Chapter Ten. As the plane descended, Grace was amazed by the millions of lights clustered in the vast desert

As the plane descended, Grace was amazed by the millions of lights clustered in the vast desert. I wonder if they can see this place in space. She’d never been to Las Vegas. She hated to gamble, drank minimally and had little interest in all-you-can-eat buffets. She’d heard the strip was scummy, filled with sights and smells that tourists wouldn’t tolerate in any other city. Yet, excitement twirled inside her as she recognized the Eiffel Tower and the Paris hotel, where, according to Logan, they would be staying. She peered through the tiny window, Logan’s chin resting against her shoulder.

“All that debauchery, ” Logan said. “Just waiting for us.”

They debarked and Logan navigated the airport terminal like an expert, although she said she’d only been to McCarran International Airport one other time.

“The secret is following the signs. So many people don’t read, ” she muttered as she claimed her luggage from the carousel.

Grace felt dreadfully out of place since she didn’t even have a toothbrush. Logan must have sensed her anxiety after she’d loaded her five bags onto a cart. She threw an arm around Grace and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

She gazed out the cab’s window as they slowly meandered down the busy strip. She couldn’t believe the thousands of people crowding the narrow sidewalks. Most were obviously tourists, who insisted on stopping anywhere to take a picture of the Luxor’s pyramid, the fountains at the Bellagio or the classic Roman architecture of Caesar’s Palace. As their cab turned into the Paris, she craned her neck to see the Eiffel Tower.

“There’s a French restaurant up there, ” Logan whispered. “Do you like French food? ”

Logan’s warm breath caressed her face and she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying her nearness. She was starting to lose control, certain that the Root of Passion was churning through her body, responding to the millions of lights and sounds around her. She turned to Logan and licked her lips.

“I love French food, ” she replied.

Logan smiled and glanced down at her cleavage.

I’m glad to see you noticed.

Again she pictured herself standing in a river, the current overtaking her, peeling away the inhibitions that shackled her. She reached for Logan, tucking a stray wisp of her hair behind her ear.

Her sigh was audible. “I see where this is going. Okay, ” she said.

When the cab dropped them at the front of the hotel, a bellman appeared immediately to take Logan’s luggage. Free of the bags—except her prized camera case that she wouldn’t turn over to anyone—Logan took her hand and led her through the lobby, which she quickly realized was unlike any place she’d ever been.

“They’ve recreated Paris, ” she said, noticing that they were indeed surrounded by a miniature version of the City of Lights, including a bright blue sky overhead. Logan led her past replicas of the Louvre and the Arc de Triumph. “This is unbelievable, ” she decided.

“Are you hungry? Logan asked. “We could try the restaurant, ” she added, pointing to the base of the Eiffel Tower and the elevator that would take them to the eleventh floor.

She shook her head. “I’m starving, but I can’t go to a fancy place looking like this.” She glanced down at her linen slacks and the simple blouse she’d changed into after work.

Logan laughed. “This is Vegas, Grace. No one would care. Look at me.”

Logan wore cargo pants and a collared shirt, minus her usual vest.

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable, ” she said, and Logan smiled.

“Then we need to get you some clothes.”

She took her hand and led her to Rue de la Paix, an avenue of shops. They found a boutique with a difficult French name, and Logan wasted no time finding a saleslady who gave Grace a long look before she began pulling dresses from the rack, never bothering to ask her size. She was shuttled into a dressing room by another saleswoman speaking French, and dresses began appearing over the door. She took one look at a price tag and almost fainted.

As if she could read her mind, Logan’s voice called from the other side, “Don’t worry about the cost, Grace. This is my treat. Well, it’s probably Kazmar’s treat actually, since he told me I could bring a friend. Make sure you find something for tonight and a dress for the wedding. A few casual items would be good, too. I’ll be back in a while.”

“Don’t you want to see what I pick? ” Grace asked.

