Wanna Get Lucky? by Deborah Coonts Read Free Book Online Page A

remembered the feel of his chest, his hands on my arms, his breath on my cheek.
    I may have sworn off men, but my body apparently hadn’t gotten the memo. My mind wasn’t exactly cooperating either.
    A sleek, black limo eased to a stop in front of us. Paolo jumped out and ran around the car to greet us. “Ms. O’Toole, what a pleasure!”
    I liked Paolo, but, like a bright light, I could take him only in small doses. Dark and Latin, he had so much energy he seemed to bounce when he walked. Sporting an ever-ready smile, he opened the back door with the flourish of a matador taunting a bull.
    “Paolo, how’re Maria and little Javier?”
    “Ms. O’Toole, you are so kind to remember my family,” Paolo gushed. “They are wonderful. Thank you.”
    I ducked inside the cavernous automobile. I’ve never felt comfortable in the back of a limo—they were for celebrities and people trying to attract attention—and I struck out on both counts.
    Dane took the seat directly across from me. So now I had to look at him or out the window. Great.
    Before Paolo could shut the door, I remembered the little elephant The Big Boss had given me. I pulled it out of my pocket. “Here’s something for Javier.”
    Paolo took it gently. “Thank you, Ms. O’Toole!”
    “You’re welcome. We need to go to the control tower at the airport. Do you have any idea how to get there?”
    “I will find it. You can trust Paolo!”
    As the car eased away from the curb, I leaned back and shut my eyes—that way I avoided looking at anything. The little headache that was forming earlier behind my right eye had bloomed into a thumper, the whiskey had left a bilious brew in the pit of my stomach, and I was hungry. I bet the three were related.
    Without opening my eyes, I found the intercom button. “Paolo, are we too late to make a swing through In-N-Out before they close?”
    “They turn out the lights at one thirty. We should be able to get to the one on Maryland Parkway by then.”
    “See if you can make it, I’m starved.” I opened one eye and looked at Dane. He was watching me with a bemused expression on his face. “What? You don’t mind, do you?”
    “Now that you ask, no.”
    The lights were still on when we pulled into the drive-thru. Maybe my luck was turning—I was about due for something to go my way. I pressed the intercom switch. “Paolo, I want a combo with a large Diet Coke. Oh, and make it animal-style.” I let off the switch. “Dane, what do you want?”
    “I’ve never done ‘animal-style,’ ” he answered, his face an inscrutable mask.
    I’ll bet
. He was just the sort who’d want to do the doggy. God, was my brain determined to stay in the gutter when I was around him? “ ‘Animal-style’ generally means they add grilled onions. What do you want?” I was way too smart to ask him what he wanted to eat.
    “What are my choices? I’ve never dined at this fine establishment.”
    I leaned back and watched him as he perused the limited menu. “Don’t let appearances deceive you. In-N-Out is a mecca. Three times a day junk food addicts prostrate themselves in front of the counter willing to sell their grandmothers for a burger animal-style.”
    “You mean hamburgers aren’t just for breakfast anymore?” he fired back with a grin.
    “This is Vegas. We don’t eat meals here; we grab food when we can find it.”
    “When in Rome . . .” he said with a smile. “Animal-style it is.”
    I depressed the intercom switch again. “Okay, Paolo, make that two combos, animal-style, both with large drinks. Mine’s a Diet Coke, and Dane wants . . .” I cocked an eyebrow at him.
    “Do they have Dr Pepper?”
    “And Dane’s will be a Dr Pepper. Then order whatever you want. ” I dove into my Birkin, rooting around for my wallet.
    Dane stopped me. “Here.” He pulled a crumpled twenty out of his pant’s pocket. “Allow me.”
    I didn’t come up for air until I had inhaled half my burger and almost all of my