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  The pressure of his zipper digging into his cock snapped him out of the fantasy. Wait, Cain liked her. Cain was meeting her tonight. Cain had sex with her last night.

  Paxson dragged his gaze to his desk.

  “Perhaps you’d like to put your dress back on,” he said, keeping his eyes averted.

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” She bent over and Paxson couldn’t help but watch the sweet curve of her backside.

  No, no, no. Don’t look.

  What was it about this woman and her body that captivated him? He’d been face to face with a half-dozen topless showgirls and all he’d done was nod and move on but with Heather, he couldn’t seem to control his own body.

  Maybe it was because he hadn’t had sex in a long time, though six months wasn’t that long, right?

  He half turned away, giving her a moment to pull up the dress but instead, he heard the rustling of bags. The sound intrigued him enough to turn back around.

  Breath left his lungs as if he’d been punched in the gut. Heather stood there, bent over, digging through shopping bags. Her long auburn hair hung down around her face. Her legs seemed endless. The red panties hugged the sexy curve of her ass. He tipped his head to the side to watch her breasts but she shifted just enough that he could only see the silhouette. She looked like one of those sexy pin-up girls, teasing him with hints of skin.

  “Uh, Miss, I thought you were going to put your dress back on.”

  She whipped her head around, peering up at him through strands of red hair. “God no. I am never putting that thing on again. Not taking the chance.”

  “Uh—” He wasn’t sure what to say to that.

  “Just give me a second. I’ve got the perfect—” She didn’t finish the sentence. She yanked a t-shirt out of a bag. Holding it to her chest, she spun around and faced him, the look in her eyes positively devilish. “Do you have scissors?”

  The pale pink shirt barely covered her, again tempting him with the chance to see those perfect breasts.

  “Scissors?”

  “Yeah. To cut off the tags.” She pushed the t-shirt toward him.

  “No! Uh, here.” He opened his desk drawer and grabbed the scissors, handing them to her before he looked away. But instincts bred into him from his years as a cop would not let him turn his back on someone he didn’t know, particularly someone who now had a weapon.

  He kept her at the edge of his vision, trying to ignore the sensual movements of her pulling the t-shirt over her head, the soft bounce of her breasts. Once her upper half was fully covered, he felt a little more confident in turning around.

  Bad idea. The t-shirt clung to her breasts like a second skin, the tight peaks poking through the cotton. She wasn’t wearing a bra so his mind just dismissed the t-shirt as unimportant, visualizing her naked once again.

  Pax licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry and damn…she bent down again and pulled out a strip of black cloth. It looked plain to him, until she stepped into it and started to shimmy it up her legs. She wiggled and squirmed as the material stretched over her ass. The skirt stopped near the tops of her thighs, leaving her long legs bare.

  Somehow he’d always attracted petite little things, women who made him feel huge.

  But Heather was just a few inches shorter than him. Tall, slim with just the right amount of curves, curves that fit perfectly against him. And the way she carried herself showed she had some strength. Maybe he wouldn’t feel like he was going to crush her when he was on top of her.

  Or better yet, she could be on top of him. Yeah, he liked that idea. Those long legs straddling his hips. His cock twitched.

  He blinked and reminded himself that she was sleeping with Cain.

  But it’s only been one night. How serious can it be?

  He shook the thought away. Cain was his friend. He cleared his throat and waited for her to finish dressing. She did up the zipper, flipped her long hair back away from her face and stood before him, chest forward, hip cocked to the side.

  And a definite look of interest in her eyes.

  Paxson swallowed deeply, hoping to knock the groan that threatened out of his throat.

  Heather was sleeping with Cain. Cain was his friend. Therefore, Pax could not, not be interested in Heather. That was just the way the rules went.

  Okay, so he couldn’t exactly stop himself from being interested but he could stop himself from doing anything about it. At least, he was pretty sure he could.

