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  The boy shrugged. “Whatever.”

  As his brother got up and walked by, Reese couldn’t help offering a small, encouraging nod, and a slight squeeze of his bony shoulder. Be a kid. Just for tonight, even. Tomorrow’s soon enough to go back to being mad at the world.

  Jack didn’t smile in return. But his spine might have straightened a little and his trudging footsteps picked up. It was something, anyway.

  “He’ll be all right,” Aunt Jean murmured, her eyes softer than usual as they watched Jack walk out the back door.

  Reese sincerely hoped so.

  “Now, let’s talk about you.”

  He had known that was coming. “I hear you already have been. Thanks a lot. I really love getting the third degree from my sisters.”

  “And a merry Christmas to you, too.”

  Curiosity won out over embarrassment. “So how’d you know?”

  She merely shrugged, guarding that mysterious, all-knowing, all-seeing reputation. Then, glancing at her diamond watch, she shook her head. “Hadn’t you better be heading home for the night? It’s a long trip to Las Vegas.” She shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t have very much for you in the car, because I think I’ve already given you a big enough gift this year.”

  Well, he supposed her urging him to go out and have an adventure for himself did count as a gift. Because, whether he wanted to admit it or not, the past few months had been the best he’d had in a long, long time.

  Reese’s mouth widened in a smile and he crossed the room to kiss her powdery, paper-thin cheek. “Thank you, Aunt Jean.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, go. Have fun. Be wild.” She waved a hand, gesturing around the kitchen. “This domestic bliss will all be here waiting for you when you get back.”

  Whether that was a promise, or a threat, he didn’t know. Nor did he really want to think about it. Because he already had other things on his mind.

  He had the rest of a holiday to celebrate. And a woman he was crazy about to share it with.

  AMANDA WASN’T MUCH of a Christmas person. Her parents had not believed in spoiling her or her sister, so the season had never really entailed presents or parties. The holidays comprised a lot of volunteer work, the requisite Bing Crosby songs, quiet dinners and church. Some years, they hadn’t even gotten a tree, her frugal father finding the expense excessive.

  The Christmases she’d spent with Uncle Frank had been completely different. Big parties, lots of drinking, dancing, jetting off to some hot spot for New Year’s. There had definitely been no popcorn stringing or chestnuts roasting.

  The closest she ever came to a normal American family holiday were the years she’d stayed in Chicago and had gone to Jazz’s parents’ house. But she’d always felt a bit like an outsider. She didn’t quite get the lingo, had never felt completely comfortable receiving socks and bras from Jazz’s mom, who treated her just like one of her own.

  Christmas, she had long ago decided, just wasn’t her thing.

  So when Reese Campbell walked into their hotel room with a suitcase full of presents for her, she didn’t know what to think. “Oh, God, are you kidding? I only got you one small gift!”

  A small, sexy gift. A small, sexy, funny gift.

  But she didn’t think the men’s velvet boxers with the Rudolph head—complete with blinking red nose—was quite equal to the ten or so packages he pulled out and tossed onto the big bed.

  “I’m so bad at this,” she groaned, not elaborating. He knew what she meant: this whole girlfriend thing. No, they weren’t using the word, but it was about the only one she could come up with. And as girlfriends went, she totally sucked the big one.

  Metaphorically speaking. Well, literally speaking, too, but thinking about that wasn’t going to help right at this particular moment.

  “I don’t care. Christmas isn’t about getting, it’s about giving.”

  “You’re giving me a guilty conscience,” she wailed, staring at the brightly wrapped boxes.

  Funny, a few months ago, her first instinct would probably have been to give in to the tightness squeezing her chest, turn and walk out the door. She’d always wanted to visit London during the winter. Prague sounded good. Amsterdam.

  No. You’re not doing that. Not this time. Not to him.

