Noah was walking toward her as she hung up, trailing his suitcase and the trash bag stuffed with her wedding dress. A few people gave him strange looks, but for the most part, everyone ignored them. “You get a hold of her?”
“Yeah, she’s in room 1835 and she’s up to no good.”
He laughed. “It’s Gram. That’s a given.”
“She says she’s brought”—she made air quotes—“more than my license. At first she told me not bring you, but she changed her mind.”
His grin spread wider. “That does sound like trouble.”
“Especially since the main reason she wants you there is so she can make sure you look as good as you did at Blair’s wedding. I suspect she’s about to proposition you to sit for her sculpting class this time.”
He burst out laughing. “That old woman is bound and determined to see my bare ass. Perhaps I should just drop my pants and show it to her.”
Gram isn’t the only one who wouldn’t mind seeing your bare ass sprang into her mind out of nowhere. What in the world was wrong with her? If she couldn’t control her raging hormones, she might have to ask to sleep in the grandmothers’ room.
“How about we go up to Gram’s room first and get your surprise? Then we can drop everything off at our room.”
“Sounds good.”
Noah was quiet in the elevator, but Libby wasn’t feeling very talkative herself. She realized things were about to change. It had been easy to pretend the outside world didn’t exist when it was just her and Noah.
Perhaps Noah felt the same way and that’s why he’d reacted so strangely to the news that the older women were crashing their party.
But before she knew it, she was knocking on the door to Gram’s room, and as soon as Gram answered the door, any hesitation fell away. “I’m so glad you didn’t marry that giant teddy bear,” Gram squealed, pulling her into a hug. “That boy wasn’t the man for you.”
Libby hugged her back, instantly feeling better. “Turns out you were one of the few people who thought that way. Noah was against it from the moment I told him.”
Gram chuckled as she stepped back and pinned her gaze on Noah. “Of course he was. He’s in—”
“Standing right here,” Noah quickly interrupted, putting a hand on Libby’s shoulder. “And I’m eager to hit some blackjack tables, so how about we grab Libby’s things, drop our things off at our room, and then the four of us can head out?”
Gram’s gaze narrowed on him. “Impatient, are you? I didn’t take you for a gambler, Noah McMillan.”
“Sometimes you have to play the hand you were dealt,” Noah responded.
“As long as you don’t fold too soon,” Gram winked.
Libby looked back and forth between the two, wrinkling her nose in confusion. “What are you two talking about?”
Noah flashed her a tight grin. “Nothing.” Then he returned his attention to Gram. “You up for blackjack?”
Gram shook her head. “You two will have to hit the tables without us. We’re about to head out to see a show.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Noah murmured, half-heartedly. “What are you seeing?”
Gram scowled and waved her hand. “Some old geezers’ rock group Ruby wants to see. I hope they put enough denture adhesive in this time. Last night they spat their dentures out onto the stage. It was all over Twitter.”
“You try singing a vibrato like that without spitting out your dentures,” an older woman’s voice shouted from inside the room. “And that wasn’t a rhetorical question.”
Gram looked over her shoulder. “It wasn’t a question at all!” She turned back to Libby and Noah, shaking her head. “We’ll do what she wants tonight and what I want tomorrow.” She had a wicked look in her eyes and Libby wondered if Nana Ruby knew what she was getting herself into.
“I heard that!” the older woman, who could only be Nana Ruby, shouted.
“Then how about after the show?” Noah asked.
“After the show, I’m goin’ to bed,” Nana Ruby called out from behind Gram. “And let those poor kids in, Maude. They’ve been drivin’ all day.”
Gram ushered them into the spacious room with two beds. As soon as she caught sight of Nana Ruby, sitting on the edge of one of the beds in a sparkly shirt and a pair of jeans, Libby’s mouth dropped open.
“I told you this shirt was a bad idea,” Nana Ruby grumbled, getting to her orthopedic-shoe-covered feet.
“You keep your shirt on, Ruby O’Donnell,” Gram said. Then she burst out laughing at her pun.
