Vegas Vows, Texas Nights

by Charlene Sands

  Then, at last, she arrived. “You skeevy little prick!”

  The angry shout cut through the sounds in the ballroom like a knife. The dancers paused, and even the orchestra was startled into an awkward silence. Everyone turned to see the stunning redhead standing at the edge of the dance floor. Now she was only a few feet away from Sawyer, with her eyes still focused directly on him.

  He’d thought for a moment that maybe he was in someone else’s line of fire. He looked over his shoulder, but no one was there. Was she really talking to him? Shouting at him? That wasn’t possible.

  “Who is that woman, Sawyer?” his date asked.

  That was a really good question. He’d never seen her before in his life. He certainly would’ve remembered a woman with hair like waves of fire and skin as flawless and pale as a porcelain doll. Even as angry as she was, he wanted to know more about her. Sawyer shook his head. “I have no idea. Can I help you, miss?”

  “Can you help me?” she repeated bitterly. “Yes. You can hold still.” The angry woman walked up to him and slapped him hard across the face.

  He was too stunned to respond for a moment. He’d never been slapped before. Somehow, being hit by a stranger made it that much worse. She hadn’t hurt him, not really. It just stung, but he could feel the emotion behind the slap. She’d wanted to hurt him, and for good reason. He just didn’t know what that was.

  There was a collective gasp as the whole ballroom seemed equally aghast, then a murmur as everyone started discussing what was going on. Out of the corner of his eye, Sawyer could see a couple brawny security guards his father had hired for the party making their way across the room to deal with the situation. Given that the last two events at the house had ended in a kidnapping and a bombing, respectively, it was a good move to have a little extra help in that regard.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to come with us, ma’am,” one of the guards, wearing a black suit and an earpiece, said.

  The redhead hesitated for only a moment before she spun on her heel and marched out of the ballroom with the two guards right behind her. She’d done what she’d come here to do, apparently.

  Although he knew he shouldn’t abandon his date to chase down the stranger, he had to go after the woman and figure out what was going on. “I’ll be right back.”

  Serena nodded, and he jogged out of the ballroom and into the entry hall to see if he could find where security had taken the woman. Sawyer glanced around, catching a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye as the men escorted the woman out the front door.

  He chased her across the marble entry and pushed past the guards as they came back inside without her. At the top of the front stairs, he looked down and saw the woman waiting for a parking attendant to bring her car.

  “I told you to keep it close!” she shouted at one of the men his parents had hired to manage all the cars at the wedding. “This wasn’t going to take long. Especially with those goons seeing me out after less than a minute.” She nervously glanced over her shoulder, and that was when she spied Sawyer standing at the top of the stairs.

  “Do you normally wear black to weddings?” he asked. Asking why she’d slapped him seemed like jumping ahead in a conversation he wasn’t ready to wrap up so quickly. “Isn’t that against the rules or something?”

  She sighed and crossed her hands over her chest. “It was the only nice dress I had that still fit. No offense to your sister. Anyway, don’t mind me,” she said. “Security has made it clear I’m not welcome, so I’m leaving. Go on back to your hot blonde. You’ve obviously moved on.”

  Sawyer took a few steps down the stairs to get closer, but out of arm’s reach of the woman. He wasn’t getting hit twice in one night. “I’m sorry, there’s been some kind of mistake, I think. Do I know you?” The stinging welt on his cheek suggested that he did, but he was certain he’d never laid eyes on her before. She was stunning, even in the plain strapless black dress and simple makeup she was wearing. Her red hair shimmered in the moonlight, and fat curls cascaded over her bare shoulders.

  No, he would remember meeting her.

  “Are you serious?” She rolled her eyes, which were a dark shade of green like antique emeralds, and shook her head. “You ignored me for weeks after we got together, then when I finally track you down, you act like you have no idea what I’m even talking about. What? Are you going to tell me your evil doppelgänger slept with me, not you?”

  Sawyer opened his mouth to argue, then stopped cold. Now it all started to make sense. Why hadn’t he realized this sooner? Women slapped his brother all the time. Or at least they should. It might help things. “I think you’re actually looking for my twin brother, not me.”

  “That’s an even better excuse,” she said.

  “It’s not an excuse. Ask anyone in the party and they’ll tell you I have an identical twin brother. Most people can’t tell us apart.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him for a moment. “So you’re saying you’re not Sawyer Steele?”

  Sawyer stopped as he opened his mouth to answer. It was one thing for her to confuse him with his brother, but this was different. “No, I am Sawyer Steele. But I think you’re looking for my twin, Finn Steele.”

  The woman turned to him with her hands curled up in fists at her sides. “Are you implying that I’m some kind of slut?”

  His eyes grew large with surprise. Sawyer was usually pretty good with people, very diplomatic at handling bad situations, but he couldn’t say the right thing to this woman for some reason. Her hair was as fiery as her temper, it seemed. “What? No, of course not.”

  “You just told me I don’t know the name of a man I had sex with,” she said, pointing at him accusingly.

