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  When she reached him, he read her name tag—Tawny—as she gave him an inviting smile. “So, Mason, here I am, at your service,” she said, taking her cue from his earlier flirtatious comment. “What can I get for you?”

  He didn’t miss the way she’d deliberately left out the words to drink. Oh, yeah, she was definitely playing his kind of game, and since Katrina was giving him the cold shoulder, he welcomed the distraction. “What would you recommend, Tawny?”

  She licked her glossy lips, her brown eyes all but eating him up. “What I’d like to recommend isn’t on the airline’s menu.”

  He chuckled, recognizing an overture when he heard one. “In that case, I’ll take a Sprite . . . for now.”

  She wrote his order on her note pad, then glanced past him to Katrina—who was oblivious to everything except what she was listening to through her earbuds, her eyes still closed. “Would your girlfriend care for anything?” Tawny asked with a curious raise of her brow.

  Girlfriend. The word was so foreign to him, not just in terms of Katrina, but because he’d never stayed with a woman long enough to get romantically or intimately involved beyond sex, which was what that word implied. But he knew what Tawny was getting at, even if she didn’t seem overly concerned if he was taken.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” he assured the pretty flight attendant, though with Katrina sitting by his side, he felt an odd and unexpected moment of regret that made absolutely no fucking sense to him.

  Tawny grinned at him. “That’s good to know.”

  “I’m not sure what she wants, so I’ll have her press the service button when she wakes up.” Or whatever Katrina was doing. She’d been the one to blatantly ignore him, and he wasn’t about to disturb her and risk rousing the shrew again.

  Tawny turned to Levi and Tara and took their drink orders, too, then headed back toward the galley at the front of the plane. A few minutes later, she appeared again holding a tray with everyone’s drinks, and starting with the first row, she passed out the refreshments until she reached Mason again.

  She placed a note on his tray and tapped it with her finger, drawing his gaze to the digits she’d written on the piece of paper. “I’m laid over in Vegas for the weekend, so if you’re up for some fun, give me a call.”

  “I might just do that,” he replied with a wink. He was certain that, after the wedding tomorrow afternoon, he’d have plenty of free time on his hands, and it was nice to have a sure thing lined up.

  Once she was gone, Mason lifted the note so Levi could see the phone number and gave his brother a smirk. “I haven’t even gotten to Vegas and I’ve already scored.”

  Levi rolled his eyes. “Seriously, dude?”

  “I can’t help it if women want me,” Mason said with a shrug. “No need to be jealous just because I get laid on a regular basis.”

  “You’re such a cocky bastard, and I’m far from jealous,” Levi replied, his always serious tone tinged with humor. “It’s called being discriminate, not that I expect you to understand what a big word like that means.”

  “Ha ha. It means you’re boring as fuck.” He couldn’t resist goading his by-the-book, rule-abiding, straight-laced cop brother. While Mason had been a hell-raiser and defiant during his teen years—and still had his moments of being wild and impulsive—Levi had been a quiet kid who’d been much too serious and never gotten into trouble. He thought about consequences before he acted, he never drank alcohol, and he obviously didn’t let his dick lead him astray.

  Which meant Levi missed out on a whole lot of fun, and wasn’t that the point of going to Vegas? Other than his brother getting hitched, of course.

  “Are you going to be a Debbie Downer on this trip?” he asked Levi.

  His brother drank the last of his orange juice before responding. “Just because I don’t chase after everything in a skirt like you do doesn’t mean I’m a Debbie Downer.”

  Mason decided to test that theory. “So, that means you’re up to taking Clay to a strip club for his last night as a free man?”

  Before Levi could reply, Clay leaned over the armrest, his head popping into the aisle as he jumped into the conversation he’d obviously been listening to. “Sorry to disappoint you, Mase, but we’re not going to a strip club.”

  Mason threw his hands up in the air, disappointed in both of his brothers. “See, now this is why I don’t do serious relationships. Being pussy-whipped just sucks all the fun out of what a true bachelor party should be.”