  “How do I look?” she asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?” Her shoulders went back and the breasts plumped up a little more, the tight peaks popping out against the soft material.

  Don’t lick your lips. Don’t imagine how it would feel to have those pretty tits in your mouth. Don’t— Too late. His tongue slipped out and caught curve of his upper lip. Fuck, he hoped she didn’t notice.

  The twinkle in her eye warned she had.

  “I was going for something a little better than fine,” she said, her voice low and sultry.

  He cleared his throat and dragged his gaze away from her breasts, her practically naked breasts.

  “You look nice.”

  “Nice?”

  The word was a definite challenge.

  “Yeah. Nice.”

  “Not sexy? Not wicked?”

  He knew she was teasing, deliberately flirting with him. She strolled forward, walking around the back of his desk. Paxson knew she wasn’t going to hurt him but he still had the insane urge to back up.

  In truth, his first urge was to flip her over onto his desk and rip that tight t-shirt off her body but once he convinced his body he couldn’t do that, Paxson decided retreat might be a good idea. Except damn it, masculine pride just wouldn’t let him. He crossed his arms over his chest and faced her.

  “Well, yes. I guess.”

  She sighed and stopped, leaning her hip against his desk. “I’m not feeling it here, Paxson, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Is the outfit sexy? Does it make you want to rip it off and fuck me into next week?”

  Paxson looked directly at her. “No.”

  She stood straight up, the shoulders back but this time, she wasn’t trying to show off her tits. Tension tightened the tiny muscles at the corners of her eyes.

  “No?” The single word vibrated with barely restrained anger.

  It was Paxson’s turn to play.

  “No.” He paused. “The outfit’s nice but I’ve seen you naked. And that’s what would make me want to fuck you into next week.” He tapped his fingers on his desk. “But, I have some work to do, so—”

  He let the words hang.

  Heather stood there for a long moment, her mouth a little open, the tightness at the edges of her eyes getting deeper with each passing heartbeat.

  “I’ll leave you to it then.”

  Her gaze dipped down and all Pax could do was hope his hard-on wasn’t too obvious. From the little hitch upward of her mouth, he could only surmise that it was, damn it.

  She turned away and walked to where her bags lay on his floor. The sexy flip-swish of her hips drew his attention so he was already watching her ass when she leaned over and picked up the packages. She bent one knee, just enough to make her butt look sweet and round and damn it, he knew she was doing it on purpose but there was no way he could look away. Finally she straightened, once again tossing her hair back away from her face.

  She clutched all the bags in one hand and glared at the dress. For a moment, it looked like she might kick it but instead she sighed, picked it up and hung it over her arm.

  “Thanks for the help,” she said. “And for giving me a place to get dressed.” She sauntered to the door and looked back over her shoulder. “Maybe I’ll see you around some time.”

  He nodded but didn’t speak. Hell, he was afraid to open his mouth, worried that he might drool on his desk.

  The door closed behind her and Paxson sank down into his chair.

  Damn. Just damn.r />
  * * * * *

  Heather stepped into the casino, the noise from the slot machines bombarding her senses. She felt a little guilty about teasing the sexy security guard. He’d done everything in his power not to look at her when she’d been mostly naked.

  And he’d actually blushed.

  She knew he’d been interested. The front of his trousers had told her that—well, and so had he. I’ve seen you naked. And that’s what would make me want to fuck you into next week.

  Her pussy quivered and she pressed her lips together to hold back a moan. Between Cain last night—and this morning—her body had no business being interested in sex. She’d had sex. Great sex. And would likely have more later, after Cain finished his shift.

  Still, the thought of Paxson, that tough-guy, nice-guy combination just made her want to climb his body like a jungle gym.

  She shuffled the fluffy gown into her other hand. She’d have left the damn thing on the office floor except she knew Tasha would have a fit. For some reason, the girl wanted this dress.

