Careless: A Movie Star Accidental Marriage Romance (Santa Barbara Secrets Book 2)

by Marcella Swann

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yes, absolutely. With just one condition, you can only drink on the weekends. No more showing up to work hungover.

  “It’s a deal,” I agreed automatically. I could handle that. “But first, lunch.”

  “You’ve never been to a casino before?” I asked incredulously as we walked into the Bellagio Hotel and Casino. This is where I would have preferred to stay, but the last-minute booking required compromise.

  “Not before last night, no,” Lyssa replied.

  The place was over-the-top in its luxury. The polished white marble floor contrasted the colorful art hanging from the ceiling. Lyssa stared in awe as we walked in. It did draw the eye upward.

  “That’s called “Fiori di Como” and it cost ten million dollars,” I told her, looking up at the glass flowers myself.

  “Ten million?” she asked, her tone shocked.

  “Yep, it’s all hand-blown glass.”

  “But it’s huge!”

  “Hence, the price,” I said and laughed.

  I led the way to the game floor, while Lyssa trailed behind me. Red and gold overwhelmed the casino from carpet to light fixtures to the outfits of the workers. I got us a few thousand dollars of chips and we headed to the slot machines.

  “Okay,” I said, taking a seat beside her. “This one’s easy, no skill involved. Just pop a coin in and pull the arm.” I demonstrated.

  “I can do that,” she said and gave it a go.

  I lost. She won twenty dollars.

  “Wow. This is awesome,” she said as coins rained down into the return tray and she scooped them out. Her enthusiasm made me grin.

  “Beginners luck,” I told her. She stuck her tongue out at me and I chuckled.

  “Can I get you guys anything?” asked a voice from behind us. A woman with a pixie haircut and a nose ring stood behind us. She wore a waitress uniform and held a tray.

  “Uh…” I looked at Lyssa. I wasn’t asking her permission, but I also didn’t want to fight.

  “I’ll take a fuzzy navel,” Lyssa told the waitress.

  I smiled at her girly drink order. It was fitting. “A beer, whatever’s on tap,” I said. The waitress walked away, and I turned to Lyssa. “I was under the impression that you didn’t drink.”

  “I don’t usually,” she said and shrugged. “I stopped when I left my boyfriend, who could party with the best of them, but I can handle a little indulgence. I do know how to enjoy myself.”

  Those last words were bitter, and they brought forth a memory of last night. I had basically told her she was a bore. Looking at her now, with the light from the slot machine dancing over her face, guilt pierced me like an arrow. I had just been angry that she had chased me all the way to Vegas. I let out my frustration on her and in doing so had hurt her feelings.

  “Hey,” I nudged her shoulder with my own, “let’s start fresh, okay? Forget about our arguments and differences.”

  “And my rules?”

  “Yep,” I said, shooting her a cheeky grin.

  “Okay, then. A fresh start. There’s just one problem though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve lost almost a hundred dollars in this damn machine.”

  I looked at the bucket of coins in her hand and nodded. “Yeah, these things aren’t supposed to just give it all away. The house always wins.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Let’s try some blackjack,” I suggested as the waitress returned with our drinks.

  Lyssa took a sip of hers and shuddered. “Wow. They put a lot of alcohol in that.”

  “It’s too lower your inhibitions and get you to spend more on the games. That’s why they have so many waitresses on the floor,” I said, pointing out the four who’d just walked past.

  “I suppose they mark you as a good target, huh?”

  “Hey, that’s not very nice. What happened to our fresh start?”

  “Okay, okay,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Just show me how to play that game over there.” She nodded at the blackjack tables.

  All right. That’s what I’m talking about.

  I taught her a little blackjack strategy, then watched her lose three rounds in a row. I couldn’t help making fun of her, laughing at the way she pouted.

  “I suck at this. I’ve lost so much money.”

  “Don’t worry about the money. I have plenty.”

  “I know that,” she said. “But it’s honestly not that fun to lose all the time.”

  “Tell ya what, finish your drink and we’ll get out of here.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “We’ll walk the strip,” I suggested. “We don’t need a plan, let’s just do what feels right.”

  Lyssa’s eyes flared as I said that, and my gut clenched. The air between us was charged and I suddenly knew for sure that she was the woman I had kissed last night.

  “Yeah, let’s do that,” she said, clearing her throat before tossing back the rest of her drink, which was almost half gone.

  “Wow, am I rubbing off on you?” I asked, leading her out of the casino.

  “If that’s the case, we’re in big trouble.”

  We passed the iconic fountain, lit up in the night, with its jets of water spraying. Lyssa watched the fountain’s show and I watched her, mesmerized by the look of wonder on her face.

  Walking along the strip, we saw street performers, who we gave all our casino money to, and had to weave through mobs of tourists. Lyssa grabbed my hand to drag me into a small frozen yogurt shop and warmth spread up my arm.

  We tried every flavor they had, except vanilla, which we both decided couldn’t be anything special. With small cups of froyo spread out over the table in front of us, Lyssa laughed at my face when I tried the maple bacon flavor.

  “What were they thinking?” I asked as I swallowed it down. “Some things do not belong in ice cream.”