“You look amazing, Nana Ruby. Honestly,” Libby assured her. “I’m just not used to seeing you look so . . . colorful. And sparkly.”
“Maude said if we went to see The Crooners, I had to wear this shirt.” The gray-headed woman scowled as she sat back down. “At least only three people know me here.”
“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” Gram said with an over-exaggerated wink. “Ain’t that right, kids?”
Noah laughed. “I promise not to spread word of your exploits once we get home, Gram.”
Her eyes widened. “What? I was counting on it. Especially if I get you drunk enough to drop your drawers. I bet your hiney’s as firm as the sculptures all over this hotel.” She turned her sharp gaze to Libby. “Am I right?”
Libby gasped in shock and sent an embarrassed look to Noah, but her mind was now preoccupied with wondering how firm his ass actually was. No. Don’t go there. “I wouldn’t know, Gram. Noah and I aren’t like that.”
She shook her head, her lips pursed. “Well that’s a damn shame.”
Libby’s face flushed and she forced herself not to glance at Noah to gauge his reaction. He moved up beside her, and she was very aware of the warmth and nearness of him when he settled a hand on her shoulder. “You said you brought Libby more than her license?”
“Yeah.” Gram picked up a black carry-on bag and set it on the bed. “I went to your place with Megan to pick up some clothes.”
“Oh, God,” Libby mumbled under her breath. “Please tell me Megan picked them out.”
Gram laughed as she patted the bag. “I took some liberties.”
Noah’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “I can’t wait to see what you chose, Gram.”
She started to unzip the bag and then pointed at him. “You wait in the bathroom.”
“Why?” He sounded defensive, like a chastised little boy. Libby found it adorable.
“This isn’t for your eyes.” She pointed to the door. “Go.”
Noah waggled his eyebrows, pleading with Libby to let him stay, but she shrugged and smirked. “You heard the woman.” Ordinarily, nothing in that bag could have embarrassed Libby, but with her out-of-control hormones or whatever was going on with her, she’d rather not have Noah around if Gram was about to pull out something risqué.
Noah grumbled about missing all the fun, but he winked at Libby as he shut the door. “Make sure to talk really loud so I don’t miss anything,” he said from the bathroom.
Gram lifted the lid and Libby sighed with relief when she saw perfectly ordinary items—rolled jeans, some rolled T-shirts, a cosmetic bag. It was far neater than she usually packed. It had Megan’s touch all over it. “Megan grabbed your makeup bag and some shampoo and shower gel.”
Libby broke into a huge grin. She didn’t usually mind going so au naturel, but she had a sudden urge to look her best for Noah tonight, which would require her full arsenal. “What else did you bring?”
Gram gave her a mischievous glance as she pulled out several slinky cocktail dresses. “For you to go out with Noah.”
Libby’s pulse picked up at the thought of wearing the black beaded dress with its neckline that plunged farther south than an Antarctic expedition. “Gram.”
Nana Ruby shook her head and mumbled something about pneumonia under her breath.
Next Gram pulled out the lingerie Megan and Blair had given her for her honeymoon—a black lace bra and panties and an ivory
babydoll with a lace bra, a sheer lace skirt, and matching G-string panties. They were French—and quite expensive. But she reminded herself that she had no business wearing them here in Vegas, even if the thought of Noah’s reaction made her skin flush.
She had to pull herself together.
She feigned a sigh of impatience. “In case you’ve turned senile since Saturday—and I know you haven’t—you know as well as I do that this is a road trip, not a honeymoon.”
The older woman shrugged and tossed a pair of red lacy panties onto the bed. “Then there’s this.” She held up a sexy, silver, barely-there negligee.
“Um . . . Gram. That’s not mine.”
She winked. “I know. It was my wedding gift to you. I hope you don’t mind that I unwrapped it and put it in with your things.”
“Since there was technically no wedding, you don’t need to give me anything at all. You should return it.”
Gram waved her off. “You need this.”
