What Happens in Vegas...

by Kimberly Lang

  Sleep was impossible after that.

  But she’d kept calm—sort of—telling herself there was no need to panic until she had a reason to. She looked at the line of tests. Oh, she had reason to panic now. Good reason.

  She was pregnant.

  She was going to be a mother, and, dear God, she wasn’t ready to be someone’s mother. She wanted children—several, in fact—but motherhood had always seemed like a distant prospect. Motherhood would come after she’d built some kind of career for herself, when she could have a house in the suburbs and do the whole nuclear-family thing with a white picket fence and a dog. And, most importantly, a husband.

  Instead, she would be raising a baby alone. Well, not alone, exactly—she did have family—but it wouldn’t have a father. How would she tell her child one day, “Your dad? Well, honey, I met him in a bar in Las Vegas…”

  The child wasn’t even born yet and she needed to start looking for a good therapist to help it through the issues of growing up without a father because its mother was stupid enough to get pregnant during a two-night stand in Vegas.

  She ran her hands through her hair and pulled at it. “I’m so screwed. This is so screwed.”

  And it would only get worse from here. This news would kill Uncle Marcus. His heart wasn’t very strong these days, and the shock and horror would kill him for sure. Pain throbbed behind her left eye. Of course, the upside was that Will was going to kill her anyway, so she wouldn’t have to live with that guilt on her conscience for very long.

  Oh, and the papers were going to have a field day. It wasn’t enough that she was unwed and pregnant—and that would be plenty for the gossips to chew on its own—but they were also going to brand her a giant slut because her last breakup had been quite public and fodder for the gossip mill four months ago. All of Dallas knew she was single.

  “Nice” girls didn’t sleep around and get knocked up. She was supposed to be some sort of role model for the youth of Dallas—a “real lady,” as Gwen put it. She was, as Uncle Marcus continuously preached, a Harrison—not some trashy Hollywood starlet. Promiscuity might fly for the rich and famous somewhere else, but not here. Not in her world. That’s why she’d gone to Vegas in the first place.

  Society had rules: they weren’t fair, and they weren’t right, but they were still rules. And she’d just broken a major one.

  Oh, God. She’d pulled a lot of stunts, garnered a lot of publicity—both good and bad—but nothing like this.

  This was a nightmare.

  Would anyone believe she’d gone the single-mother route intentionally? Used a sperm bank or something? She snorted. Not likely.

  The tests with all their positive results seemed to mock her, and she swept them into the trash with one hand. Then she went to the bed to lie down.

  In her freshman year of college, she’d invented a boyfriend because she’d seemed like the only girl in her sorority who didn’t have one. Leonardo had been Italian, gorgeous and conveniently studying architecture in Rome. Leonardo had served her well that first uncomfortable semester, and she wondered if an imaginary boyfriend would work now. Maybe he’d been tragically killed in a freak scuba-diving accident off the coast of Australia before he even knew she was pregnant…

  Right. Even if she could resurrect Leo—and promptly kill him off—there was no way she could claim a long-distance romance. She’d been too visible lately, too often in the society pages to have anyone believe she’d had time to go overseas. In fact, she’d barely left Dallas—aside from one little trip to Las Vegas.

  One little trip, that until just a few minutes ago, had held the top spot on her Greatest Memories list. One trip so far outside her reality she hadn’t even talked about it to Sabine—beyond the basic details—so she could keep it special and untouched and perfect just as it was in her memory. She didn’t bother analyzing or deconstructing it, but she found herself revisiting it a lot, reliving that feeling of freedom…

  And Nick.

  She thought about Nick much more than could possibly be healthy, remembering his dangerous good looks, the sensation of his body against hers, that devil-take-it attitude that he also brought out in her. Her dreams had become complex and erotic, and she often awoke frustrated and needy, but, even worse, they’d sowed discontent in her waking hours. None of the men in her circle were as good-looking or disarming as Nick, and none of them seemed to understand the real her the way he had—much less bring the real her out from its hiding place behind her family name and social responsibilities.

