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Masquerading with the CEO
by Dawn Chartier

Copyright © 2015 by Dawn Chartier. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

With her three best friends by her side, Kylie Edwards sat in the back of the white stretch limo, excited that her life was about to change forever.

Her fingers brushed against her ivory silk wedding gown, designed especially for her by the Vera Wang. Compliments of her fiancé.

The gown was striking and sophisticated, yet simple in design—a description she’d always thought fit her. Striking and sophisticated also described the wealthy CEO of Trident Industries, her soon-to-be husband, Brett McAllister. But he was far from simple. He was so much more. She couldn’t believe it. In only a few moments, she would be Mrs. McAllister.

It still felt like a dream. Millionaire playboy Brett McAllister had fallen in love with her. She had no idea why—but he had. The old saying “opposites attract” couldn’t be any closer to the truth. The only flair she had was for interior design, thanks to an eye for color and details she’d inherited from her dad. Otherwise, there was really nothing special about her. Not until Brett. He made her feel special. Especially today.

She lifted a colorful pink, purple, and white bouquet of carnations and sniffed. The scent immediately made her think of her mother, who had died two years ago. Your favorite, Mom. A faint pang of heartache rose as it did often when she thought of her mom, but it was especially painful today. Kylie had refused to carry any other flower in her hands on this magical day. Everything was perfect, with the exception of her mother not being here to witness her only daughter getting married.

She sighed and shot a glance at Jan, who hadn’t said much all day. Her best friend and maid of honor stared out of the tinted window, fidgeting with the ends of her lilac satin sash.

“You feelin’ okay?”

Jan nodded but still didn’t look in her direction.

Puzzled, Kylie faced Sara and Ashlyn on her other side, and they shrugged in unison.

She swiveled back toward Jan. “I’m the one who should be nervous. What’s with you today?” Now that she thought about it, her friend had been acting a little strange for the last few weeks.

Jan shook her head. “Nothing.”

Even though the absence of Kylie’s mother was the most powerful thing in the car right now, Kylie wouldn’t let it drop. “It’s obviously something. Fess up.”

Jan’s gaze dipped to where her fingers fidgeted in her lap. “There is something I think you need to know before you marry Brett.”

Kylie’s glare shot to Jan’s downturned face, trying to look her in the eye as a slice of fear cut across her chest. “What?”

“I hoped he would tell you, but—”

“Tell me what?” Her temple throbbed, and she stilled.

Jan raised her chin. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “I slept with Brett.”

Kylie flinched. Pain splintered deep into her temple, and her stomach twisted. With four simple words, her world stopped, tilted, and turned upside down.

Jan’s eyes filled. “I’m so sorry. I begged Brett to confess weeks ago. I’m only saying something now because I’m your friend. I don’t want you to marry that snake.”

“You’re her friend?” Ashlyn coughed. “Right.”

“Back-stabbing bitch,” Sara snapped.

The bickering began, but their voices sounded distant. Kylie slid deep into her inner hiding place. No. She had to have misunderstood. Brett wouldn’t do that. But why would Jan lie? Did Jan want Brett for herself?

“Look. I didn’t have to tell her, but that man doesn’t deserve either of us.” Jan wrapped her arms around her waist, pretending to be the victim.

How dare Jan act innocent when she was clearly the villain? Kylie could easily open the car door and push Jan out.

But more so, Kylie wanted out of the limo. She wanted to run. She wanted to die.

She squeezed her eyes shut. How could they betray me? She tried to inhale through burning lungs. I was so sure he loved me.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. God help me.

She stared at her mother’s favorite flowers, now lying by her feet in a taunting, multi-colored pile. “Pull over,” she said. The carnation scent was now sickeningly sweet.

The limo continued rolling.

“Pull. Over.” The driver finally noticed her in the rearview mirror, and she mouthed again, “Pull over.”

He squinted as though he hadn’t read her lips correctly, but she nodded, confirming the words.

It seemed like an eternity before they stopped. She stared out the front windshield and almost pitched her breakfast when she saw the chapel only a hundred or so feet away. Friends and family entered the church, and judging by the long line of parked cars, more were inside, waiting on her arrival. Waiting to share this special moment of her life with her. How can I face them? How can I face my dad? How can I disappoint him again? He’ll never let me live this one down. Ever.