Need it? No. That nightie would get her into trouble faster than she could charge up her Visa in an art store. “I’ve sworn off men for the next year. I won’t be needing that anytime soon.”
“Sworn off men?” Gram asked in dismay.
“Leave the poor girl alone, Maude,” Nana Ruby muttered, shaking her head. “She doesn’t need a man. A year off might be good for her.”
“Poppycock!” Gram exclaimed, waving her hand around as if she were physically batting away nonsense. She turned to Libby. “Why would you give up men? Have your ovaries shriveled up? Are you having hot flashes?”
She was having hot flashes all right, but not the kind Gram was talking about. “No, Gram. Let’s just say I keep making stupid choices with men. Maybe it would be best if I took some time off to focus on me. Then I can figure out what kind of guy I want.”
It was far easier to figure out what she didn’t want—some version of Josh, Garrett, or Mitch. She’d be bored in ten minutes if she married a responsible, rule-following, white-collar guy. And that was the problem. The men who weren’t like that were the ones she’d wasted the last twelve years—okay, fifteen years if she included high school—of her life on. Men like that didn’t stick around.
And she couldn’t begin to untangle the knot of complicated feelings she had when she thought about Noah.
But Gram was like a bulldog with a peanut-butter-filled treat. “A year? That’s ridiculous. What if you meet the perfect man for you? Your soul mate?”
Gram’s words sobered her. “I don’t think I have a soul mate.”
“Pfft.” Gram waved her hand. “I know for a fact you have a soul mate.”
Libby needed to change the subject fast. There was no way she wanted to spend this entire trip in some existential funk. “What else is in there?”
Gram put everything back except the black dress. “Oh, you know. This and that.” She leaned toward the bathroom door and shouted, “Noah, you can come out now.”
Dammit. How much had he heard? Why hadn’t she taken into consideration that he could probably hear every word? Of course, she’d already told him about her celibacy plan, but she still didn’t like the thought of him overhearing their conversation.
He emerged from the bathroom grinning ear-to-ear and looked around the room. “What? No Chippendale dancers? No collapsible stripper poles?”
Libby couldn’t suppress her giggle. Given that it was Gram, those things were entirely too possible.
“This girl doesn’t need Chippendales when she has you,” Gram said.
Nana Ruby made a sound like she’d started to choke. If only Libby could get Gram to choke her words down.
“I’ve seen her dance,” Gram said, holding up the dress. “She doesn’t need a stripper pole. But this is a lucky dress. If you want to win at the tables tonight, you should make sure she wears it.”
“Gram!” Libby protested. The dress wasn’t much better than the lingerie. Probably worse. At least if Noah saw the lingerie, it would likely be with the purpose of removing it. The dress was pure provocation. She had one way out of this. “Noah isn’t superstitious, Gram. He doesn’t need luck.”
“That’s not exactly true.” Noah wrapped his arm around her back and rested his hand on her upper arm. “Libby’s my lucky charm. But if the dress makes her even luckier, then it’s a deal.”
Gram smiled like she’d just stolen the crown jewels. Nana Ruby muttered under her breath. But Libby barely even noticed because Noah’s hand slid down her arm, sending flutters through her insides.
This was bad, bad, bad. He wasn’t even touching her bare skin, yet his touch was igniting a fire inside her that refused to be doused with a blanket of common sense.
But Noah seemed totally oblivious to her struggle and his hand continued to make a lazy trail up and down her forearm. “If you and Ruby are going to the show, you better get going. According to the signs downstairs, it starts at seven-thirty, and this place is huge.”
Given the state of her surging hormones, Libby wasn’t sure losing her chaperones was a good idea, but it gave her an excuse to escape Noah’s hold without looking suspicious. She bolted for the door and jerked it open, her hand slipping on the handle in her haste.
Gram chuckled as she closed the suitcase and started to zip it. “That eager to ditch us, huh? I get it.”
She’d forgotten all about the suitcase. And she’d never even asked about her license. Good God, Libby. Get it together. “Gram, did you bring my wallet too?”
