Page 7 of Perfect Satisfaction

“Yes.”

“Let me be clear about something, Ursula.” He trails his fingers up my arm until he reaches my jaw. “If we meet at that bar, my plans aren’t to spend the night watching Brendan Blake. I’m solely going with the intent of ending up in bed with you. I don’t plan on letting you go until the sun comes up.”

“Do you really?” I murmur. The arrogance of this man is overwhelming.

“Any problem with that?” Arek challenges.

“Only your timeline. I figured you for a man with much more stamina.” Now it’s my turn to rake my eyes over his build, the flat abs, and the impressive tent behind his zipper.

He mutters, “I’m changing my flight back.”

We both laugh softly.

Quietly, I admit, “This isn’t me.”

He cups my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “What isn’t?”

“Leaping before I look. Feeling overwhelmed—” My breath gets caught in my throat when Arek’s fingers drift over my lips. Placing his glass aside, he shifts until he’s completely facing me. “I’ve rarely allowed emotion to rule any portion of my life. Any time I have, the consequences of doing so have been catastrophic.” I’m tottering on the edge of backing out, when he whispers something that terrifies me even more.

“Neither have I. There’s just something here I’m afraid of not taking a chance on.” His lips twist wryly at his unintended joke considering the city we’re heading toward.

Hiding the way his words shatter my resistance, I give myself permission to want, to simply feel. Above all, to be happy.Haven’t I paid enough for the mistakes of my past? For simply existing? I reach up and grab his fingers, a non-verbal affirmation. Still he demands a verbal one, “I’ll see you after the concert then.”

I lick my lips and murmur, “I look forward to it.”

His breath accelerates. “No more than I do.”

CHAPTERTWO

The phrase “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” is a derivative of an advertising slogan created at the behest of the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority and R&R Partners in 2003. The hope was to revitalize the city and to rebrand Vegas as a place where visitors could cut loose.

Really, they could have saved a lot of money simply by hosting a Brendan Blake concert. His fans have the energy to fuel the Nevada power grid.

—Moore You Want

The club after Brendan’s showis wild and crazy as he performs cover after cover of his favorite songs. Some of which the fans are singing too, and they don’t realize Brendan wrote them for other artists. Overwhelming pride swamps me as I nurse a Coke when I feel the same tingle I did on the airplane.

He’s here.

Arek’s deep voice murmuring in my ear sends shivers down my spine. “You weren’t kidding.”

Turning around, my lips are already curving upward. I give an appreciative once-over of his dark shirt, jeans, and damp hair. I reach up and push a lock of it back off his forehead. “No, I wasn’t.”

He trails a finger down my bare arm. His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes in my outfit.

Earlier when deciding what to wear, I aimed for comfort over seduction due to the unusual heat floating in the air. Judging by the look in Arek’s eyes, the floor-length bohemian sundress I’m wearing may be doing a good job of both.

His eyes catch something behind me before becoming glazed.

Twisting my head, I realize Arek can easily see the exposed back of my sundress in the mirrored wall. A warmth spreads through me at his obvious admiration.

He leans forward. His breath flutters the fine hair at my temple when he says, “I’m not surprised you managed to slide past the line outside.”

“Why’s that?”

From the mirror on the wall behind Arek, another different set of eyes are boring into the back of my head. I ignore them as easily as I did when I was in my teens. The man I originally came here to see is furious that I’m paying him absolutely no attention, especially since he’s only here one night.

Too bad. Right now, I’m perfectly satisfied with the way my night’s turning out.