Then my new best friend, Scarlett, comes to the rescue again, locking arms with Tempest and escorting her to the front of the room. She doesn’t want to come anywhere near me, but Scarlett manages to get her close to the podium.
She’s wearing a flat-out sexy little black dress, since she thought she was going to work at the LBD. It’s a short off-shoulder dress, and those glorious tattoos spill from her exposed upper chest across her shoulders and both arms. I’m expecting whistles and cat-calls, but the crowd is surprisingly respectful, probably because it’s made up mostly of nerds.
One glance at the fire in Tempest’s eyes tells me she’s playing right into my plan without realizing it.
“So this is Tempest,” I say, gesturing at her. “Tempest is absolutely furious with me right now because she thinks I’m a total asshole. And the odds are pretty good that she’s right, because as we know, the world is full of asshole guys.”
That gets a laugh. She’s not laughing, though. She looks like she wants to kick me in the nuts again.
“I made a very stupid bet with some friends of mine, and while the details of the bet aren’t important, the important part is that it totally changed Tempest’s opinion of me. She thought I was great, then I accidentally gave her a new variable that made her see me as a truly shitty investment.”
That gets an even bigger laugh. Tempest looks at the audience and nods her head, a smirk tugging at her lips.
“But I’m about to introduce my own set of new variables and see if I can change that terrible opinion of me. The reward for me is obvious, right?” I again gesture in her direction. “And as for risks, they don’t come any bigger than this...”
I look out into the crowd.
“Is the King in the house?”
Suddenly the song “Burning Love” plays over the house sound system and there’s a commotion from the back of the room. A hotel employee opens a side door and out runs Elvis Presley. Or at least a reasonable copy of Elvis, in a rhinestone-encrusted spandex jumpsuit with bell bottoms and jumbo collar. A gold belt buckle the size of a salad plate, jet black hair, thick sideburns and big sunglasses with gold-plated frames complete the look.
The room bursts into applause as Elvis waves his way to the front of the room, stopping a couple of times to bust out his signature hip-swiveling dance moves. By the time he reaches the podium, the crowd is standing.
Meanwhile, Tempest is busy giving me a “go to hell” look.
Elvis shakes my hand and I enthusiastically say, “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Elvis Presley!”
He leans into the microphone and says, “Thankyewverymuch,” and the audience laughs in unison.
Once the noise settles a little, Elvis looks at me and says with that trademark curled upper lip, “So are we gonna make this happen?”
“I hope so,” I say, my stomach in knots.
“Well, come on man, lemme see that ring.”
Tempest’s mouth drops open as the audience gasps.
I reach into the pocket of my pants and produce a ring I spent a small fortune on just hours earlier. I actually had to track down the owner of a ritzy jewelry store and have him come in at eight in the morning. Hopefully, it’ll be worth it.
I show the ring to Elvis and look at Tempest, who is obviously in a state of utter disbelief.
“All right, man,” Elvis says, “I know this is gonna be painful to a rich cat like you, but you’re gonna have to get down on one knee. Let this beautiful woman know you’re willing to do anything to win her love.”
I drop to one knee and hold out a hand to Tempest.
She looks at me, tearing up, and shakes her head no.
I nod yes in return.
She again shakes her head but takes a step closer.
I nod.
She shakes.
Then her hand touches mine.
Elvis takes the mic and holds it between us.
I swallow hard and say, “Tempest, if you would do me the great honor of being my wife and forever partner-in-crime, I swear in front of all these people that I will never again do anything stupid to make you think less of me.”
Her eyes have softened and tears are forming.
“Will you marry me?” I ask.
Tempest hesitates as the crowd’s murmurs increase.
Then she nods yes.
I hurriedly slip the ring on her finger before she can change her mind.
She stares at it in shock as Scarlett slides in next to her, presumably to see the ring. I nod to Grace sitting in the front row, and she comes to my side, just as we planned it.
“Alright then, let’s do this,” Elvis says. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the shadow of the famous Las Vegas Strip to forever unite this couple in matrimony…”
Tempest’s jaw drops again. She looks at me, then at a laughing Scarlett, then back at me.
“Maddox Ramsey, will you have this woman, Tempest Morrison, to be your lawful wedded wife? Do you promise to love her, comfort her—”
“Wait!”
It’s the first thing Tempest has said so far in all this madness.
“Is this real?” she asks as she pulls her hand away, still in a state of shock.
“Absolutely,” I say. “You said you’d marry me. Why wait? I want our life together to start immediately, right here in this gigantic meeting room in front of all these total strangers.”
“What’s she doing here?” She’s looking at Grace.
“Grace is my best man.” I shrug. “Kind of.”
Now Tempest turns to Scarlett. “And you’re my…”
“Maid of honor,” Scarlett says. “And Maddox’s accomplice.”
“But… but…” Tempest is flustered. She looks at Elvis. “Can he really marry us? Will it even be legal?”
“In all fifty states, ma’am,” Elvis replies. “This ain’t my first rodeo.”
