Into the Spotlight by Heather Long Page B

You asked for my help. Tell me what you need.”
    Jeannie wrestled with herself. She’d spent hours in his arms. She’d let him feed from her. She’d lost herself in the intimacy. So why did she hesitate?
    “Malcolm…” Jeannie pressed two fingers to his lips in a gesture of silence, but the caress of his lips kissing each finger gently tugged at her insides. “Malcolm, I should never have asked you…”
    “Should have. Would have. Could have. You did. You did, and I want to help. So you can tell me or I’ll tear this casino apart until I find out the answers.”
    “No.” Her heart pumped panic through her veins. “You mustn’t. It could be dangerous.”
    “So can I.” His eyes narrowed, and his fangs flashed. “Jeannie, make no mistake. I will have those answers. I want them from you. But I’ll take them where I can get them.”
    “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
    Malcolm snorted. “Darling, tell me what happened.”
    Jeannie gazed at the determination in his gaze. She could drown in those blue depths. Her fingers stroked his lower lip before tracing the length of his jaw. She couldn’t pull her gaze from his.
    “Trust me,” he whispered.
    The urge to protect him scattered under the swell of need to answer the beckoning in his voice.
    “I came to Las Vegas in 1955. I wanted to be the next Marilyn Monroe. The next Jayne Mansfield. Vegas—Vegas was just a stop on the road to Hollywood, you know?”
    Malcolm nodded slowly, rubbing her thighs. The caresses soothed her soul and strengthened her resolve.
    “Anyway, I came through town and my money ran out. I’d come all the way from Ohio. Somewhere between Nebraska and Nevada, my purse was stolen, and then our bus broke down. By the time the new bus arrived and the passengers reloaded, they forgot to transfer the luggage, and I arrived here with the clothes on my back and fifty cents in my shoes.”
    “Your shoes?” Malcolm tilted his head.
    “My grandmother told me to always put money in my shoes, because if I walked on silver, I’d be able to see the dross.” Her voice tripped on the parched loss, drying her throat. “She had a hundred sayings like that. They all seemed silly or ridiculously clichéd, but they were all true.”
    Malcolm shifted, the heat of him abandoning her as he reached to the table between the chairs and poured two glasses of wine. He pressed one into her hand, and she cradled the crystal stem between two fingers.
    Her grandmother died during Jeannie’s first year at the Royale. A desperate grief in a sea of lost days and desolate nights. She washed back the lump with a swallow of wine. “Anyway, I had that fifty cents. I walked up and down the strip, trying to come up with an idea, when it hit me, why not try my hand at the nickel slots. I could trade in my quarters for ten nickels. It was a long shot, but I didn’t have a lot of other options.”
    “Not an unreasonable assumption.” Malcolm settled himself at her feet, his gaze unwavering. He held the wine, but he didn’t drink it, and when she drained her glass, he replaced it with his. “So you went into a casino.”
    “Not any casino, this casino. I came into the Arcana Royale.”
    Malcolm frowned, but waved at her to continue when she paused.
    “It was June and hot and dusty. I followed this beautiful couple inside and just stood in the lobby, transfixed. You know the Sphinx that’s down there, it’s like it was whispering to me. If I could have deciphered the words, I think it was telling me what I needed to know. I stood there for hours, just listening. After a while, one of the bellmen came up to me and told me I needed to check in or enter the casino. I couldn’t just stand there in the lobby.”
    Jeannie drained the second glass of wine. Malcolm took the empty glass and passed her a plate with cheese and apple slices. She popped in a crisp slice and closed her eyes as the sharp, fruity flavor flooded her mouth.
    “I hadn’t realized how long I’d