She swallowed hard, and her heart shriveled like a dried prune.

Now it was she who couldn’t look at Jan—not without losing the yogurt and cup of fruit she’d forced down hours ago.

A lump of fear mixed with hatred clawed its way up her throat.

“Get out.” Her voice sounded hard and raw. Devastated.

“I’m sorry, Ky.” Jan picked at her sleeve, her face a pale shade of green. “Brett wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried to stay away, but you know how persuasive he is when he wants something.”

Kylie’s insides ignited, and if she could have shot fire out of her eyes, she would have. Instead, she glared straight ahead. “I. Said. Get. Out.”

…

“Get out of bed, Ky,” a voice called out.

Kylie lifted her head slightly off the pillow. Damn it. She’d finally fallen asleep a half an hour ago. What day was it? Had it already been a week since her wedding day? No matter. She still wasn’t ready to talk to anyone. Whoever it was could wait, especially Brett, but the voice was too soft to be Brett’s.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Kylie lifted the receiver to her mouth. “Go away,” she said into the phone and placed it on the nightstand. She only wanted sleep. No. Not true. She wanted to die.

She raised her head again. Hell. It wasn’t the phone ringing, but someone ringing the buzzer on the door. Yep, that’s what happens when you only sleep a few hours each night. The incessant ringing and pounding yanked her from her sleepy state. Reaching for the lamp in the dark, she knocked Ashlyn’s manuscript off the nightstand. “Dammit.”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“We know you’re in there, Ky,” Ashlyn’s voice came from the other side of her front door.

Ash needed to get a clue.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Fine. Kylie slid out of bed and walked down the hall, her too-long sweatpants dragging along the carpet. She yanked the door open and glared at her friends.

“Go away. I’m fine.” She started to close the door, but Sara’s foot slid into the doorway, stopping it from closing.

Sara and Ash glared at her. “The hell you are,” Ash said.

I look that bad? Probably worse than bad. Before she could force the door shut, they pushed past her to the table with a bag and three cups of what smelled like coffee.

“I bet you haven’t eaten in days.” Sara dropped the bag on the table and reached in, pulling out a bagel. “You love breakfast, so sit. Eat.”

Kylie glared at the bagel. She couldn’t touch food. The coffee smelled like her favorite mocha-mint, though, and she sort of wanted it. “I can’t.”

“We aren’t leaving until you eat something. This isn’t you, Ky. You have to get out of this slump. At least get out of those pj’s and bathe!” Sara leaned over the table and pushed a coffee cup toward her. “I miss my sappy-go-lucky friend.”

“Sappy?” She dipped her head to her arm and sniffed. She had bathed, maybe…okay, twice since that day. Hygiene wasn’t her utmost priority right now anyway. She couldn’t see much through the anger and hurt.

Ash patted her hand. “Exactly. Don’t let that bitch and the CEO dick-wad ruin your life.”

“Too late. My life is ruined.” She sank into the chair and took a grudging sip of her latte.

“You still have lots to be thankful for. One, you didn’t marry that asshole. Two, you have a great job at your dad’s design firm. Three, you have this freakin’ awesome condo in the heart of Phoenix.” Ash turned in a circle. “Look around you.”

All of it was true. But what did it matter if she had no one to share it with? She knew she was wallowing, but damn it, she deserved a pity party right now. “Y’all don’t get it. I thought he was truly the one. Instead, he betrayed me with one of my closest friends.”

“You still got us,” Sara said, “and that’s why we’re here.”

“You know what I mean. I want someone to wake up with every morning. I want someone to truly love me.” This was what she’d always dreamed of. Now what did she have left to dream about? God, she was pitiful. Still. She didn’t want to end up like her father. All he cared about was money and power. Well, look where that got him. Look where it got Brett. Asshole.

For a short while, soon after her mother died, her father had been so distraught. No amount of money could stop her mother’s cancer. So Kylie invited him over a few times to visit with her. She tried to break the ice between them, but he never had anything good to say, and most of the time he was half-drunk. He found a quick replacement for her mother, and he didn’t care if the woman loved him or not. He could control her, and she used him. The sad part was that neither of them cared. He spoiled his fiancée and blew money on more plastic surgeries than anyone could possibly need, but in return, she kept him company in bed. A loveless marriage eats at the soul. I won’t be like him.