  Why? Heather couldn’t figure it out. The damn thing was cursed. She sighed. There. She’d admitted it. It was cursed and only fell off for—

  Wait. It had fallen off for Cain and Paxson. Unless Paxson had been lying and Cain had been under the desk. Which seemed unlikely.

  Wow. Cait was right. The dress did fall off for more than one guy. So maybe it wasn’t your “true love” barometer. Maybe it was a “hot sex” sensor.

  She bit her lip and stared at the security office door. She could just imagine—hell, she had been imagining—Paxson in bed. Strong, powerful, demanding. Oh yeah. A little flirtation couldn’t hurt anyone, right?

  Maybe he’s taken, her snippy conscience pointed out. Maybe you just flashed your tits at a nice, loyal man. The minor guilt trip mutated into a full-on voyage.

  Crap.

  He’d done everything in his power to be polite. She should apologize, tell him she was only teasing. As she turned around, the strap of her purse vibrated. She slipped between the rows of slot machines and dropped her bags on the chair before digging through her purse and finding her phone buzzing at the bottom.

  Aunt Katherine.

  Tasha’s mother, finally calling her back.

  She tapped on the phone’s screen and answered the call.

  “Aunt K, hi! How’s your cruise?”

  Joyous laughter tinkled through the phone. “Fantastic. Just amazing.”

  “I’m jealous.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. We’re heading back to the ship and we’ll have no cell coverage but I wanted to call. Tasha said you had a question about the wedding dress?”

  Oh right. “Yes, but never mind. It’s worked itself out.”

  “You got the dress off?” Aunt K didn’t sound convinced.

  “Sort of.”

  Her aunt chuckled. “So that’s how it is. You met Mr. Right.” The words held the tone of experience, good, sexy experience.

  “Sort of,” she hedged again.

  Ominous silence echoed through the phone. “What does that mean?” Tension shimmered through the words.

  “It isn’t Mr. Right,” Heather blurted out. “More like, Mr. Right and his cousin, Mr. Sexy.”

  “Oh dear.” The tone changed, concern tainting her aunt’s voice. The phone line crackled. “But the dress did fall off?”

  “Yes.”

  “For how many men?”

  “Just two. So far. But don’t worry. I’ve got the dress off and I’m done. I’m heading home in a few days and this will all be a wonderful memory.” She felt her cheeks grow warm. This wasn’t the sort of discussion she normally had with her aunt.

  She heard a male voice in the background. It sounded like Aunt K’s husband.

  “Two.” The word was muffled as if Aunt K was trying to cover the speaker. “I can’t tell her that.”

  “Aunt K?”

  “What? Oh, sorry. Nick was just talking to me. You were saying about the men who made the dress fall off? You couldn’t have been confused?”

  “Not likely. Two separate occasions. Two different men.” Silence again, prompting Heather to say, “Aunt K?”

  Silence, then, “Pursue both men.”

  “What? You’re cutting out.”

  “The dress seems to…two men and you need to…”

  “What?”

  “Just don’t ignore the dress. Bad things happen if you do.”

  “Wait? What bad things?” There was no response. “Break a nail bad or zombie apocalypse bad?” she shouted into the phone

  No answer and seconds later she heard three beeps in her ear. Damn, she knew that sound. Call failed.

  She tried to redial her aunt but it went straight to voicemail.

  Don’t ignore the dress? What kind of advice is that? The dress thinks I should be sleeping with two men.

  She paused.

  Like Cait is. And Cait seems pretty dang happy.

  But she’d known both guys before they hooked up. What was Heather supposed to do? Throw herself at Paxson? Tell him and Cain they needed to fuck her because of a cursed wedding dress?

  They already thought she was a little nuts. No. She was going to stick to the original plan. She was out of the dress and that was all that mattered.

  She was going to relax and enjoy the rest of her trip.

  Chapter Six

  Dear Diary,

  Seriously? I mean, seriously?

  Heather was ready to scream. Three days. Three days since she’d gotten out of that stupid, ugly, freakin’ cursed wedding dress. She couldn’t take it anymore.

