Quick Dirty Luck: A Love Between the Pages Novel Read online

  HEATHER GUIMOND

  Quick Dirty Luck

  Copyright © 2019 by Heather Guimond

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  Cover Art by Digital Web Academy

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Thank You!

  More sexy, steamy books by Heather

  One

  Kent

  “That will be all for today, Faith,” I said, dismissing my assistant. I’d cut my instructions short just so I could watch her hips swish in that tiny black skirt she was wearing as she walked out of my office. Faith Peters was entirely off-limits to me, given I was her boss. I learned the hard way not to dip my pen in the company ink, but it didn’t stop me from appreciating some of her finer points. She was stellar at her job, frequently a life saver with last-minute emergencies, and had a rapid-fire wit and feisty personality. She’d never been susceptible to my charm and kept me in line, so I’m pretty sure I’d still have the hots for her if she was sixty-years-old and built like a snowman.

  Sitting behind my big glass and chrome desk, I tilted my head to the side as Faith strolled out. She was keenly aware of my admiration and had no compunction about using it against me. Her tight skirt brushed back and forth against her shapely thighs, causing me to huff out a frustrated breath, adjust my sitting position, and shake my head. I needed a date—and soon. Otherwise, I just might break all my rules and bend Ms. Peters over my desk and bury myself inside her. Before she breaks my nose. Just saying.

  I’d planned to spend the evening working on reviewing recommendations from our new branding representative. Since taking over the role of CEO when my father, Bartholomew Kingsley, decided to take an early retirement to play golf all day, I determined we needed a new image. Something that would appeal to a younger clientele. Younger, but old enough to have assets that made them willing to drop scads of cash whenever they visited.

  Glancing at the mock-ups that had been sent to me, I sighed in disgust. The new account representative, some wet-behind-the-ears guy, I suspected, didn’t get my vision. He’d reproduced my father’s preference for upscale and pretentious. I wanted to emphasize the illicit side of Las Vegas’ heyday. Something sexy and racy, just this side of raunchy. I wanted a real invitation to excess with a side of sin. I guessed it was time to go back to shopping for a new agency. I picked up my phone and sent the dimwit a text letting him know that his services were no longer required. It probably wasn’t the most professional way to go about it, but I’d already forgotten him by the time I put my phone in my pocket.

  Moving on to the upcoming events for the hotel, I noticed we were hosting a book conference for romance novels. Normally, I’d scoff at the thought of book covers with some new Fabio-wannabe on the cover, but this gig sounded exactly like what I was looking for. Limitless Lust in Las Vegas—I didn’t have to guess just what kind of romance books would be featured. I decided we’d show this convention a little extra love, so I left a note for Faith to give a bigger rate reduction to whatever room block they’d requested. I wanted my hotel packed with these lusty authors and readers, wined and dined and ready to avail themselves to the wide array of indulgences my hotel could provide. I made a mental note to connect with my buddy, Gage Blackstone, a well-known erotic romance author, to see if he wanted in on the event. He might even know the organizers.

  Shoving away any further thoughts about business, I stood and grabbed my suit jacket. I would put work on the back burner until Monday. For now, it was Friday night, and I needed to get out of my office. It was rare when I didn’t work until at least midnight, especially on Friday when most of the office staff had split right at quitting time. I usually managed to get most of my best work done then with hours of quiet time alone. Tonight though, my mind was on exactly what I wanted our hotel to showcase—unapologetic hedonism.

  Pushing a stack of messages I was never going to return into the wastebasket, I removed the tie that had been choking me all day. No more work for me tonight. I intended to indulge myself. I was thirty-five years old, feeling forty quickly creeping up on me. If I didn’t slow down, at least some of the time, the rest of my thirties were going to blow past me. I wasn’t going to let that happen—at least not this weekend.

  Tucking the offending accessory into my trouser pocket, I crossed my office in no time. I was going to pay a visit to Stan, the head bartender in the smallest lounge in the building. While our property boasted six bars on the casino level, I enjoyed Stan’s. It was the one place in the hotel that came closest to my idea of what a casino lounge should be. It was dimly lit, with stuffed black leather booths, and matte black tables sporting miniature candles in the center. The walls were covered in a black velvet brocade pattern which only served to enhance the image it was a place where delicious secrets were born. It was unique, in my opinion, as most of our competitors’ offerings were bright and modern-looking. The Kingsley Hotel was going to bring back rat-pack Vegas, come hell or high water.

  As I walked into the lounge, Stan was behind the small black-stained bar with brass railings. He nodded to me as I perched on top of one of the leather stools.

  “Evening, Mr. Kingsley. Surprised to see you here so early,” he said in his thick, New York accent. I hired Stan shortly after I took command of the hotel if for no other reason than his accent and rough Bronx neighborhood appeal embodied my vision for my city’s darker past. It sure didn’t hurt when I found out he poured vodka tonics heavy on the Belvedere.

  “The usual, please, Stan. While you’re at it, remember to call me Kent. Mr. Kingsley is fine for when I’m on the clock, but if you see me in here with my tie off, you can be sure I’m on my personal time.”