There’s a smattering of laughter from the crowd. I sense that Tempest is totally overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in the last few days.
Taking her hand again, I softly say, “Baby, we are perfect together. You know it, and I definitely know it. No other woman has come close to making me feel what I feel when I’m with you. I know this is coming at you out of nowhere, but let Elvis marry us and we’ll figure the rest out as we go along. Our being together is the only thing that matters.”
The crowd is respectfully quiet as Tempest gathers her thoughts.
“Will we make babies?” she asks.
“Of course we will. Beautiful ones.”
“How many?”
“Three?” I respond.
My actual answer was two, but the look on her face tells me my guess was right. Out of nowhere, she throws her arms around me and squeezes my body to hers. I reciprocate the hug, and suddenly we’re kissing passionately.
Elvis waits a few seconds, then says, “Ah hell, I now pronounce you man and wife.”
The audience erupts in spontaneous applause and cheers, and Elvis shouts to make himself heard over the din:
“You may continue to kiss the bride!”
Ever After
Epilogue
Tempest
“Une baguette, s’il vous plait.”
I pat Connor on the head as the old woman behind the counter fills his order. He’s seven now, and the spitting image of his father. His French is better than Maddox’s though. And he sounds so damn cute when he speaks it, I can’t help but smile.
I let him count out the coins to pay for the bread, then again as he makes sure the change is correct. As we walk out onto the sidewalk, the overwhelming smell of flowers greets me. It’s an unseasonably warm spring day in Annecy, a French town in the Alps not far from the Swiss border.
Maddox is waiting for us near the canal. “Can you believe this?” he asks, gesturing to the crazy amount of brilliant blooms all around. “This is nuts.”
By his side is Madeleine, our youngest. At least for now. Maddie is four, going on ten. I’ve never se
en a child who soaks up the world the way that precious little girl does.
Maddox has a basket of cheese and wine. We’re on our way to the park for a little picnic, and the whole town seems vibrant and alive. We first came here on our honeymoon, but we loved it so much we bought a gorgeous villa in the hills above Lake Annecy. We nicknamed it La Maison du Roi—The King’s House, as a tribute to the man who married us.
Now we’re here every summer. Maddox can conduct most of his business online, and when he absolutely has to be somewhere in person, there’s a private airfield not far from the villa. The kids have friends both here and in Atherton, the San Mateo County town in Silicon Valley where our main house is. I have art studios in both houses, and my paintings still attempt to depict disturbing maelstroms of emotion. These days, though, I have to force myself to remember what that felt like.
Maddox spreads the blanket across an expanse of perfect green grass overlooking the flower-lined canal. Maddie immediately flops down in the middle, before we even have time to straighten it out.
I open the basket and break the baguette into pieces as Maddox opens the wine. Just before he starts to pour the second glass, I waive him off. “None for me, sweetie.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Don’t make me drink this whole bottle by myself. You’ll have to carry me home.” Connor busts out laughing, as if that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.
“I shouldn’t,” I say.
“Oh, come on. It’s a gorgeous spring day and you three are the people in the world I’d most want to spend it with. Have a glass of wine with me.”
I smile at him. “I really shouldn’t.”
He rolls his eyes. “Tempest…”
“I can’t.”
His stares at me, and slowly his expression turns from mild annoyance to utter shock.
“Are we…?” he asks.
My smile grows bigger. “We are.”
“When?”
“Late December.”
“Oh my god, this is great,” Maddox says gleefully. “Hey guys, guess what? Mommy is getting you a big present for Christmas.”
“What is it? What is it?” Connor demands, and Maddie immediately copies him in words and tone.
“What’s the one thing you’d want most in the whole wide world?” Maddox asks them.
“A bicycle!” Connor shouts enthusiastically. “And a battle drone!”
“How about you, Maddie?” I ask. “What do you want the surprise to be?”
“A puppy,” she says. “And a kitty. And a cow.”
Maddox and I suppress our laughter because she looks so serious.
I try again. “Maddie, darling, what did you tell me the other day you wanted? Remember, when we were in the garden?”
My little angel thinks hard for a moment, her brow crinkling. Then her eyes light up and she says, “A little sister!”
Connor looks at me, then at Maddox. “Are we getting a little sister?”
Unsure how to answer, Maddox defers to me.
“Maybe,” I say, “or maybe a little brother.”
“I want a little brother!” Connor shouts.
“I want a little sister!” says Maddie.
“Too early to tell,” I say. Turning to Maddox, I ask. “What do you want?”
His warm smile melts my heart.
“Either one would be perfect. I already have everything I want.”
The End
The Cocktail Girls series
Meet the rest of the girls!
