Make You Mine

by Macy Beckett

  • • •

  When Marc opened his eyes again, sunlight streamed through his windows so brightly he cringed and raised a hand to block the assault. The thick haze of slumber began to clear, and he bolted upright in panic.

  Oh, shit! How long had he slept?

  His head ratcheted toward the alarm clock, where a red digital display told him it was almost noon—a full six hours later than he’d planned to camp out in the lobby.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Marc sank against his pillow while mentally smacking himself. He should have played it safe and set the alarm. Allie could be anywhere by now, maybe even off the resort.

  So much for that idea.

  Still cursing his own name, he sprung out of bed. Marc didn’t have a plan, but since he wouldn’t find Allie in his suite, he freshened up and headed downstairs to explore the resort. His head didn’t hurt anymore, so at least one thing had worked in his favor today.

  He began his search at the indoor restaurants and gift shops, then scoped out the casinos and swimming pools. He struck out everywhere. By the time he reached the athletic complex, he began to lose hope of ever tracking her down in this mini-metropolis. What if she’d taken a tour of the Hoover Dam? Or gone shopping on the strip? The possibilities were endless.

  Marc plopped down on a lobby sofa and cradled his head in both hands. Why was the universe making this so difficult? Hadn’t he demonstrated enough faith to prove that he deserved another chance with Allie? He expelled a frustrated breath and glance down at his feet.

  That’s when he noticed that Rick’s business card had fallen from his pocket. There on the pristine marble tile, a cartoon nutria grinned up at Marc and gave him an idea.

  A crazy idea. An utterly ridiculous idea.

  But the more he thought about it, the more he found himself smiling. If this didn’t get Allie back in his arms before her vacation ended, nothing would.

  • • •

  Allie yawned and stretched, blinking awake gradually to the hum of an air conditioner instead of the screeching of an alarm clock. It was a nice change. The sun was visible as a faint halo of light along the edges of her room-darkening shades. She lifted her head only enough to check the clock, then lay down again, smiling. The last time she’d slept until noon was the summer vacation before senior year.

  I could get used to this, she thought. Wonder if Devyn’s up.

  She sniffed the air and noticed a light aroma of roasted coffee beans mingled with something sweet—pancakes or waffles. Allie rolled out of bed, tugged down her polka-dot nightgown, and shuffled into the living area, where last night’s room service tray had been replaced by a cart bearing fresh fruit, whipped cream, and a stack of Belgian waffles.

  “Nice spread,” Allie said to her sister, who lounged by the window, sipping coffee.

  Devyn lifted her mug. “Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty. It’s about time you graced the world with your presence.”

  “Don’t blame me,” Allie said. “Someone kept me up until the wee hours of the morning watching Under the Tuscan Sun.”

  Dev sighed dreamily and pressed a hand to her chest. “I love that movie. I think our next vacation should be to Italy.”

  “Then start saving your pennies.” Allie snuck a peek at the room service invoice. Ouch. “For as much as they cost, these waffles had better make me see God.”

  Dev pointed at the cart. “Use an extra dollop of that sweet cream and you’ll hear angels, too.”

  While Allie scarfed down a plate of fruit-topped waffles—which really were worth every penny—Devyn fanned out an assortment of tourist pamphlets.

  “It’s our last full day of vacation,” Devyn said. “What should we do?”

  Scanning the brochures, it became clear their options were infinite. They could go horseback riding, catch an auto race, visit the aquarium, take a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon, sign up for a rock ’n’ roll fantasy camp, or even go skydiving.

  “It’s overwhelming,” Allie said around a bite of waffle. “Just looking at all this makes me want to go back to bed. I’m too tired for an adventure.”

  “Then I take it ‘pole-dancing lessons’ are out of the question.” Dev tossed aside that particular pamphlet. After inspecting the options again, she asked, “Want to take it easy today? Maybe hang out by the pool and order froufrou drinks that come with tiny umbrellas?”