  She’d come here this weekend knowing full well what it meant. After their conversation in Florida, she knew the terms had changed yet again. Their New York trip had been fun, but Christmas and a whole week in Vegas together added up to something more. And while she’d managed to convince herself nothing would be really different, that this was just another sexy holiday getaway, deep down she’d known Reese might treat it as a genuine one between two people who were involved.

  And she’d shown up with damned fuzzy Rudolph boxer shorts.

  Tart, sour and heartless. That was her.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, obviously seeing something in her eye.

  She didn’t need his warning. Because even without it, she’d already kept her feet planted on the floor.

  The pressure in her chest gradually eased until she could breathe normally again. Then, instead of frowning and accusing him of taking things too seriously, getting her gifts like they were some kind of real couple, she couldn’t help but smile.

  “You’re serious? All these are for me?”

  “Well,” he admitted as he threw himself down on the bed, “some of them are for me, too.” He wagged his brows suggestively as he rolled onto his side, resting on his bent elbow. “I think a fashion show is in order.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Okay, but only if you promise to do one, too, with what I got you.”

  “You’re on.”

  Oh, boy, was he going to regret that one. But Amanda could hardly wait.

  Well, giving it some thought, she realized she could wait. There was a way to salvage this situation. “Listen, let’s hold off on the presents until tomorrow, okay? Give me a little time to at least come up with an ugly tie, a bowling ball or a bottle of Hai Karate for you to open.”

  He snorted a laugh. “You just described every one of my father’s Christmas mornings. But, bad news. I don’t bowl.”

  “Okay. Maybe I can come up with something else.”

  He sat up, reaching for her hand and tugging her forward until she stood between his legs. “You really don’t have to.”

  “I know.” She wanted to. Suddenly, the idea of giving her lover a real Christmas gift sounded like exactly the right thing to do.

  There was something else she wanted to do, as well. Something that had been on her mind for days, ever since she’d realized they were going to sin city. She had a fantasy in mind, one she suspected he was going to enjoy sharing.

  “You do realize today is a holiday, too. It’s Boxing Day.”

  “I’m not into boxing, either,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

  “It’s a big deal in some countries.” She shimmied out from between his strong legs. “What I’m trying to say is, I would very much like to play with you on this holiday.”

  He nodded slowly, the twinkle turning into a gleam of interest. Hunger.

  “So here’s what I want you to do.” She dug a piece of paper out of her pants pocket and shoved it toward him. “Go to this address and wait for me. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  He glanced at it. “Is it a restaurant or something?”

  She shook her head. “No. Just wait outside.”

  Still appearing puzzled, he rose to his feet. But he didn’t leave immediately, pausing to cup her chin and tug her toward him for a soft, slow kiss goodbye.

  She almost relented, giving up on the fantasy for some good, old-fashioned, lovely sex. But she’d been thinking about this for a long time. After showing up without any presents for him, the least she could do was try to give him the kind of fantasy he would never forget.

  And just about every man in the world had one fantasy when it came to Vegas. Reese’s was going
to come true.

  Pushing him toward the door, she said, “Go. One hour.”

  He lifted his hand in mock salute. “I can hardly wait.”

  The minute he was gone, Amanda raced to her suitcase and began yanking clothes from it. She’d done a little more eBay shopping, looking for another costume. Not a stewardess this time, she was going for someone quite different.

  She intended to transform herself completely. And fifteen minutes later, when she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she knew she had succeeded.

  “Hot damn,” she whispered, smiling as she checked herself out from bottom to top.

  The boots were even more kick-ass than her Halloween ones. Black leather, spiked, coming all the way up over her knee. They were wicked and screamed sex.

  Above them was a large expanse of fishnet-covered thighs. And finally a few inches of hot pink miniskirt that barely covered her ass. It was made out of something that felt like cellophane and crinkled when she walked.

  The teensy, tie-front white top covered her shoulders and her breasts and not much else. And the short, platinum-blond wig completed her transformation from Amanda Bauer, professional pilot, to Mandy the hooker.

