Runaway Vegas Bride

by Teresa Hill

  Bleary-eyed and beyond exhaustion two hours later, he walked out of the ICU and found Jane there waiting for him.

  She got to her feet, took his hand in her tiny one, and he wondered at how a man could feel instantly better just holding Jane’s hand. She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed Wyatt’s cheek. He thought there was nothing he wanted more in this world than to collapse into her arms and have her lie to him and tell him everything was going to be fine, when he knew damn well it wasn’t. That things would never be the same again.

  Leo had been one of the few constants in Wyatt’s mixed-up life, one person he’d always counted on and somehow thought he’d always have. Silly given the fact that the man was eighty-six, but he certainly had seemed as if he would live forever.

  “The doctors just have to see the power of attorney from my office,” he began, “wait a few more hours and repeat the brain scan, and then…”

  “I know,” Jane said. “The doctor told Gram everything, given the fact that she has a big, new diamond on her finger and claims to have married Leo sometime last night.”

  Wyatt nodded. “Please tell me he didn’t marry Gladdy, too?”

  “No, although he bought her a lovely diamond necklace. A consolation prize? A kind of reverse wedding gift? I don’t have any idea. But Gram wanted you and I to know that she and Leo did sign some kind of prenup, because they both had promised us they wouldn’t marry again without one. So, they were thinking of us. She said they hoped we wouldn’t be too mad at them.”

  Wyatt shook his head, thought about laughing, then felt his eyes flood with uncharacteristic tears. He wouldn’t have to worry any more about Leo and his various wives, his love life, his marriages or him getting kicked out of retirement villages.

  “Come on,” Jane indicated. “The doctor said it’s going to be at least noon before they have everything in order and can…”

  “Turn off the machines?”

  Jane nodded.

  “It’s what he wanted,” Wyatt told her. “What I promised him I’d do if he ever ended up like this.”

  “Well, you don’t have to do any of it right now. There’s a hotel across the street. I had Gram and Gladdy get us all rooms there, and you’re going to get some sleep—”

  “I can’t stand to leave him all alone, Jane.”

  “Gram’s coming to sit with him. She or Gladdy will be with him until you get back. There will be dozens of things you have to take care of in the next few days. Take some time to sleep now, while you can.”

  “I have to find my father and call him,” Wyatt argued.

  “I left a voice mail for Lucy at your office. She’ll get to work on finding him as soon as she gets in. Leo has four ex-wives somewhere that we’ll need to notify?”

  Wyatt nodded. “I don’t even know if we can find them all.”

  “Between Lucy, Lainie and I, we can find anyone. But right now, you’re going to sleep.”

  Wyatt did something he never really did. He put himself into Jane’s capable hands and let her take care of him and everything else.

  She walked him across the street, met her grandmother in the lobby and got key-cards for their rooms, then took him upstairs into a small suite on the fifteenth floor where the darkened sky outside the massive windows told him it was indeed still nighttime somehow and the glow of neon told him he could only be in Vegas.

  There was a room service platter of fruit and cheese waiting for them, which he nibbled on while he grabbed a tiny bottle of bourbon from the minibar. Jane pointed out a fresh suit and tie, plus a few other items of clothing from one of the shops downstairs, were hanging in the closet. Gram used to sell men’s suits and could tell just by looking that he was indeed a 42 Long. They had stocked the bathroom with toiletries, and anything else he needed, they would find.

  “The Carlton women have been busy,” he said.

  “Yes, we have. Now sit down and eat something. I’m going to take a quick shower. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep feeling this grimy.”

  He sat down with his drink and nibbled on some fruit, feeling curiously empty inside and mostly just…numb. He may have even dozed a bit in his chair, because the next thing he knew, the whole room smelled wonderful and Jane was standing in front of him in a pretty, flowery silk robe and a nightgown underneath it, her skin a rosy pink, hair down and damp, just brushing her shoulders.

  “I must be dreaming,” he said at the sight of her.

  “Gram and Gladdy shopped for me, too. I’m sure they figured, What’s a little tragedy when Jane might still be able to pick up a man out of the deal? And they so seldom have a chance to dress me as they please. I’m afraid to even see what they expect me to wear tomorrow.”

  Wyatt grinned, despite his exhaustion. Oddly, he felt as if she was the only thing holding him together right now.

  She came to stand behind his chair, leaned over the back of it and put her arms around him, kissing the side of his forehead. He turned his face into her shoulder, to her soft, sweet-smelling skin and her welcoming arms. What a kindhearted, comforting woman.

  “Was it really just a few hours ago that we were on the plane, driving each other crazy?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “I want to go back there. Isn’t it odd, how you can be somewhere, with someone, and be completely happy, and then…Boom, everything just blows up? And you think, I want to go back. I just want to be there again.”

  “Wyatt, you’re exhausted,” she whispered. “Come to bed.”

  “With you?”

  “Yes. We’ll just sleep. I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”

  Which implied that he needed her, and he had to admit to himself at least that in this moment, he did. He did not want to be alone. He didn’t want to do so much as let go of her hand after they walked into the suite a moment ago. And yet, he had no idea what to say to her decision that they’d be sharing a bed tonight.