The older woman snickered as she patted the case. “It’s all in here, Libby, my girl.”
She started to lift it off the bed, but Noah slid over and pulled it from her. “I’ll take it from here.”
Gram pointed a finger at him. “You owe me a drink later. And I plan to collect.”
Mischievousness filled Noah’s eyes. “Just text me and I’ll tell you where we are.”
She gave him a brisk nod and then tilted her head toward the door. “Come on, Ruby. Let’s go see some old fogies spit their dentures into the audience. But I’m warning you, I’m not throwing my Depends up on that stage.”
“You don’t even wear Depends,” Nana Ruby grumbled as she walked into the hall.
“Damn straight, I don’t,” Gram said as she grabbed her purse and followed her friend out of the room. “I’ve got on a black piece of cloth that looks like dental floss riding up the crack of my ass, and nobody wants to see that flying anywhere.”
Gram was wearing a G-string. Libby couldn’t let herself picture that.
Noah burst out laughing and his eyes were twinkling when he glanced at Libby on his way out of the room, rolling both bags and carrying the dress.
Tonight was going to be a long night.
Chapter Fifteen
Noah paced the room, waiting for Libby to emerge from the bathroom. She’d been in there for forty minutes. And while she’d taken a shower, she didn’t usually spend much time on makeup or fixing her hair. She didn’t need to. Libby was a natural beauty—inside and out.
He hated that most of the men she’d known hadn’t looked much beyond her beautiful face and body. Had he done the same thing at first? He gave himself a serious self-examination and concluded that while her physical appearance had grabbed his attention, it was her personality that had made him want to see her again.
He’d never met a woman like Libby St. Clair, and he was positive he never would again.
He sure as hell hoped this plan to make her see him in a different light worked.
“Lib,” he called through the door. “How much longer are you going to be?”
“I’m not feeling well. I think I should stay in tonight. You go ahead without me.”
A momentary twinge of concern seized his stomach, but he pushed it away when he took into account that she’d protested vehemently about wearing the black dress. He had no idea what it looked like, Gram had held it in a wadded-up ball, but Libby—who was never embarrassed about anything she wore, wedding dress in a steak house a
side—didn’t want him to see her wearing it.
There was no way in hell she would get away without showing him.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he answered. “Get out here. The blackjack tables are calling our names.”
She didn’t answer but the door cracked open an inch.
“Come on, Lib. How bad could it be? If you look like a clown, you can change. I promise.”
“It might make me look like I’ve made an unwise career choice, but I don’t think it’s a clown you have to worry about.” The door opened more and she stepped out into the doorway.
She stood still, shifting self-consciously. Something in his brain registered that she was acting out of character—other than the wedding dress, he’d never seen her self-conscious—but all the blood that usually went to the reasoning part of his brain had rushed to his crotch.
She grimaced. “That bad?”
He still couldn’t answer. He couldn’t do anything at all except stare at her. From Libby’s reaction to Gram’s demand, he’d suspected it was a sexy cocktail dress, but nothing could have prepared him for this—a sleeveless black dress that clung to every sexy curve, the hem hitting her mid-thigh. And the neckline . . . oh, God. The neckline. The V dipped below her breastbone, cradling the sides of her breasts like he longed to do with his hands. Something in his head signaled him to lift his eyes from her cleavage to her face, but that view was just as enthralling. She’d put on more makeup than usual and had made her eyes smoky and her lips red and shiny. Her hair was in a loose up-do, similar to the one she’d worn on her wedding day, but a few tendrils hung next to her cheeks, showing off the small diamond solitaire earrings she always wore.
A groan escaped her parted red lips. “I’ll change.”
“No!” he barked without thinking. The only way the dress was coming off was if he stripped it off her himself.
“But I look like a hooker.” She put her hand on the doorjamb and jutted her hip to the side. If anything, she looked even sexier.
Get your shit together, McMillan.
He didn’t trust himself near her, yet his feet propelled him forward anyway. “No, Lib. You definitely do not look like a hooker.”
The Wedding Pact Box Set Page 77
