I released his shirt and tried to take in slow, even breaths while my heart thudded like a sledgehammer. “I don’t do rides.”
Reid stepped forward and pulled me against his chest. He whispered across my lips, “Maybe I can change your mind.”
That mouth?
Those eyes?
That body?
I kept the whimper in as my legs squeezed together.
Mind changed.
“Come on.” He slapped my ass. “Let’s go.”
“When you guys said Vegas, I thought you meant drinks, a bit of gambling, magic shows,” I grumbled.
“Ha!” Max burst out laughing. “Magic shows.” He pointed at me like I was the insane one. “I do tricks in my sleep. No, sweetheart. We’ll show you how to do Vegas.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
JORDAN
“When I was on Love Island, I learned a few things,” Max said once we were in the elevator going up to the sky deck of the Stratosphere. “One.” He crooked his finger in his jeans and faced us. His white shirt was plastered on his body and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that he was beautiful to look at—when he wasn’t speaking, that is. “Scary situations create an emotional attachment.”
“It’s weird when he uses big words,” Colton whispered under his breath.
“Heard that.” Max crossed his arms. “Now, since these two kids are getting fake hitched and, well, since my brother’s entire career depends on good publicity . . .” Max took a deep breath while Reid rolled his eyes and reached for my hand. “I’ve come up with a solution.”
The elevator doors opened.
I clung to the railing and stayed glued to my spot in the middle of the elevator. That was ride enough for me.
“SkyJump!” Max shouted.
I started hyperventilating while Reid pried my hands free of their tight grip. I molded my body against his and shivered.
“See, man?” Max pointed at me. “Already working.”
“Yeah, and if she pees her pants, bonus points or what?” Becca rolled her eyes. “Men. And I’ll have you know the scariest thing Max did was climb a damn rock.”
“Wait.” I gulped. “Why isn’t Becca in her gear?”
Becca gave me a knowing grin. “I told Max I’d make it worth his while if I could skip out.”
“No fair!” I shouted. “It’s not like we can give the cruise director sexual favors!”
A few curious people looked at me.
I ignored them.
Max rubbed his hands together and laughed. “You’ll be fine. Just make sure they attach you to the thingy before you launch yourself off like a flying pterodactyl, feel me? Nobody wants to see you go splat.”
I gulped as my hands started to sweat. Double vision made me unable to even walk in a straight line as I held on to Reid like he was my lifeline.
“You’ll be fine,” he whispered in my ear. “This is fun.”
I looked down. “No, no. Nothing about this is fun. This is suicide!”
Reid grabbed me and pulled my body against his as we watched someone walk out onto the small ledge and jump. “Look, no tears, and you don’t even fall that fast.”
“But you still fall,” I pointed out.
“Hmm . . . I was afraid this would happen.”
I stiffened in his arms. “Meaning what?”
He turned me to face him. “The uptight skirt-wearing little crab would make an appearance.”
I clenched my teeth. “I’m not uptight.”
Reid ran the back of his hand down my face and then grazed my breast with his knuckles. I trembled beneath his touch. “Really? Because I’d love to see what happens when you go wild. I’m sure it’s sexy as hell.”
I gulped.
“Jezebel, you’re up!” Max called.
“So what will it be?” Reid’s gaze challenged mine. “Did you bring the skirts with you or the big-girl pants?”
“Damn you Emory men,” I muttered, stalking off toward the attendant. He fired off instructions, but really all I heard was, blah, blah, blah, you could die, blah, blah, blah, try not to puke, blah, blah, blah did you sign the consent form? Pretty sure I should have written my will before this trip.
“Do you understand?” the attendant asked as I tried not to glance down at the ground. Milo and Colt had already jumped—if they were dead we’d know by now? Right?
“Do you understand?” the attendant repeated.
“Huh?” I blinked, seeing two of him. I’m sure he was a nice man—he had a salt-and-pepper beard and was wearing a beanie. His shirt said “Get High.” I would have killed Max—actually thrown him off that building—to be high or drunk enough not to actually remember what was about to happen.
I trembled and gave him a weak nod. “So, I’m all tied in, all secure? I can jump?”
“You’re good.” He chuckled. “You just walk the plank and . . .” He made a jumping motion with his two fingers. I’m sure he meant it as encouragement, but all I could focus on was the sound effect of splat running through my head.
Reid was the only person I could still see, the only person I wanted to see.
In that moment I realized something.
I was in Vegas.
With friends.
And maybe that was pathetic, but . . . I had friends, albeit crazy ones, but we were all together. And I had Reid.
Reid! My client.
Reid . . . who was so much more than that.