  Chapter Two

  After arriving in Vegas and checking into their individual suites at the Bellagio, the guys and girls split up to go their separate ways for the afternoon and evening. While Mason promised to make Clay’s last day and night as a free man a memorable one, Katrina and Tara opted for a more low-key approach for the bride-to-be and took Samantha to the hotel spa, where they all indulged in long, luxurious massages, body wraps that left their skin soft and glowing, and hydrating facials.

  A few hours later, nails complete, they sat side by side in pedicure chairs, their final treatment of the day. All three of them were wrapped up in soft, fluffy robes, drinking a glass of champagne, and eating chocolate-covered strawberries.

  Life didn’t get much sweeter than this, Katrina thought with a content sigh. She settled back in the cushy leather chair while enjoying her first ever detoxifying foot soak, unable to recall ever being so pampered and relaxed or feeling so calm. Since sex wasn’t in her foreseeable future, despite what she’d told Mason today on the plane about hooking up with a random stranger, she decided that nurturing her body, mind, and soul with an array of therapeutic services was the next best thing.

  “Thank you for an amazing day,” Samantha said, her smooth complexion glowing from her recent facial, and for the man she was about to marry. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you two here for the wedding this weekend, and for standing up as my maids of honor. I adore you both so much.”

  Katrina smiled. Samantha might have come from a wealthy family, but she was sweet, genuine, and the best thing that had ever happened to Clay. “We feel the same way about you,” she said as the three of them clinked their champagne glasses together in a toast.

  “And we wouldn’t miss this wedding for anything,” Tara added as she picked up a ripe, red strawberry and bit into the chocolate tip.

  Samantha raised a recently shaped brow. “Why, because you can’t believe that Clay is really getting married and want to witness it for yourselves?” Her tone was light and teasing, her pretty blue eyes sparkling happily.

  Katrina knew she was joking, but wanted the other woman to know that their reasons for being here were much more authentic. “No, because you and Clay are meant to be together, and we’re all family, which means we’ll always be here for you.”

  The word family didn’t come easily to Katrina, not when her own deadbeat father had walked away when she was thirteen, and her mother had turned around and remarried a man who creeped Katrina out—and for good reason, she’d eventually learned. The people she now considered family were Mason and his brothers, and the few others who were allowed into her inner circle. People who had proven themselves loyal, dependable, and trustworthy. And now, that small group included Samantha.

  “If we’re family,” Samantha said, looking from Katrina to Tara with affection. “Then that makes you two my sisters, which I’ve always wanted to have.”

  Katrina smiled as she wriggled her toes in the warm, silky water bubbling around her feet and ankles. “That’s good, because you’re stuck with us.”

  Quiet moments passed as the three of them finished their champagne, and the calluses around their heels and toes were exfoliated, followed by hot towels around their calves and a paraffin wax treatment that left their feet smooth and soft to the touch. Samantha bought a pretty pink nail polish she wanted each of them to wear, which matched the color of the maid-of-honor dresses and the flowers in her bouquet for tomorrow’s wedding.

  “So,
what would you like to do on your last night as a single woman?” Tara asked as they waited for their toenails to dry. “I’ve heard Thunder From Down Under is the show of choice for bachelorettes. Watching hot, chiseled men dance and strip and thrust their hips could be fun.”

  Samantha wrinkled her nose in a clear veto of that idea. “I’ll pass on the Aussies. The only man I want to watch strip naked is Clay. That man is so freakin’ hot I’d give him a lap dance any day,” she said with a cute, champagne-induced giggle.

  Yeah, Samantha was head-over-heels in love, and Katrina couldn’t help but envy the fact that her friend had found the one—and Clay was equally smitten. Their unwavering relationship and feelings for each other made Katrina all the more aware of her own lack of male companionship, and made her wish for more.

