Nothing Stays in Vegas

by Moira McTark

The girls at the table started giggling, throwing in ooohs and ahhhs for good measure. Cal smiled at their shenanigans and raised his eyebrows. “Laugh it up, ladies. Dette’s got assignments for all the groomsmen. You’ve got about two minutes before the next guy waltzes over here.”

  Holding his hand out for her, Cal smiled. “Promise I won’t bite,” he said with a wink, no doubt, because she knew for a fact that he did. “How about it?”

  Lara put her hand in his and felt a jolt of something electric spark at the point of contact, a current of desire streaking through her body, sending rippling waves of heat pulsing low in her belly. The steady smile on his face faltered in synch with hers. She rose from her seat, needing to get closer to him, wondering how she’d stayed away all afternoon. Suddenly, she had the sense that every set of eyes was on them, that no amount of trying could hide the want she felt for this man. The glint in Cal’s eye as he led her to the dance floor confirmed she couldn’t hide it from him. But then, why would she want to?

  Frank Sinatra played through speakers suspended around the terrace. From the center of the floor, Lady Sasha clapped her hands for attention, her thick accent adding to the flavor of her presence. “Zis is fun and free dance. Look now, everyone on your feet for zis one. Come!”

  Behind them, the girls stood from the table, starting toward the floor. The men, realizing they had no choice, pushed back reluctantly from their table and straggled toward the women looking like they were headed in for dental work.

  Not like Cal.

  Bending forward so that his mouth grazed her ear and sent chills skittering over her skin, he growled, “You’ve been hiding from me all afternoon.”

  Slowly shaking her head, she couldn’t manage to actually deny it. He was only half right. She’d been hiding, but it was from everyone and everything. She’d needed to be alone to get her head straight. To figure how she could manage to fall in love with him but still keep a secret from him, lie through omission, lie directly if asked, because a previous commitment demanded it. “I just needed some time to think.”

  “Everything okay with your sister? Sounded like quite a blowout this afternoon.”

  Lara swallowed, instinctively searching out Dette across the floor. She was watching them. Hostility coming off her in waves. Lara looked away. “No, it was just nerves. Maybe on both of our parts. We worked it out.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “No.” She stared at him, losing herself in the comfort of his arms. “I just want to forget about it.”

  “Okay.” Cal looked relaxed as he pulled her arm across her body to spin her out and then back into his chest. Her breath caught in her throat as her breasts pressed against him. He knew how to dance, knew how to lead without even thinking about it, and her body followed eagerly in time. As “Fly Me to the Moon” ended and Nat King Cole began “Unforgettable”, Cal pulled her in close against him and set the pace with a gentle sway.

  Lady Sasha circled slowly, one arm sweeping in wide arcs, her hips working in exaggerated motion. “Zis is slow, sensual, you feel ze difference.”

  Lara could definitely feel the difference. The beat had slowed, their bodies, too, but her heart had begun to race. Cal’s hold on her had their bodies touching from shoulder to ankle. His head bowed as they moved slowly around the dance floor, his breath teased through the light curls at her temples shooting goose bumps across her skin. It felt so good to be this close to him, it felt like she belonged here. Everything was perfect, except for her.

  “What are you thinking?” His voice was low, barely audible above the music.

  She didn’t want to look at him. If she let him see her face she feared he would know exactly what she was thinking. That she never wanted him to let her go, that she wished like hell she had been the woman in his arms and bed in Vegas. That she hated lying to him, pretending to be someone other than who she really was. “I’m thinking you are a very good dancer.”

  “With you I am. Surprised, after Vegas?”

  She stiffened in his arms, barely daring to look into the warm blue eyes gazing down at her. What was she supposed to say? “It wasn’t me in Vegas, remember?”

  “Ah, right. Well, that’s the last time I go anywhere without you.”

  Lara’s rested her face against his chest, she felt the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. How could he say something like that? How could she want so desperately to believe him?

