Vegas Wedding, Weaver Bride

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “That was for you,” he said.

  “I know you like them, too,” she said huskily.

  He smiled slightly and closed his lips over the cake. Over the tips of her fingers.

  She sucked in a breath that sounded loud in the night.

  He slowly released her fingers. “What did you wish for?”

  She curled her fingers against her fist. “If I tell, it won’t come true.”

  It already had, though. She was there. With him.

  And she wasn’t sure there could be a more perfect birthday.

  “Dammit. You’re crying.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Liar. It’s because I brought up your sixteenth.”

  She shook her head, sitting up and tucking her bare feet under her. Her boots were somewhere at the bottom of the blanket where she’d tossed them. “No, it’s not.”

  “Then why?”

  “I’m not used to someone celebrating my birthday.”

  “Ever?”

  She made a sound. “Well, no. I mean—” She broke off. Shook her head.

  “The Bennetts celebrated your birthday when you lived with them. Right?”

  She thought about the card she’d shoved into her drawer. “They made a fuss over all of our birthdays. It was just what they did.”

  “And when you worked for my dad? In the office? No birthday cake in the break room? No card signed by all the staff?”

  “And some of the patients,” she finished. “We did that with everyone’s birthday. Especially your dad’s.”

  “So how can you say nobody celebrates your birthday?”

  She opened her mouth. But the right words wouldn’t come.

  “What did I do wrong to make you cry?”

  “Nothing!” She spread her hands. “Don’t you see? You did everything right!” So right that she’d almost been able to forget. Her voice felt choked. “Exactly right. But you’re going to leave. Just like everyone else I’ve ever loved. You’re going to leave.”

  He’d gone still.

  Only then did she realize what she’d said.

  She pushed to her feet. “That didn’t come out right,” she said brusquely.

  She wasn’t in love with Quinn.

  How could she be?

  She swiped her hands down the seat of her pants and looked around for her socks. But despite the moonlight and the stars, it was too dark to see where she’d tossed them.

  He stood. “Penny.”

  She grabbed for one of the dark shadows that was one of her boots. She’d just wear the things without socks if she had to. “We should be getting back.”

  But he grabbed her arms. “Stop.”

  Her teeth developed a strange tendency to chatter. She clenched her jaw. “It’s late. I’m sure you have stuff to do in the morning same as I do. Your grandmother has a breakfast meeting with the town mayor at seven. It’s early, but it was the only time he had available.” And of course, there was that damn pink box Quinn had bought for her. Which he still hadn’t produced.

  Shop-World was open twenty-four hours a day.

  She’d just go back there herself and buy one. What was the likelihood of running into someone she knew in the middle of the night?

  She realized he was still holding her arms. “Let go, Quinn.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” he murmured cryptically, but he let go of her. “If you’re pregnant, Penny, I’m not going to leave.”

  She winced. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? You’ll settle for giving up everything that matters to you just because the stick turns blue?”

  “It turns blue?”

  She threw out her arms. “I don’t know what it does. I didn’t get the test bought, remember?”

  He swore under his breath. “This is ridiculous. Put your boots on.”

  “That’s what I was trying to do,” she said, feeling entirely frustrated and cranky. Maybe it was hormones.

  Pregnancy hormones.

  Her eyes burned again as she shoved her bare feet into the boots. Quinn, meanwhile, had bundled everything inside the blanket and thrown it over his shoulder.

  Like a bag of garbage.

  Sniffing, she stomped off in the direction of Vivian’s house. His truck was parked on the side and by the time she reached it, she’d gotten the sniffing under control at least. He opened the truck, but when she went to get inside, he shook his head. He reached in instead, then turned to hand her a small box. “Go on and take the test. Enough waiting.” He closed the truck door and headed toward the guesthouse where they’d filched the blanket. “Come on.”

  Uncertainty threatened to pull her under. She stood there, her fingers rubbing over the sharp edges of the glossy box.

  He’d reached the guesthouse. It was typically locked, but he’d gotten it unlocked even without a key and left it that way. Now he stood in the open doorway. “Well?”

  She was an adult. She could pee on a damn stick. She stiffened her spine and marched toward him.

  He flipped on a lamp inside the guesthouse and without looking at him, she closed herself in the bathroom where at least she didn’t have to have him witness the way her fingers shook as she peeled open the box and read the directions. There was no turning blue. Just one line or two.

  He knocked on the door, startling her, and she dropped the box.

  “You need help in there?” he said through the door.

  “No.” She picked up the box. Pulled out one of the tests.

  “It’s only supposed to take a minute for the results to show.”

  “Do you want to pee on it?” She remembered the way he’d barged in on her in Vegas and hastily pushed the lock button on the doorknob.

  “That dinky lock wouldn’t stop me for ten seconds.”

  “Hush up!” Her reflection in the mirror showed her face to be just as flushed as she’d feared. Now that it was time to do the deed, she wasn’t sure that she was even going to be able to pee. “And don’t stand there at the door listening, either.” She flipped on the water faucet for good measure. It was juvenile, maybe, but she couldn’t stand thinking that he’d hear anything she did in there.