“No, I hate shopping. Surprise me.”

Never in her life had Grace tried on so many beautiful clothes so quickly. The dresses seemed to be of two types: incredibly sexy and unbelievably elegant. She imagined Logan had coached the salesladies, who helped her settle on a shimmering green cocktail dress for their trip to the restaurant and a more conservative navy blue dress with a classic A-line style that accentuated her curves. Matching shoes, bras, panties, hose and bags appeared immediately, and while she dressed for dinner, the ladies thrust several pairs of pants and blouses under her nose for her approval. By the time an hour had passed, she had nearly doubled her wardrobe and owned enough cosmetics to start her own line. She couldn’t imagine how Logan would ever justify the bill to Kazmar.

When she appeared outside the shop wearing the green dress, several passersby gawked, and one man smiled flirtatiously. She heard a click and saw a flash before she noticed Logan a few yards away, lowering her camera. She’d changed into blue slacks and a tailored white shirt.

“You look absolutely beautiful, ” she said, kissing her hand.

“I thought you hated shopping.”

“I do. But I couldn’t imagine being seen with you looking like a bum.”

Logan wrapped a possessive arm around her waist and escorted her toward the elevator. People continued to stare, and she wasn’t certain if her dress or Logan’s overt behavior was the cause. She chose to believe it was the former and not the latter, because during the cab ride she’d seen several gay couples holding hands and kissing along the strip. And her dress was certainly eye-catching, with a plunging front and back. There was no way she could wear her bra, which she’d left for the salesladies to send to her room with the other purchases.

As they ascended, Logan’s fingertips traced a circle against the naked flesh of her back, and she nearly gasped. She couldn’t look at her, for she knew the radiant green eyes would pull her into the river, and they’d be French kissing in the French elevator.

In the restaurant the Root of Passion heightened her sensory awareness and her appreciation of the food and her surroundings. The view of the Bellagio fountains was magnificent, the food tasted exquisite, and whenever Logan innocently touched her arm her entire body reacted. Maybe it was the expensive French wine Logan ordered, for she was tipsy after two glasses. She worried she was giggling like a schoolgirl and making a spectacle of herself, but Logan only smiled at her, studied her, and much to her great pleasure, surveyed her like a photographic subject.

They shared an amazing pastry called a dariole for dessert, and Grace found herself swallowing hard, wondering what the rest of the evening would bring.

After dinner, Logan insisted that they stroll through the resort, arm in arm. She seemed entirely at ease, regaling Grace with stories of her travels, and Grace’s anxiety lessened as her attraction to Logan increased. She must have a girlfriend in every city. She is utterly charming.

It was nearly twelve thirty when they boarded the elevator, headed for the eighth floor. Alone, Logan pulled Grace against her, whispering kisses against her neck. Grace stiffened immediately and Logan lifted her head.

“A little too fast, ” she said, stepping away. “You’re just so amazing and incredibly beautiful, too.”

Grace laughed. “You are such a flatterer.”

Logan shook her head. “No, I just have exquisite taste in women.” She kissed her hand, and Grace thought she would faint.

When the doors opened, Grace quickly stepped out and hurried down the hallway in search of eight twenty-one. She waited patiently for Logan to join her, but Logan sauntered down the hallway slowly, as if to preserve the evening and the moments they’d shared. She took a deep breath as Logan slid the key card into the lock.

She wasn’t disappointed. Kazmar had secured a lovely suite, one with a sitting room and two bedrooms. Not only would Grace have her own bed, she would have privacy. They toured the suite, and she noticed all of her packages had been placed on the sofa in her bedroom. A single bag sat on Logan’s bed next to her pile of luggage.

“What else did you buy? ”

“Why don’t you open it? ” Logan replied in a husky voice.

“It’s for you.”

Grace pulled a thin rectangular box from the bag and discovered a lacy teddy inside. Her mouth went dry as she deduced the ramifications. Logan hoped she would wear this for her, and she suddenly realized she had not purchased any sleepwear.

