it suddenly so important to him to get to know this woman?

  The one woman who could put everything in jeopardy.

  He glanced over at the panel of buttons and realized they were headed to the same floor. “You going to the restaurant or the bar?” he asked, desperately trying to figure out how to get her to talk to him again, even though he knew he shouldn’t. She was on the hunt for Jocelyn Dellarivier and could easily discover Jake’s alter ego and expose him.

  “Bar,” she replied shortly, looking away.

  If he didn’t act soon, the elevator would reach its destination, and his chance to speak to her alone would be lost, possibly forever.

  An image of a scene from the latest Janie Gooding book he was editing flashed through his mind. For the first time ever, he thought that maybe the heroes in the romance novels were more creative than ridiculous.

  I can’t believe I’m even considering this. Getting stuck in an elevator is such a cliché. Maybe it works, though. It must be a trope for a reason.

  “You meeting friends there?” he asked, sliding around to face her, keeping his back to the panel of buttons.

  She frowned at him, but he thought maybe it was more about the question itself than about the way he was inching his way over until his back blocked her view of both the buttons and the hand he was using to feel around until he reached the stop button.

  Here goes nothing.

  When he pressed the button, he half expected an alarm to sound. Instead, when the car shuddered to a stop in between floors, the woman across from him stumbled, straight into his arms.

  He caught her easily, but the unexpected feel of her pressed up against him called every part of him to immediate, almost painful attention.

  Suddenly, talking was the last thing on his mind, and from the way her lips softened as she stared up at him with wide eyes, she wasn’t thinking about talking, either.

  Slowly, still gazing into her eyes, he lowered his lips toward hers.

  …

  Right before the elevator threw her into his arms, Sadie had been thinking, “Oh, no. He expects me to talk to him.” For an instant, she was convinced that the dropping of her stomach was dismay at the thought—then she realized that the sensation was actually physical, not psychosomatic, as she slammed into the beautiful man across from her.

  She couldn’t help but stare at the sculpted magnificen
ce of his face, even as he leaned down toward her.

  He has the most gorgeous bone structure. Classical, really. It reminded her of some of the statues she’d seen while she was in Greece for a semester abroad.

  The abrupt realization that she was staring again, exactly as she had when she landed in his lap in the auditorium, sent her ducking out of his arms and across the elevator.

  “I’m…I’m so sorry,” she stammered, not even sure what she was apologizing for. “I didn’t mean to… I mean, I shouldn’t have…”

  Blowing out a breath, he leaned back against the elevator wall. “No problem. Happy to catch falling women any time.” His voice had a sardonic edge to it, almost as if he were mocking himself.

  He hadn’t really been about to kiss her, had he? They didn’t even know each other. For all he knew, she could be married, or a lesbian, or…

  Or wondering what might have happened if I had let him kiss me…

  With a shake of her head, she dispelled the thought.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He shrugged, turning to examine the control panel. “Not entirely sure.”

  It was his profile that finally caused the pieces to fall into place. She suddenly realized why he looked so familiar to her. “You’re Ian Blaine,” she said with a gasp, covering her mouth with the fingers of one hand.

  He glanced up, but she didn’t let him respond. She saw the truth on his face. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused for educators in Louisiana? I picketed your campaign in Baton Rouge just last month.”

  Her stomach heaved with horror. She had almost let Ian Blaine kiss her. The bane of every academic’s existence, Blaine was running on a campaign of, among other things, education reform that eliminated the tenure system in Louisiana state colleges, along with imposing a strict accounting of all research funds to make sure they were used for “appropriate” research.

  Even if Sadie hadn’t been pretty sure that her examination of feminism in popular romance novels wouldn’t make the cut for funding under those kinds of rules, she would have opposed the various proposals Blaine was making on the grounds that it violated the basic principles of academic freedom.

  And here she was, trapped in an elevator with him.

  Once again, her cheeks flushed hot, but this time it was with anger, not embarrassment. How dare he even think about trying to kiss her? Glaring at him, she muttered, “‘…the dark folk who live in souls / Of passionate men, like bats in the dead trees.’”

  His eyes narrowed in confusion, he said, “Pardon me?”

  Sadie ignored him. “Let me see.” She reached around his tall, muscular form to see the buttons. “Have you tried this?” After she pushed the button to the bar’s floor again, the elevator vibrated once, then continued its downward motion. She leaned back against the wall and tried to ignore Blaine.

  But she had some questions.

  What was a Louisiana state political candidate doing at a romance conference in Las Vegas? And why was he going by the name Jake and helping Kamille Stone at the Intertwined table? The man was outspoken about his belief in proper education. Surely he didn’t approve of the kind of fiction Intertwined published.

  The kind of fiction that any one of the many presses at this conference published, for that matter.

  Sadie hadn’t intended to ask the question at all, but it popped out of her mouth without her conscious volition. “Why are you here, anyway?”

  When he hadn’t said anything by the time the elevator stopped and the doors opened on the bar floor, Sadie was sure she wasn’t going to get any answer at all. But as he walked out, he put his hand back to block the door from closing long enough to turn around and speak.

  “I’m Jake Blaine. Ian’s my twin brother.”

  Chapter Four

  Jake swaggered down the hallway, fighting the urge to turn around to see if Sadie Quinn was still watching. He could feel her eyes on him until the moment the elevator doors swooshed shut. At that point, once he knew she couldn’t possibly be watching, he spun around and made his way back to the elevator lobby.