  She took his hand and led him into the bedroom, pulled the curtains shut tight, flipped off the lights and turned down the bed. He shrugged out of his jacket, loosened his tie. She started unbuttoning his shirt. He put his hands on hers to stop her, feeling he was drowning or choking all of a sudden, as if all he wanted to do was fall into her arms and beg her to never let him go, something the Gray men certainly didn’t do.

  “I’m going to grab a shower, too,” he said, mostly because if he actually did fall apart, he certainly didn’t want to do it in front of her. So he slid that pretty robe off her shoulders and tucked her into bed. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  And then he fled into the bathroom, got rid of the tie, the shirt, splashed water on his face and then leaned over the sink, propped up on his hands and stared at his own reflection in the big mirror. His eyes were heading toward bloodshot. He needed a shave. His hands were shaking again, and he still felt as if he was drowning.

  The shower didn’t really help, although it felt better to be clean. He dried off, wrapped a towel around his waist, brushed his teeth, even shaved, because he’d already scuffed up Jane’s pretty, delicate skin with what he’d done to her on the plane, and if he got anywhere near her in that bed, he’d rough her up even more.

  He walked into the bedroom, saw her sleeping quietly on her side. Would he still feel as if he was choking if he climbed into bed with her and pulled her against him? Or would that just make things worse? Make him want her? Want her to help him forget, just for a few moments? None of which was fair to her at all, and besides, he didn’t use women that way. He didn’t ask them to comfort him or make him forget anything.

  But he hadn’t asked her to do any of the things she had tonight. She’d just done them, just like she was waiting there in the bed for him, Jane all soft and sweet-smelling and even soothing, as amazing as that was.

  He looked down to see that her eyes were open, barely.

  “Wyatt, come to bed.” She pulled back the covers, and rolled over on the mattress to face the far side of the bed, maki
ng room for him.

  He dropped the towel around his waist and got into bed. Rolling onto his side, he fit the front of his body to the back of hers, tucking her fully against him ever so carefully, as if she was made of something so fragile she might break.

  He’d intended to take good care of her, and arrogant as it was, he knew he could show her things in bed that no other man ever had, taking her places she’d never been before. Somehow, no one had ever taken the time or cared enough to truly please her. It was so obvious from the surprise and sheer delight she’d shown at the least little things he’d done to her on the plane. How she could be that innocent in this day and age, he didn’t understand, but he intended to be the one who showed her all the pleasures there could be between a man and a woman. And this certainly wasn’t the time or the place for any of it.

  Closing his eyes, he knew that.

  His body, exhausted as it was, just hadn’t quite figured it out yet. Having her cute little fanny pressed up against his groin wasn’t helping, either.

  He groaned softly but couldn’t bring himself to move away. It wouldn’t be the first night he’d spent wanting Jane, but it would be the first he’d had to spend in the same bed with her, wanting her but not doing anything about it.

  He willed himself to relax, to breathe deeply and evenly, not to thrust ever so gently against the curve of her bottom.

  She laughed softly, sleepily, rolled over and looked up at him through the darkness of the night. “Let me guess. Gram and Gladdy left you with nothing to wear to bed?”

  “Well, you said that to them, everything’s an opportunity to further your love life.”

  She nodded, placed her palms against his bare chest, running them softly over his skin. He’d been aching for her to touch him this way, to feel those small, soft hands all over his body. It was going to kill him to push her away.

  He put his hands on her wrists. “Jane, this is not what I wanted for us. Not at all what I intended.”

  “I know,” she agreed. “But I think it’s what you need, and it’s what I want to give you.”

  She pulled her hands free, rolled away from him ever so slightly and then took her nightgown, pulled it up over her head and tossed it onto the floor.

  Chapter Twelve

  He was too stunned to say anything or to do anything, either.

  Jane? Sweet, shy, prim and proper Jane? Peeling off her nightgown, just like that?

  When she rolled back into his arms, they were skin to skin, those soft breasts he’d teased mercilessly on the plane nestled against his bare chest, his erection surging against her belly.

  She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him softly, gently, and he let her, too shocked to do anything else. He’d always been a man in control in bed, a generous, thoughtful lover, he would have said. He tried to make sure he always gave much more than he ever took.

  And here he was with Jane—this was Jane in his bed—shaking like an inexperienced boy, feeling as if he had the same lack of control as one, and yet still wanting to take care of her, to give her more than he’d ever given any woman.

  It didn’t make any sense. Nothing did tonight.

  She kept right on kissing him, her mouth a sweet, shy temptation, her body warm and supple against his. He took control of the kiss, devouring her, grabbing her and crushing her to him with no finesse at all, feeling raw inside and out. That choking feeling was still there, that sensation that nothing in the world made sense, and she was his only lifeline, his only hope.

  He kissed her lovely, highly responsive neck, sucked hard on her nipple, slipped a hand between her legs and nearly went insane when he felt how soft and wet and ready she was.