Brett had just proved that all CEOs must be emotionless like her father.

But she couldn’t go through this pain again. The ache ate a hole in her heart. “I’m pathetic,” she said and dropped her head in her hands.

“Exactly. And we are here to fix that.” Sara cast a sly smile in Ash’s direction. “Tell her.”

Chapter Two

Jake Royale sat behind his desk at his hotel and casino, Masquerade, reviewing the financials with his advisor. A headache grew by the second. “This doesn’t look good, Pat.”

“Jake, it’s not bad.” Patrick crossed his legs and eased back in the chair across from him. “It’s to be expected when a new casino opens next door. It will pick up again. Plus, we are booked solid this weekend for that conference.”

His jaw ached. “Expected or not, I don’t like it.” He shoved the reports across the desk. “When do our renovations begin?”

“I knew you’d ask, so I checked with Tad. You’ll be glad to know the new design firm called half an hour ago and wants to meet this weekend.”

“Good. I’m ready to do whatever it takes.” Jake never liked coming in second, and with the brand new casino next door, Masquerade needed refreshing. He’d already approved the budget.

Though he worried about the competition, there was something else nagging him. Something that had been nagging him for a long time. Like a part of his life was missing. He pushed the thought to the side.

Jake leaned back in his leather chair after Pat left and glanced at the monitors on the wall. He watched the live feed from the front entrance. “Is that…?” He squinted, then leapt from his chair. His seat flung backward and bumped into the credenza. “Fuck. Me. He’s back.”

…

“You don’t have a say in this.” A slow smile eased across Ashlyn’s lips. “We’re taking you to Vegas, baby.”

“No. No. No. I’m not going to the biggest elopement city in the world.”

Less than six hours after she’d said those words, Kylie grabbed her luggage off of the carousel at the Vegas airport. Her friends hadn’t given her a choice. They’d packed her clothing, and she’d thrown in her design charts and samples after her “so-called” friends called her dad and begged him to give Kylie the casino job. They’d known it was the only way she’d agree to go. Shockingly, their plan worked.

So here she stood at the airport in Vegas. At least she had her work and her father’s reluctant blessing to try impressing their new client with her designs. He’d already been planning to meet this casino client later this week, but allowed her to go in his place—something that had never happened in her entire life. She wasn’t sure why he’d never given her a chance to prove herself before with big clients. Other than a few tiny flooring screw ups, she’d been a pretty good employee overall. She’d show him this time. She’d make him proud.

Ash was there for a romance writers’ conference, but Kylie had a job to do.

She couldn’t miss this chance to prove she could handle a job by herself. He’d made her work harder and longer than any of his other employees, always saying he couldn’t let anyone think she was getting special treatment from the boss. Hell, the last four years she’d gotten just the opposite. Maybe he’d give her the promotion to senior designer after this. In your dreams. Dreams were all she had now. Kylie lowered her sunglasses from the top of her head, but she still had to shield her eyes as they walked out of the airport. The dry heat sucked all the air from her lungs and the moisture from her skin within seconds.

“What happens in Vegas…” Ash said.

“Stays in Vegas,” Sara finished.

Kylie nodded, faking interest. While Ash and Sara were here to party with a bunch of authors, readers and cover models, she would, instead, bury herself in work so she wouldn’t think about—

A horn blew, and she jerked around. Her eyes widened and her hands clamped over her mouth as she stared ahead at the white limo rolling to a stop directly in front of her. The same kind of limo I used for my wedding. Her breath came out in short bursts, and memories of that horrifying day began to suffocate her. Of how the limo driver had dropped her off at home while Sara and Ashlyn informed everyone at the church, including her dad, that she wasn’t coming. “Um. Ash? Sara?”

Sara spotted the limo and then glanced at her. Sara must have understood that seeing the white limo made her think of the moment when she discovered how life could change in a split second. “Shit.” She searched the pickup area. “It’s okay. We won’t take a limo. Look.” Sara pointed. “There’s a shuttle bus for the hotel pulling away. Run.”

Kylie barely noticed the Cinderella carriage spectacle rising out of the fountain in front of Masquerade Hotel and Casino before she hurried inside. The sweat that formed on her back dried before it had time to soak her shirt. She removed her large sunglasses, instantly eyeing the massive poles with ribbons and beads flanking the registration area, and then the huge jester hat that occupied the center of the lobby caught her eye.