  The suggestion appealed to Allie. Vacations were supposed to be relaxing, weren’t they? She didn’t want to spend her last day in Vegas working a pole or tumbling from an airplane. “I like it. Besides, I’ll bet time passes slower at the pool.”

  “Then the pool it is,” Devyn declared. “Let’s get our bikinis on before we miss all the best rays.”

  • • •

  After donning their bathing suits, they bypassed the family pool—bursting at the seams with shrieking children and bouncing beach balls—and continued to the adults-only area, the one surrounded by tall, noise-canceling shrubs and offering a fully stocked bar. This was the best spot at the resort, and it showed. There were only two reclining lounge chairs left, which they quickly claimed.

  Allie and her sister had barely finished spreading their towels onto the chairs when a waitress arrived to take their drink orders.

  Devyn pointed to Allie. “Like Garth Brooks said, bring her two piña coladas—one for each hand. I’ll have a Tom Collins.”

  The waitress hurried back toward the bar before Allie could correct her sister. “I don’t need two,” she chided. “You’ll have me soused by lunchtime.”

  “It already is lunchtime, so consider yourself behind schedule.”

  Allie slathered on some SPF fifteen and lay back on the cushioned chair, sighing at the delicious warmth of the sun caressing every inch of her exposed skin. Before long, she had two slushy piña coladas in hand, and she couldn’t deny that this was as close to paradise as she was ever going to get.

  “We chose well,” Dev said, turning onto her belly and unfastening her bikini strap to avoid the dreaded tan line. “This is way better than pole-dancing lessons.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” And Allie did.

  But as the tranquil minutes passed with nothing to distract her, Allie’s thoughts crept dangerously toward Marc and what he might be doing right now. Did he miss her? Had he tried calling, and if so, did he wonder where she’d gone?

  She doubted it. He probably didn’t even know she’d left town.

  Her heart grew heavy as she peered around the pool at the happy, hand-holding couples, some of them leaning in for occasional kisses. She wanted that same contentment for herself, and she had a feeling all the fruity alcohol in the world wouldn’t dull the ache building inside her.

  What was she going to do when vacation ended and she returned to New Orleans? If she saw Marc with another woman it would kill her. And eventually it had to happen.

  The devil on Allie’s shoulder whispered that she could go to Marc and take whatever he was willing to give, but she shook her head and cast out the tempting idea. Yes, she missed Marc, but the pain would deepen the longer she stayed with him. If he wasn’t willing to share his whole heart, she had to stay away.

  She took a long sip of her drink and tried to exorcise Marc’s image from her mind. When that didn’t work, she kept slurping on her straw until a brain freeze shut down all her synapses. She set down her piña coladas, donned her sunglasses, and closed her eyes to focus on the scents of chlorine and tanning lotion and the gentle brush of the desert breeze.

  A distant airplane droned, its buzz an oddly soothing sound when combined with the sloshing of water. But as it approached, the noise became grating and tinny, unlike any plane she’d ever heard. It seemed to circle the area, and Allie wished it would move on.

  “Allie Mauvais,” someone muttered from across the pool.

  Eyes fly
ing open, she propped on her elbows and scanned the rows of lounge chairs for the person who’d called her name, but everyone was peering at the clouds. She glanced up and her lips parted in shock.

  An airplane that looked more like a flying go-kart towed a sloppy spray-painted banner that read, ALLIE MAUVAIS TO THE FRONT DESK!

  She peeked down at her piña coladas, wondering how much she’d had to drink. Not enough to induce hallucinations.

  “Hey, Dev,” she said. “Tell me you see this, too.” When her sister lifted her head, Allie pointed at the sky.

  Squinting, Devyn craned her neck at the plane. “Holy shit. Do you think they mean you?”

  “What are the odds that two women named Allie Mauvais are staying here?” Slim to none. “I’m going to check.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  In flip-flops and with towels wrapped around their waists, Allie and Devyn followed the winding sidewalk that led to the main lobby. Allie tried to speculate on the reason behind the bizarre summons, and for a moment, she worried there might be an emergency back home. But surely the hotel would have used their intercom system for that, not a miniature airplane.

