When she only stared at him, disbelieving and undecided, he put his hands on her upper arms. “We hit it off that night, I think you’ll agree.”
After several seconds, she tentatively nodded, hazel eyes lifted up warily to meet his, long dark hair shiny. Just looking at her made talking about this easier.
“That’s something, isn’t it? I’m not saying we’ll have a relationship based on sex. I mean...at first it will be that way, since we haven’t been seeing each other intimately and regularly, and we haven’t been involved in a serious relationship.” He was really botching this. “That doesn’t matter. All I’m saying is that if you don’t want to have sex with me, that’s okay. I won’t sleep with anyone else. I’ll be a faithful husband and a good provider and I’ll always be around for the child. It means too much to me to be a good father.”
As she studied him, he couldn’t tell what she thought or felt. But he saw when she’d made up her mind. Her eyes narrowed and she fixed him with a hard look. “All right, Trevor. I’ll marry you, but on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“We marry without any disillusionment over the reality of our relationship. The marriage, although legal on paper, will be a farce. We may look like a family and act like a family, but we will not be a family in our hearts. You’ll love our baby. I’ll love our baby. But there will be no we in that equation. The only we in it is when we talk about our own individual relationship with our child. You think you can just marry me and presto we’re a family. Well, it takes love to make a family. So, until you actually love me, and I you, if that ever happens, this is a fake arrangement, done solely for the baby.”
Could she be more pessimistic? She painted a dismal picture of their future. They might as well be roommates and split everything right down the middle. “No. I can’t agree to that. We will be a real family.”
“Take it or leave it.” When she stepped back, out of his reach, he knew there’d be no swaying her. Fine. Let her go on thinking that way. He’d never consider this a fake arrangement. Forced, maybe, but not fake. Having a baby was real.
“Deal.”
She smiled and he caught a glimpse of what lay ahead for him. “I’ll make the wedding arrangements.”
* * *
Jocelyn stepped out of the cab feeling wily and secretly happy. Trevor had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. He blindly thought marriage was the answer to all his problems. Well, she’d show him that impulsive actions had consequences.
Thank God for annulments.
That was where this would end up if they didn’t truly love each other, and she was 99.9 percent positive he would never love her. His warped thinking would never allow him. Holy cow. His decision to marry a woman he didn’t love proved that, didn’t it? And he carried his family tragedy like lead-filled luggage.
Trevor came to stand next to her as she admired the grandeur of the luxurious Menaggio casino and hotel off the Las Vegas Strip. Pale beige stone rose thirty-six floors and jazz music played from hidden speakers. A bellman took their luggage from the back of the cab—not much, just two carry-on bags. There would be no honeymoon after this wedding. They’d head right back to Texas tomorrow. She’d arranged everything in a day. The most important props were the costumes.
So far Trevor had indulged her despite how seriously he took this. He seemed to approve of the hotel, although he’d told her Italy would have been better. She’d responded with “Only for weddings that include love.”
Vegas suited this wedding just fine. And...checking the time, they’d have just enough to get ready for the ceremony. She’d planned on this being a quick trip. Shotgun wedding. Get married and get home, no time for generating special memories that would give her false hope for this false marriage.
Up in their suite, she entered ahead of Trevor into a marble-floor foyer that opened to a spacious color-splashed living room and dining area. Double doors opened to a large master bedroom. The elegance almost ruined the staging of this event. A secret part of her had deliberately splurged. This would be her wedding night, after all.
Moving into the bedroom, she smiled when she saw the costumes hanging in the closet. They’d go as Mr. and Mrs. Smith.
Trevor went to them, inspecting his and then running his gaze down hers. Hot, smoldering eyes met her when he finished. Seared by him, she experienced a moment of doubt. Maybe these weren’t the best costumes. She’d meant for them to be somewhat normal in attire. The gray suit and white shirt for him, and a black dress for her. She’d thought black the perfect color for a fake wedding. But this Mrs. Smith spaghetti strap number had a slit up one side and fit snug to the skin. The garter-like gun holster did add some fun, though.
“I’ll dress out here. You take the bathroom.” Trevor took his suit.
She took her dress and closed the door behind her in the bathroom, a sinking feeling accompanying her that there’d still be enough time for special memories.
* * *
Trevor waited for Jocelyn in a small circular courtyard overlooking a lake on the casino property. A stone railing enclosed the marble-bedecked space, the trellises of fragrant flowers and the lights of the Strip behind him. He’d greeted the minister. Jocelyn hadn’t mocked that part of this wedding. They’d be well and truly married in less than an hour. He broke out into a sweat and not from the June heat.
She appeared and Trevor stopped breathing. She’d done her hair and wore makeup. Thick dark hair cascaded silkily over her shoulders. She seldom wore it down like that, not while she worked. The dress revealed a slender leg with each of her steps, the black gun strap showing. She’d worn the damn plastic gun, and her breasts looked as though they’d pop right out of that bodice.
