He responded instantly, pressing his body hard against me, and moving his hands from my arms. One hand grabbed the back of my neck, the other gripped my ass hard, and I hooked one leg around him, crazed to feel more of him against my body. He was hard, and I felt it, liked it. We kissed like teenagers for almost a minute and then separated, breathing hard. He kissed me one final time, hard, and then let me go. He smiled at me playfully, then we walked back to the table.

Our waiter appeared, quick enough for me to suspect he'd been standing in the shadows, waiting for our makeout session to complete. I blushed, but he seemed completely at ease. He was followed by a tall man carrying a large tray loaded with desserts.

Fifteen minutes later, I had eaten small bites of tiramisu, pineapple cheesecake, fruit-loaded creme brûlée, and some extremely rich chocolate mousse. We had downed ice water but no alcohol, and I stretched luxuriously, my stomach filled to the brim. Candlelight flickered off the remnants of our desserts and Brad's face glowed across from me in the light. I licked the last bit of mousse off of my spoon and played with the metal in my mouth, eliciting a smile from Brad.

"You are incorrigible." he murmured.

"That I am," I said. "Would you be too disappointed if I wanted to skip the show, and instead curl up in PJs and watch Friends? Tonight is a marathon." I let my eyes light up.

He sighed and looked wounded. "If that's what you really want."

"Do you typically come to Vegas alone?"

"It's probably half and half."

"So when you're alone, if you were alone tonight, what would you do?"

"I'm not normally ever alone. Even when I come alone, I normally meet someone here. Beautiful women fill the casinos."

"You mean prostitutes?"

"I think the preferred title is escort, but no."

"Never?"

He sighed and looked at me, bemused. "You ask a lot of questions."

"As do you. And I answered all of yours."

"Point made. A previous host I had sent up a girl once. I declined the escort, and spoke to the host. They understand to not have it happen again."

"So you just sent here away? Was she pretty? What did she say?"

"She was extremely pretty, young, 19 or 20. Had too much makeup on and a short dress, something similar to what you are wearing." Great. I'm dressed like a hooker. I pulled my dress down a bit, trying to get it to cover more leg. "I had just gotten up to my room, and was getting ready for dinner when she knocked on the door."

"What did she say when you opened it?"

"God, I'd hate to sit through the opera with you. Let me tell the story, or I'll really stretch it out. She said that Jeff - he had been my old host - Jeff had sent her up, and then gave me a look that I think was supposed to be sexy. She then asked if she could come in. I asked her if this is what I thought it was and she didn't answer, just walked past me into the room."

"And?"

"And, we didn't do anything. I told her I appreciated the gesture, but was not interested. I think I made up a relationship I was in or something. It was a few years ago. I asked her if she wanted anything to drink, we talked for a bit, and then she left."

"Really. Just talked. You, who have been pushing the envelope with me since we met, sat in your Vegas hotel room with a 19-year-old girl, had a drink, and talked. Then your gentlemanly self walked her to the door and she left." I crossed my arms, shook my head, and fixed him with a stare. "I'm not buying it."

He laughed and leaned forward, pulling one of my arms until it was free and held my hand. "Why do you have such a low opinion of me?"

"You admit yourself that you are a sex fiend. Why would you pass on it when it is right there for the taking?"

"Because it is right there for the taking. That girl rode up that elevator to my room not knowing anything about me and was ready to have sex with whoever opened the door. There is not a worst turnoff than that. Now you, who are fighting me supposedly tooth and nail, THAT is a big turn on for me." His voice had lowered and he fixed me with a look that he probably thought was sexy. Which it was, deadly, but I wasn't about to admit that.

"Supposedly? I am fighting you tooth and nail, and WILL be victorious. And listen to what you just said. In that line of thought, rape should be right up your alley."

"Don't be ridiculous. You know what I mean. I like the chase."

"Is that the only reason I'm sitting here? Because I'm an intern in your firm, therefore off limits? And because I said no when you initially asked me to lunch?"

