Sarah Cartwright ran into the posh gold-and-porcelain appointments of Teddy Wolfe's bathroom and puked.

She knelt in front of the commode, clutching her stomach and grinding her knuckles against her mouth until the worst of the humiliation had passed.

What an idiot. What an idiot! "Sarah?" The millionaire owner of the Riverboat Casino rapped on the door. "Will you be all right?"

Only if the tile floor opened up and swallowed her whole.

Her mouth opened to form words, but she couldn't speak. What was there to say after what she'd just learned? After what she'd just done? Was there anything she could say that could make this whole evening go away?

She could hear Teddy outside the door, getting dressed. Fine leather creaked—a belt? His Italian oxfords? The holster and Beretta she'd seen lying on his desk?

She'd known he wasn't the average sort of sweet and dependable guy she usually dated. That air of danger about him, that unpredictability, had been what had made him seem so exciting in the first place. She should have known she was out of her league. Out of her depth. Out of her mind when she'd started trading phone calls and had accepted this date with him.

"Well," he continued in that suave British accent that she'd foolishly fallen for. "Take as long as you need. Make use of any of the facilities in my suite. Order room service from the restaurant or a bottle of champagne from the bar. But you'll have to enjoy the bubbly by yourself. I have some business to attend to. My people will take care of you."

She heard the whisper of silk sliding against silk outside the door as he continued to dress. Or maybe that was the smooth sound of careless, hea