  They swayed in time to the beat, lingering with every touch, savoring every step that brought their bodies together. Cal smoothed his hand up her back, into her hair. He wound and unwound it loosely though his fingers. “Being this close to you is driving me crazy.” As if to emphasize his point, he shifted his hold and the bulge of his cock pressed between them.

  God, she wanted him. Wanted to run her hands over the hardness and stroke him, take him into her mouth and taste him. Her pulse raced, desire coursed through her, twisting a needy knot in her belly.

  His lips hovered at the outer edge of her ear, his breath feathering the whorl as he spoke. “Can we get out of here?”

  She melted further into him, her hands exploring the terrain of his chest. Her lips parted to speak, to beg him to take her to bed, to touch her everywhere—

  “Lara, I need to speak with you about the deliveries tomorrow,” Dette’s sharp voice snapped.

  Trying to blink the bedroom out of her eyes, Lara stepped away from Cal and turned to Dette. She was standing a few feet off to the side with a look that said “Now!” on her face.

  Cal pulled her back a step. “Dette, you’ve had such a long day, why don’t you give yourself a break. Enjoy the evening. There’s plenty of time tomorrow morning to figure out the details.”

  Lara fought the urge to wrap her legs around Cal that instant. He was smooth, but Dette was a pro.

  Cocking her head to the side, Dette looked down at her watch without appearing to even see it. “Bride’s prerogative. Besides, I’m really the only one who knows how much there is to get done and whether there’s time enough to do it or not. Okay?”

  Lara glanced at Cal. His eyes narrowed, his head pulled back. Damn it, Dette was sabotaging her plan by acting like this in front of him. If she gave away her own secret by forcing the “Dette” he might recognize down his throat—if Cal figured it out—Lara wouldn’t be able to fix it. Dette would be on her own.

  Lara almost prayed that was how it would go. After all, Adam had broken up with her. What she’d done during that time shouldn’t be held against her. Even if she’d had the misfortune of falling into bed with Adam’s best man. If Adam really loved her, he wouldn’t hold it against her. The deception had been an effort to save his marriage.

  Dette arched her brows. “Lara, are you coming?”

  Lara pulled back, Cal’s hand strayed a second longer before letting her go. She smiled at him. “Thanks for the dance, but I’ve got to help Dette. I am the maid of honor after all, and it probably won’t take long.” Pressing a kiss against the line of his jaw, she drew his scent in through her nose. It hurt to pull away. “I’ll be back if I can.”

  Clipboard in hand, Lara walked down the deserted main hall of the house, the quick click of her heels the only sound as she checked another task off her list. Only one more thing to take care of tonight and her maid-of-honor responsibilities would be met. After this week of enforced labor, she’d have enough experience in making a wedding happen to open up shop as a coordinator. She slowed in her steps to make a note in the margin about the catering. On second thought, the only other wedding she’d be willing to dedicate herself to as much as this one would be her own. And actually, a quiet ceremony with just the two of them on a deserted beach somewhere sounded more her speed. Just she and—her thoughts cut off as she realized she was fantasizing about a future with Cal. What was she doing? She shook off dreaming of plans she wasn’t entitled to and resumed her pace, cursing her own stupidity for getting involved in something so convoluted as this mess with her sis
ter. Yes, she felt a sense of obligation, but at what point did she need to just say no and let Dette fend for herself? And it wasn’t as if the precariously positioned bride-to-be was making it easy to help her either. But that was one hundred percent Dette too.

  If anything other than a marriage was at stake she’d have told Cal the truth, but a lifetime of happiness weighed against one honest mistake—ack! It was infuriating. This week couldn’t end fast enough. She was sick of the constant jeering from Adam and his groomsmen, sick of sucking up Dette’s garbage, sick of white tulle, sick of—

  “Well, hello, Little Miss Las Lara.”

  She stopped with a jolt to see Keith leaning against the wall, his ankles crossed as though he were some kind of Cary Grant wannabe. She was sick of Keith too.

  “Hi,” She forced a smile at him and took a bracing breath through her nose. “Having fun tonight?”

  Keith’s gaze roamed down her form, sending heat in a hostile rush to her cheeks. “Not as much as I’d like to. How about you, Lara?”