  In short, none of the men here were Nick. And while Nick was totally wrong for her in so many ways, that fact hadn’t checked her overactive imagination or made a bit of difference beneath the surface.

  Of course, she’d have to tell him at some point. He had a right to know she was carrying his baby. But while she’d fantasized about going back to Vegas in the future and looking him up, this hadn’t been part of that fantasy. She couldn’t even fathom how he might react to the news. Would he be upset? Did he even want children? Or would she be saddling him with a responsibility he didn’t want?

  Much like Will and Gwen had been saddled with her.

  No, this was different. It may have been an accident, but babies were a possible side effect of sex, and if Nick didn’t want that responsibility, he shouldn’t be…

  Jeez, when had she started channeling Uncle Marcus? Evie snorted. Next, she’d be demanding Nick marry her like this was the Dark Ages or something…

  The proverbial lightbulb went off. The answer to all her problems was unbelievably simple: she needed a husband. Everything would be fine if she got married: there’d be no embarrassment to the family, no heart attacks for Uncle Marcus, no explosions from Will, no gossip in the society pages.

  Well, there’d be a little of that, considering she was getting married so quickly to someone whom she hadn’t been connected with in the past, but she could survive that fallout. The romantic idea of eloping—and that gossip—could be ridden out, and in another month or so she could announce she was pregnant.

  This was perfect. Relief spread through her body, and feeling much better, she rolled out of the bed and to her feet. She had the bones of a plan now; she just needed to flesh them out. Energy flowed through her as the plan started to solidify. She’d go to Vegas tomorrow and marry Nick.

  What if Nick doesn’t want to get married? the little voice in her head asked.

  That was the hitch in her plan. She didn’t know how Nick would respond to the news he was going to be a father, and she really didn’t know how he felt about marriage. What would she do if he said no?

  Nick wasn’t going to say no. He couldn’t. He’d want to do the right thing.

  And if he didn’t? Well, she was a Harrison, and she’d just have to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

  Nick crossed the lobby, his body and mind at odds. Something wasn’t right—possibly even very wrong—but he couldn’t have stayed away if he’d wanted to. His skin had felt tight and hot since he’d found Evie’s message on his phone after his meeting with the soon-to-be-former owners of The Zoo.

  Her message was the stuff of teenage male fantasy: “I’m at the Bellagio. I’ll be here all day, so call or just come on by when you can.” She’d left a phone and room number, and his body had reacted like she’d run a hand over him.

  But when Evie left almost four weeks ago, she’d seemed unsure when—or even if—she’d be back in Vegas. To hear from her so quickly…well, it was a stroke to his ego, but also disconcerting. He knew something wasn’t right—he could hear it in her voice—but he was headed for her hotel right now because he wasn’t thinking with his big head at the moment.

  Maybe he was just being paranoid. Looking for problems where none existed. He couldn’t shake the feeling, though, even as he knocked on her door.

  Evie was a bit slow answering, and while she looked happy to see him, her smile was hesitant—not that dazzling, megawatt one he remembered so well. “It’s
good to see you again. Come on in.” She held the door open for him, turning her cheek up for a chaste kiss as he passed.

  Not exactly the greeting his body had hoped for, and the alarm bells rang louder. The bells were temporarily muted, though, by the realization he wasn’t in an ordinary hotel room. Evie was staying in a suite—and a damn nice one at that.

  “How’ve you been?” Evie led him to the sofa and indicated he should sit. Her spine ramrod straight, she perched on the edge of the sofa and clasped her hands in her lap.

  “Good. And you?”

  Evie’s smile faltered, but she recovered quickly. “I’m well, thank you. I’m glad you came.” Her voice was strained, teetering on the edge of something.

  “And I’m glad you called. I didn’t think you’d be able to return to Vegas so soon.”