  There had to be more, he told himself, something better for her, something to make her want him back in her bed over and over again, but he just couldn’t think what that might be. All he could think about was getting inside her, being a part of her, having that connection, at least for a little while.

  He went to push her away, to buy himself a moment to think, to take some time with her and show her that she was so very special to him, that she was different. But she only let him push her away long enough to roll onto her back, let her thighs fall open and pull him on top of her.

  He didn’t so much as take a breath before he was slipping inside of her. And she welcomed him. She had her hands on his hips, pulling him to her, her body rising up to meet his, as if he was the only thing she wanted in this world. It was so easy and felt so good and seemed like everything he needed in that moment. She felt so small beneath him. He was sure he would crush her, and yet, she didn’t seem to care. He eased in a bit more, let his forehead fall down to hers.

  “Jane,” he said, kissing her urgently.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist and he sank inside her all the way, her body gripping his in a hot, sweet hold that had him gritting his teeth and ready to beg her to be still, just for a moment. But she showed no mercy, rocking her body against his, her nails sinking into his hips.

  Sweet, generous Jane. Taking him.

  He lost all control, cried out, rocked hard against her again and again. There was no stopping it. There was nothing. Just her, accepting, urging him on, giving, and him done, just like that, in an instant, a hot, mind-blowing surge of ecstasy and regret.

  Once he was capable of the most basic thought, he swore softly at what he’d done. He wasn’t even wearing a condom. Sixteen years of scrupulously safe sex, and he didn’t even have a damn condom on tonight. With her.

  And that choking feeling was back.

  As if she’d ripped open wounds deep inside that might never heal, feelings he’d never be able to stuff back inside him.

  “It’s all right,” she told him, kissing his cheek, holding him tightly against her, her body throbbing against his. “Everything’s all right.”

  He didn’t even know if he’d managed to bring her to satisfaction, but he doubted it, couldn’t remember anything except that exquisite feeling of release, of every thought draining from his head except for how good it felt to be right there inside her, and that it was Jane, and the way she’d just brought him into her, welcomed him, like a man coming home from a long, difficult, lonely journey in the dark.

  And what had he done for her? Next to nothing, he feared.

  Dammit. What in the hell was wrong with him?

  He had his head buried against her neck, lying heavily on top of her and feeling too exhausted to move an inch, and he thought there were tears seeping out of the corners of his eyes.

  She had tears, too. He felt them rolling slowly down her cheek.

  He managed to lift his head, look down into her glistening eyes. She gave him a sad smile, her hands on his cheek, kissed him sweetly one last time and when he went to say something, anything, pressed her fingers to his lips.

  “Go to sleep, Wyatt. Just sleep.”

  He rolled off her and onto his back, having no idea what to think, what to do. She rolled into his side, draping one leg over his, laid her head against his chest, one hand over his heart.

  Regret, bone-deep satisfaction and need warred within him, only to be edged out by complete exhaustion and the kind of all-over relaxation that only came from a night spent with a woman.

  Or maybe it was a night spent with Jane, giving herself so sweetly to him and asking for nothing in return. An ease, a sense of peace came over him as he let the feel of her curled up against him fill all the empty spaces inside of him.

  He wanted her, still. It was like a low hum of sexual need that he wasn’t sure would ever go away, but there was something else, too. Something new and different, completely baffling.

  He wanted to just be here with her, hold her, just know she was here, and that he wasn’t alone. That choking feeling was easing. It felt as if every muscle in his body relaxed as she lay in his arms and the world finally faded to black.

  He woke from a dead sleep, with no idea what time it was, where he was or how he’d gotten there at first,
and then it all came rushing back.

  A hotel. Vegas. Leo. Jane.

  He rolled over and could still smell her sweet scent on the pillow beside him. He was alone in the bed at…He glanced at the clock. Both hands on the twelve. Noon? Looking at the closed curtains, he saw light bleeding through the edges.

  Yes, noon. Not midnight, though he could have slept round the clock. He felt as if he was hung over, his limbs nearly too heavy to move, flashes of the night before moving slowly through his muddled brain.

  Leo was dying. They were going to pull the plug today. Wyatt had to sign the papers to let him go.

  And Jane…Jane was…taking care of him? Was that how she saw it? Sweet, innocent, giving Jane.

  He remembered so clearly the feel of her body beneath his, of her taking him inside her and tears running down her cheeks and his when they were done. The feel of her soft hands and gentle heart, her pretty breasts and the temptation of her mouth.

  He swore once again, wishing there was some way to take back what had happened and thinking of how he could make it up to her, and then remembering the condom part.

  The no-condom part.

  Good God, how could he be so irresponsible?

  It was as if he’d woken up and didn’t even recognize himself and the way he’d behaved in the dark hours of the night.

  He threw back the covers and walked into the shower, hoping the water would help wake him up. Dressing quickly in the suit he found in the closet, he took a few moments to brace himself for facing whomever was on the other side of that door and whatever might have happened in the hours he’d been asleep, and then walked into the living room of the suite.

  Jane was there, dressed in a pretty, flowery, silky dress that showed off all her curves, cut high on the thigh and scooped out low on the neckline.