Betting on the Wrong Brother(10)

By: Cathryn Fox

Hip roll. Grind. Repeat.

Oh yeah. Good thing he was a fast learner. Shake. Shake. Shake. Damn, who knew he was such a good sport. If his hands were longer he’d give himself a pat on the back. Then again, maybe Andi would do it for him. As he thought about sweet Andi, he felt himself thicken.

Hip roll. Grind. Repeat.

More cheers erupted. Thank God this was Vegas and the old adage of “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” was as true today as it ever was. At least he could climb off the stage and never have to think about this incident again.

Hip roll. Grind. Repeat.

A pretty blonde walked up to the stage waving a dollar. She crooked her finger. He rode his gun over, and thrust his hips forward. She shoved the bill into his waistband and ran her hands over his chest. And then the gate was open. Women came running over from every corner of the room and soon dollar bills were lining his waistband. Not a bad gig after all. If he ever suffered from writer’s block, he could don a costume and make a few bucks.

The music stopped just when he was really getting into it, and he gave the women a salute before he slipped back through the curtain. Another man pushed past him and took center stage.

“Not a male model, my ass,” Nathan said. “You had them eating out of your palms.” He pulled the money from his waist and held it out. Nathan pushed his hand back. “Nope, that’s yours, soldier. Use it to buy yourself a drink. You earned it.”

Yeah, he could use a drink, or four. Good idea. “Where are my clothes?”

Nathan made a tsk sound and wagged his finger. “You’re not done yet.”

“Now what?”

“Now you have to go schmooze.” He pushed him toward another door. “You have to charm the women, get your picture taken with them, that kind of thing. They’ll be casting their votes for their favorite model and the winner will be announced later tonight.”

Photographs? No way. “I’m not really interested—”

“But they are.” Nathan shoved him into the large banquet room and closed the door behind him. He shot a glance to the left, then the right. Maybe he could escape before anyone noticed. His luggage was still in the closet, but he could call the front desk and have the concierge retrieve it.

He slid along the wall, and almost made it to the door when a shriek reached his ears.

“There he is!”


A group of women swarmed around him like sharks, pushing in front of each other to get their pictures taken with him. He looked at the door then back at them. It’s for literacy, dude. His resolve to flee softened. What the hell. He’d already danced for them all. How much worse could this be?

He took his turn with each woman. They really were nice and just trying to have a good time. The last camera flashed and he blinked. Christ, he’d be seeing spots for days. He talked to them for a minute, and learned they were all romance writers, who wrote in many sub genres. When he booked the Masquerade Hotel and Casino he had no idea it was during a romance writers’ convention.

They hovered close until the next male model entered the room, when they all rushed his way. He slid along the wall again, hoping to finally make his escape, but his efforts proved futile. Another group of writers made their way toward him, and he stopped to talk to them. They really were a fun group and he didn’t want to be rude. Cameras started snapping once again and from his peripheral vision, he caught Andi sauntering into the room, her suitcase still in hand. She waved to a few women, while others stopped to speak to her. Ryan tried to stay engaged as the women talked to him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Andi. Even in a room of beautiful women she stood out. If he was the marrying type, she just might be the kind of girl he’d go after. But thanks to his parents’ volatile relationship and disloyalty to each other—not to mention their parents before them—he didn’t believe in wedded bliss, and wasn’t about to chain himself to something that would eventually fail. So why the hell had his thoughts traveled in that direction?

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