“Of course.” But it wasn’t so much a want as a have no other options. What else could he do? He had no skills, no formal education beyond the tenth grade. Poker was his life.

He narrowed his eyes at Chaz again. “Listen, tip off those reporter friends of yours that Riley Carter and I will be at the Eiffel Tower restaurant tonight.”

“Riley Carter? Las Vegas’ Good Daughter?”

“That’s right.” Maybe a couple pictures in the papers would help them both out. The publicity would help Charlie get his sponsorship and maybe, just maybe, it would help Riley out of a relationship with Manhandling, Cheating Dick over there.

“Consider it done. But do me a favor, Singleton?”

“What?”

“Make it good.”

***

“Oh, my God,” Lacey said from the couch. “Did you see this? Paris Hilton has a new beau.”

Riley rolled her eyes and dropped her gym bag by the door. “My day was fine, Lace. How was yours?” She didn’t have to look to know that Lacey was watching G! TV—Today’s Gossip about Tomorrow’s Celebrities! The channel was something of an addiction for Lacey.

Lacey snickered, shrugging. “Sorry. I just think it’s interesting, trying to imagine a life with that kind of money, that kind of luxury.” Her brow pinched. “To be honest, I’m not sure how you pass it up. I mean, who wants to work every day?”

Riley frowned. “Why would I want a life that would make me a joke in the eyes of the media?” At eighteen Riley had set out to prove herself to a world that assumed she was just another spoiled little rich girl. Although she knew her father would like to see her work a little less and enjoy life a little more, she liked to think he was proud of the life she’d built on her own.

Lacey shifted on the couch and pulled her legs under her. “Why do you assume you would have been a bad egg? Lots of people have money and don’t make a fool of themselves.”

Riley shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I have a little bit of a wild side, and a little too much indulgence would make it come out in full force.”

Lacey laughed. “Wild? Sure, Ry. Whatever you say.”

She plopped on the couch beside her friend, who—like nearly everyone else in the world—knew nothing about Riley’s rebellious months as a sixteen-year old…the ones immediately preceding her father’s decision to send her to girls’ school. “I can be wild.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think if I let myself have access to all that money, my ING would just be an NG. She wouldn’t be hidden and tucked away where she has to stay out of trouble. She’d be out, flaunting herself like Britney of the no-panties days.” She was her mother’s daughter, after all, and Cynthia Dreier had the wildest of wild sides—Riley just hadn’t known until after her mother was gone.

“Maybe showing her to the world would do you some good.”

Riley looked at the television where Paris was dirty dancing with some football player at an LA club. “You know, the press should give her a break. Paris isn’t the only ditzy blonde who likes to have a little fun from time to time.”

“Of course she’s not.” Lacey smirked, studying the TV. “But she sure is entertaining.”

“The only reason it’s an issue is because of who her grandfather is.” Riley smiled as Jaws jumped up on the couch with her. “So, no, I’m not jealous of Paris. I’m jealous of girls who don’t have a potential multi-million dollar inheritance. Because they can be whoever they want to be without having cameras trained on them.”

“I’m pretty sure you can indulge in a little luxury without making a sex tape.”

Jaws licked Riley’s face and she grinned. “I already have a sex tape.”

Lacey punched Riley’s arm. “Get out!”

Riley winced, rubbing her triceps. “Sure, just last Christmas I caught Jaws on tape humping Santa’s leg at the company Christmas party.”

Lacey gave a dramatic eye roll. “Right. Well, girl, if that’s the most scandalous thing you have going on in your life, I suggest to kick it up a notch.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Riley said with a sigh.

Furrowing her brow, Lacey grabbed the remote and clicked off the TV. She turned on the couch so she was facing Riley. “But you can still be a little scandalous in private. People aren’t watching you all the time.”

No, thanks to years of good behavior, it was rare to find paparazzo following her these days. Sure, there was the occasional story about how simply she lived or how hard she worked, facts that had her dubbed early on as “Vegas’ Good Daughter,” but those stories only sold papers if they were accompanied by fall from grace stories. As long as she was boring, they’d leave her alone.

She stood, pulling out her hair tie. She only had thirty minutes before Charlie Singleton would be here. “I’m going to jump in the shower,” she told her roommate as she stood.

Lacey raised a brow, watching Riley over the back of the couch. “Another date with Chaz?”

A smile curved Riley’s lips at the mention of her boyfriend’s name. Lacey might not be Team Chaz now, but if Riley told her about the text messages he’d started sending her, maybe she’d see the light. “Not tonight,” she answered. The talk about the latest developments in her relationship with Chaz would have to wait for another time. “Your brother’s taking me out tonight.” That also made her smile. Dear God, she was a mess. Thoughts of spending an evening with Charlie shouldn’t make her giddy.

Lacey pushed herself to her knees and propped her elbows on the back of the couch. “My brother? Maybe you are being a little scandalous in private, and you’re just not telling me about it.”

Riley bit her lip as she remembered why she’d agreed to dinner with Charlie. She couldn’t tell Lacey he wanted to talk about her birthday—Charlie might be planning a surprise. Instead she just shrugged. “He promised to keep it platonic.”

Lacey snorted. “Have you met my brother?”

Chapter Five

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Riley said when their cab pulled up outside the Eiffel Tower replica. She turned to Charlie. “You know I can’t do this, right?”

He opened the door and stepped out. Reaching back in for her hand, he said, “I know no such thing.”

He ducked under the doorframe and smiled. His grin, charming and wide and just for her, made her stomach flip-flop.