Logan’s arms wrapped around her from behind, and her lips rested against Grace’s ear. “I wanted you to have a choice. Wear this or sleep in the nude. Frankly, I’m good with either.”

Her heart was pounding and she turned to face her. The river was gone. Why wasn’t the Root of Passion working? “I can’t. I just can’t.”

She ran from the room and into her own, practically slamming the door in the process. She dropped the box on the bed and the sexy lingerie seemed to jump out onto the bedspread. It was dusty rose, a complement to her skin color. She turned away and busied herself by hanging up all of the fine clothes she’d acquired. She wondered what Logan was doing. She didn’t hear the TV or Logan talking on her cell. Maybe she should book a flight home.

She paced the room, wringing her hands until a knock sounded. Logan opened the door and stood in the doorway, arms folded. She’d changed into her sleep attire—a tank top and men’s underwear. She looked sexy and Grace felt warm all over.

“I just wanted to say good-night. I’m sorry I pushed you so hard, and I hope you’re not angry.”

She sighed in relief. “I’m not. I was worried you were angry with me.”

Logan simply shook her head. “No.” She closed the door, saying, “Good-night, ” before it shut.

Grace glanced about the beautiful room, the silence growing around her. She hung up the green dress and decided to shower, grateful to see an entire set of toiletries on the immense bathroom counter. She felt refreshed, covered in the hotel’s plush bath towels. She pampered herself with some exquisite body lotion and dried her hair. Letting the towels drop to the floor, she inspected the teddy again. The fine silk caressed her fingertips, and she longed to have it against her body.

It fit beautifully and when she looked in the mirror she felt incredibly sexy. She turned and judged her body from different angles, pleased with what the teddy revealed—and hid. Should she show Logan? After all, she was the one who purchased it. C’mon, Grace, if you leave this room you’ll be flat on your back in a matter of minutes—on the sofa, the floor or Logan’s bed.

She automatically pulled the list from her purse and reread it. The words seemed to dare her to take a risk. She imagined if she returned from Vegas without accomplishing a single objective, Margo and Michelle would spend the rest of the year, if not her life, chastising her for the lost opportunity. Without wasting another moment, she withdrew the vial from the oak box and took a serious drink, noticing half the potion was gone. She leaned against the mirror and closed her eyes, letting her senses overwhelm her. She pictured Logan in the doorway, her eyes smoldering.

Lust washed over her, and she quickly applied some scorching red lipstick and headed out into the living room. It was dark, but she could see a slash of light from underneath Logan’s bedroom door. She didn’t bother to knock, but instead grabbed the door handle and appeared. Logan’s eyes shot up from the book she was reading in bed. Grace noticed the title, Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Nietzsche, and she suddenly felt terrible about her college comments. If she was reading Nietzsche she could certainly hold her own in a philosophical conversation.

Logan rose and went to her, shedding her clothing as she approached. She pulled Grace against her and wrapped her in a tight embrace, her hands caressing Grace’s buttocks.

“I thought this was the smoothest silk I’d ever felt, ” she whispered in her ear. “I want to feel it against my skin, too.”

Logan claimed her mouth in kisses. They were luscious and divine, and she tasted wonderful. Grace was so intent on savoring her sweet lips that she didn’t notice her tiny panties had dropped to the floor until Logan’s fingers swept across her center. She moaned slightly and Logan immediately took advantage.

“I want you, ” Logan said.

In seconds Grace was prostrate on the bed, staring at the gorgeous crown molding that lined the ceiling. Logan was kissing and caressing her entire body while she melted into the expensive sheets. She pulled off her top as Logan’s lips approached her waiting nipples.

“God, that feels incredible, ” she murmured, closing her eyes.

“What do you want me to do? ” Logan asked.

“Anything you want.”

Logan complied, and the river appeared again, swirling around her, drowning her in ecstasy.