  Stan chuckled under his breath before replying, “Whatever you say, boss.”

  I groaned out loud. That was even worse. At least with Mr. Kingsley, it could be assumed I was just another one of the regular businessmen who made up the bulk of our current clientele. I grabbed a handful of peanuts from the bowl on top of the bar and tossed one in my mouth as I nodded to Stan.

  “Just pipe down and get me my drink, you asshole.”

  Stan laughed as he set a double in front of me. “I read your mind already, Kent.” He successfully dodged the peanut I threw at him.

  Taking that first sip, I felt the tension in my shoulders begin to ease. Simple pleasures like these made me thank my lucky stars I’d been born into a casino family. Every convenience I could ever want was at my fingertips. It was ninety percent the reason I chose to occupy one of the penthouse suites in the hotel. The other ten percent was the proximity to my office—I was never one for sitting in traffic.

  I swiveled around on my stool, letting my eyes drift to the door. I startled as they came to rest on the sexiest woman I’d seen in a long time. She was dressed conservatively in a short black
jacket and pencil skirt that hit just below her knees. The highlight of her outfit, however, was the sky-high, scarlet, fuck-me heels that adorned her feet. While her outfit suggested she was the reserved type, those shoes told a different story. My vision was clouded by an image of having her flat on her back in my suite with those legs wrapped around my waist, the stilettos digging into my ass cheeks.

  Shaking off the picture that had immediately made my cock jump in my pants, I gave her a closer look. She had shining, blonde hair that curled well past her shoulders. I guessed she was somewhere in her late twenties, but I couldn’t really be sure. I squinted, trying to get a glimpse of the color of her eyes, but the room was too dark. I shamelessly continued to stare at her as she made her way over to the bar.

  Oblivious to my tongue hanging out of my mouth, she took a seat a few stools down from me. Stan’s eyes lit up briefly when he saw the bombshell waiting at his bar. I was impressed; she didn’t look like the type who would belly-up. This woman looked like the sort who would sit back in her own private booth and expect to be waited on, hand and foot. The high-maintenance girls were never my style, but those shoes had me thinking I’d make an exception for this one. I studied my drink, trying to figure out a plan for seducing her right out of that tidy little suit and getting those long legs over my shoulders—the sooner, the better.

  I heard Stan ask for her order. Further tightening the fit of my trousers, I was taken by the sound her low, silky murmur.

  “I’ll take a Dirty Martini with three olives, please. Grey Goose,” she all but purred.

  Just when I thought I’d gotten my cock to begin to deflate, it sprang back to life at the timbre of her voice. I cringed as the seam of my zipper dug mercilessly into my erection. I deftly adjusted myself, so as not to draw attention to the fact this woman had me ready to burst right here, right now, without so much as her breath whispering across my heated skin. I shook my head to myself. Without a doubt, I was going to have this well put together woman a sloppy mess before the night was over. It didn’t matter how much of a challenge I suspected she might be, I’d already committed myself to the task. One thing about me, I never gave up until any deal is sealed. My determination is unmatched.

  I allowed my thoughts to wander to the image of her on her knees before me, her hair tangled and knotted as she looked up with those big eyes of hers and after I’d proudly decorated that pretty face. My stomach tightened as I felt my balls begin to swell. I forced myself to think of the shitty marketing submission in my office to get myself back under control. Get a grip, Kingsley, or you’re going to miss your chance.

  After Stan placed her glass in front of her, he passed me on his way to the other end of the bar. He gave a slight jerk of his head in her direction as he looked at me bug-eyed. I’m sure he wished he could take a crack at her, but Stan had four kids and a wife who was borderline psychotic. He’d told me stories about her legendary temper several times. I nodded back before turning my head to the side. I’d intended to give her one last once-over, but before I could, I heard that melodious voice again, except it was laced with acid rather than the smooth whiskey sound I’d heard before.

  “Do you mind? I’m trying to relax over here. Your constant ogling is annoying,” she snapped. Wow, this kitten had claws. All the better to leave scratch marks on my back.

  “You’ll have to forgive me. You just remind me of someone I know.” The lie smoothly crossed my lips. I was always good at thinking on the spot. I hated to say lies came easily to me, but the truth of the matter was, there had never been a situation I couldn’t talk myself out of, and if sometimes that required a little truth-bending, I was good with it. Win at all costs was my private motto.

  “Oh really?” she responded icily. “I suppose you’re going to tell me your sister. No wait,” she said as she turned and looked directly at me. “You’re the type who’d go for the long reach and try to convince me you mean your grandmother when she was young.” I’d have been struck stupid by the cerulean eyes currently shooting daggers at me, but her smart little mouth challenged my inner-asshole. That sarcastic bastard never knew when to hold back.

  “Actually, I was thinking of my cleaning lady,” I tossed back at her. “You remind me of her even more now. She’s kind of prickly too. She scrubs a mean floor though, so I keep her around.”

  She visibly bristled as her mouth dropped open, those perfect lips forming a large O. I instantly thought about plugging that gap. My cock would look excellent sawing in and out of those cherry-stained beauties.

