“Evie does her best to avoid the limelight whenever possible, but that’s just not possible for someone like her. Not here, at least. I’m glad you two met in Vegas—you’ve been allowed a little privacy at least.” Gwen leveled a steady look at him. “How did you two meet?”
The question was simple enough and her tone was simply curious, but that steady look carried weight. Will might have exploded loudly, but Gwen’s inner Mama Bear looked eager to eat him alive if necessary. He tried to put himself in their place and not take offense. It was getting harder by the moment, though.
Evie had wanted to handle this part of the conversation, as well—something else she’d asked for while they were getting their story straight—but since she was occupied at the moment…“Evie came into one of my clubs.”
“And it was love at first sight?” Gwen sighed, but he wasn’t about to believe he’d tamed the bear that easily. “How romantic. Evie never mentioned a word about what happened on her little Vegas getaway.”
He nodded toward the balcony. “I’m not surprised.”
Evie chose that moment to pull the door open. She was flushed and her eyes were snapping, and she blew her hair out of her face with a deep sigh. “Will’s being a—” She stopped abruptly as her nephews came into the room. “He’s, um…I think he needs a little time to calm down, so we’ll just go now.”
Gwen shook her head. “Leaving me to listen to it? Gee, thanks, Evie.”
“Hey, you chose to live with the big—ahem, with him. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Evie hugged Gwen and her nephews, and her face twisted when she looked out on the balcony where her brother stood looking out over the city, the tension in the man’s shoulders evident even from where they were. “Tell him he can call me when he’s ready to admit I’m not fifteen anymore.”
With that, Evie grabbed his hand and led him out. Dear Lord, he hoped insanity wasn’t hereditary.
Why did Nick keep looking at her as if she’d grown an extra head? She had warned him her brother wouldn’t take the news well.
Just this once, she’d hoped Will would be able to keep a lid on his temper—especially in front of company. Oh, no, that would be too easy. She’d prepared for the worst, but hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. It wasn’t the first time she’d been wrong. As she pushed the button for the elevator, she turned to Nick. “Sorry about that. I love my brother, but I’d also love to strangle him at the moment.”
One of Nick’s eyebrows quirked up. “The feeling seemed to be mutual.”
She leaned against the elevator wall, trying to look unconcerned as they made their descent, but the energy of the fight with Will was still thrumming through her veins, making her antsy and itchy.
“He pegged the pregnancy, though.”
“That was a lucky guess. And I didn’t confirm it.” Nick still looked at her as if she was an alien, and it was starting to grate across her nerves. Not that she needed much help there; between his attitude of the last twenty-four hours—God, had it really only been twenty-four hours since Nick had shown up at her hotel?—and the still-unresolved fight with Will, her nerves were raw and ready for a fight.
“I’ll drive,” Nick told the valet when he tried to hand Evie her keys, and Mike looked at her for confirmation. Nick’s jaw tensed as he repeated the statement. “You’re in no shape to operate heavy machinery at the moment.”
Although she’d known Mike for three years and Mike didn’t know Nick from Adam’s house cat, her keys were now in Nick’s hand, and Mike was holding the passenger door open for her.
Who the hell did Nick think he was? This was her car, her town, and he…
Nick revved the engine of her Mercedes. “Are you getting in?”
Mike and the other doormen were watching the exchange with undisguised interest. Evie bit her tongue until she tasted blood to keep from ripping into the lot of them—starting with Nick. Private matters stay private: she could hear Gwen’s voice in her head, and she let that calm voice be her guide.
Once they got home, though…
“Do you even know where you’re going?” she snapped as Nick pulled into traffic.
“I paid attention on the way over. I can handle it. Why are you so testy?”
Because everyone is trying to run my life for me. “Switching to decaf is tougher than it sounds.”
Nick looked at her oddly before he switched lanes and accelerated around a truck. She turned her head and stared out the window. The familiar sights of Dallas seemed alien, as if everything had been swapped out overnight with something different. But the “something different” in the equation was her.
