Vegas Two-Step Read Online Free

oil.”
    “No, Kate. Tattoos are trashy,” Nellie said, protesting but remaining still nevertheless. She didn’t want to mess it up.
    “Says little ‘Miss Nelda Rae Tucker,’” Kate drawled. “I’ve got three permanent ones, Nellie.”
    “My name’s not Tucker. It’s Hughes. And I didn’t mean on you. Just me,” Nellie finished lamely. Kate was different. Free. Able to live as she pleased. Nellie would always be a Tucker, no matter what her last name was. And Tuckers didn’t have tattoos. Tuckers didn’t wear bustiers, thongs or strappy, impractical sandals. Tuckers didn’t make out with virtual strangers in dark corners of dance clubs. Nope, Tuckers were dignified. Practical. Sensible.
    But “Elle,” the identity Kate had insisted Nellie assume for her extended weekend, was anything but a boring Tucker. She was supposed to be a single, twenty-something Dallas interior designer with layered caramel hair and sexy new clothes. “Elle” was her naughty side.
    Nellie sighed, “Okay. But it will come off, won’t it?”
    “Heaven’s sake, Nell. Yes. It will come off.”
    Nellie waited while Kate peeled off the backing and dusted her shoulder with baby powder before hurrying to the bathroom mirror to see the tattoo her friend had put on her shoulder. Nellie supposed it was tasteful as far as tattoos went—a small red heart with a crack creeping from the bottom. A blue tear leaked from the crack. It looked odd upon her shoulder.
    “A heart?” Nellie called back at Kate.
    “Not a heart. A heartbreaker. That’s what you are.”
    “Okay. Enough drama. Let’s roll.” Kate’s friend Trish sauntered into the room. The Clark County assistant district attorney was followed by Billie Nader, a local artist. “I need a beer and some music.”
    Kate handed Nellie a hotel key card. “Just in case you hook up with someone tonight.”
    Nellie shoved it into her pocket. “Don’t worry. I’m not that kind of girl.”
    Billie tossed Nellie a know-it-all smile. “Honey, everyone’s that type of girl.”
    “Nellie’s not, but maybe Elle is,” Nellie laughed as they headed toward the elevators. Even as she said the words she didn’t believe herself. Elle might be her alter ego, but she wasn’t stupid. One-night stands were for true cosmopolitan girls of the world, not small-town librarians who had the town square named after their great-grandfather. Nellie couldn’t risk being so irresponsible even as the sultry Elle Hughes.
    Or…could she?
    Rule number one for Kate’s girlfriend getaways was “Be whoever you want to be.” Assume a name, an identity, or a whole new life. It was part of the game. Part of escaping the mundane of one’s normal life and embracing the freedom of being a hot, single girl in the most sinful city in the world.
    Nellie caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored elevators just before she stepped inside.
    Damn, but after her makeover she looked the part. Could she forget everything she’d ever been taught so she could play the part too?

    T HE MUSIC THROBBED , heavy and sensual in the dimness of the club. Blue lights swirled over the bodies packed within every square inch of Agave Blue. As far as Nellie could tell it lived up to the image of hottest club in Vegas. Mirrors blanketed the deep blue walls and refracted the spinning light, throwing it on the sophisticated crowd.
    Perspiration trickling down her back, Nellie moved with the crowd toward the promise of a cool cocktail. She was out of breath and needed a break. She hadn’t danced to “Vanilla Ice” since the eighth grade Halloween dance when she was decked out in a pumpkin costume. Tonight she was far from a plump pumpkin. More like Cinderella. No, screw that, she looked like a wicked stepsister.
    Nellie twisted her hand from the grasp of her dance partner as she finally spied Kate. She stood next to the bar talking to a cute guy in a tight tee, hands fluttering against his chest, teasing him as she flashed him her