Page 10 of Falling for Raine

His delivery was matter-of-fact, as if he were offering another option on a menu.Don’t like steak? No problem. I’ve got lobster too. There was no smarmy undertone, though. No dare, no censure, no judgment. But his cool authority calmed me.

Was this smart? Probably not, but this new chapter of my life was about taking chances. And while that wasn’t supposed to include going home with a stranger I’d just met at a gross bar, I granted myself one last hall pass ’cause…Vegas, and a few hours with a sexy British bear the night before I left for England was a poetic send-off.

Best of all, no one would ever know.

“Okay.”

3

GRAHAM

Collins didn’t bat an eyelash when I instructed him to reverse course and head to Mandalay Bay. Of course he didn’t. He was paid handsomely to navigate city streets all over the world and even more for his discretion. He’d worked for me for a decade or longer. We were friendly…but not friends.

He was a retired British Army lieutenant, forty-two, divorced, and a Liverpool-faithful fanatic. We could talk football for hours on end, discuss traffic patterns in London versus Los Angeles, Las Vegas, New York, or Paris, and debate which city truly could boast the best sushi outside of Tokyo. However, we never discussed my private affairs.

Ever.

Collins knew better than to comment on my choice of entertainment off the beaten path in a city where anything I desired could be delivered within minutes for the right price. That was all well and good, but it was never quite anonymous enough. And ordering a lover like takeaway had never done it for me. I preferred old-fashioned meetings in dark pubs over a pint.

I didn’t care about winning conversations, music, or dancing. No…I got off on base attraction and immediate gratification.Meet, fuck, walk away. No strings, no expectations, no numbers exchanged. I had all the strings, expectations, and more responsibility than any one person should harbor during any given day. I didn’t need the added complication of a clingy lover.

Just as well. I had no intention of ever “settling down” or finding “the one.” My brother and sister had both produced grandchildren to extend the Horsham line. Brilliant. Because really…no one thought for a moment that I’d make a good husband or father. If they said so, they were bloody well lying.

I was good at two things—making money and avoiding temptation.

Usually.

Tonight, I’d met temptation at a dive bar, finger-fucked him, and invited him over…as one does.

He’d exited the luxury SUV and waltzed into the Mandalay Bay lobby, at my side. He’d ridden the lift to the penthouse suite with me and was now gazing wide-eyed at the panoramic view of neon lights below.

This was a bad idea. I should call Collins now and have him take my visitor back to his own hotel and?—

“This is fucking crazy,” he gushed.

Raine spun to face me, his floppy hair spilling over his forehead and into his eyes. He pushed the wayward fringe aside and raked his teeth over his bottom lip, a shy smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

I snickered in spite of my misgivings. This unassuming, chatty man with big brown eyes and caramel-colored hair was an interesting mixture of adorable and sexy. And alarmingly obtuse.

Who in their right mind wore skintight club clothing to a honky-tonk bar? If I hadn’t stepped up, he’d have been fodder for a few of Vegas’s less gentlemanly gentlemen.

That was my story, and I was sticking to it. There was simply no other explanation for spending over an hour discussing “things to do in London” with a stranger at least a dozen years my junior. Raine was not in any way what I’d been looking for tonight. I was there for the ordinary, ne’er-do-wells who never asked for names, numbers, or professions. Sex wasn’t personal to me; it was a physical transaction…nothing more.

I supposed Raine fit that category. Sort of.

Except he wasn’t ordinary in the slightest. He was boyishly handsome, nice and rather sweet. I didn’t like sweets of any kind. Yet I’d bought a second round at the bar without hesitation and had continued talking the night away like an overeager schoolboy. And when the time had come to part ways, I couldn’t do it.

So here we were.

We’d cleaned up with sanitary wipes on the drive, but cum crusted the front of his shirt and my clothes smelled like him.

This was trouble.

I ignored my internal warning system as I meandered to the wall of windows to join him. “Yes, it’s a nice view.”

“That’s an understatement. I have a view of the pool at The Palazzo and I thought that was killer, but wow.” He beamed at me, radiant streams of sunshine so bright I couldn’t help but return the gesture. “It’s beautiful.”

I had a sudden urge to tell him about the view from my London office, but there was no point in sharing even measly bits of personal information. We’d never see each other again after tonight.