  She tore open the wrapper and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Then she sat and tinkled on the stick.

  She put the cap on the stick and set it on the edge of the sink. Flushed the toilet and washed her hands. Turned off the water and unlocked the door.

  She stared at the line creeping across the result window.

  The door opened behind her. “Well?”

  She realized she was holding her breath.

  He joined her in front of the sink. His arm brushed against hers as they watched. And waited.

  He looked at the sturdy black watch with the complicated dial strapped on his wrist.

  They waited some more.

  She finally exhaled. It was either that, or pass out. “Only one line.”

  He picked up the directions. Glanced through them and looked at the test again. “I thought for sure it would be positive.”

  She swallowed the knot in her throat and briskly wrapped the negative test in tissue paper and shoved it in the trash beneath the sink. “Well, now you can stop worrying.”

  “How many days late are you?”

  “Four.”

  “We should’ve just done a blood test. It would be more accurate. Maybe it’s too early.”

  “It’s negative,” she said flatly. “I’m not pregnant.” She ought to be relieved.

  Why wasn’t she relieved?

  Happy birthday to me.

  Her vision blurred and she stuffed the directions back into the box with the second, unused test that was obviously unnecessary, and dumped it, too, in the trash. “If you w
ouldn’t mind dropping me off at Colbys, my car is still parked there.”

  “Penny. We need to talk about this.”

  “What’s there to talk about?” She brushed past him as she went back into the living area of the guesthouse. He’d left the blanket-wrapped bundle containing evidence of their thievery on one of the upholstered chairs situated in front of a fireplace. “I’m not pregnant. There’s no reason for you to feel responsible for me. So I’ll get that paperwork filled out for you for the lawyer.” There was a buzzing in her head and a pain in her chest.

  Maybe at thirty, she was going to have a heart attack.

  Quinn could give her CPR. Be the hero that he always would be.

  “I’m not worried about that damn paperwork.” His voice was tight.

  “No.” She waved an arm. “You’re worried about getting okayed for flight duty so you can go back to Afghanistan or Pakistan or whatever other Danger-Stan you can go back to. And the only reason you’re preoccupied with me is because it’s better than thinking about the alternative facing you. Being a shirt. Or getting out altogether.”

  “The only reason I’m preoccupied with you, is because I can’t get you out from under my skin! You’re my wife.”

  She trembled. “Not intentionally.”

  “Fine. Is this intentional enough for you?” His mouth slammed down onto hers.

  She went rigid.

  He lifted his head, muttering a curse, and ran his fingers through her hair. “You’re killing me, Penny.” Then his mouth found hers again. Slowly. Gently. His fingers stroked down her cheeks. “Kiss me back, sweetheart. Just once.”

  He tasted like champagne and the faint sweetness of strawberry.

  And his lips were so soft. So tempting.

  “Don’t think,” he murmured. His mouth moved. He kissed her eyes closed. First one. Then the other. “Just feel.” His lips returned to hers, barely grazing them. “That’s all you have to do, sweetheart. Just feel.”

  Her fingers flexed against his waist.

  He didn’t realize that feel was all she could do anyway.

  She could feel his breath mixing with hers. Could feel her knees weakening. Her resistance melting away as if it had never existed at all.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

  Not yet.

  The words circled inside her head but didn’t gain enough momentum to find voice.

  And then, without intention, her hands were moving up his chest. Circling his neck. Fingers sliding through his hair and her mouth opened under his.

  She felt his arms surround her, cradling her close. Then closer still. And there was so much feeling that she was afraid it was going to explode out of her chest.

  But then he swore. Peeled her away from him.

  She stared wordlessly at him.

  “I don’t have anything with me.” His voice sounded deep. “And taking another spin at that particular roulette would be irresponsible.”

  “I don’t care,” she whispered.

  His eyes darkened even more. “Penny.”

  Then she remembered. “My purse.”

  His eyebrows lifted.

  “Wait.” Before she lost her nerve, she ran out to the truck. Grabbed her purse that was still sitting on the floor where she’d left it and rummaged inside for the forgotten box of condoms. She ran back into the guesthouse, holding it up. Her burst of triumph popped, though, under the surprised look he gave her.

  “I, uh, I bought them by mistake,” she muttered.

  “Divine mistake,” he said, smiling slowly as he reached for her again, sweeping her right off her feet.

  “Quinn! I’m too tall for this.”

  He laughed softly. “That’s what you say? You’re supposed to swoon with delight or something.” Her boots knocked against the wall as he carried her down the short hallway and into the bedroom where the only light came from the gleam of the moon through the uncovered window.

  She was swooning.

  He set her on the side of the bed. Took the box from her hands and pulled out one of the foil-wrapped packets. Then he crouched before her and slowly pulled off her boots. Unfastened her jeans and slid them down her legs. Pulled her T-shirt over her head. And when she wore nothing but her bra and panties, he stood in front of her, a tall, broad shadow of a man and pulled off his own clothes. He ripped open the foil.

