by Quinn, Cari
He shouldn’t tease her. What was the point? She wasn’t feeling it, and he was just delaying the inevitable by not looking in his wallet or making a few phone calls to ascertain he wasn’t a complete jackass.
But damn, she was beautiful, and she still smelled like cinnamon, and her breasts had been so fucking soft in his hands. Those small pink nipples were meant for his mouth, and he didn’t even know if he’d had the pleasure of tasting them.
Stranger, my ass.
“Sure you don’t want a reminder or two?” He trailed his finger over one of her springy curls and she sucked in a breath. “Something to help you bring it all back until you walk out of here and you know.”
Her dark eyes flashed up to his. “Know?”
“Yes. You’ll feel me inside you when you walk. When you’re not panicked and in denial, there’s no way you won’t feel the imprint of this from last night.” He rocked against her gently and she gasped.
He had barely an instant to rejoice in her reaction before she shoved him back. “I don’t feel a damn thing, so I guess you aren’t packing as much as you think.”
Before he could reply, his bedroom door opened and Ryan poked his head in. “Um, Michael, hi, sorry to interrupt, but Lila is calling an emergency band meeting.”
“You aren’t interrupting shit.” Spying her shoes, Chloe slid her feet into them before randomly grabbing something from Michael’s suitcase. She plucked her phone off the nightstand and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the fussy French renaissance-style paintings on the wall.
Ry whistled. “Who’s that?”
Heart careening in his chest, Michael finally opened his wallet. He thumbed through the first couple of slots, finding nothing. Nothing in the billfold. And nothing in the ID window except his driver’s license. The only place left to check was the slot on the other side.
The slot containing a crisp folded piece of paper that he’d never seen before.
He hesitated, his hand turning damp.
Just open it up and see. Reassure yourself. Everything is fine.
Pulling it out, he unfolded the paper. All he needed to read were the two words on top.
Marriage license.
“You okay, dude?” Ryan questioned. “I asked who the chick is.”
Michael shut his eyes. “My wife.”
Twelve
Chloe’s hand shook as she tapped the elevator button for her floor. At least that one thing made sense. She could get to her floor.
She clutched her phone. She found two messages from her father. One voicemail.
One of the girls?
She held it up to her ear as the elevator pinged and slid open silently. Her stomach revolted at the backdrop for the freaking elevator. White lace and twining fingers. Of course there were gold bands on their damn fingers.
Like the heavy gold ring Michael wore.
She bent at the stomach as the world fuzzed again.
You will not be sick. You will not be sick. You will not be sick.
“Mama. We miss you, mama. Hurry home soon, mama. Pop Pop doesn’t read Thomas right, but we had fun anyway. Miss you, Mama.”
“Okay, let me have the phone, Axlsaurus.”
Her little boy laughed. The laugh that forever pulled her out of a bad mood. The laugh that made everything okay. Her dad cleared his throat.
“We can’t wait to see you. We had a great time at the picnic and he had his first campout with the kids. He had terrible food, but he was a riot. We’ll definitely have to try that again. Okay, sorry. Just let me know what time your flight comes in and we’ll come get you. Bye, honey. Say bye!”
“Bye!”
Then the line went dead.
She wasn’t even aware of going all the way down to the lobby. The phone call had completely distracted her. She slapped their floor number, but not before a group of ladies got on with her. She tried to text Jinx and Ivy, but neither of the girls replied.
“Need the damn card.” She curled her fingers into fists, squeaking when her borrowed shorts slid low on her hips. She was a hot mess and she needed her girls. Surely someone had to be in their room. It rang and rang, oh and rang some more. No answer. “Fuck.”
Beside her, the older lady’s eyebrows shot up and the younger girl at her side snorted.
“Sorry. No room key.” She hauled the borrowed shorts back up to her waist, bunching the material at one hip.
She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Relax.
She could do this. She was a capable woman. She juggled three jobs and a kid. This was cake. So much cake. She’d go back downstairs and get a new room key and go back to her room and pack. Then they’d get everything sorted and she could just chalk the whole weekend up to an indiscretion. A story for when she was old and gray.
Guess what? I actually married a stranger in Vegas for three minutes. Isn’t that the funniest thing you’ve ever heard?
Best story ever.
All she needed to do was get out of the elevator. As they flew by the fifteenth floor, she slapped the button for eighteen. When the doors opened, she sprinted across the marble floors to the other bank of elevators on that level, still gripping the shorts.
Michael must be about five hundred sizes bigger than her. How could his pants be so freaking huge on her? He was lean, dammit.
She remembered curling her arms around his tight middle last night. So muscular and perfect.
Whoa. Where did that memory come from?
Gah. Not to mention that morning he’d been walking around the hotel room without a stitch on. Mouthwateringly tight everywhere, even if he was a complete asshole.
She hauled the cargos up again and bunched the material around her fingers. Something snagged on the oversized T-shirt she had on.