"You're taking this personally. I invited you here because I enjoy spending time with you. You challenge me and make me laugh. And because every time I see you walk by I want to rip your clothes off and put my hands on you." He finished the sentence in almost a growl. My eyes widened and I felt myself get weak despite my resolve to keep him at bay.

"So you didn't have sex with her."

He laughed and lifted his head, catching the waiter's eye. The man scurried over with the bill, which Brad signed. He took a final sip of champagne, and nodded at me. "Let's go."

We walked out to the big double doors of the casino floor, me holding tight to Brad's arm, balancing carefully on Becca's shoes. The casino assaulted our senses as we entered - mechanical sounds of coins clinking, colors and lights everywhere, and a musical chime of voices talking and laughing. The faint smell of smoke was in the air, and we had to move slowly, crowds of people everywhere. I gripped Brad's arm tightly, giving it a quick squeeze, and he looked down at me and smiled, then leaned over and kissed the top of my fhead. He slowed a bit as we passed the blackjack table, his eyes lingering and I pushed him on, laughing. We finally made it through the casino and lobby, the exit doors opened for us by two white-gloved doormen who beamed at us.

"Mr. De Luca, your car is ready." A suited man appeared at Brad's side, and held out his arm, indicating our limo. It looked just like the one that had brought us from the airport, and then I saw the familiar face of the driver, whose name I couldn't remember.

"Leonard," Brad said, shaking his hand.

"Got the car all ready for you. We going to New York New York?"

"Let's talk in the car. I need to check with the boss." Leonard grinned broadly and winked at me, holding open a door.

"Ms. Campbell, you look beautiful."

"Thank you Leonard. Good to see you again."

Once we were both in the car, Brad turned to me. "In the restaurant you had mentioned staying in. If you don't want to go out, we can do something tamer. Leonard can just give us a tour of the Strip and come back."

"You and me, alone in this car? Sounds disastrous." I grinned at him. "Where would Leonard be taking you if you were alone?"

"If I'm alone, I normally go to dinner with Philipe or one of my other friends. Then we make a guys night of it."

"Meaning?"

"You know Vegas - cigars, strip clubs, scotch."

"But no prostitutes?" I teased him.

"You got it." He kissed me briefly and pulled back.

"Then let's do it De Luca style."

"You really want to jump into the snake pit?"

"Viva Las Vegas baby."

"Viva Las Vegas."

CHAPTER 20

The stripper's name was Alexis. Not truly. Her real name was Sarah Hinkle, but that didn't sound sexy, it sounded Midwestern and hicky, which is what she had been. All braces and acne until she was 16, when the braces came off and she stole enough makeup from the local Walgreens to paint her face and hide her pimples. It took two more years and a girl down the street, Jennifer, who showed her the "right" way to put on makeup for Sarah's beauty to really show. Now, Springfield Illinois long gone, she shimmered in light gold body glitter, her skin toned and the perfect shade of tanning bed bronze. Her jet-black hair, grown long and flowing down her back, had just the right amount of curls, and when she flipped her head over, it feel into perfect place. Her nails were long, with a perfect french manicure, and her nude painted feet were slid into jeweled 5-inch stilettos. Naked in the dressing room, perfume filling the arm and soft na**d bodies everywhere, she tapped a fingernail on her lips and surveyed her outfits. Finally making her selection, she leaned forward and starting pulling hangers out.

---

Brad called up front and asked Leonard to head to Baccarat. Leonard nodded and pulled a U-turn, heading back into the Bellagio gates..

"What's Baccarat?"