  When they reached the lobby, Allie pushed her sunglasses atop her head and approached the front desk. She still didn’t know what to expect, but in her wildest dreams she hadn’t anticipated that Marc would be waiting there for her.

  In a tuxedo.

  With a black eye and a bruised cheek.

  Allie’s feet quit moving, such was her confusion. Maybe she had tangled too much with Captain Morgan today. She blinked at Marc twice, but he was still there each time she opened her eyes.

  His polished wingtip shoes clicked against the tile as he crossed to the middle of the lobby to meet her. Visitors and employees strode to and fro, but their presence barely registered. Allie stood there transfixed by the gorgeous man who’d broken her heart.

  It seemed there was no escaping him.

  “Hi, Allie.” Marc had the decency to keep twelve inches of space between them, but he was close enough for her to notice his wrinkled clothes and crooked bow tie. It looked like someone had stuffed him inside a burlap sack and dragged him behind a pickup truck. “Thanks for coming.”

  Devyn wrapped a protective arm around Allie’s shoulders. “She came here to get away from you, asshole. Get a clue.”

  Marc held up both hands. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  “It’s okay,” Allie told her. “Just give us a minute.”

  Devyn’s fists were still clenched, but she reluctantly nodded toward the lobby coffeemaker. “I’ll be right over there”—she jabbed a finger at Marc—“watching you.”

  Once her sister had moved out of earshot, Allie tried to form a coherent sentence, but shock had tied her tongue. What was Marc doing here? Why was he dressed for prom? Who’d socked him in the eye this time, and what had he done to deserve it?

  After a moment’s hesitation, she pointed at the ceiling. “So, the plane, that was you?”

  He nodded and eased forward another inch. “It was my last hope. I’ve been tearing this place apart looking for you since yesterday.”

  Allie’s brows shot up. “You’ve been here for two days?”

  “Almost.”

  “Why?”

  Then he let loose the real shocker. “I came to get you back.”

  Allie’s wounded heart leapt with hope, the sensation making her dizzy. Or maybe it was the booze. She touched her temple. “I need to sit down.”

  “Of course.” Marc ushered her to a grouping of sofas in the center of the thoroughfare, then took a seat beside her. “I meant what I said,” Marc told her. “I’m here to make things right, if you’ll let me.”

  Cautiously, she nodded for him to go on. “I’m listening.”

  “I figured out why the cleansing ceremony failed.”

  “Oh, no.” Not this again. Allie rose from the sofa while her spirits sank. Damn her for getting her hopes up again. “Enough with the curse. Go back home, Marc.”

  “Please!” he begged, falling to his knees. “Give me one minute. That’s all. And if you still want me to go, I promise I will.”

  He looked so pitiful kneeling at her feet, his hair loose and one eye half-swollen shut. She couldn’t say no. She took her seat and folded her arms. “Talk fast.”

  “We couldn’t break the curse, because I failed you.” That got her attention. For once, he put the blame where it belonged instead of on some supernatural force of nature. “I had a chance to show faith in us, but instead I panicked. I offered a small piece of my heart instead of giving you everything—which is what you deserve.” He extricated one of her hands and held it firmly between both of his. “It’s what we both deserve.”

  His confession made Allie’s throat grow thick while hot tears pressed against her eyes. “You hurt me, Marc,” she whispered. “I told you I loved you and then—”

  He pressed a gentle finger to her lips. “I’m sorry, Allie. I was a coward.”

  She nodded in agreement.

  “But not anymore.” He jutted his chin toward the roof. “Remember that pea-sized plane you saw up there? I rode in that thing all the way from New Orleans because I couldn’t wait another second to be with you.”

  Allie drew a breath. No wonder his tux was crumpled; he’d probably hugged his knees the whole way.