The ring.
She stopped in the middle of the shoppers rushing around her. She’d drooled over the ring on this level.
She twisted her hand free to stare down at her dream ring. Figures it would be the thing that brought her world crashing down. For God’s sake, it might have been one of the lesser expensive rings, but it was still sapphires and diamonds. It still had a four digit price tag.
Maybe even more.
She swallowed down the flood of spit.
Five figures.
God, had she put it on Nick’s tab?
Had she bought her wedding ring on Nick’s tab?
The room tilted.
Someone would have some sort of answer for her. Even if she didn’t have a hope or a prayer in figuring out this mess on her own she could at least check into the jewelry store. Her ring might not be completely one of a kind, but they would have records.
She hoped.
The shorts slipped and she hiked them up again. First, she had to find pants that fit.
She avoided Luxe. That kind of spending was completely unnecessary. She just needed plain shorts. And a shirt that didn’t smell like him.
It was something to focus on.
And right now, she had to cling to something. She checked her phone again and crossed to one of the trendy stores. She winced over the price tag for a minute before giving her room number one more time.
She passed women in their teens and early twenties, cooing over clothes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cooed over anything that didn’t come in a size 3T.
Not one to linger over her lot in life, she rushed into the dressing room. She barely touched the button on Michael’s shorts and they dropped around her ankles.
How was she completely without clothes? What the hell had she been doing last night?
Had she really had sex with him?
She winced a little as she wiggled into a pair of cotton panties. She much preferred to wash them before wearing, but beggars couldn’t be choosers at this point. She turned in the mirror and stared. She stepped closer until the pink marks on her skin came in clear.
What the hell was that?
She brushed her fingertips over the abraded skin.
Oh, God, were those…?
She slammed her eyes shut and quickly turned away. It had been a damn long time, but she remembered whisker burn a time or two in her life.
Dammit. She just couldn’t think about that. No how, no way.
Once she didn’t look like a freaking hobo, she stuffed his clothes in her shopping bag and left the store.
The ring store was easy to spot.
Big and gold and sparkly.
Had it been that big the last time she’d been in?
She twisted her fingers together, and the smaller engagement ring Snake had given her clicked against Michael’s—no, not Michael’s ring. Her mistake ring. One that she should return.
She lifted her chin and walked through the large, gilded doors.
“May I help you?” The woman was young and Botox-injected. Why on earth would someone do that to themselves? Or maybe it was just one too many chemical peels?
Turn off the bitch mode.
“Is Nathan available?”
The woman’s eyes cooled as her lips pursed. “Yes.” She pointed to the back.
“Thanks.” Chloe made her way back to the case. Déjà vu slapped her soundly as she approached it. She wasn’t sure if it was from her day with the girls, or with…no. No, she just wouldn’t have.
“Miss Chloe! I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Hi, Nathan.”
“I must confess, I was surprised you came back last night. Your young man was very insistent we stay open ten more minutes so we could get your ring.”
She didn’t remember any of that. Not a single thing—
The quick flash of lips at her neck and a large palm at her lower back was there, then gone.
“What time was that?” she asked shakily.
Nathan’s eyes turned worried. “Oh, that doesn’t sound good.”
“I don’t quite remember what happened last night.” She wiggled her ring finger. “But I woke up with this and definitely did not start out the night with it.”
“You didn’t seem that out of it last night. You two were very affectionate, but nothing untoward.”
Untoward. Well, at least there was that.
“You two were quite charming. Even asked us to print out your license. I had no idea you were thinking about getting married when you came to see me.”
Please God, she hoped her eyeballs weren’t quite as cartoon alarmed as they seemed to be in her head. “That’s because it wasn’t in the plans.” She swallowed. “In fact, would you happen to have video or something…” She looked around. “You have cameras, right?”
“Oh, Miss Chloe. There wasn’t something going on with your young man, was there? He was perfectly polite, if perhaps a little…” Nathan shrugged with a little color in his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “He was very much into you is all I’m saying.”
She gripped the edge of the case. So not good.
“Come with me.”
She followed him to a doorway.
“We don’t usually bring people back here. Well, not unless we’re proving some sort of theft.”
Chloe’s cheeks flamed.
He turned back to her. “Not to worry, my dear.” He opened his arm to bring her through another door. “Just sit there for a moment. Shouldn’t take me but a minute to cue it up since it was the end of the night.”
She slowly lowered herself to the office chair. There was an entire bank of screens. All of them were flipping back and forth between different sections of the store and cases. No corner had been left unwatched.
“All right. Here we go.”
Her gaze snapped to the screen in the center. The camera focused on Nathan’s smiling face and a redhead—herself—leaning against a very tall, very broad-shouldered guy with a messy fauxhawk. Michael. There was no denying the man was Michael Shawcross. Their fingers were linked in a careless intimacy that made her stomach churn.