  This was awkward. Evie was acting strangely—too polite, too formal and totally unlike the woman he remembered. She was casually dressed in jeans and a green top that brought out the color of her eyes, and her auburn hair was tied back in a long ponytail that draped over her shoulder. But she could have easily been wearing white gloves and a ball dress for all the cool formality of her attitude. If it weren’t for the suffocating tension and the pinched look she wore, he almost expected her to offer him tea and a crumpet at any moment.

  “Would you like something to drink? A snack, maybe?”

  He bit back the absurd laugh and hid it by clearing his throat. “Evie, what’s wrong? You’re acting…” He searched for the right word. For lack of anything better, he added, “Weird.”

  Her shoulders sagged a little and she ran a hand across her face. “I know. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this, but there’s just no good way.”

  There were those alarm bells again, clanging with intensity as Evie took a deep breath. “Then spit it out.”

  She blew out the air noisily and met his eyes. Hers were bleak, slightly haunted. “I’m pregnant.”

  The surprise at her announcement was minimal, but it didn’t keep him from feeling as if he’d been punched in the stomach with the confirmation. Where to start…? “You’re sure?”

  Evie cocked her head. “Very. And, yes, I’m also sure you’re the father.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask that.” The sick feeling in his stomach and the million other things his brain was trying to process put more bite in those words than he intended.

  “Sorry. There was no offense intended, but it is—would be—a reasonable question for you to ask, especially since we used protection.”

  “Fat lot of good that did, huh?” He’d known Evie was going to be trouble; he just hadn’t known how much at the time. Now, he was in deep.

  Evie shrugged. “Nothing’s one hundred percent. However, you should know that I also plan to keep the baby.”

  He’d come to that conclusion already. She wouldn’t spend the money coming here to tell him if she planned to terminate the pregnancy. The first of the knots in his stomach untwisted with that knowledge. Which meant she…“So you need money?”

  Her eyebrows went up in surprise. “No. I don’t need any money. I’m fully able to support this baby by myself.”

  A moment too late he realized that was a stupid question to ask. Evie was staying in a suite at the Bellagio; that in itself was proof she didn’t need financial support. He’d thought before how Evie looked “expensive,” and obviously she was. But just how expensive was a question mark. He shouldn’t judge her based on his mother’s actions, but beautiful rich women…

  Evie continued, unaware of his thoughts. “And I’m also happy to work out a visitation agreement that will be agreeable to us both—totally dependent on how much involvement you’d like have to have with the baby, of course.”

  Involvement? Visitation? Damn it, he’d forgotten for a moment that Evie lived in Dallas. His child was going to be a thousand miles away, and his mind began to race with questions and possibilities and…

  “But there is something I need from you.”

  That stopped his thoughts. Evie was about to drop the other shoe. Her eyes were serious, and she looked as if she was steeling herself for what she wanted to say. If she didn’t need money, then what? Cautiously, he asked, “And that would be…?”

  She took another deep breath. “I need you to marry me.”

  The words hung in the air as he waited for the punch line.

  There didn’t seem to be one. “Excuse me?”

  Evie shot to her feet and began to pace. “I know, it sounds old-fashioned in this day and age, but I need you to marry me.”

  “You said you didn’t need financial support.”

  “And I don’t. Seriously. I have more money than I know what to do with.” Evie rolled her eyes, making that sound like a bad thing. “What I don’t have is a hus-husband,” she tripped over the word, “and for me, that’s a huge problem.” Her hands were moving frantically as she spoke, and she finally clasped them together. Maybe he’d read this situation wrong. Evie was certainly agitated; maybe she was worried, scared…“I know this sounds really strange, but I have to get married. I cannot be an unwed mother.”

  So much for that thought. Or any quaint thoughts about a child needing two parents or even a token compliment thrown his way. This was about her. “Embarrassed, are you, for getting knocked up?”

  “It’s not embarrassment—at least not for me. I’m going to end up in the papers, yes, but it’s my family I’m concerned about.”