Somehow the Bourbon Street decor didn’t appear as gaudy as her father had warned or the pictures had shown, but it still needed some serious updating, and she was just the girl to do it. The new plan was to bury herself in this project for the next six months—that is, if the owner liked her designs. He will. He has to.

Screams of laughter filled the area as several women entered the lobby. Kylie inwardly cringed. Yep. Romance Lovers Convention. Why she’d let Ashlyn talk her into coming, she’d never know. She didn’t actually have a choice, now that she thought about it. They did you a favor, admit it. Daddy never listened to your pleas when you’d asked for a project on your own, so now you have an opportunity to prove yourself because of them.

Ashlyn’s hand shot out and gripped her wrist. She squealed like a teenager.

Kylie’s heart jumped. “What’s wrong?”

Ash covered her mouth, and her voice sounded muffled. “Do you know who that is?”

Sara and Kylie both rolled their eyes. Here we go.

“That’s freakin’ J.R. Ohmygod!” Ash jumped up and down.

Kylie spotted the thin blonde wearing dark sunglasses. That had to be J.R. surrounded by fans. “Go get her autograph.”

“Not here. Maybe tomorrow at the literary signing, and if not there, I’ll stalk her at the Grand Masquerade ball…or maybe she’ll be at the publisher’s party.”

“I’m going to check in,” Sara said, not fazed. Sara didn’t read much, unless it was a murder mystery or law books. It was the male model-watching and parties that convinced Sara to attend with Ash each year.

Kylie enjoyed almost all romance novels, but she didn’t recognize too many authors by their faces, not like Ash did, although the woman with dark hair and blue highlights getting into an elevator did look a lot like Gina Maxwell.Dang it. She hadn’t had time to pack her Cinderella series books so she could grab her autograph.

After checking in, a man who sort of resembled a young Leonard Nimoy helped them with their luggage. Ash had given up her room for Kylie, knowing she’d want the room to herself. “We’ll only be next door, Ky.”

“You with the writers’ convention?” the concierge asked.

“No, not really,” Kylie answered, eyeing the man’s name tag that read Will. “I’m just along for the ride. My friend, Ash is an author though. I’m here for a meeting with Mr. Royale and his design team.” And to try and forget about a wedding that never happened and a bitch of an ex-best friend.

“Then I’d better be on my best behavior,” Will said. “Let me know if I can get you and your friends anything.” He handed her his card. “I only give this to our special guests. Call if you need anything at all.”

How sweet of him. She was beginning to think that men with regular jobs were much more friendly and real than typical stuffed-suit men. “Thanks.” She slipped him a twenty before he left.

Kylie observed the room and cataloged the decor from floor to ceiling. The suite wasn’t bad either, but it would be better once she was done with it. Internally, she was picturing the sage family color charts she’d chosen, though the golden palettes were pretty too.

Proud of her designs, she couldn’t wait to showcase her boards and finish samples. Mr. Williams from The Vault Casino next door would regret not choosing her design over Jerk B’s design. Jerk B was better known in her father’s company as Billy, her father’s right-hand man.

A tightening in her stomach eased some as a heavy sigh escaped. One day…

She examined the bathroom. Spacious. Sleek. Masquerade had more charm than The Vault—it just needed a little TLC. Like her.

Sara swung open the adjoining door. “You’re not working, are you? We have to be ready in thirty minutes.”

“I’m unpacking, and then I need to finish reading Ashlyn’s manuscript. Y’all go without me.” Kylie unzipped her suitcase.

“Uh. No you’re not.” Ash strolled in the room. “My book isn’t due yet, and we have big plans for you.”

…

Jake rushed out of his private elevator, meeting with his chief of surveillance and best friend, Macon Spelling, in the middle of the casino. “You saw him?”

Macon nodded and folded his arms. “I got it. Go back to whatever you were doing. Let me do my job.”

Macon knew better. Jake would never let it go. Not this time. The urge to pound his fist through something grew strong. The muscles in his neck tightened.

The bastard next door had already stolen several of Jake’s employees, promising them things that the asshole would never deliver.

As Jake made his way down the long corridor with Macon by his side, they passed the Barakoa coffee bar, a server dropped a tray full of frappes and lattes in front of him.