  “That’s not what I meant.” He held out his hands in surrender and slowly came down the stairs to stand on the brick patio where she was waiting. He hoped that she would take a minute to breathe and calm down. “People get my brother and me mixed up all the time, is all. I’m telling you I’ve never seen you in my life, so that’s the only explanation that makes sense. What is your name?”

  “Katherine McIntyre.” She said it with an insulted tone, as though he should know her name. “I go by Kat, if that helps jog your memory.”

  Sawyer frowned. To be honest, the name did sound familiar, but he was certain he’d never seen her before, much less had sex with her. He glanced down over the tightly fitting black dress, which clung to her curves and stopped just above the knee to highlight her shapely legs. He was decidedly disappointed that she’d spent the night with his brother and not him. He wasn’t entirely sure that he had a type, but Kat set off all the right bells and whistles. She was a bright red Lamborghini if he’d ever seen one.

  When his face didn’t light up with recognition, she continued speaking. “We met at the Charleston’s Best awards at the aquarium about three months ago. We had a lot of champagne, we talked, and when we got tired of looking at fish, we got a hotel room and got...better acquainted.” Kat looked at him with a pointed expression.

  Sawyer didn’t remember going to an event at the aquarium. Actually, he was certain he hadn’t, although he remembered something was being held there a while back. That was it—he hadn’t been feeling great that day. He’d gotten a stomach bug, but he was supposed to attend as the Steele family representative to accept their award while his parents were wrapped up in finalizing wedding details. He hadn’t gone. In fact, he’d bribed his twin brother to go to the event in his place. Finn hadn’t wanted to attend, either. Sawyer had been forced to give him his new Jet Ski in exchange for going to the party.

  Damn it to hell.

  The realization of what really happened washed over him like a wave. Sawyer brought a hand to his face and rubbed furiously at it in frustration. It had been years since Finn had done something like this. Maybe even since college. Back then, he’d liked to meet girls at bars and give
them Sawyer’s name instead of his own. He was never sure if his brother just did it for a laugh, or to keep the girls from tracking him down, but Sawyer had earned quite a reputation on campus without doing a single thing to get it. But now they were in their thirties. Thirty-three, to be exact. Way too old for this kind of childish bullshit.

  “I think I know what the problem is.”

  “The sex was so amazing you blocked it from your memory because you knew you’d never experience anything that good again?”

  His jaw dropped open for a moment, then he shook his head. He’d never been so jealous of Finn in his whole life. “Uh, no. I was supposed to attend that event, but my brother went in my place. Apparently he didn’t bother to tell anyone he wasn’t me.”

  “He was wearing a name tag that said Sawyer Steele,” she argued.

  Sawyer wasn’t surprised. “Yeah. Knowing Finn, he just went with it and pretended to be me so our father wouldn’t know I bailed on the party.”

  Kat stopped for a moment, her mind visibly racing to process what he was telling her. “And when he kissed me? When he got a hotel room? Wouldn’t that have been a good time to mention that he wasn’t really you?”

  “A perfect time, and I have no idea why he didn’t. Listen, I’m really sorry about all this. My brother is...the trickster of the family. If he were here right now, I’d drag him outside and make him apologize for lying, but he’s actually in Beijing for business. He’ll be there a few weeks more, but I’ll be sure to pass along your message, slap included, when he gets back.”

  The redhead’s bravado seemed to deflate as she listened to him talk. With her anger no longer aimed at Sawyer, she seemed smaller somehow. Almost petite compared to a moment ago. “So you’re saying that the man I met was actually Finn Steele? I can’t believe, after everything that happened, that he wouldn’t tell me his real name.”

  Sawyer could believe it. Masquerading as his brother gave Finn free license to do what he wanted without consequence. “If you don’t mind me asking, was it just a one-night thing between the two of you?”

  She looked at him with conflict in her eyes. “Yes. That was the plan, at least.”

  That was his brother’s style. Love ’em and leave ’em, regardless of what name he used. “Then I doubt he would bother to correct you if you thought he was me. In the end, what would it matter? It’s just a one-night stand.”

  Kat’s expression softened for a moment as she glanced down at the ground, her eyes hidden beneath her thick auburn lashes. “It does matter, Sawyer. That’s why I’ve crashed this party even though it’s obvious he doesn’t want to see me again. It matters because I’m pregnant with his child.”

  * * *

  Katherine McIntyre had never seen a man’s face blanch to a ghostly white so quickly. Even at night, with the patio light behind him, she could see the blood drain from his face and his attractive tan fade. If he hadn’t seemed so steady on his feet until now, she might worry that he was about to pass out.

  She wasn’t sure why he was so upset about the news. He wasn’t the father. He wasn’t pregnant. He hadn’t just found out he’d slept with a lying cheat. She was the one having a terrible night. Sure, he’d been slapped by mistake and would have a lot of explaining to do when he saw his date again, but this was hardly his problem.

  The valet brought her car around at last. “I’m sorry. It took a few times for it to turn over,” he said.

  Kat glanced to where the valet was waiting and then back at the dumbstruck Steele heir. “I’d better go.”

  He reached out to her, almost appearing to surprise himself as he did it. “Wait. Come back inside and we can talk some more.”