"It's back at Bellagio. We can grab cigars and drinks there, and play a few hands - if I'm giving you the Vegas experience, you need to at least try your luck before we head home." I nodded, grabbing my purse and double-checking that I had my ID. Leonard, pulled around to a different entrance, parked, and hastened around to my door. We stepped out and made our way in, through the casino again, and to a side bar. The opulent theme continued in here, and a baby grand was front and center with a distinguished man playing Frank Sinatra. The maitre'd -recognized Brad and led us to a roped-off area reserved for VIPs. We settled into a plush, velvet loveseat that Brad took up 80% of. A stout, dark-skinned man appeared, dressed in all black, and offered us leather bound menus. Brad waved them off.

"We'll have two Manhattans, and a house phone, please." The man nodded and left, appearing again within seconds with a cordless phone.

"VIP reception is extension 442, sir." he said in a European accent. Brad nodding, pressed a few buttons, and then waited.

"This is Brad De Luca. May I speak to Nadine?"… "Yes, Nadine. Do you mind running up to my room? I have a cigar box in the bedroom…" "Yes." "Baccarat." "Thank you." He hung up the phone and passed it back to the waiter, who nodded and left, I presume to get our drinks.

"I've never had a Manhattan."

"It's strong. It might be too strong for you but.."

"When in Rome?"

"Exactly."

The waiter appeared again, holding a silver plate with two martini glasses on it. We took our drinks and chinked them gently. I took a sip.

I couldn't keep the disgust off of my face and fought against a cough. The taste was of straight alcohol and ripped through my throat, a searing, hot liquid. I shook my head and set the drink down, Brad chuckling at my reaction. Really ladylike, Julia.

"Sorry." I held the back of my hand to my lips, shuddering. "That probably wasn't the most ladylike reaction. You actually like that stuff?"

"It's an acquired taste. Want me to order you something else?"

"No. I made my bed, and I'm going to lie in it." I took a baby sip of the cocktail, my second shudder less pronounced than the first. I set it to the side and crossed my legs, putting them dangerously close to Brad's hand, which was resting on his knee. He took notice of my legs, and moved his hand to my upper knee, rubbing it gently. A leggy redhead in a black low-cut dress came over with a box of cigars. Bending over, she opened the box to Brad, but he shook his head at her. She nodded and stood, smiled at me, and then left. Brad's eyes followed the curve of her ass until she was out of sight. I smacked his arm and he turned to me. "What?"

"I'm right here! If you are going to check out other woman, wait until I'm not around!"

He chuckled. "We're headed to a strip club after this. Are you really going to chastise me for checking out another woman?"

"Good point." I clicked my tongue at him.

"Are you one of those women?"

"What women?"

"You know, the jealous type."

"There is a difference between being jealous and being disrespected. You blatantly checking out other women in front of me is disrespectful. I don't care who you check out when you aren't with me."

"Okay, I get that. But, ignoring this specific situation - do you consider yourself a jealous person?"

I thought about the question for a moment, reviewing carefully my dating pasts and the emotions that went with them. My moment turned into two.

Brad sighed dramatically, waiting for my response. I raised my eyebrows at him. "Brutal honesty?"

"Of course."

"I don't know."

"That's your brutal honesty?"

"Well, smartass - give me a minute to explain." I paused again, just to irritate him.

"I have never felt jealousy or possessiveness in any relationship I have ever been in. However - in retrospect, I think part of that may have been due to the fact that I never really loved any of them. I didn't really cared whether or not a relationship ended. I had no value placed on the relationship and didn't care if they were faithful or not. I assumed that they were because I typically placed myself into relationships where I had upper hand. Obviously, my first love left me, so that equation got screwed up somehow - but even when that relationship ended, I wasn't upset at losing him - I was upset at the inconvenience of the breakup. I had planned out a future with him, and would now need a new plan. I was also pissed at the blow to my ego. I wasn't used to being on the receiving end of rejection." I finished in a puff of exhaled air. That might have been too much honesty.

"So you are jealous - you just haven't found anyone worth being jealous of yet?"

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I have never been jealous before. I'll leave it at that. Are you "one of those men?"

"The jealous type?"

"Yes."

"I'm always very interested in my partner's activities. Jealous isn't really the right word."