Vegas Two-Step Read Online Free Page B

the dance floor, watching the lights catch her, enjoying the expression on her face. He’d been intrigued. Mesmerized. Like a child watching a kaleidoscope, the pretty colors drawing him in. But he’d moved on, back to the confines of his office. This was his place of business and his policy was never to date at work.
    But he couldn’t seem to help himself. Was it the way she moved, unsure and wobbly in her high-heeled sandals? Or maybe just the way she seemed surprised at the attention paid to her by every male she walked past?
    “Hey, Jack. Didn’t know you were up here,” Rick said, entering the office and pulling him from the distraction of the sexy woman moving her hips to the beat of the music. “The margarita machine’s down again.”
    Jack didn’t have to turn around. Rick had slipped in for a smoke. Jack suspected his manager had been ducking into the office bathroom and blowing his smoke into the vent rather than taking it outside to the smoking patio. “Did you call Vinnie?”
    “Yeah, but it’s the second time this week. Still freezin’ up even though he said he fixed it. Want me to call him again?”
    Irritation burned in Jack’s gut. He turned toward Rick. “What do you think? You’re the mana—”
    “Whoa, dude. Just askin’.” Rick shoved the pack of cigarettes into his back pocket and lifted his hands defensively.
    “Sorry, I’m just…I’ve got things on my mind,” Jack said, setting the half-filled beer he held onto the desk. Normally, he dropped everything for a problem at the club. But tonight, he just didn’t want to deal with the place that had brought him Vegas-style fame and fortune.
    Which was so unlike him.
    Maybe it was the way his gut churned like a stormy sea. Or the thought of another sleepless night. Or the way he felt so out of control, as if he’d screwed up by agreeing to sell the club and build a dream with his father. Tonight, he wanted to be anywhere but where he stood. “I’ll call Vinnie in the morning.”
    Rick saluted and spun back toward the door that led to the loft-style VIP rooms situated above the frenzied dance floor.
    Jack felt guilty. He should be taking care of business and not wallowing in his beer, watching some woman like a pervert. “Hell, I’ll just go take a look at it. Maybe I can figure something out.”
    He headed down the stairs, sliding past an overweight guy reeking of ten-dollar cologne. The lummox stepped on his foot, causing a bolt of pain to zip up his leg. The man shouted “sorry partner” before lumbering up the stairs balancing four longnecks. Jack grimaced and jogged down to the bottom floor, sidestepping lithe ladies and overeager dudes looking for action. The music sounded louder than normal. Lady Gaga was getting on his nerves. They were playing her way too much.
    Jack blew out an exasperated breath. He needed to get out of Agave. Fast. It felt as if the walls were closing in on him.
    He made his way to the bar and slid behind the massive neon-lined counter. The frozen drink machines sat like boulders anchoring the ends of the bar. A pitcher of half-melted drink mixture sat to the side, an accident waiting to happen.
    “Hey, Jack, the marguerita machine’s down again,” Lewis hollered, popping the lids on three beers before handing them to a guy in a cowboy hat. Quarters hit the tip bottle. Lewis lined up eight shot glasses and started pouring. The club was almost too busy tonight.
    “I know. I’m gonna take a look,” Jack yelled, opening a cabinet under the machines and searching for a screwdriver. He knew the action would probably be fruitless. The bartenders never put anything back where it was supposed to go.
    He lifted his head to ask Lewis where the screwdriver might possibly be and his eyes landed on the blonde.
    She sat directly above him at the end of the bar. Alone. And she seemed to be making some kind of mental list because her eyes were fixed on a bottle of Wild Turkey and her lips silently moved.
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