Her eyes widened when she noticed he was watching and realized who he was. “Excuse me, sir.”

Most CEOs weren’t hands on, but Jake made a promise to himself that he would get to know as many employees as possible. Not to mention he was a control freak, or so he was told. He motioned for Macon to assist her, but then he saw. The server’s stomach protruded, as though she were ready to have a baby…right now. He grabbed Macon’s arm to stop him.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Royale.” The young lady awkwardly bent down, laboring to pick up the mess.

He leaned over, cupped her elbow and helped her up. “Macon, call housekeeping immediately.”

Macon nodded and radioed it in.

The waitress shied away and her cheeks burned red. “Please. Don’t fire me.” She held her stomach.

She seemed to mistake his concern for anger. Why was she wearing such a short skirt and low-cut shirt? She shouldn’t be dressed like this. Especially not right now.

“What’s your name?” he asked. He clearly read Megan on her name tag, but he wanted her to relax so she wouldn’t go into labor right this second.

She lowered her trembling chin. “Meg Monroe.”

“Come.” He walked her to an empty slot machine seat in a quiet area of the high roller’s gambling area next to the Topenga Grill. “Sit, Meg.” She sat. “What are you having?”

Meg blinked rapidly. “A girl. She’s due in three weeks, sir.”

Jake thought back to his mom bussing tables when she was pregnant with his younger sister while he stayed home alone. “How are your feet?”

“My—my feet?” she asked, frowning.

“Swelling, huh? I bet your back is aching too,” he said matter-of-factly.

Her jaw dropped. “Yes, sir.” She tilted her head as if wondering how he would know such a thing.

“I guessed.” Liar. “Meg, you can’t waitress here anymore.”

She shook her head slightly, like she was in denial. “Why? I promise I won’t be clumsy again.” Tears filled her eyes. “Please, I need this job.”

He should have explained first. “I’m not firing you. Just moving you to another department. Where you can sit most of the day. But today, right now—go home. Get off your feet.”

Her eyes filled. “I can’t. I need my pay.”

“You will be compensated for today. Now go home.”

The waitress wiped tears from her cheeks. “Thank you, sir. Thank you. Thank you.”

Jake walked away, not wanting or needing to hear her thanks. Instead, he mentally berated himself for not noticing her sooner. Next board meeting, he would be sure to ask HR to move any pregnant waitresses, if there were any, to other positions temporarily.

“Mighty nice of you,” Macon said. “As usual.”

Jake ignored him, but his adrenaline spiked. “Where is that thief bastard?”

“In the Karaoke Lounge.” He turned and headed in that direction.

Macon and Jake had grown up together in the same trailer park, both dirt poor. “Asshole doesn’t sell the good shit at his own bar so he needed to come here?” Jake was almost sprinting. And steal your employees. Prick’s never gotten over the past.

Jake picked up his pace and quickly found Mark Williams, his wannabe rival, drinking a glass of his best scotch. He slid onto the barstool next to him and the bartender, Mike, immediately placed an on-the-rocks glass filled with what looked like bourbon in front of him. Except his drink wasn’t what everyone thought. A special bourbon bottle sat in the back corner just for him. Plain old Coke. Not one drop of liquor.

After his drunken father had left him and his pregnant mother, he vowed to never touch the stuff. It had taken him ten years of heavily drinking to remember that promise, though.

Macon stood behind Mark, his arms folded across his broad chest.

“Enjoying our scotch?” Jake asked with ice in his tone.

“Jake.” Mark nodded, raised his glass, and motioned to the bartender for another one. Mark glanced behind him. “Macon.” He made another slight nod.

“What’s wrong, Williams? The Vault’s scotch is the cheap stuff?” Macon moved in closer.

“Call your guard dog off, Jake.”

Macon’s hands clenched. “Say the word, Boss. Say the word.”

Jake ignored their requests. “Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Another employee of mine? Why not meet them in your own club?” Jake fisted his hands, barely holding control of his anger. Now wasn’t the time—or the place.

“I’m not the one who steals things from others.” Mark’s jaw clearly tensed at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. If only she had stayed with Mark instead of moving into his Jake’s life. His life would have been so much better. “Besides, I didn’t say I was meeting someone. I said I was looking for someone. A lady friend.” Mark chugged the rest of his drink down this throat, slammed the glass on the bar, then stood. “Looks like she isn’t here.”