  Even though she’d harbored more intimate feelings for Mason for years, she’d tried to give other men a chance. She’d even been in a few short-term but committed relationships with nice, decent guys. Safe men who didn’t intimidate her and treated her with the kind of respect a woman deserved. Easygoing men who didn’t judge her by her purple-tipped hair, her eccentric clothing, or her sleeve of butterfly tattoos that made others label her as white trash or a tramp—terms her own stepfather had used to degrade and humiliate her.

  But deep inside, Katrina knew that focusing on those more passive qualities when it came to the men she’d dated had been part of the problem and why those attempts at a relationship hadn’t worked for her. She wanted that safety and trust and respect—what girl didn’t?—but she also yearned for intense passion and the kind of heated desire that overwhelmed her body and senses. She wanted a man who was confident in his ability to take control and introduce her to the kind of forbidden pleasures her body craved, without making her feel cheap or dirty or vulnerable afterward.

  So far, she hadn’t met a man with that unique ability, and maybe she never would. Which meant she’d eventually have to settle for a man who made her feel appreciated and secure, and forgo her fantasies of hot, demanding sex.

  Samantha’s phone pinged, and she picked it up, then swiped her finger across the screen to unlock it. A dreamy smile curved her lips. “Speaking of my future hubby, he just sent me a text.”

  “What are they up to? No good?” Katrina asked curiously, because the boys hadn’t revealed their plans for Clay before they’d gone their separate ways, and with Mason in charge of entertainment, there was no telling where he’d dragged his brothers off to.

  “Actually, the three of them rented desert racers and went off-roading just outside of Vegas for the afternoon,” Samantha said, sounding surprised.

  Tara shook her head and finished the last of her champagne. “Boys and their toys and need for speed, right?”

  Samantha typed out a reply to Clay’s text. “At least they’re staying out of trouble, which is more than I expected with Mason organizing all the activities.” Her tone was wry as she mimicked Katrina’s thoughts exactly.

  “He’s actually showing some restraint, considering all the raunchy adult shows in Vegas,” she said, impressed.

  “Right?” Samantha agreed in amusement as she read another message that pinged on her phone. “Now they’re off to the Stratosphere Tower to go on some kind of thrill ride called Insanity that swings riders out and over the side of the hotel. From the top of the tower.” Her tone rose in pitch as she read that last part.

  Katrina didn’t even bother to suppress a shudder at the thought of dangling over the side of a hotel. “They’re such adrenaline junkies.”

  “If anything happens to Clay, I will personally kill Mason,” Samantha said, and Katrina knew she wasn’t kidding. “And after that, they’re going indoor skydiving, then dinner.”

  “And what about us?” Tara asked.

  “No way am I doing something so crazy,” Samantha said adamantly. “In case you’ve forgotten, Clay calls me cupcake because I’m a lightweight and have a weak stomach, even without alcohol.”

  “I meant, what are we going to do,” Tara clarified with a laugh. “If naked men are off the menu, how do you want to spent the rest of the evening?”

  Samantha gave Tara’s question serious consideration, and after a few minutes, her face lit up with excitement. “I know what I want to do! Last weekend I was watching the movie Coyote Ugly on cable, where they dance on the bar tops and get rowdy. It looks fun, and I know they have one of the franchises here in Vegas a few hotels down from the Bellagio. What do you two think? Want to go?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Tara said with an enthusiastic nod.

  Katrina shrugged, up for anything that didn’t include speed or heights. Indulging in a few drinks and dancing, even with just the girls, sounded like a fun way to spend the evening. “I’m game.”

  With their evening agenda settled, the three of them finished at the spa, then headed up to their individual suites to change and do their makeup and hair. Wanting to feel sexy for their night out, Katrina decided on a pair of slim black leather pants that rode low on her hips and a dark purple bustier that displayed her armful of tattoos. The front of the top laced up tight, and the snug bodice lifted and shaped her breasts so a bra wasn’t necessary. She finished off the look with a stack of silver bangles on her bare arm and a pair of strappy high heels.