She was married to a stranger, pregnant with his baby, fighting with her brother—again—and her attempts to bring her life under control were only causing it to spiral faster out of hand.
Maybe Will had been right: maybe she did need a keeper. No, she didn’t. She lifted her chin as the self-pity that was starting to creep in was pushed back by anger and determination. Her life in Dallas was the least of her problems, as it was about to take a backseat anyway to far more pressing issues.
Like moving to Las Vegas. Becoming a mother.
Figuring out the silent man beside her.
Was the Nick she’d met and flipped for—flipped enough to have a fling with, at least—the real Nick? Even with his dangerously rough edges, he’d been fun and exciting and easy to get along with. That was the Nick she’d thought she was marrying; in fact, that was the reason she’d thought this was a good idea in the first place.
Or was this darkly brooding Nick the real thing? Even allowing for some initial shock time, she wasn’t seeing any real signs of adjustment that would lead her to believe his attitude would level off into something more acceptable. Or easier to live with.
For a few moments, though, when they’d been at Will and Gwen’s, she’d almost felt as if they were a united front. Nick had held her hand and even bowed up those massive shoulders in response to Will’s blustering. It had given her a tiny spurt of hope. But Nick’s caveman attitude and continuing silence now that they were alone had killed that hope, and she knew the disappointment of that was partially fueling her ire at the moment.
The whole thing was giving her a pounding headache, and she couldn’t even have a glass of wine to take the edge off.
Nick wasn’t lying when he’d said he’d paid attention on the way to Will’s, and he never once asked her for directions as he drove. He navigated the tricky entrance to the parking deck under her building with ease and pulled into her assigned parking space without hesitation. He even remembered to insert her key so the elevator would take them up, and the fact he still had her keys instead of giving them back to her irked her even more.
She’d been so deep in thought, due in no small part to his continuing silence, that when he did finally speak to her again, she jumped. “What?”
“I asked you how much of your stuff you were planning to move to Vegas.”
“I guess that depends on where I end up living.” She reached past him as the elevator doors opened on her floor and pointedly removed her key.
“Yesterday, you wanted to move in with me,” he said quietly as they walked down the hallway and she opened her condo door.
“Yeah, well, things are a little different now.”
“Not worried about your reputation anymore?”
As the door closed behind him, providing them privacy, she let loose some of the frustration that was about to cause her head to explode. “The only people I really care about are Will, Gwen, the boys and Uncle Marcus. Will or Gwen will let Marcus know the news tonight or in the morning, and I’ll go see him tomorrow afternoon. The papers will report that I’m married, but once I’m in Las Vegas, no one will really care anymore. Separate living arrangements won’t matter since no one in Dallas will know.”
Nick leaned against her couch, his face stormy. “And my friends?”
“That’s your problem, not mine.” Tossing her purse and keys onto the table, she went to t
he kitchen for something cold to drink.
“That’s a bit selfish,” he challenged.
Her feet froze to the rug, and she bit her lip, trying very hard not to take the bait. She failed. “And you’re a bit of a bastard, so this will work out great.”
Nick caught up with her in two steps, grabbing her arm and forcing her to look at him. “What the hell is your problem, Evie?”
She was so close to him, she could feel the heat of his skin and see the rapid pulse in his throat. His eyes were dark, though, and she wasn’t able to read anything from them. Her body reacted, but she kept her focus. “I could ask you the same question.”
Nick’s jaw tightened, but the dam was cracked now, and Evie pushed through with a bravado she didn’t fully feel. “You obviously have a problem with me. I don’t know what it is, and at this point, I’m not sure I really care, but I would like to know one thing—why did you marry me in the first place?”
Chapter Seven
EVIE THREW THE QUESTION DOWN like a gauntlet. Frustration and anger charged the air around her, and her eyes were lit up and snapping. But Nick knew this wasn’t all just residual anger from her showdown with her brother looking for an outlet; something else simmered beneath the surface.