Mark didn’t deny pilfering from him, and Jake couldn’t help but wonder if he was referring to his hostess, Patricia. She’d been acting a little strange lately. He glanced around realizing he hadn’t seen her at all today.

Macon inched back, barely allowing the jerk to squeeze past. “Want me to follow, Boss?”

“No.” Jake watched Williams disappear from the bar and get lost in a big group of loud women, and then he glanced at a banner sign near the lobby welcoming the Romance Lovers Convention attendees. Of course it was that time of year again where thousands of romance writers and readers were due in this week. “Leave him. We have other concerns right now.”

“Don’t worry. Patricia has everything under control,” Macon said.

Maybe, but Patricia seemed to keep disappearing whenever he was around. He wasn’t sure, but he got the feeling she was hiding something. Maybe Mark got to her too. “I’m sure she does, but keep an eye on her anyway.”

Techno music suddenly blared from the speakers.

Macon turned and stared at the cute, brown-eyed DJ while she set up her equipment. “You ready for tonight, Pasha?” he asked.

Jake silently groaned. It was hard keeping his eyes off of the beauty, even though she wasn’t his type. They had needed a DJ desperately, and she’d proven to be one of the best.

Pasha nodded. “Always ready,” she said in her sweet Turkish accent. “You coming to watch, yes?”

“If the boss man lets me,” Macon said.

Jake folded his arms. Macon didn’t need his approval, but he pretended to in front of other employees. “Let Pasha do her job and you do yours,” he ordered, and they walked out of the Karaoke Lounge.

Three giggling women cut in front of them.

“Saweet,” Macon said, barely loud enough for Jake’s ears.

“Keep your pants on. They’re writers, not strippers.”

“You forget what happened last year?” Macon asked. “Besides, I like the literary type—the erotic literary that is.”

Jake shook his head. He hadn’t forgotten. Several of the authors got word of who he was and tried seducing him, insisting he could be a cover model for their books. And there was one particular publisher he’d never forget. She’d practically bribed him with her assets. “On your own time.”

“You’re blind. The hot babe in blue is giving you the sweet eye.”

Jake turned in the opposite direction. “I’m married already—to the casino.”

“Yeah. Don’t I know, bro.”

“Someone has to keep this place running while others are chasing women or letting women chase them.”

“Ouch.” Macon’s gaze shot back to the woman in the blue skirt. “You’re just chicken someone will run off with all your money, and you’ll be poor again.”

“No. I don’t like being used is all,” Jake said. Macon joked, but it still stung. “Don’t you have a job to do?” His ex had been nothing but a gold digger, but it hadn’t said much about his own character for being so damn blind. No one would ever use him like that ever again.

“Always.”

“Then go tell Perry and Will to be on the lookout for that bastard Mark, and if he steps foot in my casino again have them call me ASAP. I don’t care what time, day or night.”

Jake marched by the blackjack tables, poker tables, and the gift shop, and then recalled he was almost out of his favorite orange Tic Tacs. Macon was slipping with the one nice gesture he had consistently made over the years. Tic Tac delivery. Jake hurried into the gift shop, grabbing several packs, shoving some in his pants pockets. As he twisted around, he ran smack into a woman.

The brunette glared at him, annoyed.

“Watch where you’re going, buddy.” Her lips thinned.

Buddy?

He continued to stare, even though it was rude. She was kind of cute. Her cheeks turned rosy, and the red tint traveled down the V of her shirt. He realized a little too late that he was checking out her full breasts when she covered herself with a bag of fluffy Cheetos and huffed.

Cat had his tongue while he gawked at her like an idiot. “Sor—”

“Geesh. Thanks for the help, jackass.” She knelt and picked up other junk food items from the floor and then stormed off.

Jackass. Jake remembered to breathe and eased out of the shop, feeling as if he’d been hit with a thousand pounds of gambling chips. Someone had pissed her off bad, unless she was always like that. Women.

…

Stunned, Kylie hid on the next aisle. The guy wasn’t just rude, staring where he shouldn’t be, he was also a thief.

But that wasn’t what had upset her. The moment she’d seen him walk through the door, she’d noticed the way he carried himself—like one of those executive jerk types. Just like her ex. Just like her emotionless father. That had to be why she’d turned on the bitch-switch so easily. It surely wasn’t because of those gorgeous bedroom-green eyes. The rare sexy color you see on a handful of movie stars. No, that couldn’t be it.