  She was tempted to say yes. There was a kindness in his eyes that beckoned her to climb the steps and chat with him. It was different than what she’d seen in those familiar eyes before, so his story seemed to hold up. While identical in appearance, the Steele twins were very different men. But talking made no sense when Sawyer wasn’t the one she needed to talk to. At least about the baby.

  A white Rolls Royce started up the driveway and the front doors of the house opened. People started pouring out onto the stairs. It must be time for the bride and groom to make their exit. Kat wasn’t going to stay around for that. Even if her old Jeep wasn’t in the way.

  “I can’t,” she said. “But Saw—I mean Finn—should know how to reach me when he gets back to the States. Please have him call me.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. She’d given Finn one before, but it had likely ended up in the trash the next morning.

  Sawyer glanced over his shoulder at all the people coming toward them and his jaw flexed with what looked like irritation as he reached to take the card from her hand. He sighed and nodded as he glanced down at it. “I’ll make sure he calls you before he gets back. I’m actually going to phone and wake him up right now. He deserves it.”

  Kat nodded and walked around her Jeep to get inside. She told herself not to look in the rearview mirror as she pulled away, but she did it anyway. She watched Sawyer Steele as his gaze followed her into the distance. He was still watching as she turned out of the driveway and the big house disappeared from sight.

  With a groan, she wrapped her fingers tightly around the steering wheel and pressed down the gas pedal. This was not how she had envisioned this night playing out. She’d just wanted to pin Sawyer—Finn—down to talk, the same as that first night. Pregnancy was not what she had been going for back then. Far from it. But now that it was done, she wanted to do the right thing and tell the father. If he wasn’t going to return her calls, she had to find another way to reach him.

  The idea was to locate him, pull him aside to talk, and take things from there. Slapping the father of her child hadn’t been a part of her plan, but when she saw him dancing with that beautiful blonde, she couldn’t help it. Between morning sickness and pure exhaustion, she’d been uncomfortable for the last few weeks. He could be uncomfortable for a moment or two himself.

  Then she’d found out she’d hit the wrong guy and everything just unraveled. China. Her baby’s father was in China and that was the least of her troubles. Her baby’s father was also a “trickster” in his own brother’s words, one who had no problem seducing a woman using his brother’s name. That was not the kind of man she wanted in her child’s life, but it was too late now. It was done and she would have to find a way to deal with the aftermath.

  Kat slowly pulled into her narrow driveway and turned off the Jeep’s engine. She looked over at the historic Charleston-style house she called home. Located in the heart of the Peninsula, it had always been enough for her. The twelve-hundred-square-foot structure was the perfect space for a free-spirited artist. It had plenty of light, the traditional piazza patio allowed her to work outside sometimes and, best of all...the place was paid for.

  She climbed from her Jeep and went inside. Her little abode was no Steele mansion, but what was? To be honest, she really hadn’t understood what kind of family she’d gotten involved with until she pulled into that driveway and got her first view of the house. The Corinthian columns, the whitewashed stone, the lane of old live oak trees dripping Spanish moss on the long drive to the house...it was like something out of a Southern gothic novel. In this day and age it was the kind of place that was usually a museum, or rented out for weddings and events. But no, the Steeles actually lived there.

  Kat wasn’t a stranger to money. Both her parents had been successful, her father a famous mystery writer and her mother a celebrated painter. They’d done well for themselves, and when they were both killed in a car accident, their estates and life insurance policies had supported Kat through art school and allowed her to be an artist herself without worrying about starving or working a day job. Yes, she needed a new car. And yes, the house probably needed a new coat of paint, but she didn’t want for much.

  She tossed her purse ont
o the couch beside a box of woodworking tools and wood scraps. It would go with her Monday morning when she went down to the District to work. The old warehouse-turned-artist-community was where she spent most of her days. She rented a studio in the building even though she had room at the house to work. Woodworking was messy, but being there was more about community and exposure than anything else. If she wasn’t working there or selling pieces to folks strolling by, she was hanging out with the other artists, who had become her family since her parents died.

  Honestly, losing that place would be like losing her parents all over again. And that was what she was facing. That was why she’d gotten all dressed up and gone downtown to that stupid awards ceremony the night she’d met Finn. Because she was going to lose it all to the wheels of progress and commerce.

  Four months ago, the owner of the District passed away and his children sold the building to a developer. The place would be gutted and renovated. It would remain an artist community—at least that’s what the letters they all received said—but it would be more about selling than creating, by necessity. The rent would be tripling to cover the costs of the renovations and bring the place more in line with the new owner’s vision.

  Kat had the money to pay the rent at the new building, but most artists weren’t so lucky. When the District reopened as a fancy, funky downtown venue for people to shop and be seen, most of the people she knew and loved would be long gone.

  Walking up the stairs to her bedroom, she unzipped her dress and let it slip to the floor on the landing. Kat stepped out of it and turned sideways to admire her slightly rounding tummy in the hallway mirror. She’d just started to show in the last week or so. Her normally flat belly had begun to curve out, making her favorite jeans uncomfortably tight at the waistband. She’d told Sawyer the truth when she said this was the only dress she had that fit. Most formals weren’t made of particularly forgiving fabrics.