Make Me Melt(59)

An idea formed in his mind. Travis rose from his seat, his pulse quickening with anticipation. Forget a bunch of drunk, rowdy men. He knew exactly how he wanted to spend his weekend. “I’ll be with the brunette.”

His friend snorted at the claim. “Her? Never going to happen.”

“How can you say that? I’m holding on to your emerald,” Travis replied. The emerald suddenly felt heavy in the breast pocket of his jacket.

Aaron laughed. “That emerald is lucky, not magic. But you’ll find out soon enough.”

* * *

SHE WOULD NEVER listen to Jill again, Christine Pearson thought as she tugged at the hem of her dress. Her friend insisted on this fancy outfit, telling her she would blend in with the crowd. Did Jill think she was staying at the Bellagio or something?

Christine took a step forward and felt her skirt rise up her thigh. She tried to yank it down as she walked, but she wasn’t used to wearing high heels. She turned her ankle and almost tripped.

I should have stayed home. That had been the thought running through her mind the moment she got off the plane at McCarran Airport. She had headed straight for the restroom, found an empty stall and struggled into her tight dress and high heels.

The moment she had stepped out of the stall and seen her reflection in the mirror she knew the plan wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t the kind of woman to wear this dress. It was no use pretending. At least no one back in Cedar Valley would see her make a fool of herself.


Christine closed her eyes, but the chimes and bells from the machines were distracting. She took a deep breath only to inhale the stench of smoke. You’re here. Might as well make the most of this weekend.

She opened her eyes and blinked as the bright lights flickered in the dark casino. It was time to focus. Flipping her hair back, Christine tried to remember her to-do list.

She sighed and rolled her eyes in self-disgust. That should have been her first clue that this plan wasn’t going to work. Who made a to-do list for a wild weekend?

Her thoughts only proved that somehow, somewhere, she had lost her impetuous spirit. She hadn’t realized it until she discovered the list of dreams she had written when she had turned eighteen. She really wished she hadn’t found it. Every naive, ridiculous and impractical goal was on that list.

And yet, ten years later, she hadn’t accomplished any of them. Not one. The regret weighed heavily on her. Where had all the time gone? What had she been doing? She marched across the casino floor. Was it possible that she had changed so much in ten years? Was she a completely different person now?

Christine stumbled to a halt in the middle of the casino as she considered that question. Was it too late to follow this list? Should she let it go and move on?

No. Christine raised her chin and rolled back her shoulders. If she were a different person, it wouldn’t have hurt so much to see that list. She would have laughed it off and thrown it away.

Instead, she’d memorized it and decided to take action. It was time to resurrect her wild side and become the bold woman she’d always wanted to be. She was starting it all off with a three-day weekend in Las Vegas so she could have the freedom to try something daring.

She walked by a row of old-fashioned slot machines and paused. Fishing through her backpack, Christine pulled out a crisp dollar bill and fed it through the machine. She pulled the lever, but didn’t feel any excitement as she watched the row of symbols spin and settle.

She lost.

No surprise there. But that was dream number forty-three. Win money. She knew why she had written that down ten years ago. Back then she had big dreams and a poorly paid summer position at the bank.

Now she was the manager of that bank.

Christine’s shoulders slumped. That hadn’t been the plan. The plan had been to get out of Cedar Valley and find her passion. She’d failed on both counts. Worse, she had a pristine dream list with nothing checked off.

Her eighteen-year-old self would be horrified.

Her twenty-eight-year-old self wasn’t that impressed, either.

But she was changing that. All she had to do was check off one thing. She could do that in Vegas, where no one would judge her or rein her in.

Christine sat down next to the slot machine as she considered her list. What about number nineteen? Climb Mount Rainier. Yeah, that’s in Washington state and she was in Nevada. Perhaps number eight? Get a tattoo. No. Christine immediately discarded that idea. It was too permanent. She needed to take a baby step.

Christine reached into her backpack for another dollar. She saw a movement from the corner of her eye and looked up to see a man stride down the aisle of slot machines.

Wow. Christine’s eyes widened. The man was tall and lean. She was mesmerized by the confident and smooth way he moved. Her gaze went from his scuffed boots and his powerful legs encased in low-riding, faded jeans. She noticed how his dark jacket hung from his broad shoulders and the way his white-collared shirt stretched against his muscular chest.

Christine glanced up and found herself staring. The man did little to control his dark wavy hair and her hands itched to sink into the softness. And then she would trail her fingers along his high cheekbones and angular jaw. She wanted to trace the grooves that bracketed his firm mouth and the lines that fanned from his sparkling brown eyes.

The man flashed a lopsided smile and Christine’s breath hitched in her throat. Excitement bubbled inside her, heating her body and pressing against her skin, ready to burst.