  As much as he might really want that drink now, he needed to spend some time considering what had just happened.

  Or what had almost happened, anyway. Pushing the up arrow, he waited for another elevator to arrive. Once inside, he pushed the button for the floor he wanted, then crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and leaned against the mirrored wall.

  As hard as he tried, he couldn’t shut down the image of Sadie Quinn’s soft lips trembling just inches away from his.

  Even as the elevator filled with people from other floors, Jake stayed still and silent, trying to come to terms with the odd combination of desire and anger rolling through him, holding it in tightly, as if it would burst out of his skin in raw flames if he didn’t keep it contained.

  He really had almost kissed a woman he didn’t know—and not just any anonymous stranger, but Sadie Quinn. The woman he had been cyber-avoiding for almost a solid year in his guise as a female editor.

  Pretty much the worst possible choice to make out with in an elevator.

  Even in Vegas.

  Worse, she had mistaken him for Ian—the one thing he had promised his brother he would never allow to happen.

  And then, had he followed his plan and played it off coolly, claiming some coincidental resemblance to the politician?

  Oh, hell no. I blurted out the truth. It’s a good thing she didn’t ask me who Jocelyn Dellarivier is. I might have told her that, too.

  Shaking his head, he ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, ending with the heel of his palm pressed against his forehead.

  What is wrong with me?

  By the time the elevator made it up to the thirty-sixth floor, he was alone again and no closer to answers than he had been before.

  When Kamille answered the knock at her door, she wore sweatpants and an Intertwined T-shirt, and her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun.

  “I told you this was a bad idea,” Jake muttered.

  Raising one eyebrow, Kamille turned sideways to allow him into the suite. “Do tell,” she said, her tone dry.

  Jake collapsed onto the center of the sofa, both arms spread out along the back, fingers tapping against the upholstery. “It’s that professor. Sadie Quinn.”

  “The one at Janie’s signing? What about her?” Kamille moved to the in-room bar and poured herself a drink, then stood over him swirling it around in the glass without taking a sip.

  “I almost kissed her in the elevator.”

  Kamille’s hand stilled, the liquid in the glass sloshing around another time or two before rocking to a stop. Tilting her head to the side, she raised her eyebrow. “Run that by me again?”

  Unable to force himself to stay seated, Jake pushed up from the sofa and paced across the small room. As quickly as possible, he recited the elevator events to Kamille, starkly and without any emotional editorials.

  Kamille’s long, red-tipped fingernails tapped against her glass. “You’re attracted to this woman?”

  “No.” Jake shook his head and rubbed a knuckle across his eye. “Yes. I don’t know.” On his next pass through the room, he swiped Kamille’s drink from her hand and downed it in one gulp, wincing a little from the burn of the alcohol.

  “Your main concern is that you told her you’re Ian’s brother?” She narrowed her eyes as she followed his progress back and forth. “So what?”

  The question brought Jake’s pacing to a sputtering halt. “What do you mean, ‘so what?’”

  His boss moved back to the bar and poured a second drink. “I mean, like I’ve said all along, you shouldn’t be required to live your life according to what your brother wants.” This time, she swallowed half the drink before she turned around to face Jake.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right. I don’t get it at all.” Kamille shrugged. “But you know that. We’ve had that part of this conversation before.”
Sitting down on the sofa in Jake’s abandoned spot, she leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, spinning the half-empty drink around in her hands. “But I’m going to tell you exactly what I’ve told you before. If you need to keep up the Jocelyn act, I’ll support you. I think you give your brother more power over your life than you should. And if you like this woman, you should go for it.”

  Jake’s mouth twisted as he shook his head, and Kamille shrugged. “Okay. Your call.” She rose, a clear dismissal that Jake couldn’t ignore.

  He had come to see Kamille hoping to gain clarity. And that was exactly what he had gotten. Because the one thing he knew for sure was that he had to keep his brother’s career safe, no matter what. People who weren’t twins didn’t get how they were half of the same whole. Ian and Jake might be completely different, but they would always look out for each other. Protecting Ian came as naturally to Jake as protecting himself.

  I do wish I had kissed Sadie in the elevator, though.

  …

  “Hurry up.” Amelia plucked at the shoulder of Sadie’s shirt. “We need to get in there.”

  “Why are you in such an all-fired rush?” Pulling away from her friend, Sadie smoothed her shirt back down, then reached into her shoulder bag for her gray sweater. It was always so cold in these hotels.

  “Because Intertwined is about to announce the winner of their Win a Date with a Model contest.” Amelia was practically bouncing up and down on her toes, her grin manic.

  “Oh, Amelia. Seriously? You entered that? It’s all a scam. You know most of those models are gay or married or otherwise unavailable to you.”

  Her friend’s expression turned cagey. “Well. It could still be fun to go out on the town with some gorgeous guy. It would look great on my Facebook.”

  Sadie shuddered. “Sounds like hell to me. Having to make small talk with someone like that for an entire evening?”

  “Mmm. Someone tall and muscular who just oozes sex appeal.” Amelia rolled her eyes, even as she tugged Sadie toward the elevator. “Yeah. That would be just miserable.”

  Sadie shook her head. “Too many chances to say—or worse, do—something really stupid.”