She’d never touched anyone like that. Even with Snake, she’d been a little reserved. Not really interested in public displays. Not that they were slobbering all over each other or anything. If anything, they were completely innocent, save for the proprietary hand on her back as they both peered into the case.
Michael made some comment that made her punch him in the arm, but then he was holding the ring and slipping it onto her finger. His thumb centered the ring, then he pushed something across the glass.
She shook her head, trying to take off the ring, but Michael clutched her smaller hand in his big one and stared into her eyes.
It didn’t even feel like she was watching herself.
She remembered none of it.
Except his hands.
She rubbed her palm down her leg. She remembered his hands. And the careless touches. This morning, he’d been the same. As if he couldn’t keep his hands off of her.
“He paid?” she questioned.
“You both kept joking about room forty-one-oh-eight, but in the end, your gentleman made sure his card was the one used. I wasn’t exactly sure what the joke was, but you two seemed to have your own language.”
She pulled off the ring. “Well, I’d like to return it, please. It’s not mine to keep. I can’t let him spend that kind of money on me.”
“I’m afraid all sales are final here.” Nathan colored slightly. “As you can imagine, it’s Vegas. People do a lot of spending and have a lot of remorseful morning-afters, depending on how the game rooms go.”
She swallowed. “Right. Of course.” She had an immediate and overwhelming urge to put the ring back on her finger. So much so that she stuffed it into the deepest part of her pocket instead. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
Nathan paused the video. “Not a waste at all. I’m sorry you can’t seem to remember what happened. At least that’s what I’m gleaning from our conversation.”
Chloe nodded. “Neither of us remember what happened last night. In fact, most of that is a complete blank.” She pointed to the screen.
He was laughing, and she was dragging him away from the case with a huge smile. When was the last time she’d smiled like that? At least when Axl wasn’t involved.
She cleared her throat. “And you said you printed a license?”
He nodded. “Your Michael—”
“He’s not my anything,” she said quickly. Her voice was shrill and her temples were pounding as if a dozen songs were trying to play in her head at the same time.
All of them loud and frenzied. All of them had lyrics jumbled over the other. None of the words made sense.
She desperately had to make this make sense.
But it wouldn’t here. She had a plane to get on. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and saw that a message had come in while she was in the control room with Nathan.
Ivy.
She quickly squeezed Nathan’s hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take it out on you. I just…I don’t even know what to do.”
Nathan patted the top of her hand. “It may not be as easy to divorce as it is to marry in Vegas, but it’s possible. Maybe even an annulment.”
She nodded. “Maybe. Thank you for showing me this though.”
“I’m sorry it wasn’t what you wanted.”
She forced herself to smile. How could she not smile at this sweet man? “Wouldn’t be my life if there wasn’t a hurdle.”
“Easy is never an exciting life.”
She snorted. “I’d prefer it to be a little less action-packed, thanks.”
“Could be the best thing that ever happened to you. My Eva and I ran away after knowing each other only three days. Married forty-five years this September.”
Chloe laughed. “Three days?”
“Sometimes you just know.”
“The last surprise I had like this ended with a little boy.”
“And?”
Chloe swallowed down a little bubble of hysteria. “Best day ever.”
“So, don’t dis
count it.”
She nodded. She didn’t mean it, but she nodded. There was so little romance in her life, but she couldn’t take it away from someone else. That was just cruel. Impulsively she went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Lucky lady.”
“I’ll tell her you said so.”
“You do that.” She waited as he did something with the computer and led her out into the store. “Thanks, Nathan.”
“You’re very welcome, Miss Chloe. Good luck with your young man.”
“I’m going to need it.” She briskly walked through the store and opened the message waiting for her.
You’re not going to believe what happened last night. I can’t explain everything right now, but I’m OK. I’m not going back with you. I’m sorry. I just have to see this thing thru. Xoxo
Chloe quickly shot a few texts back.
Where are you?
Are you ok?
What do you mean you’re not coming back? Do I need bail money?
She stared intently at the screen, but there were no little bubbles at the bottom to let her know Ivy was typing back. Nothing from any-damn-one.
What the hell was going on?
Chloe tipped her head back. No crying. There’s no crying in Vegas even if you married a man who’s pretty much a complete stranger.
Nope.
She squeezed her eyes shut until the burning stopped and black dots swam.
No crying.
She’d figure it out. That was what she did. Was always what she did.
Was it so wrong that she really wanted to rely on her girls? For once, she wanted someone to tell her what to do. She wasn’t going to feel sorry for herself. It never helped anything. Wishing was useless anyway.
All she had to do was get home to her son. Then she could try to forget this whole Vegas mess had ever happened.
Maybe if she pretended long enough, at least one of her hopes would come true.
Thirteen
His trip was going awesome so far. Hell, he might as well do a blog about his adventures and share it with the world. He could summarize the events of the past couple of days in a few lines.