  She tucked her room key and credit card into the front pocket of her pants so she didn’t have to worry about a purse, and an hour and a half after parting ways to get ready, the three of them met up again. They grabbed a quick dinner, then walked the short distance to the New York New York Hotel, where Coyote Ugly was located, which also gave them the opportunity to take in the excitement and energy of the Las Vegas Strip.

  By the time they arrived at the establishment that looked just like the iconic bar in the classic movie, the place was packed and rocking from the late 1990s music blaring out of the jukebox in the corner. There weren’t any traditional booths or chairs, just standing-style tables on the outskirt of the dance floor, which was filled with men and women having a great time. Other female patrons were dancing on the bar counter, and guys were crowded around, egging them on.

  Katrina led the way to one of the standing tables so they could order a drink, assess the situation, and watch the entertainment at the main bar before they decided what they wanted to do. Tara and Samantha followed her through the crowd, and by the time they reached a vacant table, Samantha was on her phone, tapping out a text. Judging by the smile on her face, Katrina assumed she was touching base with Clay. When a bar waitress came by, she ordered a round of shots for the three of them.

  Samantha finished up her texting and slipped her phone into her cross-body purse. A few minutes later, their drinks were delivered, and Katrina raised her small glass to her two friends.

  “To our first official girls’ night out, even if it is on the eve of your wedding,” she said in a loud voice to be heard above the noise level. “When we get back home, I think we need to do this more often, just the three of us. No men.”

  “Agreed,” Samantha and Tara said at the same time.

  They tapped their shot glasses together and swallowed the liquor in one gulp. It wasn’t enough alcohol to get them drunk—no way did Katrina want to explain to Clay that his bride had a hangover on their wedding day—but it was just enough to warm her insides and loosen and relax her body.

  A good-looking guy came up to Tara and asked her to dance, and with a little finger wave at her and Samantha, she followed him out onto the dance floor. Samantha and Katrina watched for a while, both of them dancing where they were standing at the table along the far wall.

  After a while, another guy approached them, this one big and burly, rough around the edges, and clearly well on his way to being drunk. When he grabbed Katrina’s hand to pull her away without asking if she wanted to dance with him, she yanked her arm back and gave him a sharp look that hopefully conveyed her feelings and made it clear she wasn’t interested.

  His narrowed gaze slid down
the length of her in the kind of leer that made her stomach roil. Then he puffed out his wide chest and flexed his biceps as if he were trying to make up for the fact that he’d just been rejected. “What’s the matter? I’m not good enough for you?”

  And this was why she didn’t go to bars. Hell, she rarely went to Kincaid’s on their busy nights because she hated dealing with egotistical men who looked at her like an easy conquest. Instead of provoking him further, she gave the guy a sweet smile and said, “I don’t dance with strangers.”

  It was a ridiculous statement considering that’s what most people did in a nightclub, but her comment was so worth it when he frowned in confusion at her, as if she’d just given him a puzzle to figure out. Then he shook his head and slid his gaze to Samantha. There was no way Katrina was letting this guy even think about taking one step toward her.

  “She doesn’t dance with strangers, either,” Katrina said just as the lug opened his mouth to say something.

  After giving Katrina an irritated look, he turned around and finally left them alone.

  Samantha laughed, her blue eyes full of playful mischief as she leaned closer to Katrina. “So, since we don’t dance with strangers, want to dance with each other?”

  Considering Samantha wasn’t going to dance with any guy in the place and Katrina wanted her to have a good time, she nodded and the two of them joined the crush of people getting down to R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion.” Even though she didn’t do it often, Katrina loved to dance, loved the sensuality of her movements and the way the beat of the music made her body come alive.

  The two of them danced a few songs until Katrina lost track of time. But they were having fun as they laughed and watched other couples bust out trendsetting dance moves, and Katrina found herself envious of the females who were brave enough to get up on the bar top and dance in front of everyone.