Her anger grew, heating her face and neck. You’re pissed because you’re attracted to him. A thief. Geesh. That’s a new low.

“Sara. Hey, did you see that?” Surprised as hell by her attraction to the sex-on-a-stick man, Kylie peeked around the corner and watched the thief with the Hollywood-intense eyes. The sharp gray suit strolled right out of the shop like he owned the place. The nerve of some people.

He stood tall, and his midnight hair curled lightly on the ends, and yet was neatly trimmed. From the back, he resembled a certain CEO asshole. But CEOs didn’t steal breath mints. Did they?

“See what?” Sara asked.

“That guy. He just hijacked some Tic Tacs, and walked right outta here without paying. Mints, of all things.” She huffed, still upset at herself for not knowing why she was so upset.

“Mints?” Sara dropped her sunblock and gum on the checkout counter and leaned back. “Who, him? The hot James Bond look-alike who just glanced over his shoulder?”

Kylie scooted behind Sara, her throat suddenly dry. “Yeah. Him. Though I wouldn’t call a thief a hottie.” Except she would be lying if she admitted he wasn’t a spitting image of the latest Bond—with darker hair and prettier eyes—but hottie or not, the man stole. When it was Kylie’s turn to check out, she decided to tell the cashier. “Ma’am. That man,” she gestured, “stole some items. I think you should call security.”

“Not again.” The cashier grabbed her phone, then leaned over her counter. “Tic Tacs? Oh. That’s Macon, and heis security.” She put the receiver down. “He’s stealing for Mr. Royale, the owner.” The cashier squinted and pulled out eyeglasses from beneath the register. “I’m blind as a bat for seeing distance without these glasses. Maybe? Wait. Is that…?”

The two men walked out of sight. “Hmm. I’m not sure. I think that was him.” The clerk shrugged. “If he took orange Tic Tacs, then it had to be.”

Jake Royale is a Tic Tac junkie. Who knew? Kylie couldn’t wait to officially meet the owner this weekend. Maybe she’d bring him his favorite breath mints to break the ice. “Well, I hope so. I hate thieves.” And liars. And cheaters. And power-hungry CEOs. She paid for her iced mocha-mint coffee, chips, and cookies and then left the gift shop, gulping the coffee to satisfy her sudden thirst.

Loads of women strolled around half in a daze, maybe lost, with stuffed conference tote bags, but the sexy man called Macon was gone.

Ashlyn caught up with them out in the corridor. “Look what I found in the souvenir shop. It’s perfect for you.” She fished in the bag and pulled out a beautiful feathered and sequined mask. The fire red and black colors were gorgeous, but no way.

“I’m not wearing that,” Kylie’s voice raised over the gaming machines’ clatter.

“You are,” she corrected, waving the mask. “At my publisher’s costume party. You can do whatever you want, and no one will be the wiser.”

“I’ll know, and I won’t be wiser.” She turned around. Her breath caught, and she became aware of her own heartbeat racing out of control. There he was. Macon, the security dude, was talking to the pit boss and another guy near the roulette table, and as if he knew she was watching him, he glanced in her direction. Liquid pooled in her mouth, and she swallowed. Why on earth are you so attracted to him? Stop. Just stop. The other big man standing next to him turned as well. The temperature rose ten degrees in her cheeks and some places she’d rather ignore right now. Crap. She faced Ashlyn, not too happy she’d let him see her blush like a teenager.

She blamed it on not having sex for the last six months. Her ex-fiancé said it would make their wedding night more special. Asshole. She wrung her hands together. She should have known then that he was cheating, but she’d buried her head in planning a ridiculous wedding. Believing in a stupid ceremony fairytale was her fault, but damn Brett for making her abstain. Now she was horny, not to mention a bit lonely.

Ashlyn placed the sensual mask in her hand. “Have fun, Ky.”

A brief vision of running her hands over the security guy’s naked chest flashed through her mind. Um. No. You can’t. Don’t be stupid. She couldn’t believe she was even thinking of approaching a guy after what she’d been through. She couldn’t imagine putting her heart on the line again. But if no one knew it was her…and she kept her heart to herself…

No strings. Just sex. Maybe…