  He had to be kidding. Keith wasn’t interested in her. He never had been and that was just the way she liked it. “I’m trying to wrap up a few things Dette’s worried about, but it won’t be too long now.”

  “Yeah, Dette said I might find you alone in here.”

  “Did she?” Wasn’t that nice. “Honestly, I don’t really need any help with this stuff tonight. Go on back to the party and enjoy yourself.”

  Keith pushed off the wall and walked toward her, his eyes lingering in all the places they had no right to. “Maybe you and I could enjoy each other.”

  Lara backed up a step as Keith closed the distance between them. “Look, I’m not interested. Really, go on back to the party.”

  He kept coming and Lara decided retreat wasn’t the right approach. She wasn’t interested in a revolting game of cat and mouse with this bozo. Standing her ground she stopped. “I’m serious—”

  “So am I.” His smile was more like a sneer. “I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”

  “So you’ve said, only I’m seeing you in the same light. There’s nothing between us.”

  “Mmm, nothing between us sounds like a good time. Besides you gave Cal a ride.” Undaunted, Keith snaked out his hand toward Lara’s chest. Rage slamming to the surface, she swatted it away and leaned the back of her heel into the top of his shoe with just enough pressure to tell him it could hurt, bad.

  “Back off, Keith. Whatever you’re thinking about me is off base. It’s never going to happen between us and I’m in no mind for your bull.”

  Jerking his foot back, he glared at her. “Fuck, Lara. No need to be such a bitch about it—”

  “Screw off, Keith.” She pushed past him, furious. With a scathing glare over her shoulder, she warned him. “Dette and I have more in common than you think when it comes to temper. Don’t come near me again or you’ll see exactly what a bitch I can be.”

  Chapter Eleven

  He’d waited for hours, but she hadn’t showed. At one point, Dette returned, flashing smiles and commands, but Lara wasn’t with her. He watched the lessons progress, stood in as Lady Sasha’s partner for a number of dances and even endured her blatant propositions with a smile. But it was all to pass the time until Lara was in his arms and he could drag her away for himself.

  Dette had retired well over an hour ago, claiming fatigue from the work of putting the wedding together, and in her absence Adam got soused with his comrades following her departure. Cal hung around, keeping an eye on them, until his rowdy band of attendants started throwing beer bottles into the yard. When Adam began bellowing about hitting the “mother load”, Cal suggested the guys call it a night and go get some sleep. It only took one mention of the potential for Dette’s wrath if they stayed up all night and the group staggered off toward the house.

  Alone on the terrace, Cal collected glasses and stacked them on trays behind the bar. After throwing away some of the trash, he glanced toward the house. Within the illuminated windows of the first floor, nothing moved. A single remaining light on the second floor blinked off and with it, went Cal’s hopes of seeing Lara again that night. Damn. He’d wanted to hold her.

  On the dance floor, feeling the rub of their bodies together, all he could think about was sinking his cock into her. But now, after the hours had passed, and the blood returned to his brain, he just wanted to feel her head on his shoulder when they slept. Tell her what she’d missed during the evening. See if he could get a jealous rise out of her about the ancient dance instructor grabbing his ass.

  Disappointed, he grabbed a longneck from the ice bucket and started down toward the water. The manicured grass ended at a low wood fence that divided the yard from the sandy shore. Following the water’s edge, he neared the boathouse and looked out over the water. If he couldn’t be with Lara, then the end of the dock seemed like a good place to kick back and relax a bit before heading to bed. The water lapped against the wood struts and breakwater a few yards out, the rhythmic splash and whoosh filled the night air with the sounds of nature.

  His ears pricked. Nature and something else.

  With the rush of the current and the subtle breeze, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d heard. Turning in a circle he looked around for someone passing by on the hill or walking behind him. Maybe it was nothing. He took a few steps over the worn planks of the dock but stopped in his tracks when a man’s voice filtered out of the old boathouse behind him.

  “Oh yeah…”

  He stepped toward the building. A woman’s voice, too familiar, sounded, “Tell me, tell me.”