“You need a ride somewhere, Miss?” the cabby asked.

She shook her head. She wouldn’t make a fool of Charlie over some ridiculous fear. With a deep breath, she put her hand in his and slid out of the cab.

As the taxi pulled away, Charlie squeezed her hand and she raised her eyes to the top of the tower.

That was a mistake.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered, swallowing the ball of panic in her throat. It wasn’t the height that did it. Not exactly. It was knowing how she’d have to get there.

“Hey, look at me.” Charlie tilted her chin up with his thumb.

She blinked. They locked eyes. He kept her hand enclosed in his.

“Now, close your eyes.”

She did as he said because the alternative was looking over his shoulder and thinking about being trapped in the elevator that would take them to the dining area. “I can’t do it, Charlie,” she said softly.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he said. “Think about something else.”

She swallowed. Her hand felt small in his big one. His skin was hot on hers. “Like what?”

His next word came as a hot whisper against her ear, “Sex.”

Her eyes flew open. “Charlie, you promised.”

“Do you trust me?”

The reasonable answer to that question was no, but she found herself nodding. Against all her better judgment, she’d always trusted Charlie ‘the Devil’ Singleton. She thought that was why they’d given him that moniker in poker—he was so smooth, so damn charming, you trusted him even when you knew trusting him would cost you.

When Charlie was around she could count on three things: making a fool of herself and him laughing it off like it didn’t matter, going gooey inside every time he smiled, and trusting him against her better judgment.

Looking into his eyes now, she felt the latter two in full effect and wondered when she could expect the first to arrive. Probably soon if she had to get in an elevator. “I don’t want to go up there. Let’s go somewhere else.” She had to gulp in air as she imagined it. She couldn’t get in that elevator. She liked being able to see more than two feet in any direction, preferred having the earth beneath her feet. “Do we have to?” she asked.

Charlie tilted her chin up. “You’re tough, and I know you can do this. I picked it because it’s a glass elevator, so if it’s claustrophobia that gets to you…” He trailed off, studying her face. “We can leave right now if you want to.”

Her insides warmed and relaxed a bit. “You mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to be afraid.”

He smiled and squeezed her fingers in his. “You’re tougher than you think, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true. Now close those gorgeous green eyes again.”

She obeyed, followed him two steps and stalled.

She knew he’d closed the space between them because she could feel the heat of his body, could feel his breath against her cheek. “You’re thinking again, Riley. You need to turn that off once in awhile. Tell me, what’s your favorite thing about living in Vegas?”

She frowned. He was leading her again, staying closer this time as she took small, blind steps to follow. “Who says I have a favorite thing? Maybe I hate living here.”

She wanted to open her eyes at the hearty sound of his chuckle but didn’t dare. If she was going to do this—if she wanted to make it to the top without a panic attack—she needed to keep her eyes closed.

“You can’t fool me, Riley,” he said. “There’s something keeping you here or you would have left already. So, tell me, what is it you love so much about Vegas?”

“I work in the hospitality industry. Why would I move? It’s like a smorgasbord of jobs for someone like me here.”

She heard his tsk-tsk followed by a very clear ding. She jumped, her eyes flying open.

They were in the elevator. And it was moving. They were in a small, moving elevator. They were in a very small, moving elevator and she didn’t know how long they’d been here and how much longer it would take. Had they stalled?

Charlie cleared his throat and loosened her grip on his jacket. “Not that I’m complaining about having you this close to me,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “In fact, I could get used to it.”

She was glued to him, she realized vaguely, but she couldn’t contemplate moving. Not until those doors opened.

“It’s just, Riley, baby, if you’re going to have your body this close to mine, I want you to be looking desperately at me, not a pair of elevator doors. Do you have any idea what that does to a guy’s ego?”

She frowned. “I’m not worried about your ego,” she muttered.

“Hey.” He was stroking her back, soft circles between her shoulder blades. “You’re shaking.”

“I prefer the stairs,” she whispered.

“Close your eyes.”

She shook her head, staring at the doors. Like Charlie had promised, the elevator was glass, and that relieved a little of her claustrophobia. If they got stuck, people would be able to see they were inside. They’d be okay. Someone would come help them.

The elevator’s second ding signaled their arrival, and the doors slid open to the famous bustling kitchen of the French restaurant she’d always been curious about but never visited.

The concierge smiled. “Reservations?”

“Singleton,” Charlie said. And just like that they were being led out of that death trap of an elevator and to their table.

When the concierge pulled out a chair for her, Riley gasped at the view. Their seats were right next to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the eleven-story-high view of the fountains at the Bellagio.

“Will the heights bother you?” Charlie asked in a whisper.

She shook her head and slid into her chair, angling it strategically so she wouldn’t miss a second of the vision outside the window. “It’s beautiful.”

The concierge placed a leather-bound menu before her. She opened it and gaped. Quick mental calculations told her a basic meal here could more than pay for her next shopping spree at Frederick’s. When she looked up, Charlie was studying her.

“You’re doing it again,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm.

“Doing what?” Charlie asked, eyeing her over his menu.

Flames of heat licked higher in her cheeks. She wished she was one of those women with a cute flush, but hers pinkened her whole face. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re looking at me like I’m the sprinkles on a brownie sundae.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, then the little of her body not hidden behind the table. Though she was covered by a black, high-necked number she’d chosen for modesty, the heat in his eyes made her feel exposed. His focus shifted back to her mouth before he said, “Sweetheart, you’re the whole damn sundae, and I am more than ready for dessert.”