else?”
Just Natasha . Who was she shopping for, anyway? Damon shook his head. Then, “Hey. Natasha’s out shopping for me, isn’t she?” he guessed. “She wants to surprise me.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “You should be so lucky.”
“You don’t have to be a dick about it.” Damon frowned. “‘You should be so lucky.’ What does that mean, anyway?”
“If you were paying attention, you’d know.” His buddy set down his allocated keycard to the hotel suite. He gave Damon a smart-alecky farewell salute. “Knock ’em dead today.”
“I always do,” Damon said, waving Jason out. But just at that moment, he felt a lot less certain than he sounded.
He’d never had to impress someone on demand. Not officially, anyway. Not onstage in a workshop. How was he supposed to score a big creative win on the spur of the moment?
Natasha had picked a hell of a day to abandon him, Damon brooded as he went to pick out a suit. If there was ever a time he shouldn’t be left on his own to sink or swim, it was right now. When Natasha came back, he fully intended to tell her so.
But first, he had a sexy lady chef to meet. It would probably be a good idea, Damon told himself, to go find Tamala and see if they could strike up a useful rapport before the workshop started. You know, just to kick off things on the right foot. Professionally speaking. And maybe to find out exactly what cocoa painting, nougat modeling, and sugar cages involved.
Yeah. That was exactly what he should do, Damon decided.
When Natasha realized the thrilling educational experience she’d missed out on—because she could, after all, have been included in this potential professional ménage à trois, too—she’d regret leaving him on his own twice as hard.
With that heartening thought in mind, Damon dragged on his clothes, then went on the hunt for Tamala. He felt better already. He felt ready to take on the world. He felt ... invincible.
That was always a good sign ... wasn’t it?
Chapter 7
Present day
Las Vegas, Nevada
The thing about Sin City, Natasha reflected as she waited in the noisy, crowded, smoky din of the casino down The Strip from the chocolate-convention hotel, was that it removed you from your life. Piece by piece, the things that ordinarily kept you grounded fell away. Before you knew it, you were living in a neon-lit, adults-only, twenty-four-hour wonderland, without so much as a clock on the wall to tell you night from day.
Here in Las Vegas, responsibilities were optional. Conventional morals didn’t apply. Indulgence was not only tolerated, but encouraged. Here in Las Vegas, there was nothing to stop a person from going all-out crazy for a night or a weekend ...
Or maybe for longer. Which was the hook, in the end, that made Natasha say yes when a supply rep from a luxury chocolate packager asked her to dinner. She hadn’t been on a date for a while. She knew Scott from other industry events; he was a nice man. He didn’t make the earth move with his presence alone, but short of Damon, who did? So when he’d asked, she’d said yes.
Now, waiting for Scott outside the chic, five-star restaurant they’d agreed upon, Natasha felt glad she’d taken a chance. Sure, this was a business trip—but Damon enjoyed himself all the time while he was away for work. There was no reason she couldn’t do the same. In fact, it had felt pretty good this morning to call Jason for Damon-wrangling duty and slip away to the casino shops for a few hours. Now that she’d tasted a little freedom from her self-imposed obligations to her boss, Natasha wanted a little more. Preferably tonight. Privately . But first ...
The cell phone in her hand finally connected. Cradling it to her ear, Natasha found a slightly quieter corner. She smiled as she spoke, growing more engrossed the longer she talked. Her conversation also had the power to make reality shift—but this time, it was the unwanted reality of tipsy, glassy-eyed gamblers
Just Natasha . Who was she shopping for, anyway? Damon shook his head. Then, “Hey. Natasha’s out shopping for me, isn’t she?” he guessed. “She wants to surprise me.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “You should be so lucky.”
“You don’t have to be a dick about it.” Damon frowned. “‘You should be so lucky.’ What does that mean, anyway?”
“If you were paying attention, you’d know.” His buddy set down his allocated keycard to the hotel suite. He gave Damon a smart-alecky farewell salute. “Knock ’em dead today.”
“I always do,” Damon said, waving Jason out. But just at that moment, he felt a lot less certain than he sounded.
He’d never had to impress someone on demand. Not officially, anyway. Not onstage in a workshop. How was he supposed to score a big creative win on the spur of the moment?
Natasha had picked a hell of a day to abandon him, Damon brooded as he went to pick out a suit. If there was ever a time he shouldn’t be left on his own to sink or swim, it was right now. When Natasha came back, he fully intended to tell her so.
But first, he had a sexy lady chef to meet. It would probably be a good idea, Damon told himself, to go find Tamala and see if they could strike up a useful rapport before the workshop started. You know, just to kick off things on the right foot. Professionally speaking. And maybe to find out exactly what cocoa painting, nougat modeling, and sugar cages involved.
Yeah. That was exactly what he should do, Damon decided.
When Natasha realized the thrilling educational experience she’d missed out on—because she could, after all, have been included in this potential professional ménage à trois, too—she’d regret leaving him on his own twice as hard.
With that heartening thought in mind, Damon dragged on his clothes, then went on the hunt for Tamala. He felt better already. He felt ready to take on the world. He felt ... invincible.
That was always a good sign ... wasn’t it?
Chapter 7
Present day
Las Vegas, Nevada
The thing about Sin City, Natasha reflected as she waited in the noisy, crowded, smoky din of the casino down The Strip from the chocolate-convention hotel, was that it removed you from your life. Piece by piece, the things that ordinarily kept you grounded fell away. Before you knew it, you were living in a neon-lit, adults-only, twenty-four-hour wonderland, without so much as a clock on the wall to tell you night from day.
Here in Las Vegas, responsibilities were optional. Conventional morals didn’t apply. Indulgence was not only tolerated, but encouraged. Here in Las Vegas, there was nothing to stop a person from going all-out crazy for a night or a weekend ...
Or maybe for longer. Which was the hook, in the end, that made Natasha say yes when a supply rep from a luxury chocolate packager asked her to dinner. She hadn’t been on a date for a while. She knew Scott from other industry events; he was a nice man. He didn’t make the earth move with his presence alone, but short of Damon, who did? So when he’d asked, she’d said yes.
Now, waiting for Scott outside the chic, five-star restaurant they’d agreed upon, Natasha felt glad she’d taken a chance. Sure, this was a business trip—but Damon enjoyed himself all the time while he was away for work. There was no reason she couldn’t do the same. In fact, it had felt pretty good this morning to call Jason for Damon-wrangling duty and slip away to the casino shops for a few hours. Now that she’d tasted a little freedom from her self-imposed obligations to her boss, Natasha wanted a little more. Preferably tonight. Privately . But first ...
The cell phone in her hand finally connected. Cradling it to her ear, Natasha found a slightly quieter corner. She smiled as she spoke, growing more engrossed the longer she talked. Her conversation also had the power to make reality shift—but this time, it was the unwanted reality of tipsy, glassy-eyed gamblers
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