  “It’s frozen yogurt, sir,” said the worker from behind the counter seriously.

  “Oh. My bad,” I replied.

  Lyssa snickered. “I think they were going for a salty sweet flavor,” she said, taking a bite herself. “It doesn’t really work for me either.”

  “I’m a fan of old-fashioned chocolate,” I said, taking a huge bite.

  “I have a great recipe for chocolate ice cream,” Lyssa said, whispering the last two words and shooting an amused look at the worker.

  “Are you kidding? You have to make that for me.”

  “But my ice cream maker is packed away.”

  “I’ll buy one then.”

  “Just for one batch of ice cream?”

  “Hell, yeah. I’m going to order one right now,” I said, pulling out my phone. Five minutes later, I checked out my online cart and showed her with a smile. “It’ll be at home in two days, so be prepared.”

  We left the froyo shop and continued walking. This felt like a date.

  Actually, it felt like the best date I’d ever had. I was just having fun, not trying to get her into bed. I hadn’t had such a good time without a drink in years.

  We heard music playing and drifted toward it. The rock songs were coming from a bar. Lyssa hesitated, but in the end, she led the way inside.

  The bar was bigger than it looked from the outside. It was dark, too. The walls a navy-blue color and the carpet dark grey. The bar was U-shaped and surrounded by people, but we took a seat at a small table and a waiter appeared almost instantly.

  I ordered a top-shelf scotch while Lyssa got a glass of wine. We faced the dance floor and watched a mass of people writhing around. The band was great, a four-piece group with both men and women. They had a lead singer, but the drummer provided backup vocals and her voice was amazing.

  “Do you want to dance?” I asked, leaning close to be heard over the music. She turned her head toward me as I pulled back and our faces were inches from each other. Our surroundings seemed to fade away as I stared into her blue eyes, captivated.

 
A pulling sensation in my chest drew me toward her and I couldn’t resist closing the distance between us. Our lips met in a fiery kiss that was all desperate need and heated passion. It felt right, and I never wanted to stop.

  Thirteen

  Lyssa

  I hadn’t had a hangover in so long that it took a minute before I realized why my head was pounding and my stomach rolling. I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet, but this was going to be a crappy day.

  I groaned and peeled my eyes open. A hint of daylight peeked around the blackout curtains I was facing. I started to turn over when the bed beneath me moved. What the—

  I wasn’t lying on a mattress, Callen was. I was draped across him.

  And I was half-naked.

  Crap.

  My headache got worse as I strained to remember what had happened, how we had ended up back in my hotel room like this. Images of the casino followed by the frozen yogurt shop flashed through my head. What was next?

  Right, the bar. Maybe that hadn’t been the best idea, but I had been caught up in the fun of being with Callen. We weren’t fighting for once, his resentment about my job nullified by our “fresh start.”

  The last clear memory I had was our kiss in the bar. There were hazy recollections after that, but they weren’t clear enough to tell me anything. It was mostly feelings. I remembered being happy and laughing until my cheeks were sore. I remembered being incredibly turned on.

  That coupled with the fact that I was topless, and Callen was only wearing boxers could only mean one thing.

  We probably slept together. I could deal with that. If I were honest with myself, I was just disappointed to not remember it. Hopefully we used protection, but at least I was on the pill.

  Things would be awkward, but we’d get past it. Now, I had to make sure that we hadn’t posted any pictures online. My job would be toast if I was seen partying with him instead of keeping him on the straight and narrow as I’d been hired to do.

  I rolled off Callen, trying not to jostle him too much. I wanted to assess our situation before we talked about what happened.

  I found my bra draped over the TV and slipped it on. My shirt took some searching for, especially with the low lighting, but I eventually spotted it on the floor near the door. It looked like it had been removed right as we walked in the room.

  Now I was fully dressed, but my pulse was pounding in my head. Taking a seat on the bed beside Callen’s sleeping form, I rubbed my temples. How did Callen function with a hangover all the time? I felt like I needed to lie in bed for about a week to recover.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket, squinting my eyes against the sudden glare of the screen as I unlocked it. It was just after noon. We needed to plan the trip back home soon.

  Suddenly, my attention was completely diverted as the light from my phone reflected off a ring on my finger. One that I had never seen before. On my left hand.

  No. No, no, no. It couldn’t be…

  Lurching toward Callen, I grabbed his left hand and checked.

  Yep, he had one too. In fact, they matched.

  Oh my God. I had married Callen Lord last night.

  My throat seemed to constrict, and my breathing was labored. How did this happen? We were just hanging out, watching a band. This wasn’t possible. It had to be a mistake.

  I was panicking, but I couldn’t help it. This could be a catastrophe.

  “Callen, wake up,” I said loudly, my voice shrill. I shook his shoulder roughly. “Callen!”

  He had to remember what had happened, right? He drank way more often than I did. He might remember.

  “What? What.” Callen came awake suddenly, his eyes wild as he looked at me, my phone the only real illumination in the room.

  I clicked on the lamp on my bedside table. Callen flinched against the glare. He raised his hand to block the light.