  Shadowy or not, the sight still made her breath stop in her chest. But then he came down beside her on the bed and kissed her again and she forgot about breathing and she forgot about everything outside that moment. Outside that room.

  He had magic hands. Magic lips. Her bra and panties went astray while he wound the need inside her tighter and tighter. Even greedier for more, she pulled him over her, arching against him. This time...this time...she would remember every breath. Every sigh. Every movement.

  He rocked his hips into hers, slowly filling her. Stretching her. Her mind reeled and she whispered his name, only to jerk with the quick, sharp pain that was gone almost as soon as it came.

  But above her, Quinn froze.

  His fingers threaded through hers. “I hurt you.”

  “No.” She could feel the pulsing heat of him inside her and she reached up to find his mouth with hers. Everything inside her yearned. “It was just a second. It’s gone, Quinn. I promise. Don’t stop.”

  “I couldn’t stop if I wanted.” His breath was a hiss between his teeth. “You were still a virgin.”

  She pressed her mouth against his hot throat. Everything inside her wanted more. “I already admitted that. Until Las Vegas—”

  “Until now.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “Until now, Penny. We never made love in Las Vegas at all. Not completely. Not like now. Nothing happened that you didn’t want.”

  She pushed her hands against his chest, staring into his eyes even though it was too dark to see properly. “I told you before you wouldn’t have done anything like that.” She didn’t believe anything could change the intrinsic decency that ran inside him as surely as the blood in his veins. “Stop thinking about it.” Then she pressed her mouth to his and wound her legs higher around his hips.

  He let out a low laugh. “I can’t think about anything when you do that.”

  Her heart was thundering. “Good,” she managed breathlessly. “At least now we have a wedding night I can remember.”

  He went still. She could feel his heart beating as clearly as she could feel her own. Could feel the pulse of him so deep inside her, she knew she would never feel the same again.

  “Then I’d better make it really memorable.” His hands tightened around her, and he moved intently.

  Just feel, he’d said. That was all she could do, then. Until feeling turned to need that spun her into a kaleidoscope of pleasure.

  The angle of moonlight slowly shifted across the bed as they lay there afterward.

  “I wish there’d have been two lines,” he said into the dark.

  Her eyes flooded. She couldn’t take it. Not when her body was still humming, feeling forever changed.

  Two lines and he would have stayed with her no matter what.

  “So do I.” Three words had never felt so momentous.

  And if she started crying, she was afraid she might not ever stop. She cleared her throat and abruptly scooted off the bed. “But there weren’t two lines.” Her foot landed on her clothes and she blindly scooped everything up in her arms.

  She rushed out of the room and into the bathroom. She dropped the bundle of clothes on the floor and pawed through them for her bra and panties. She found the panties. Not the bra. But she wasn’t going back into that bedroom no matter what. And it wasn’t exactly the first time she’d had to leave Quinn’s bed without her underwear.

  She felt a hyste
rical laugh bubbling in her chest as she grabbed the blue jeans. Only they weren’t her jeans. They were his. How she’d managed not to notice was a testament to her lack of functioning brain cells. She actually shook them out, considering them for size.

  But they were a good half foot too long. Several inches too wide. She jerkily rolled them into a ball and tossed them onto the sink. The pings as change fell out of his pocket sounded loud and muttering under her breath, she moved the jeans to retrieve them. The last thing she needed was to stop up a drain in Vivian’s guesthouse.

  But as she reached for the small collection of quarters and dimes and pennies lying in the white porcelain sink, she saw a glint of gold. A sparkle of diamond.

  Her fingers trembled as she slid the ring away from the coins.

  Quinn was carrying her wedding band around in his pocket.

  She picked it up. Felt vaguely insane as she slid it onto her ring finger.

  “Penny.” He knocked on the door and she jumped like she’d been bit when the door opened a millisecond later. “You’ve got my jeans.”

  She flushed, literally caught red-handed and red-faced.

  He was boldly, beautifully naked and her plain white bra was dangling from his finger.

  She snatched it away. “Knock next time.”

  His gaze was focused on the ring she’d found. The ring that shouldn’t be on her finger at all.

  “If I knocked, think of all the interesting things I’d miss.”

  Her hands shook as she pulled on her clothes, because it was plainly obvious that he wasn’t going to look away just because she was blushing like the thirty-year-old virgin she no longer was. And maybe he could stand there all naked like that, but she couldn’t.

  She pulled off the ring and held it out to him.

  “I like it better on your finger.”

  She swallowed hard. “We might have had a wedding, but I’m not your wife, Quinn. It was all just one big mistake. You know that. I know that. We need to stop pretending. Stop playing.”

  “I was never playing.”

  Her knees were still mush. She pressed her lips together and prayed that he’d take the ring before she lost it altogether. “What you want and what I want are too different.”