  Her pregnancy was newsworthy? That sick feeling started to settle in his stomach again. There was more to this story, and he wasn’t going to like it. “You’re not making any sense at all.”

  “My family is…They’re…well…hell.” She met his eyes steadily. “We’re what you might call ‘prominent’ in Dallas, if you get my meaning. My brother runs the family’s company and my sister-in-law is Gwen Sawyer-Harrison—the one they call ‘Miss Behavior’—and she wrote all these etiquette books. We are society-and gossip-column fodder no matter what we do, and I’m their current favorite topic at the moment. Don’t believe me? Look me up on Google. Evangeline Harrison. If I so much as sneeze in public it makes the news. Turning up pregnant…I can’t even imagine what they’ll say.” She shook her head and shuddered. “Actually, I can. And it’s going to be ugly.”

  The implications of her words finally sunk in. Evie was a socialite. An attention-seeking, famous-for-being-rich-and-beautiful socialite. His stomach turned over. Of all the women who came to Las Vegas looking for a good time, he managed to find the one who represented everything he most despised.

  And she was carrying his baby.

  Good Lord. It had to be a Rocco family trait: knock up a rich-girl-gone-slumming. He had turned into his father. And his kid was going to be severely messed up when Evie decided being a mom didn’t mesh well with her high-glam lifestyle. No, he could protect his child from that. He had what his father didn’t: money. His child wouldn’t grow up in the projects once its mother got over the urge to play Mommy and wanted her old life back—the life that didn’t have a child in it.

  Evie was staring at him wide-eyed and expectant, but there was worry in that stare. Three weeks ago, he wouldn’t have pegged her as a socialite, but then she hadn’t been acting like one. And he didn’t have reason to look beyond the surface.

  Not that women like that had much depth, anyway. The fact she was here, more concerned for herself and her reputation, proved that. “So the Dallas debutante can’t face the music at home for her little Vegas-escape weekend.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t ‘poor-little-rich-girl’ me. You don’t know squat about me or my life at home. If it were just about me, I wouldn’t give a flip about what the papers said or what anyone thought. But Will and Gwen will be hurt, disappointed and embarrassed. The consequences of my actions are going to affect more people than just me. My family…” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I’m just trying to mitigate the damage. To contain the fallout so it doesn�
��t land all over the people I love. The easiest way to do that is to get married. Preferably to you, since you’re the father of the child I’m carrying.”

  Interesting how the baby hadn’t figured anywhere into that speech. Had Evie given any thought to the child? Or him for that matter? He was supposed to jump to attention, relish the opportunity to marry her exalted self? “And if I’m not amenable to getting married?”

  The air seemed to rush out of Evie, and she sagged into a chair. “Then I’ll figure something else out. I’m not sure what that will be exactly…” She propped her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hands. “Are you saying marriage is totally out of the question? Or are you willing to hear my proposal?”

  He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. Oh, he couldn’t wait to hear this. “I thought ‘I need you to marry me’ was your proposal.”

  Evie rolled her eyes. “Want me to get down on one knee?” She shrugged. “So it wasn’t flowers and romance. Think of it as a business arrangement if it helps. We get married—as soon as possible if that works for you—and you only need to stay married to me for a year or so. Sometime after the baby is born, we can file for a simple, amicable, no-fault divorce.” That word slammed into him, driving home his earlier concerns. “I do need you to come to Dallas and make nice with my family and smile for the papers, but otherwise, I won’t interfere with your day-to-day life. I’ll be moving here—”

  That nicely addressed one problem, but…“Why?”

  “It makes sense. Why wouldn’t I move to be with my husband? And this is far enough away to keep me out of the spotlight at home.” The corner of her mouth curved down briefly.

  “And that’s a good thing?” Women like Evie usually thrived on attention—the more the better.

  “I’ve spent enough time in the fishbowl. Some anonymity will do me good.” She cleared her throat again. “But, this is the digital age, so for the sake of appearances, it might be better if we lived together—as roommates only, of course—but if that’s out of the question for you, we can figure something else out.”