  After all, what guy hadn’t fantasized about being picked up by a sexy call girl in Vegas?

  “Whatever the customer wants, that’s what he’s going to get,” she whispered, smiling as she headed for the door to the room. She paused only to grab her long coat off the back of a chair. Not only because it was chilly out, but also because there was no way she wanted any hotel employees to see her entire costume. The place was five star all the way, and the Pretty Woman look probably wouldn’t be welcome in the lobby.

  “Okay, sweet man, get ready, because here I come,” she said under her breath as she descended in the elevator. Every minute ensured her certainty of one thing.

  Reese Campbell had no idea what kind of night he was in for.

  7

  Boxing Day

  SHOWGIRL OR STRIPPER? Paid escort? Call girl?

  Reese wasn’t sure which Amanda was going to show up tonight. He only knew that whichever woman met him here on this slightly seedy corner, one block off the northernmost end of the Strip, she was going to blow his mind. Just like she always did.

  “Come on, it’s been over an hour,” he muttered, glancing at his watch as he leaned against a light post. She’d better show up soon, or one of the real working girls might decide he was looking for some company.

  She’d been adorable when pushing him out of the room back at the hotel. Had she really thought he didn’t know, that he couldn’t figure out what kinds of games she’d want to play in Las Vegas? Seriously, what could be more obvious?

  Still, maybe it wasn’t as clear to her as it was to him that he knew her so well. Better than he’d ever imagined when they first met. Better than she’d ever wanted him to, that was for sure.

  He was even beginning to understand why. Despite those careful walls she’d kept around herself in the beginning, during their last couple of get-togethers, she had started to reveal bits and pieces of herself.

  She’d talked a little about her family back home, hinting at a lack of connection that saddened him on her behalf. His own family might drive him crazy, but he’d been raised in a house filled to the brim with love.

  He suspected Amanda had never been assured of that emotion from her parents.

  She’d also asked about his upbringing, and in her slightly wistful tone, he’d heard much more than she was willing to say out loud. He’d known, somehow, that despite how much she claimed not to need anyone, a part of her might actually wonder what such connections might be like.

  One thing she hadn’t talked any more about was her past love life. But, hell, she didn’t need to. He knew she’d had a few rocky relationships. He also knew they’d ended badly, and that she still kicked herself about it.

  She was human, wasn’t she? Human and only in her late twenties. Who the hell didn’t do dumb things in their twenties, things they regretted for a long time after? Amanda simply hadn’t realized yet that she wasn’t much different from anybody else. Including him.

  “Hey stranger, you lookin’ for some company?”

  Call girl.

  Excitement washed over him as he turned to stare at the woman who’d spoken from a few feet away. She stood just outside a puddle of illumination cast by the streetlight, and he couldn’t see her well. But he’d know her anywhere. That voice, that scent. The very air seemed filled with static electricity, snapping with the excitement that always surrounded her. He reacted to it on a visceral level, as he had since the moment they’d met.

  “Maybe,” he admitted. “Are you offering to keep me company?”

  “I might be willing to do that. If you offer me enough…incentive.”

  She sauntered closer, into the light, and Reese had to suck in a surprised breath. Good thing he’d had that moment of instant recognition, all his other senses confirming her identity. Because for a brief second, when he saw her, he feared he’d been mistaken. At first glance, she looked like a completely different woman. An incredibly sexy woman. A woman he wanted with every cell in his body.

  “Wow,” he muttered.

  Her wig was short, blond, curling just past her chin. The style emphasized the heavy makeup she wore. Amanda’s face was already lovely, but with the added coloring—the thick mascara, the ruby-red lips—she looked exotic and oozed sex appeal.

  The clothes, however, took the sex appeal from oozing to gushing.

  Her long, black overcoat clung to the very edges of her shoulders. Completely unbuttoned, it gaped open to reveal the skimpy outfit beneath. What little of it there was.