Although they’d been in close proximity all day, Evie had been distracted, distant even, and he’d had his own thoughts to occupy him. But now her full attention was focused on him, and his body reacted immediately, his skin tightening and muscles tensing. Evie’s spacious living room suddenly felt smaller.
He knew Evie felt it, too, even through the heat of her anger, as the tension in the air shifted and heated in a completely different way.
Color rode high on her cheekbones, and her hair tumbled wildly around her face and shoulders. She took a step back, her feet faltering under her the tiniest bit.
She cleared her throat and tossed her hair out of her face, resolutely lifting her chin. “Well? Why?”
The obvious answer was the easiest. “Because you’re carrying my baby.”
“That was my option to solve my problem making it all about me, as you’ve so helpfully reminded me, but it doesn’t explain why you’d marry me when…” She stopped as she bit her lip.
That flush now colored the cleavage swelling gently over the neckline of her shirt, and her breath stuttered when she followed his gaze down. “When what, Evie?”
She shook her head slightly and took another step backward. Her back was almost against the wall now—literally—but she squared her shoulders and met his eyes. “When—based on your attitude—you don’t even seem to like me very much,” she finished baldly.
Oh, he had a multitude of reasons to support his “attitude,” as she called it, but only time would tell how accurate his assessment of her would turn out to be and how they’d work out the details. He knew the importance of timing his battles, and it wasn’t time for that battle with Evie just yet.
This situation, though, demanded his immediate attention. The rush of hot blood under Evie’s skin had warmed her perfume, and the heady scent filled his lungs and fired through him every time he inhaled. He took another step toward her, and her eyes widened, the pupils dilating as the sexual tension grew stronger than the anger fueling her. He could tell when her body finally switched gears fully; Evie’s breath turned shallow, and a tiny shiver moved over her skin.
“I never said I didn’t like you.” Another small step and only inches separated them. He braced one hand on the wall beside her head, and her breath stopped completely as he ran a finger over her shoulder and down her arm. Her stance loosened as he leaned forward, pressing his hips against her, letting her feel exactly how much he “liked” her at the moment.
“Nick…” Her voice was a husky whisper, the honeyed drawl of his name on her lips fanning the slow burn in his groin into a bright, painful flame.
God, he wanted her. From the first moment he’d touched her, he’d wanted her, and although that want had landed him in one hell of an awkward situation, it didn’t affect the way Evie heated his blood. And regardless of how they ended up here, the primal part of his brain wouldn’t let go of the fact they were married, that Evie was his and he should be taking full advantage of that fact.
“Nick…I…I mean, we…shouldn’t…um…” Her body contradicted her words as it moved ever-so-slightly against his, her breasts rubbing against his chest, her hips returning the pressure against his straining zipper. Her breath hitched slightly, and a second later her mouth met his.
The force of Evie’s raw hunger stole the air from his lungs as her arms locked around his neck and she pulled him fully, possessively, against her. His other hand went to the wall for support, caging Evie between his body and the wall as he ground his hips and felt her shudder in response.
Her taste intoxicated him, leaving him light-headed and craving more. He moved his lips to the column of her neck, causing her to moan low in her throat, and the vibration rippled over his skin. Evie’s foot rubbed against his calf, bringing her knee up to nudge at his hip. He slid a hand under her thigh, around to the curve of her bottom, and lifted. Evie’s legs twined around his waist like a sinful promise, her head falling back against the wall, giving him access to the cleft between her breasts.
She hissed as his tongue moved over the smooth skin. A quick tug on the thin straps of her shirt at her shoulders, and her breasts were bare, allowing him to pull a nipple into his mouth. Evie arched as his tongue moved over the hard point, and her fingernails dug into his shoulders.