  “And when I got here,” Marc continued, “I went to the wrong room and got my ass beat. But that didn’t stop me. I refused to quit.” He placed a kiss inside her palm. “And I mean to go on living that way—never, ever quitting on you—because I love you too much to give you anything less than forever.”

  Marc’s stunning face was visible only as a wet blur, but the sincerity shone in his eyes. Allie told him, “Say that again.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “I love you. I’ve never loved any woman but you, and I swear I never will.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a gleaming diamond ring. “This is what I should have done last week. This is how much faith I have in us.”

  A gasp parted Allie’s lips.

  “There’s a chapel down the hall,” he said. “Let’s get married right now. I’m asking you to be my wife. Take this leap of faith with me.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Five minutes ago, she was missing him so much it hurt and now he wanted to marry her. It was too much. She couldn’t think straight.

  Excited whispers sounded from nearby, and she noticed a crowd of gawkers had formed around them, including Devyn, whose pale cheeks said she was surprised, too. And old woman gave Allie the thumbs-up sign and mouthed Say yes! But it wasn’t that simple. Did Marc truly mean what he’d said?

  “It’s so sudden . . .”

  “Allie, please marry me.” Pure emotion choked him, blocking his words for a moment while melting all her doubts. “I can’t stand the thought of spending another night without you. I’m already yours. You own me, body and soul, and I want the whole world to know it. Please say yes.”

  She glanced down at her bikini, which didn’t do much to cover her breasts. “But I’m not dressed. I can’t get married like this. What if we wait until we get back home, then—”

  “I already checked,” he said. “If we get married in Cedar Bayou, there’s a three-day waiting period.” He presented the ring, dazzling her with a grin that drew out the cleft in his chin. Lord, how she’d missed that smile. “This ring belonged to Juliette Mauvais. I think I was meant to find it, because it belongs on your finger. This wedding is a hundred years overdue. Please don’t make me wait another minute.”

  With tears spilling down her cheeks, she extended her left hand. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

  The lobby erupted in cheers and wild applause with shouts of “Congratulations!” and “Kiss her!” rising above the din.

  Marc slipped the ring on her finger and drew
her in for a soft kiss. The touch of his mouth sent a wave of comfort washing over her. She locked both hands behind his neck and took more of his warmth. The brief taste wasn’t enough to sate the hunger rising low in her belly, but Allie reminded herself that they had the rest of their lives to make up for lost time. It seemed too good to be true.

  When they parted, Devyn jogged forward and took Allie’s hand. She studied the ring for a long time and asked, “Was this really Memère’s?”

  “Yep,” Marc said. “It just turned up last week.”

  Dev turned and assessed Marc, staring him down for several silent beats. “And you love my sister?”

  “More than anything,” he said.

  “You’ll be good to her?”

  “I swear it.”

  Devyn gave a slow nod. “Then I guess the spirits have spoken.” When she reached out her arms to hug Allie, tears shone in her icy blue eyes. “Let’s have a wedding!”

  Chapter 20

  There were no supernatural forces standing in Marc and Allie’s way when they linked hands in the resort chapel and prepared to recite their vows. If anything, the stars aligned to give Allie the wedding of her dreams . . . even if it was a tad unconventional.

  A stately gentleman dressed like King Arthur cleared his throat and announced, “Hark, all ye fair maidens and knights, for we come together on this hallowed eve to bind together Marc and Allison in sacred matrimony.”

  Allie bit her lip to contain a giggle. The folks at the Grand Palace Royale really took their work seriously.

  The chapel walls were lined with a gray stone façade that mimicked the interior of a castle, complete with richly embroidered red tapestries. Clusters of wick-shaped bulbs flickered from a wrought-iron candelabra hanging from the ceiling, casting the wedding party in a soft glow. The experience reminded her of the Renaissance fair, minus the jousting horses and the oversized roasted turkey legs.

  “Who giveth this maid to be joined in marriage?” the king asked.

  Devyn stepped forward wearing a leopard-print sarong around her waist and a medieval-inspired circlet of daisies on her head. “I do, my liege.”