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you in such a hurry?”
    “Bee, don’t tell me you are that naïve?”
    “Listen, I worked on that side of the ad business for a long time. All those talent agents are creeps. You learn to live with it. I know I’m not young anymore, Ben, but they even have senior citizens do work in commercials for goodness sake! Some types are hard to find for certain shoots.” I jammed my hands on my hips.
    “What is your type then, Bee?” Ben asked, raising his eyebrows.
    “Um . . .” I felt my righteous indignation waver. “Mature single woman with semidecent legs and good hair.”
    “Don’t forget a big rack.”
    “Well,” I said, “I don’t think that matters unless you are doing a bra commercial.”
    “Huh, I don’t think he wants you wearing a bra,” Ben snorted. “And I’m sure you are exactly the type this guy is looking for.”
    “See.” I jammed my hands on my hips. “I could have found a job and you ruined it for me.”
    “Bee.” Ben shook his head. “Have you done anything kinky with your boyfriends?”
    Why was the world suddenly obsessed with my sex life now that I didn’t have one? “Ben, this is none of your business!”
    “I take that as a no. So I can also assume you never watched a naughty video either?”
    Fighting the heat rising up my neck, I looked around to see who was listening. A May-December couple passed us but didn’t seem to take offense at our conversational topic. In fact, she had her hand a little too far down the front of his slacks to be quite polite. I nudged Ben and nodded in their direction.
    “You are avoiding my question, but if that sight makes you blush then I know the answer. You’ve never seen a skin flick.”
    The temperature of my face would register at about three hundred degrees. “Ben!”
    “If that’s the case, maybe calling good ole Cyrano might do you some good then!”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Cyrano was a pervert, albeit a rich one. Porn was his business. He wanted to see you ‘in action,’ either alone or with someone else and put it on CD to see over and over and over.”
    “Gross!” I shivered. “You have a sick, demented mind, Ben. There’s no way anyone would want to see that .”
    Ben just sighed and shook his head. “Welcome to Vegas, where the underbelly of the world is the norm. Tell you what, let’s go play poker and maybe you’ll meet some semi-normal folks.”
    “I thought we were going to check into our hotel?” I rubbed on my bare arms. “I feel dirty suddenly. I need a shower.”
    “We’ve got plenty of time for that. Let’s play a hand or two at a table here.” Ben took off toward the mass of tables crowded with players. What were they thinking? It was midnight. It was past my bedtime.
    I felt my heart leap in my chest as I chased him. “But I don’t know how to play.”
    Just one look at Ben’s eyes told me he was already in focus mode. I nudged him to make sure he heard me. He barely spared me a look. This was the Ben I saw playing poker on the Net. Swell.
    “I need to teach you first, before you sit down at a table,” he said more to himself than to me. He grabbed my arm and steered me to a seat at the bar. He parked the suitcase next to me. “Have a drink and unwind.” He motioned to the bartender. “Get the lady anything she wants and run a tab for me.” The world-weary looking brunette nodded. Ben patted me on the head. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
    I watched his long strides carry him across the room and around the corner. Great, abandoned in Vegas where I knew no one but a porn purveyor named Cyrano. I’d even forgotten the name of our hotel so I couldn’t scoot off and check in. “Damn.” I swore under my breath.
    “Was he going to play Hold ’Em?”
    I looked at the man sitting one seat over from me. I hadn’t noticed him there earlier, but then again, I’d been distracted. In his forties, he was attractive in an unkempt way—wavy dark blond hair just overdue for a cut,