Sweet mercy. Evie didn’t know whether to shout or cry at the sensations Nick caused. He felt heavenly; the hard heat of his body locked firmly—blissfully—between her thighs while his mouth…oh, God, his mouth…
Her brain was a mess of conflicting thoughts—she still wanted to hit Nick with something hard, but at the same time she wanted to finish their fight and get some truths out into the open. But neither hurt pride nor anger—as strong as they were—could hold up against the overwhelming, aching need that had hold of her.
This was what got her into this predicament in the first place, and letting it sweep her away again was just asking for more trouble she didn’t need right now. But her brain wasn’t in control right now; her body was, and it was quite sure what it wanted.
Nick.
There was too much fabric, too many layers, separating them. She craved skin-to-skin contact, and the constriction of their clothes was maddening.
Nick seemed to share her frustration. His hands worked busily at clasps and buttons, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fast enough, and she’d go insane if she didn’t touch him soon.
With a groan, Nick pushed away from the wall and carried her easily, never once breaking the connection of his lips on hers. She expected the cool softness of her bed to be the next stop, but Nick only took her as far as the table, setting her on the lacquered wood surface and pressing her back with the weight of his body.
A second later, he broke the kiss long enough to sweep her shirt up and over her head, sending it sailing. A tug and her bra was gone. His shirt joined hers on the floor, and she finally had the contact she craved.
Crisp hairs tickled her nipples, teasing the sensitive skin and shrinking her awareness of the world to just the two of them and the tidal wave of pleasure that threatened to engulf her. The slide of denim down her legs barely registered, but the hot sweep of Nick’s hands over her calves and thighs had her hands shaking as she tried to work the snap of his jeans. She only had a second to run her hands over the smooth skin of his hips appreciatively before Nick’s tongue dipped into her navel to tease and traced a slow, teasing path down to her core.
She arched as he tasted her, and her hands searched futilely for purchase on the slick tabletop. Nick’s hands held her hips, and she closed her fingers around his wrists, anchoring them both as he pushed her toward her climax.
When she got there, the explosion shook her to the marrow of her bones, forcing his name out in a cry as
she rode the shockwave.
Then Nick was over her, in her with a powerful thrust that kept the wave from abating. His fingers twined through hers, pinning her to the table, as Nick set the rhythm and she matched it.
Those deep dark eyes met hers and held her captive, the intimacy of eye contact startling her. Even more surprising was, that for the first time since she’d proposed to him, that guarded, slightly snide expression was gone. Instead, she saw only desire—desire for her. Her brain tried to tell her it was simply a physical thing—just sex and hormones overcoming anything else—but that rational thought couldn’t deflate the feeling that expanded in her chest.
Just before Nick took her over the edge again, she identified that feeling.
It was hope.
The sound of Sabine’s ringtone woke her up, and out of habit she reached to the nightstand to retrieve the phone. It wasn’t in its normal spot, and that confused her sleep-muddled brain. So did the heavy weight pinning her legs to the bed…
Nick. The weight was Nick’s leg, and the memory of last night rushed in in stunning Technicolor detail. The light peeking in around her drapes told her it was late in the morning—later than she normally slept—but considering how Nick had kept her occupied until the wee hours of the morning…
The ringtone blared again, and Evie slid carefully out from under Nick and the duvet. He muttered and rolled over, but didn’t wake. She grabbed her robe off the vanity stool and tiptoed quickly to the living room, closing the bedroom door behind her.
She opened the phone to silence the noise and told Bennie to hold on. Setting the phone down, she slipped her arms into the sleeves and knotted the sash. Then she took the phone to the couch and sat, groaning slightly as her hamstrings lodged a late protest against the gymnastics of the night before.
“’Morning, Bennie.”
“You got married?” Sabine’s voice was an octave higher than normal and twice as loud. Evie winced as she held the phone away from her ear.
“I guess good news travels fast. How’d you hear?”
What Happens in Vegas... Page 9
