damp from an earlier dip in the pool and pinned atop my head with a lobster clip.
The scorching sun felt good on my skin, a sensual kiss that was nearly enough to make me less self-conscious about the water I was retaining - thanks to my period starting.
I headed over to the pool bar, my gaze raking the other loungers and cabanas through the purple tint of my sunglasses.
The area was packed with guests, many of whom were attractive enough to warrant second and third looks.
One couple in particular caught my eye, because they reminded me of myself and Gideon.
The blonde lay on her stomach, her torso propped up on her arms and her legs kicking playfully.
Her very yummy dark-haired man stretched out on the chair beside her, his head propped on one hand while the fingers of the other hand stroked up and down her spine.
She caught me staring and her smile instantly faded.
I couldn't see her eyes behind her Jackie O shades, but I knew she was glaring at me.
With a smile, I looked away, knowing just how she felt about finding another woman checking out her man.
I found an empty space at the bar and gestured at the bartender to let him know I was ready to order when he was.
Misters attached to the ceiling cooled my skin and lured me to slide onto a suddenly vacated bar stool while I waited.
"What are you drinking?" Turning my head, I looked at the man who'd talked to me.
"Nothing yet, but I'm considering a mojito."
"Let me buy you one."
He smiled, revealing perfectly white but slightly crooked teeth.
He extended his hand to me, a movement that brought my attention to his nicely defined arms.
"Daniel."
I placed my hand in his.
"Eva.
Nice to meet you."
He crossed his arms on the bar and leaned over it.
"What brings you to Vegas? Business or pleasure?" "R and R.
You?" Daniel had an interesting tattoo written in a foreign language on his right biceps, and I admired it.
He wasn't traditionally good-looking, but he had confidence and poise, two things I found more attractive in a man than just his physical features.
"Work."
I shot a look at his swimming trunks.
"I've got the wrong job."
"I sell - " "Excuse me."
We both turned to face the woman who had intruded on our conversation.
She was a compact brunette dressed in a dark polo shirt embroidered with both her name - Sheila - and Cross Towers and Casino.
The earpiece in her ear and the utility belt around her waist gave her away as security.
"Miss Tramell."
She greeted me with a nod.
My brows rose.
"Yes?" "There's a server who can take your order by your cabana."
"Cool, thanks.
But I don't mind waiting here."
When I didn't move, Sheila turned her attention to Daniel.
"If you'll move to the other end of the bar, sir, the bartender will see that your next drinks are on the house."
He gave a cursory nod, then smiled winningly at me.
"I'm good here, too, thanks."
"I'm afraid I'll have to insist."
"What?" His smile turned into a scowl.
"Why?" I blinked at Sheila as realization sank in.
Gideon had me under watch.
And he thought he could control what I did from a distance.
Sheila returned my look, her face impassive.
"I'll escort you back to your cabana, Miss Tramell."
For a minute, I considered making her day hell, maybe grabbing Daniel and kissing him senseless just to send a message to my overbearing boyfriend, but I managed to restrain my temper.
She was only doing what she was paid to do.
It was her boss who needed the kick in the ass.
"Sorry, Daniel," I said, flushing with embarrassment.
I felt like a scolded kid and that really irked me.
"It was nice meeting you."
He shrugged.
"If you change your mind ."
I felt Sheila's gaze on my back as I preceded her to my lounger.
Abruptly, I faced her.
"So, is getting hit on the only time you're instructed to step in? Or do you have a list of situations?" She hesitated a moment, then sighed.
I could only imagine what she must think of me, the pretty blond piece of ass who couldn't be trusted to be out mingling in public.
"There's a list."
"Of course there is."
Gideon wouldn't leave anything to chance.
I wondered when he'd worked on the list, if he'd compiled it just since I mentioned Vegas or if he'd had it on hand.
Maybe it was a list he had formed while he was with other women.
Maybe he'd written it for Corinne.
The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.
"Un-fucking-believable," I complained to Cary when she'd stepped a discreet distance