  As she indignantly sputtered, I stood from my seat and walked the few steps over to her. Her eyes were shooting fire, but I noticed the split-second widening of them as she took in my six-foot-three frame. The ladies in my past had always been effusive over my dark blond hair and blue eyes under any circumstances, but every single one said I was irresistible in a suit. I planned to use it to my advantage any way I could.

  I slid into the space between her stool and the one next to it, leaning casually against the bar. To her credit, she didn’t shy away. Instead, she sat up even straighter on her stool as she thumped her glass onto the bar. I was surprised the stem didn’t crack with the force of it.

  “Did I somehow give you the impression I wanted company?” she hissed.

  I held up a hand to make myself seem open and non-threatening. This woman was going to require a less direct approach than my usual take.

  “I come in peace. I want to apologize if I came off as just another creep objectifying you. You’re a very beautiful woman, I won’t lie, but I really meant no offense. Just like you, I’m here to relax. It’s been a long, stressful day for me. Forgive me for shamelessly indulging myself in the pleasure of staring at you.”

  She looked at me with a little less hostility before thrusting her nose in the air. Oh, I was going to take great delight in punishing her tight, curvy body. By the time I was done with her, she’d have abandoned the imperious attitude and replaced it with ceaseless begging for me to make her come again and again.

  Damn, it really has been too long since you got laid, Kingsley. You can’t think of anything else but fucking when you look at her. She’s hot, for sure, but c’mon. She’s still just a woman. Deep down, no different from any other.

  I didn’t like that I had such a jaded opinion of the opposite sex. I wanted to believe there was at least one diamond out there among the rhinestones I’d run across. In my experience though, each one was out to see what she could get whether it was financial gain or simply someone to cater to her. I’d made it my mission to stay uninvolved after my bad experience with Marguerite. She nearly got me to the altar before I saw her true colors. I gave an internal shrug. It wasn’t like it mattered anymore, it had been years. I had my priorities set, and I was never going to be any woman’s bitch again. Ignoring this one’s attitude, I began paving my way into her good graces.

  “Let me try to salvage my image here,” I said as I straightened up and held out my hand. “I’m Kent. If you let me, I’d love to buy you another drink and undo any damage I’ve done.”

  She looked down at my hand, likely wondering whether it was safe to put hers into it. I calmly waited for her to make up her mind though my urge was to withdraw it and move on to easier pickings. I was already committed though. I had too many fantasies about those shoes burning in my brain.

  Finally, she dropped her hand into mine.

  “Alexis,” she replied.

  Her grip was remarkably firm though not too hard. I’d half expected with her nettlesome attitude, she’d hand me a dead-fish of a shake. It spoke well of how that hand might feel gripping Kent Jr. Giving my one-track mind a mental backhand, I let my fingers softly caress her smooth skin as I withdrew. If her voice was like black velvet, her skin was white satin. I swore internally. At this rate, I’d be rushing off to rub one out just to relieve the pressure in my balls. Nearly disgusted with what I can only describe as the horniness of a fifteen-year-old virgin, I soldiered on. By that
I mean, I tossed the contents of my glass down the hatch like a raging alcoholic who just got out of detox. Get back on your game, Kent.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alexis. What brings you to our city? Business? Pleasure? A little bit of both, maybe?”

  Alexis gave a frustrated sigh. “I’m local. Well, not really. I’m from Southern California, but I spend as much time here as I can. My best friend lives in Vegas. This trip, I’m here to scope out the convention areas for an upcoming event I’m helping to arrange. I’ve been trying to get in to meet the event coordinator for this hotel, but he blew me off, the little shit.”

  I was mildly interested in her words, briefly wondering if I might be able to help somehow, but that interest was quickly overrun by more thoughts of giving her better things to focus on.

  “Well, Alexis, I’ll make it a personal challenge to take your mind off business and divert it to more pleasurable pursuits,” I said, flashing a wicked grin at her.

  At the sound of the word ‘pleasurable,’ she tucked her chin and cast her eyes downward. I’d swear if the room had been brighter, I’d see interest beginning to sparkle in those blue eyes. This made me grin even wider. She wasn’t completely unaffected by me. I motioned for Stan to bring us another round though Alexis still had a bit of the first one left in her glass. I picked it up and handed it to her, a silent suggestion for her to drink up. My eyebrows raised as she quickly took it and tossed it back faster than I had my own. I boldly slid onto the stool next to her and proceeded to make small talk with her for the next two hours.

  I lost count of how many drinks we had after those first two, but little by little, Alexis began to relax and open up to me. As she peppered me with the trivial details of her life, her body language became more and more encouraging. Tuning out the idle chatter while keeping enough of my brain engaged to nod and murmur appropriately in response, I observed every touch of her hand to my arm, the slide of her fingertips over the collar of the silk shell peeking out from the fold of her jacket, the way she flipped her hair as she laughed. Each mannerism was driving my already raging reaction to her to a fever pitch. I needed to figure out a way to get her into my bed, pronto, without scaring her off. I’d only just gotten her past the idea I was a creep. It was time to really turn on the charm and speed up the momentum.