Page 3 of Pucked In Vegas

The movement draws attention from the bachelor party. Specifically from Mr. Sea Glass Eyes, who catches me looking and flashes a slow, dimpled grin that screams trouble.

I immediately avert my gaze, suddenly fascinated by the nonexistent lint on my swimsuit cover-up.

Nope. Not today, Satan.

Not even if he does have shoulders like a Greek statue.

"I'm serious, Cass," Mia leans closer to her camera, her voice dropping to that tone she uses when she's about to saysomething I don't want to hear. "When's the last time you did something completely reckless? Something just for you?"

I roll my eyes. "I moved to Vegas without a job, does that count?"

"You called that calculated career advancement," Sophia corrects. "We're talking about the kind of reckless that makes your heart race. The kind that gives you a story worth telling."

"Sophia's right, you should do something reckless. You need to live a little, babe," Mia adds. "You're in Vegas, surrounded by hot men. Your career will still be there tomorrow."

My gaze involuntarily drifts back to Mr. Sea Glass Eyes.

As if sensing my attention, he turns, catching me mid-stare. This time, instead of just smiling, he holds my gaze, one eyebrow arching in a silent question.

Heat floods my body, pooling low in my stomach. My nipples tighten beneath my bikini top, and I cross my legs as a delicious tension builds between them.

Damn it.

"Cassie? Your face just went all flushed." Sophia's voice sounds far away. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," I mutter, but my body betrays me as the guy lifts his drink in a subtle toast, those damn dimples making a reappearance.

The waitress arrives with my fresh martini, and I take it gratefully, downing half in one ambitious gulp.

The alcohol hits my bloodstream, spreading warmth through my limbs. My shoulders relax. The weight of six rejections and my father's legacy suddenly feels... manageable. Distant in the haze of my tipsiness.

"You know what?" I hear myself say. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I need a night of bad decisions."

"Yes!" Mia pumps her fist. "That's my girl!"

"Find someone hot," Sophia adds. "Someone completely inappropriate."

"Someone who makes your toes curl," Mia wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

I laugh, the sound lighter than I've felt in weeks. "You two are terrible influences."

"That's why you love us," they say in unison.

I finish my drink, a pleasant buzz humming through my veins as I set the empty glass down with perhaps more force than necessary.

"Excuse me."

A deep voice cuts through my conversation. I look up to find Mr. Sea Glass Eyes standing beside my cabana, close enough that I can see droplets of water clinging to his collarbone.

I nearly choke on my martini olive.

Up close, he's not just attractive. He'sdevastating.

Water still clings to his bronzed skin, like it's afraid to let go. Each muscle looks sculpted, intentional, like someone spent extra time perfecting the proportions on this man's body.

My gaze trails lower, catching on that sinful V-cut of muscle disappearing beneath navy blue swim trunks that sit low on his hips. The indentation points downward like nature's most tempting arrow, drawing my eyes to the substantial bulge pressing against the wet fabric.

Heat floods my core as my imagination fills in what lies beneath.

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