The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(49)

TONIGHT, AS Ashlyn, I was supposedly partying with some friends at Club Rain in the Palms Casino. The rest of my party had already decided to hit the dance floor, but I was much more in the mood for a drink.

So I proceeded to squeeze by a group of thirty-something guys on my quest to reach the bar. Among them was a tall brown-haired man, masculine, good looking, obviously there to celebrate his bachelor party because he was wearing several Mardi Gras beads around his neck and a giant leopard-skin pimp hat on his head.

As I pushed myself past the group, a sense of recognition flashed over the man's face.

"Hey, I know you," he said.

He had obviously been drinking. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. For some reason, this seemed to make me smile.

The recognition transferred across the small space between us and onto my face as well.

"Yes, you do. What a coincidence. Twice in one night. Lucky me."

"No, lucky me," he insisted. He turned to his buddies. "Look, it's the girl who took all my money."

A few of his friends recognized me immediately and whispered something inaudible into the bachelor's ear.

"I'm Parker." He extended his hand.

I shook it firmly, then allowed my palm to slide seductively away from his as I retracted it. "Ashlyn."

"Pretty name. Can I buy you a drink?" he offered.

"I don't know. Can you, after I took all your money?"

He laughed. "Well, technically you should be buying me a drink. But that would be so un-chivalrous of me. So I guess I'm going to have to manage."

"Jack and Coke," I replied with a smile, clearly intrigued by his good looks and gentlemanly manners. And I made no effort to hide it.

"Hey, that's what I'm drinking!" he said, holding up his half-empty glass. It certainly hadn't been his first.

"You have good taste," I remarked.

"Evidently, so do you."

He was good at this. I was impressed.

The bartender poured me a drink and I held my glass up next to his. "To Vegas?" I suggested.

"To things happening in Vegas..." he insisted.

". . . and staying there."

We toasted and I took a long gulp from my glass. The bachelor looked on, once again impressed by this mysterious and very attractive woman standing in front of him, practically oozing sex. But then again, this was Vegas. Everything oozes sex in Vegas.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked me.

There was the invite. That obligatory, necessary, all-powerful invitation.

He had initiated. And now I could follow.

Without saying a word, I slid my stylishly polished finger through one of his Mardi Gras beads and began to pull him toward the dance floor.

As the groom-to-be followed closely behind me, he could feel his pulse escalating. His hand wanted to slide down my back and caress the shape of my hips. His mouth wanted to fall helplessly along the length of my neck, push my hair aside, and feel my skin under his lips. He could hear the voices of his friends growing distant, cheering him on as if he were leaving to go into battle. He could feel himself getting hard with anticipation...

And then his body jerked upright. Something snapped his attention back to the room, the music, the lights. The memory of something waiting for him back at home. Someone counting on him to keep his word.

He bargained with his inner voice.

It's just a dance, he told himself. And this is my bachelor party.



IF A subject has been drinking, it makes my job easier. Not only in the obvious way, in which alcohol makes people less inhibited, more sexual, more willing to stray, but also in the unobvious way, in which I can be less cautious. Men under the influence of alcohol are less suspicious by nature. They don't notice coincidences. They don't hear slipups. They simply enjoy their state of inhibition.

Although Ashlyn's personality tonight was still very well defined and premeditated, I felt myself relax on the dance floor. I knew I had little to worry about. There was no doubt that this night would end up in Parker Colman's hotel room. The inspection was as good as failed.

The music was loud and sensual. The pressure of his hands on my body intensified as the song continued. His touch started off soft, a faint exploration of my exterior silhouette, and then little by little, it pressed into me. Harder, more forceful, like he was massaging sexual tension right into my muscles. His fingers wrapped around my waist and pulled me toward him. His body thrust against mine and I could feel his chest muscles. His pecs were strong and defined. As if separate from my body, I watched my hands reach up and grab them. Knead them.

The music began to pulse through my veins. Louder and louder, until I felt like it had become a part of me. Controlling my movements, steering my every step.

His powerful hands spun me around and landed just above my stomach. He pressed my back into him. His fingers ran up and down the sides of my waist, just barely escaping the curves of my breasts and lingering just long enough on my hipbones to know that the underwear I was wearing didn't cover much.

As he brushed my hair away and began to tenderly kiss the back of my neck I felt something I hadn't felt in a very long time... something I never felt on an assignment. A tingling between my legs.

I closed my eyes, letting the touch of his lips send shivers up and down my back and through my entire body.