Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,16

I was on a roll. I pressed the button and this time I didn’t win. Still, the little tingle of excitement in my stomach grew. This was fun. I touched it again, just to see what would happen.

Winner.

I squealed, bouncing in my seat. This was so cool.

“Way to go, Goldilocks,” someone said behind me.

I twisted in my seat to wave at them when, just like that, my luck ran out.

My smile melted. Why was he here?

Well, probably to gamble. We were in Vegas, after all. But the last person I wanted to see tonight was Cox.

His mouth hooked in a smile that made me feel like a little fish who’d just come face to face with a shark. My tummy did a flip because damn it, he was so gorgeous. It was terribly unfair.

And then it hit me. He wasn’t looking at me. Camden Cox was not going to stare me down with that kind of predatory gleam in his eyes, even if Nora had turned me into Vegas Vixen Sophie. I was still Sophie Abbott, and men like him weren’t interested in women like me. There must be a bombshell in a slinky black dress nearby. That’s who he was looking at.

I glanced around, curious to see the woman who’d caught his eye. But the only people around me were a gray-haired couple wearing matching pink Hawaiian shirts with little palm trees on them, and a man with a sizable beer gut and gray chest hair poking out his partially open collar.

Cox walked straight toward me, looking stupidly hot in his button-down shirt, vest, and slacks. He’d taken off his tie, cuffed his sleeves, and left the top two shirt buttons undone, and why was that so sexy on a man?

Except he was Camden Cox, childhood tormentor.

“Sophie Abbott,” he said, his hint of a Southern drawl as smooth as melted chocolate. “Are you perhaps the same Sophie Abbott who once lived on Ashford Street?”

Oh my god, did he remember me? “That’s me.”

“You recognized me at the hotel last weekend. From back then.”

“You’re kind of hard to forget.”

His mouth hooked in a slow grin. “As are you. I seem to recall blond pigtails.”

“I’m not surprised. You used to yank them.”

He lifted his eyebrows and his hand twitched like maybe he was going to pull my hair right now.

And no, I didn’t want him to.

Much.

“Did I?”

“Yes. You were very mean to me.”

He chuckled, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t believe me that he’d been mean, or that he remembered it and thought it was funny. “I’m sorry; did I interrupt a winning streak?”

I couldn’t help the way the corners of my mouth lifted in a smile. “Yeah, I actually won a few times.”

“Congratulations. I hope that’s a sign of good things to come tonight.”

“I have been unusually lucky today.”

He smiled again, and there was that predatory gleam in his eyes. The nervous fluttering in my stomach made me feel like I could jump right out of my seat.

That wouldn’t be good. Knowing me, I’d land on my ass.

“Then by all means.” He gestured to the slot machine.

I was totally positive that he’d already brought my lucky streak to a grinding halt, just by being here. But when the symbols stopped flashing, I’d won.

I’d actually freaking won.

I bounced in my seat and gave myself a little round of applause.

Cox smiled down at me, his hand still resting on the back of the chair. “That was fun.”

It was fun. And maybe I could admit it was a tiny bit more fun with someone to celebrate with me, even if that someone was Camden Cox.

“This calls for a drink.” He waved his hand as if he were flagging someone down.

“I think the bar is over—”

Before I could finish, someone from the casino appeared, as if he’d been lingering nearby, waiting to do Cox’s bidding.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Cox?”

“A Glenfiddich for me, and whatever the lady wants.”

“Oh. Um, a martini, I guess? Dirty. Thank you.”

He nodded and left to get our drinks.

I wasn’t sure why Cox wanted to stand here and watch me play a slot machine, but that thought soon flitted away on the wings of more wins and the appearance of a martini in my hand. I didn’t win every time, but I won more than I lost. It was all I could do to keep from spilling my drink.

After yet another win, Cox gently tugged on my elbow. “Sugar, you’re on fire. Come on; let’s