His Old Fashioned by Frankie Love
His Mimosa by Jamie Schlosser
His Irish Coffee by Jessica Lake
His Whiskey Sour by Kim Loraine
His Champagne by Dori Lavelle
His Manhattan by Tracy Lorraine
His Blushing Bride by Emilia Beaumont
His Perfect Martini by Angel Devlin
His Long Island Iced Tea by Roxy Sinclaire
His Sloe Screw by Alexandria Hunt
His Vegas Bomb by Derek Masters
His Redheaded Slut by Vivian Ward
His Gin and Juice by Alexx Andria
His Hurricane by Alexis Adaire
Visit the Little Black Dress night club
14
The Book Hangover Lounge
Find your favorite authors in one place!
Join us in the Book Hangover Lounge for a monthly chance to win “Lounge Loot,” giveaways, and goodies.
It’s the perfect place to recover from a long night with your latest book boyfriend!
Also by Alexis Adaire
More steamy, romantic erotica from Alexis…
Her Harem
When image rehabilitation expert Kelsey Lambert is called in to help save the reputation of world-famous rock band Harem, falling in love is the last thing on her mind. After all, her career’s on the line, and keeping untamed musicians out of trouble is a massive undertaking. But when the gig puts her on a tropical resort island with the sexy, unrepentant bad boys, she struggles to remain professional as her inhibitions rapidly melt away.
Although getting romantically involved with five rock stars at the same time was definitely NOT part of her business plan, Kelsey soon begins to realize she’s fighting against the very thing she craves most. She was sent to save Harem, but maybe they’ll end up saving her.
Saving Her Harem
So it turns out being in a relationship with an entire rock band isn't always easy. Who knew?
Kelsey Lambert helped save the reputation of world-famous rockers Harem, only to fall in love with all of them in the process, and the five musicians are equally smitten with Kelsey and willing to share her. What could possibly go wrong?
Sure enough, their relationship is put to the test during a working vacation at an English country manor, when faces from the band's past show up and begin to undo everything Kelsey and her men have worked so hard to achieve. Will Kelsey be able to save her harem?
Her Harem and Saving Her Harem are steamy reverse harem romances with scorching sex scenes and deliciously happy endings.
Hollywood Bad Boys Club series
Hollywood Bad Boys Club is a collection of four full-length books about a group of Hollywood alpha males who pride themselves on the many women they bed while avoiding messy emotional entanglements -- until they meet the women who change everything.
If you like your bad boys very bad, this is the series for you.
Book 1: Drake
Drake Manning: I’m one of the biggest movie stars in the world. I own Hollywood and get away with anything in this town. Cops pull me over while I’m getting blown in my Ferrari, then ask for autographs. My friends and I go through more women in a month than most guys do in a lifetime. I’ve never had a serious relationship and am determined to keep that streak intact. The world is my oyster and nothing or nobody is going to slow me down.
Allie Winters: Actors are shallow and egotistical, and I’m a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, for God’s sake. This interview with Drake Manning is just another assignment . Even if his fans have nicknamed him “The Body” because of his astounding physique, that won’t distract me from doing my job. Besides, I’m too smart to ever fall for a man like Drake Manning.
Book 2: Mason
Mason Stark: As owner of a Hollywood talent agency, I've caused fists to be slammed on desks all over town. My negotiating skills have earned me the nickname "Mason Shark." I get what I want in this town because I refuse to bow down to anyone. Somehow I've managed to convince the gorgeous owner of a rival agency to make a friendly wager, and when she loses she'll have to serve as my private sex slave for an entire week. Why would she make such a bet? I don't know, and to be honest, I don't give a shit.
Claire Jarrett: Mason Stark means nothing to me. Sure, he's breathtakingly sexy, but he's also a business rival who, in on day has insulted a major studio head, claimed actresses don't deserve equal pay, and had restroom sex with an important colleague of mine just to piss me off. Stark is a to
tal alpha male dick and I will do anything to avoid losing our bet and having to submit to him for a week. So why is it that sex with him is suddenly all I think about?
Book 3: Marcus
Marcus Jennings: I’m an All-Star forward for the legendary Los Angeles Lakers, and I live for the thrill of the game and of making opponents bend to my will. Sometimes that means basketball, sometimes it means women. The world is divided between the people who appreciate what I do, and those who think I'm an asshole, but that second group can go to hell. Marcus Jennings wasn't put on this planet to make friends or keep people happy. I’m here to do what I do best: score.
Rashida Blanchard: From the first moment I laid eyes on Marcus, when he walked totally naked into my life, his astounding body and devastatingly handsome features burned into my brain and refused to leave. There are two problems with me being so attracted to him, though: Marcus is the most immature jerk I've ever met, and I'm the mother of a six-year-old boy and can't afford a second childish male in my life.
Book 4: Link
Lincoln Ramirez: I'm no hero. I was just in the right place at the right time to save a little girl's life. And sure, the resulting attention led to my meeting Raven, who's an incredible lover and an even better woman. The problem is that I don't do relationships. Period. Because of that, I'm constantly moving on quickly, before anything more serious can take root. As much as I like Raven, I can live with never seeing her again. Better to be alone than to risk passing on the same grisly hand I was dealt as a child. That cycle of misery stops with me.
His Hurricane (The Cocktail Girls) Page 7