He felt the minister glance his way.
Trevor stood stiff with tension. This might have been a bad idea, not the right solution. Maybe he’d jumped a little too quickly. Jocelyn might be more than even he could handle.
She smiled that cat-got-the-mouse grin as he offered his arm. Sliding hers through the opening, she rested her hand on his forearm and burned him with just a touch.
They faced the minister, who eyed them a little longer, searching Trevor for what had to be another plastic gun before clearing his throat and beginning.
“I’ve been instructed to make this quick and to the point,” he said, glancing at Jocelyn.
“Thank you,” she said.
The minister cleared his throat again. “The vows you are about to exchange will be among the most significant in your lives. This kind of union is based on mutual respect and love.” He looked up at each of them. “Not to be made fun of, but to be taken to heart.”
Trevor held back a spark of hope. Jocelyn had chosen a real minister and now he sounded as though he were admonishing them.
“Your lives will change, your responsibilities will change and joy will come only if you are sincere and honest with your pledge to one another.”
Now Trevor thought she had planned this speech—for him.
“Trevor Colton, will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto her, for so long as you both shall live?”
Sweat ran down the back of his neck. “I do.”
The minister turned to Jocelyn. “Jocelyn Smith—” He cleared his throat again. “Pardon me, Locke. Jocelyn Locke, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”
She hesitated.
Trevor turned to her and saw her stark face, eyes wide and on this man of God. He put his hand over hers on his arm. She tipped her head up and blinked a few times, then something smoky softened her eyes.
“I do,” she said in the sexiest voice he’d ever heard.
He started to get hard.
Bad timing. He looked at the minister, who hadn’t missed the exchange.
He smiled and continued. “Hold hands and repeat after me.”
Jocelyn removed her arm from the hook of his and he took her hand.
“Face each other and take both hands,” the minister said.
Trevor was certain that wasn’t part of his script. He faced Jocelyn, so beautiful and looking at him with that heat.
“I, Trevor Colton,” the minister said.
Trevor began repeating what he said. “I, Trevor Colton, take you, Jocelyn Locke, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, to love and to cherish, from this day forward.”
“Very good,” the minister said, clearly enjoying what had appeared to be a debauchery of marriage but now showed signs of promise.
“Now for the lady,” he said. “I, Jocelyn Locke...”
“I, Jocelyn Locke, take you, Trevor Colton, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, to love and to cherish, from this day forward.”
“Is there a ring?” the minister asked.
Trevor tried not to notice his anticipation. “Yes.” Now he wished he’d have bought a different ring. Something a little plainer. But no...
He took out a labradorite band with a one-carat diamond in the center and smaller blue rose-cut stones tapering away on each side. It was something she could wear every day, even with her job.
As she stared at it, he began to fear she didn’t like it.
“Please place the ring on the bride’s finger and repeat after me,” the minister said.
Trevor took Jocelyn’s hand and slipped the ring halfway onto her finger. Then he looked into her eyes and said, “With this ring, I thee wed.” He pushed the ring all the way on.
“Is there a ring for the groom?”
Jocelyn reached into her bodice and pulled out a silver ring with a hammered texture. She’d put some thought into his ring, too.
He held up his hand and her soft skin touched him as she slipped the ring on.
“With this ring I thee wed,” she said, repeating the minister.
When she finished, the minister said, “Let these rings be given and received as a token of your affection, sincerity and fidelity to one another. By the authority vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Jocelyn lifted her eyes, still with his hand in hers, stunned, probably as much as him.
“You may kiss now,” the minister said.
Forget how they’d gotten here. Trevor slid his arm around her waist and drew her against him. He placed his other midway up her back as she rested her hands on his shoulders.
Lowering his head, he touched her mouth. As before, an instant inferno roared. Chemistry would not be their problem. As a man, nothing should make him happier. Except this ceremony, no matter how much Jocelyn had tried to subdue the significance, held more realness than either of them had anticipated.
* * *
Jocelyn wasn’t finished with Trevor yet. They’d already had sex. She was already pregnant. The damage had already been done. What did she have to lose?
Inside the posh, top-level hotel suite, she went into the bedroom, pretending not to notice him go into the living room, removing the jacket and unbuttoning the top of the dress shirt. Before closing the bedroom door, she looked back to see him sit with knees apart on the sofa, remote in hand.
She’d felt the ceremony more than she’d anticipated, and she had seen the same in him. But if he thought he’d spend their wedding night flipping channels, he was in for a big surprise.
She changed into the teddy she’d brought for this very purpose. A black, sheer confection that dipped low in the bodice and pushed her breasts up, the bottom fastened to stockings, and the underwear wasn’t really underwear. Although they appeared to cover her, they left her crotch bare. When she’d made this purchase just a couple of days ago, she’d considered it a perfect representation of the kind of foundation that had caused this marriage. Now she didn’t know if it was appropriate.
