Seducing Seven (What Happens in Vegas) Read Free Page A

“Fine. Deal.”
    He studied her, standing there as if she’d already won. What this little lady needed was a reminder of whom she was dealing with. “I was actually on my way somewhere before you accosted me, but every deal needs negotiations. Meet me for dinner in an hour at the sushi bar.”
    She scoffed. “Accosted. Please.”
    Looking at his watch, he tapped his foot.
    Hesitating, she looked past his shoulder, then back to his face. “I haven’t even been to my room yet.”
    He had one minute left. Stepping toward her and sliding a hand around her little waist in one smooth motion, he pulled her up against his chest and pressed his mouth against hers. She squeaked, and he angled his head, taking advantage of the small sound by sliding his tongue once against hers. Her taste was cinnamon and honey. He wasn’t one for sweets, but he couldn’t deny he wanted a bigger bite. He slid his hand down over the roundness of her hip, a lot more curve than her simple dress showed. There was no way he’d buy what she was selling, but this might be more fun than he first imagined. And Blake Turner always closed the deal.

Chapter Two
    S even paced her room. What the hell had she just done? Stomping over to the thermostat, she pushed the button until the temperature hit the low sixties. She fanned her face and then tugged her cotton pullover dress up and over her head. She flung it on her bed and looked down at her bright yellow bra, her eyes then darting to her luggage where her matching panties would be. Her mortification from her conversation with Blake about her underwear returned and heated her cheeks. The sexy underwear always cheered her up a bit, one of her private indulgences—when she wore them, that was.
    Blake Turner was arrogant and cocky and—God, she’d thought she’d pass out during the whole conversation. Talk about “fake it till you make it.” Confrontation was not in her comfort zone, bold and brazen not her usual MO. But the man’s opinion about her profession got under her skin, and she couldn’t stop herself. She’d never worked so hard to come off as confident when all she wanted to do was run.
    Romance was her life, her love, her livelihood, but not her reality. She was tired of the constant belittling of the genre and the writers, especially when the persistent lack of any romance in her own life sometimes made her worry she might be making it all up.
    She continued to pace, then stopped at the foot of her bed, placing one hand to her forehead and one to her stomach. Somehow between getting off the airplane and getting to her hotel room, she’d bet a drop-dead gorgeous man that she could seduce him by Sunday, and not only that, but also give him the best sex of his life. Who the hell was she, Jenna Jameson?
    Flopping back on the bed, she stared at the ceiling. Oh well, surely she was already going to hell for worse things. She was a single, successful woman needing a distraction to get over her editor. A great bout of sex would do the trick. Thanks to her big mouth, it looked like she had the means to do it.
    Warming up to the idea, Seven rolled onto her side. Blake was an arrogant ass, but a handsome arrogant ass. Which could be a lot of fun, because she was sure as shit never falling in love with a guy like him. A naughty little weekend would be just the thing she needed to put her humiliation with her editor out of her mind.
    Her editor, Nathaniel Hennings, was a man she could fall in love with. With the utmost respect, he shepherded his authors’ careers, helping them realize their dreams. He supported the romance field by devoting himself to it and building his own career around it. She loved the way his mind worked and the time they’d spent together. Before she’d known it, she’d fallen for him. But he didn’t want her, and it was making her regret the unrequited love she’d handed to a character or two.
    The more she thought about her idea, the more she liked it. Sex. That was