  Not that she hadn’t done a bit of screaming in the last three nights, nights she’d spent with Cain. There had been screams, moans, groans and dozens of “oh my God!” sounds. Hmm, for a woman averaging two orgasms a day, not bad.

  No, that part was good and she kind of liked that type of screaming.

  But the frustrated, “I’m going to pull my hair out” noises that threatened weren’t so pleasant.

  The damn dress was going to be the end of her.

  No. She was a better woman than this. She wasn’t going to let some stupid cursed wedding dress beat her.

  Heather pushed her shoulders back, focused on her prey.

  Paxson walked out of the security office, paused, straightened his jacket and turned left. She’d learned his patterns in the past two days. And tried to convince herself that just because she knew he’d circle the casino twice before going to the sandwich bar for lunch—and order a hot turkey sandwich on a multi-grain bun—that didn’t mean she was a stalker.

  She wasn’t. What she was, was desperate.

  She should have heeded her aunt’s warning. Don’t ignore the dress.

  Somehow that translated into “sleep with Paxson or else”.

  Only Paxson wasn’t reacting like a normal man. No matter what she did—short of throwing herself naked across his desk—she couldn’t seduce the man. They’d had coffee after she’d “accidentally” run into him that day after Aunt K’s call.

  From that conversation and subsequent others—because, let’s face it, she was stalking him—Heather knew Paxson was straight and discovered he wasn’t seeing anyone.

  And she knew he was interested. He’d done a pretty good job of hiding his erection but she was pretty damn sure that fascinating bulge in his pants was for her.

  Why couldn’t she even get him to kiss her?

  It was becoming a serious problem. Aunt K hadn’t been kidding when she’d said, “don’t ignore the dress.”

  On the scale of broken nail to zombie apocalypse, it was about halfway in the middle, leaning a little closer to broken nail because she hadn’t actually needed to behead anyone yet.

  Though sometimes she wanted to.

  If she didn’t do something soon, she was going to be naked. Again.

  She looped around to the far side of the casino, hiding behind a row of penny slots as Paxson passed by.
He liked to check the casino floor several times a day and it gave employees a chance to talk to him, bring up any concerns. She’d learned that yesterday at lunch.

  Unable to resist, she peeked out as he walked away. The suit he wore didn’t reveal much of his body but just the shape and the powerful way he carried himself gave her a pretty good picture of the muscles underneath. A hot wave rushed across her skin and settled into her core.

  For the past three nights, she’d met Cain—either for dinner or drinks—and each night they’d ended up in Heather’s room. She’d learned a couple of things about Cain as well—he wasn’t as shallow as she’d originally thought. He cheered for the Diamondbacks. Loved his job and could make love for most of the night—leaving her a quivering pile of satisfied female. Hell, the box of condoms he’d brought was almost gone.

  But still, when she saw Paxson, she wanted him. Too.

  Not instead of Cain but along with Cain.

  She waited for Paxson’s second circuit then wandered into the main walkway, keeping her head down, faking that she was texting as she stepped into his path.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Her head snapped up and she smiled at Paxson. “Oh hi.”

  The edge of his mouth pulled up in a half-smile. Damn, she wasn’t fooling him. But who cared? She didn’t have time to waste. She was down to two outfits.

  “Heather, what a surprise to see you again.”

  “It’s not really, is it?”

  “You’re not very sneaky. I saw you hiding there the first time around.”

  “I guess I’ll have to give up my dream of becoming a secret agent. Want to have lunch?” Want to go upstairs and have wild and wicked sex? Pleeeeease.

  This time his smile was real. They walked to the sandwich shop. The guy behind the counter rang up Paxson’s order without even asking, then looked at Heather. She’d had the turkey on day one—trying to bond with Paxson—the veggie wrap yesterday and today she went for the spicy beef.

  They got their meals and sat down.