Vegas Two-Step Read Online Free Page A

trademark come-hither smile.
    “Let’s go dance some more,” toothy, twenty-something hottie said.
    “No, thanks. I see a friend.” Nellie gave him a little apologetic shrug. He looked crushed, but brightened as a petite redhead crooked her finger at him, urging him to join her on the dance floor as a song by Akon cranked up.
    Nellie skirted a grouping of chairs occupied by several trendy, martini-wielding club goers. Suddenly an arm snaked around her, tipping her into the lap of a tanned Pro-Am golfer. Mitch had introduced her to the mojito and taught her how to do the old-school, but always fun, electric slide a mere hour ago.
    “Come ’ere, sexy lady,” he slurred. “Tell Jace here that I got the moves.”
    She laughed, removing the overly friendly Mitch’s wandering hands from her waist as she stood. She gave him a sassy smile. “Well, yeah, if your moves consist of trying to grab my ass every time I get within a foot of you.”
    The others laughed and she walked off wondering who in the world she had become.
    Oh, yeah. Elle Hughes. And Elle tossed back fruity little cocktails, danced with unbelievably hot guys, and flirted with cute golf pros. Being her alter ego felt weird. As if she was totally someone else. She waded through the throngs of people, knowing the men she passed raked her slim form from head to high heels. And it didn’t matter whether the guys were barely legal or fighting a receding hairline, they all looked.
    Embarrassing, yes, but powerful all the same. She could see why some women fed off it.
    Kate dangled a frosted martini glass in her direction, handing it off without taking her eyes away from the piece of eye candy murmuring low in her ear.
    Nellie didn’t really want to be introduced, so she swung her hips to the rhythm of the music and sipped the sweet concoction. The rum slid smoothly down her throat and uncoiled in the pit of her stomach. Dangerous. She took a bigger sip and licked the sugar off the rim of the glass.
    Her sensual move caught the attention of the man flirting with Kate. His cool gray eyes undressed her, assessing her with practiced ease. The guy was a pro. Kate picked up his obvious interest in her friend, so Nellie smiled, lifted her glass in salute and headed to find Billie and Trish, who had table service somewhere in the crush. Maybe she could take a break with them for a minute. Her feet were starting to hurt.
    But the place was packed, the music booming, and the dizzying lights had her turned around. She couldn’t remember where Trish said they’d be sitting. She stood for a minute, searching the throbbing crowd, but she had no luck. Her eyes lighted on a lone bar stool at the end of the packed bar. It had her name written all over it, or so her toes shouted. She needed reprieve from the torturous high-heeled sandals, so she headed for the stool and sank onto it with a sigh.
    Her toes thanked her.
    And no one took notice of her, which was good, because she didn’t want to fight off any random guys or feel obligated to smile and laugh. She just needed a break from the “fun.” It had been years since she’d gone out to clubs, and doing it two nights in a row had her missing the comfy couch in her living room and reruns of Seinfeld.
    But that was stupid. She’d come to Vegas to party. To live it up a little.
    Still, she missed home.
    And she hoped Mr. McIvy remembered to feed her cat.

    J ACK D ARBY HAD BEEN WATCHING the blonde for the past hour from his office behind the two-story DJ booth.
    He’d first seen her on his way to give Rick Newhouse, his weeknight manager, the keys to the safe. He’d tried to catch her eye, but she was busy pulling some guy’s hands off her ass. He watched her, amused and somewhat irritated by the behavior of the too-tan dude in tight clothes. And he knew immediately the woman did not belong in a meat market nightclub, no matter how much she tried to pretend she did.
    He’d sneaked another look at her as she gyrated on