Cougar Bait Read online

  “It really does,” Samantha had to admit. “It’s gorgeous.”

  So gorgeous, in fact, that she was honestly considering getting it—until she saw the price tag tucked inside one of the sleeves.

  “Fifteen thousand dollars? For one dress?” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. “Huh-uh—no way!”

  “A bit out of your price range?” the saleslady inquired frostily.

  “Anything that costs more than the mortgage payment on my house is a ‘bit out of my price range,’” Samantha told her.

  “Perhaps you’d like to look at our bargain rack?” the other woman asked with a sniff.

  “No, that’s okay.”

  Regretfully, Samantha slipped the sapphire sheath off and hung it back up. It was a shame the dress was so pricey, but then again, where would she wear it? She mostly lived in scrubs—there wasn’t much call for sexy dresses in the world of emergency surgery. Besides, she didn’t really need a new dress—the black one she’d worn to give her lecture in was perfectly suitable for evening wear, even in a nice restaurant.

  She’d wandered around the Strip a little longer, taking in the sights and sounds, but eventually it was time to go back to the hotel. When she let herself into the ridiculously expensive Emperor Suite, the first thing she saw was a long white box with a red bow tied around it sitting on the black lacquered dining room table.

  What the—

  When she picked up the box, she saw there was an envelope with her name on it attached—the card inside was the same creamy card stock she’d seen earlier. Clearly Keller had access to her suite, and just as clearly, he wasn’t shy about letting her know it.

  Samantha was just thinking that maybe she’d better call down to the front desk and get her room changed when she opened the box and found . . .

  “Oh my God!” she breathed.

  Inside the box was the sapphire sheath dress. There were even shoes to match it—strappy silver sandals that turned out to be exactly her size.

  Only then did she think to flip open the card and see what it said.

  Wear this tonight, please. You look lovely in it.

  L.K.

  “Damn it!” Samantha muttered to herself, not knowing what to do. On one hand, the gift was extravagant—much more than she ought to accept. On the other hand it was gorgeous. It had nearly broken her heart to leave it hanging in the little boutique. Now that she had it, she didn’t want to give it back.

  In the end, after wrestling with her conscience, she finally slipped the dress and sandals on and went to her dinner date with Keller. Which was why she was more dressed up than she’d been since her high-school prom as she headed down the wide, echoing hallway leading to Twist.

  Well, here I am. She came to a stop outside the archway leading into the plush dining area beyond. So where’s Keller? She hadn’t seen him since their parting after her lecture, although the fact that he had given her the dress proved he had been watching her, as he had promised.

  “You look lovely tonight.”

  The deep, smooth voice behind her made her jump. Samantha whirled around, nearly tripping in the high silver heels she wore, and saw Keller standing there. He had seemingly appeared out of thin air, like a Vegas magic trick.

  “Good evening, Sammie.” He gave her a lazy grin that made her stomach do a flip, much to her annoyance.

  “I told you not to call me that,” she protested.

  “Why? Is it a term of affection reserved only for those who have earned it?” He gave her a piercing look. “If so, what do I have to do to earn it?”

  “Stop following me around, for one thing,” she snapped.

  “I think my ‘following’ you around had a rather positive effect,” he murmured, his leaf-green eyes running up and down her body. “That dress really does look amazing on you—it hugs your curves beautifully.”

  “Okay, well . . .” Samantha sighed, letting go of her irritation. “Yes, thank you for the dress. Although I really shouldn’t accept such a lavish gift.”

  “It was just my way of letting you know I really was keeping an eye on you, as I promised.” He smiled.

  Just then the maitre d’, a trim older gentleman in a tux, came up to the little reservation lectern at the front of the restaurant and asked if they were there for dinner.

  Keller stepped forward. “I have an eight o’clock reservation for two.”

  “Of course, Sir. Right this way, if you please.”

  Gathering two menus which looked more like leather-bound books, the maitre d’ led them through the posh, dimly lit restaurant to a small, private alcove with a table set for two.

  “This is beautiful,” Samantha admitted as Keller pulled out her chair and helped her get seated. There was a small candle burning on the table alongside a single purple orchid in a black-lacquered oriental vase. The chairs they were sitting in were more like overstuffed armchairs than table chairs, upholstered in a fabric with curling gold-and-turquoise patterns on a black background.

  “I’m glad you like it.” Keller opened the booklike menu and began to peruse the contents with a knowing eye. “How do you feel about a Chardonnay to start with?” he asked Samantha. “They have a 2007 Domaine Pierre Matrot that looks nice. Or we could always just do the 777.”

  “Sorry, the what?” She frowned.

  “The seven-course tasting menu with seven wines, one to accompany each course,” Keller explained. “It also costs seven hundred and seventy-seven dollars per person—hence the name.”

  Samantha started to protest the price; she’d been to plenty of nice restaurants, but this still seemed like an awful lot to pay for food. Then again, Keller had put her up in a ten thousand dollar a night hotel room and bought her a fifteen thousand dollar dress all in one day. Another grand or two was probably nothing to him.

  “Let’s see what that involves,” she said, opening her own menu-book.

  A wall of black text met her eyes.

  “Petitgris” escargot, sautéed porcini pushrooms with squid and spinach fondue, spätzle.

  Samantha frowned. Spätzle? What the hell is spätzle?

  She read further. Fig paste, beetroot syrup, seared foie gras with red marmalade butter, brioche, and red onions.

  None of it sounded remotely appealing to Samantha, who preferred plain comfort food to froufrou any day. Even the dessert looked way too fancy. Skipping down to the bottom, she read: frozen banana, fresh ginger, broccoli and anchovy ice cream.

  Samantha did a double take. Ugh! Are they serious? Broccoli and anchovy ice cream?

  Trying not to let the disgust show on her face she said, “This tasting menu seems kind of . . . busy. Do you think they have anything simple here? You know, anything that doesn’t have a minimum of fifteen designer ingredients?”

  “Oh? You don’t like this kind of cuisine?” Keller raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Do you?” Samantha asked him bluntly. “I mean, do you really like it?”

  “It’s . . . an acquired taste,” Keller said carefully. “I suppose I’ve been to so many of these types of restaurants with clients and prospective investors that I’ve grown accustomed to it.”

  “I’ll try it,” Samantha said. “But to be honest, I think your seven hundred and seventy-seven dollars would be wasted on me. Most of my meals are eaten on the run between stints in the OR, so I haven’t had time to cultivate an educated palate—haute cuisine just isn’t my thing.”

  “What kind of food do you enjoy, then?” Keller put his head to one side and looked at her intently. “I admit I made the reservations here tonight hoping to impress you, but clearly I misjudged.”

  “It is impressive and beautiful,” Samantha said earnestly. “But if you want to know the truth, I prefer comfort food.”

  “I have an idea.” Rising, Keller reached for her hand. “Will you come with me?”

  “Where are we going?” Samantha took his offered hand carefully, waiting to see if there would be another jolt of orgasmic pleasure,