  “Do you remember what happened last night?” I asked, that shrill quality lingering in my voice. I couldn’t seem to make it go away.

  Callen eyes were almost crossed eyes, his mouth half opened, his head shaking slightly as if a bobblehead doll.

  “No, I…” He peered down at his own exposed body, trying to gather his wits. A devilish grin slowly began to spread across his face and he looked back at me. “Did we sleep together?”

  “That’s the least of our problems,” I said, grabbing the hand he was holding up over his face, I pulled it toward me and lifted my own hand beside it. Callen frowned as he looked at our two hands side-by-side, the rings glinting on our fingers.

  “What…” Shock morphed his confused face into an almost comical expression of disbelief. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, he pulled his hand away and popped off the bed. “We’re married? What happened?”

  “That’s what I’m asking you,” I said. At least my voice sounded normal now. Seeing Callen so freaked out helped curb my own panic. We couldn’t both fall to pieces.

  “I don’t remember anything,” Callen said, pacing. “We were at the bar. We started kissing. Our drinks came. I talked you into dancing with me… That’s it. That’s all I got. You?”

  “I don’t even remember that much.”

  “Have you checked our phones for pictures?”

  “Right, let’s look.”

  Turning back to the phone in my hand, I opened my pictures. The first one was Callen and I kissing. My arms were around his neck and there was a bouquet of blue flowers in my hand. Scrolling through backwards, I saw the marriage ceremony in reverse. I must have given my phone to someone to take pictures of my big day. The thought made me cringe.

  “I don’t have any pictures. At least there’s nothing on any of my social media accounts,” Callen said, tucking his phone away.

  I handed him my phone wordlessly. I couldn’t be married to this man. I mean, I liked him. We had a connection.

  But marriage? That was a bit much. I was supposed to be going to New York in less than a month. This is what I got for compromising with Callen. If I had insisted that he come home with me yesterday, this never would have happened.

  “This can’t be real,” I said. “We can’t be married.”

  “How do you think I feel? I can’t be married to someone that will keep me from partying for the rest of my life.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “How about you think beyond that? I have plans, for one thing. And what happens if word gets out about this?”

  “Yeah, I can just see the headline now: Callen Lord Marries Assistant in Scandalous Las Vegas Wedding. They’ll have a field day with that. And you thought I was labelled a wild party animal before.”

  “I’m your handler, not your assistant.”

  “Because that’s so much better. Could you imagine what they’ll have to say about that?”

  I could imagine it. It wouldn’t be good for either of us.

  “We need to get a divorce. Right now,” I said.

  “Do you know anything about that? How complicated it is?”

  “No, but it needs to be done. We need a lawyer.”

  Suddenly, Callen’s phone rang.

  “Crap. It’s Daryl,” he said. Putting it on speaker, he answered.

  “What the hell is going on?” Daryl’s angry voice blared through the speaker. I had never heard him sound like that.

  “What do you mean?” Callen answered.

  “With you and Lyssa.” The blood drained out of my face. Did he somehow know? “Where is she?”

  “She’s here with me.”

  “In Vegas?” Daryl asked.

  “Yeah, she came to get me.”

  “Good. I assume you snuck away from her?”

  “Yeah. It wasn’t her fault at all,” Callen said firmly, looking into my eyes.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Callen.”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “Your co-stars shared pictures of their partying and you’re in the background. At least you didn’t post any more videos of your own,” Daryl sa
id, exasperated.

  “Yeah, well, I’m a responsible young man now,” Callen said, giving me a wink.

  “I’m sure,” Daryl replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just get back here as soon as possible. I don’t care what it takes, I want you at the studio tomorrow morning bright and early, just as ready to work as you have been the last few days. You’ve been making a change for the better, Callen. Don’t blow it.”

  “I won’t,” he said. “I guarantee it.”

  They ended the call and my shoulders slumped as I let out a breath. I was so ready to leave Vegas.

  “We have to head home now. A divorce will just have to wait,” Callen said.

  “But we’re married, Callen. Husband and wife,” I said, raising her left hand to show him her ring finger.

  “I know, but no one else needs to know about it. It’ll be our secret until we can get a divorce.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “What choice do we have? It’s already the afternoon. I have to gather the guys and get to the airport. We don’t have time to deal with this now.”

  I nodded, knowing he was right.

  “Give me your ring,” he said, and I slipped the gold band off my finger, handing it to him. He pulled off his own and tucked them both into his pocket. “There, it’s like it never happened.”

  “Not legally.”

  “Don’t be such a sourpuss, Mrs. Lord,” Callen said, smirking. He yanked on his clothes.

  “Jokes? Really?” I was not in the mood.

  “What? You don’t want to take my name? A modern woman, huh? Okay, I can accept that.” He walked to the door.

  “I’ll pack my stuff and meet you in the lobby in an hour?” I asked.

  “Whatever the wifey wants,” he said before opening the door.

  “Get out of here,” I said, giving him a small smile despite myself.

  When he was gone, I sat back down on the bed and tried to sort my thoughts. My emotions were all over the place, but I kept getting stuck on my New York plan. What if I didn’t go?

  Fourteen

  Callen

  Truth time: I was not that upset about the marriage.