  “So fucking red hot…so fucking beautiful. Ride me, gorgeous.”

  The shrill squeal that followed was like fingernails on the blackboard, and just as memorable. A sound he’d wished he could forget. One he hadn’t heard that morning. Why… There was too much to process. It was her, it was her, here…again. His stomach wrenched. While he was waiting for her, Lara was with another man.

  “…tell me how fucking hot I am.”

  Cal’s eyes clamped shut, his hands fisted. Damn it! She was his. He’d felt it, known it. How could she be with someone else? Blood rushed his head, thundering past his ears. Mere hours ago she’d been in his arms, ready to leave the terrace with him. It didn’t make sense.

  Maybe he was just reading what he wanted to from her. Maybe he was the only one who wanted to leave what happened in Vegas, in Vegas, and give it a fresh shot here. Maybe the chemistry between them was only in his head. Maybe he was a fucking chump.

  No. He slammed his fist into his open palm. He’d seen the heat in her eyes when she’d looked at him on the dance floor. He’d felt the way she shuddered when they touched, seen her stare linger just a second longer. He wanted to scream, rip the walls off that damn boathouse and demand an explanation.

  His chest burned, felt like everything within it was crumbling. He wanted to grab her face, make her look him in the eye and explain how she had the power to make him such a fool. How could he fall in love with such a liar? She told him, she’d warned him, he just hadn’t believed her. How could he be so stupid?

  “Tell me.” Another sultry demand.

  “Fucking beautiful.” Another raspy promise.

  He wanted to throw up. Couldn’t understand. Couldn’t think. Could barely see. With tunneled vision, he forced his legs to move, to carry him away from her…them. The commands were simple. Lungs—breathe. Legs—cross the sand. Heart—beat. Feet—cut through the grass. Back to the house. Away from them.

  At the French doors he stopped, unable to force himself any further. His body felt like the life had been sapped out of it. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass and waited for the ache in his chest to stop.

  He wanted to leave, but he was here for Adam. He couldn’t go anywhere until after the wedding. How would he face her? Talk to her? How would he look in the mirror without putting his fist into it? Bracing himself, he pushed through the doors into the stillness of the house
. He knew what to do.

  Cutting through the library he took the stairs two at a time to the second floor, turning left at the landing into the family’s wing of bedrooms. Outside her door, he paused. He wouldn’t wait there to confront her. She didn’t want him and the sooner he came to grips with the fact that she wasn’t the woman he wanted to believe she was, the better.

  He would leave her a note. Tell her he knew about the other man, and that he would leave her alone. The doorknob felt like a foreign object when he grasped it. He wanted to yank his hand back and go get blind drunk until he couldn’t remember a thing, but he couldn’t pretend he didn’t know. Couldn’t beat the hell out of whomever she wanted more than him. He couldn’t do anything but turn the cold metal in his hand and push open the door.

  Unfamiliar with the layout of the room, he swept his hand over the wall until he found a switch. Flipping it, he squinted as light flooded the space.

  “Cal?”

  He jerked around, his mouth dry, eyes wide. Lara sat up on her bed, cotton pjs all askew, her hand half shielding her eyes, a surprised smile playing at her mouth.

  Air rushed into his lungs in a burst of relief. He was a drowning man, breaking the surface.

  She shifted to her knees. “I didn’t think you’d still be awake. I just went out to the terrace but it was empty. I thought I was too late to catch you. What are you doing—” Her words were cut off as Cal closed the space between them, pulled her against him, crushing her with a demanding kiss. They couldn’t be close enough.

  She pulled back, her eyes smoky, confused. “Wait—”

  “I can’t wait,” he answered, barely restraining himself.

  He’d heard someone else down at the shore. He didn’t care who, didn’t have the capacity to dwell on the little itch in the back of his mind questioning the familiarity of what he’d heard. All that mattered was she was here alone. Not in the boathouse. Not being made love to by another man. Not beyond his understanding, not beyond his reach. Cupping her cheek in his palm, he angled her face to meet his stare. “I want you, I need you.”