  Her white top was not only incredibly tiny, plunging low to tie beneath her breasts, it was also thin, nearly sheer. Even in the low light, he could make out the dark, puckered nipples and hunger flooded his mouth. It had been too long since he’d tasted her, touched her. He should have insisted on at least a few minutes back at the hotel to satisfy the raging need he’d been feeling ever since they’d parted ways in New York.

  Her midriff was entirely bare, down all the way past her stomach. The skirt, which didn’t even reach her belly button, merely pretended to clothe her hips, and was so tight he could see the line where her thighs came together underneath. And oh, those fishnet-clad thighs beckoned him, tempting him to taste the tiny squares of supple skin revealed between the black, stretchy bits of fabric.

  The boots were, without a doubt, his favorite part of the whole thing. And he already knew he was going to rip those hose off her body so she could leave the boots on to wrap around him as he pounded into her.

  “So, whaddya say, mister?”

  “To what?”

  “To a date?”

  “A…date? With you?” he asked, pretending reticence he in no way felt.

  “No,” she said with a definite eye roll. “With that light post holding you up.”

  He still didn’t move.

  “Come on, admit it. Haven’t you fantasized about spending a night with a girl like me?”

  He couldn’t answer that. Not truthfully. Because if he answered in the game, as if she were really a call girl, he’d have to say no. He’d never even thought about being with a prostitute.

  If he answered as himself, the real Reese Campbell talking to the real Amanda Bauer, then the response was unequivocally yes. He wanted to go out with her, be a half of a couple with her—Amanda—almost as much as he wanted to take her back to the hotel and do her until she screamed with pleasure.

  “I promise you, I’ll let you do things to me that your nice little wife or girlfriend back home has never even heard of.”

  Interesting. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “I think I might need to hear more about these things before I make a decision.”

  She moved closer, her gait slinky, the sway of her hips exaggerated. When she reached his side, she lifted her hand to his chest. “Let’s just say y
ou can do anything you want to me. Absolutely anything. And I’d let you.”

  He shook his head, feigning confusion. “I’m still not sure I know what you mean.”

  She lifted her chin and her eyes narrowed as she heard the challenge in his voice. Then, with a smile of pure wickedness, she leaned up on her toes, coming close enough for her beautiful lips to graze his cheek. With a nip on his earlobe, she told him one very naughty thing she wanted him to do to her.

  Damn. Heat and excitement flared and he slid his hands into her coat, cupping her waist. Without a word, he turned her around, so her back was to the light pole, then bent down and kissed her. Licking his way into her mouth, he met her tongue with his and thrust lazily. Their bodies melded and he heard her tiny groan when she felt how hard he already was for her. She pressed against him, grinding her groin against his erection, wrapping one long leg around his to cup him more intimately between her thighs.

  They were on a public street and it was only ten o’clock at night. Fortunately, though, the cool weather had people staying inside the closest casino gambling, not outside cruising the block. So as far as he could tell, they didn’t have an audience.

  That was good. Because he couldn’t stop. No way would he stop. Not when her lips were so sweet and her body so willing. Not when she’d whispered such wanton, erotic desires in his ear, promising their fulfillment with her dreamy-eyed stare.

  When he finally ended the kiss, lifted his head and looked down at her, he saw the dazed look of pure want on her face. Her lids half covered her green eyes and most of her lipstick had been kissed off. She looked sensual and awakened, ready for sin and sex and more of everything they’d ever done together. And some things they hadn’t.

  He had to have her. Had to.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered, already stepping toward the curb to flag down a taxi.

  “Absolutely,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

  Traffic wasn’t heavy, and not a cab was in sight. Figured. When he saw one crossing the next block, Reese stepped off the curb onto the street, whistling loudly. But before he could see whether the cabbie had heard him and made a last-minute turn, he was startled by a shout that split the night air. “Stop, thief!”