Did a fake marriage have to be consummated? No, but Trevor needed to understand what he’d done. The sooner he did, the sooner she could walk away. Because he also needed to understand that she would not settle for a loveless marriage. Maybe enticing him with sex would backfire on her, maybe it would mean too much. Or maybe a deeper part of her hoped it would mean too much to him.
Taking a deep breath, giving her hair a toss, she turned off the bathroom light and opened the bedroom door.
Trevor had leaned back on the sofa. His back to her, he didn’t see her approach. He had some kind of documentary on, something about a mama bear and her two cubs. The narrator’s voice drifted to the background as she made her way to the front of the sofa and his head lifted and turned.
He went still as his gaze ran from her face on down her body, lingering at the top of her thighs. Did he know the underwear was crotchless? After a slow foray down her legs and back up over the eye candy, he met her eyes.
“What’s this?” he asked.
He hadn’t moved.
She walked to him, moving slow and smooth, deliberately stretching her strides like a sexy model, even though she never saw herself that way. The ploy worked. Trevor seemed to grow nervous as she stood before him.
“Our wedding night,” she finally answered.
One of his brows lifted higher than the other. “We don’t have to...”
“Consummate the wedding?” she helped him out.
“Uh...”
Desire and hesitation did battle in him. “If we don’t, it’s not a marriage. I could go to the courthouse tomorrow and have it annulled.” That wasn’t the most romantic thing to say, but would he actually reject her when she’d put on this getup for him?
“You want it annulled?” He stood with another glance down her body.
“I told you I want a real marriage.”
He stepped toward her. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to have sex with me tonight. We can ease into that.”
Ease into the role of husband and wife? What did that mean? Would they wait until they grew accustomed to living together and therefore comfortable enough to graduate to sex? Love would make sex a natural instinct. A benefit. A beautiful thing. They didn’t have love.
“What makes you think I feel like I have to?” she asked, trying to ignore the tight pull of disenchantment.
“I don’t. I... It’s just...” He ran his fingers through his hair, messing the strands up and making her wish she didn’t want to be the one to do that.
“This needs to be right,” he said. “Between us.”
Rushing off for a shotgun wedding didn’t qualify as right. “We had great sex.” Raunchy though it may be, the sex had been right between them. Dead-on. A blazing, hot fireball of rightness. But she wouldn’t point that out to him now.
He lowered his hand and a slight, one-sided grin emerged. Up until now she hadn’t been able to read him. “Can’t argue that.”
Progress. But did she still want what she’d intended with this teddy? That knot of apprehension twisted.
He moved to her, stopping close and putting his hand on her arm, giving her a soft rub.
The feeling in the pit of her stomach intensified, a sense of wrongness.
His other hand came up and touched beneath her chin. He tipped her head up a bit and she met his dark, burning eyes. They startled her with passion and, in the next instant, doubt of its authenticity. Or, no, its origin. Not from love. From sex. Great sex. It wasn’t enough. Why did that bother her so much now? It hadn’t bothered her the first time they’d had sex.
He bent lower and kissed her. The
tingle of passion collided with anxiety.
Putting her hands on his chest, she pushed and stepped back. “You’re right. Maybe we should ease into this.” Or get an annulment first thing tomorrow morning. She’d been crazy to think she could pull this off. Why had she agreed to marry him?
Turning, she walked hastily back into the room. She began to remove the teddy, beginning with the belts, when she heard him at the doorway. She hadn’t closed the door. She hadn’t thought he’d follow. More like, he’d be relieved she’d stopped tempting him.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Fine.” She felt ridiculous in the teddy, belts hanging down. It may as well be Halloween.
“I didn’t mean to move so fast. You just...look so...beautiful.”
Sexy. Lustful. Seductive...
Slutty.
Had one of those words crossed his mind before he replaced it with beautiful?
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, awkward and needing her to forgive his male instincts to ravage her.
She found this gentlemanly side of him endearing. He disarmed her. “Let me change into something more comfortable.” Something more her.
His gaze passed down her body almost regretfully. But then he turned and went back into the living room.
Jocelyn put on her knee-length pink-and-blue-polka-dot cotton nightgown with an animated print of Sid, the ground sloth from the movie Ice Age, on the front. It was too early to go to bed, or she’d have contemplated not rejoining him. But she went out to the living room, where Trevor had turned the channel to an action film.
She went to a chair.
“Come here.” Trevor patted the sofa cushion next to him.
Wary, she didn’t move.
“Sit next to me, wife.” His mouth curved in a lopsided grin.
Curiosity made her go to him. Tingles sprinkled through her as he looked her up and down, taking in the nightgown with humor lighting his dark eyes. She sat and eyed him in question.
“That thing is almost worse than the teddy.”
She hadn’t expected him to say that. He liked her in this very nonsexy nightwear.
A Baby for Agent Colton Page 7