by Laura Wright
Granted, the marriage itself was a wonderful surprise, and Maggie couldn’t have felt happier for anyone than she did for her grandma. Shoot, happiness was a long time coming—and distinctly overdue—for Kitty Conner. But in Las Vegas? Ever since she’d heard the news, the image of an Elvis impersonator jumping out of a plane bedazzled with twinkly lights and landing on the roof of the Petrofina Hotel as Kitty stood beside her groom had played like a movie in Maggie’s head.
If she’d been asked to plan her grandma’s wedding, she would’ve gone with something elegant and tasteful, with a string quartet and an ice sculpture. But obviously that wasn’t what Kitty had in mind. She wanted glitz and flash. It was her day, and Maggie was going to honor whatever the woman wanted even if it meant dressing up like a showgirl and doing the can-can down the aisle.
Glancing to her right, Maggie caught sight of a couple dressed in medieval costume as they popped out of the top of the limousine that drove next to her. This town certainly attracted the unusual, she mused. But her grandma’s shotgun wedding in Vegas had only been the first of two unusual circumstances.
“There’s the hotel.”
Maggie’s pulse skittered.
That sexy, raspy baritone came from the other unusual circumstance. She glanced over at Nick. She had no idea what her grandma had said to him during their five-minute conversation on the phone, but Maggie hadn’t been able to dissuade him from coming on this little adventure no matter how hard she’d tried. And she’d really tried. Didn’t he have work to do? A motorcycle to wash? Women to date?
But, no. He’d been insistent. “I’m coming,” he’d told her, his green eyes daring her to fight him. “I’ve been invited and I’m coming.”
Try to reason with that look and that logic. She rolled her eyes. A weekend with her disarming roommate sounded like sweet torture. She’d told him she didn’t want heat, but the man had the ability to heat up every part of her with just a glance or a touch.
Then there was the actual experience of that heavenly kiss that remained with her at all times, reminding her of what she couldn’t have—couldn’t even wish for. And now she was going to have to spend the entire weekend with him. Hopefully the rooms that her grandma had booked would be far apart. Hopefully, she thought grimly, they’d be on different floors.
Right then Nick turned and gave her that charming smile.
Or, she thought, different planets would work well, too.
“We’re going to meet the happy couple at the pool at midnight,” he told her as the cab pulled into the hotel’s drive.
“I can’t believe my grandma wouldn’t even talk to me, but she tells you everything,” she said.
“She said you’d just try and talk her into waiting.”
“I would not have…” Oh, get real Maggie. Ice sculptures and string quartets? She sighed and fell back against the seat. “All right, maybe I would have. C’mon, at least tell me who she’s marrying.” Though Maggie had a fairly good idea already.
“Well, now that you’re here, I guess I can let a few beans spill. It’s Ted somebody-or-other.”
The man that had made her grandma blush that day by the pool. Maggie felt her heart warm and a smile come to her lips as the bellman opened her door and she stepped out into the portico. The hot air warred with the air-conditioning seeping outside through the hotel’s sliding doors, giving an uneven feel to the atmosphere. It was odd how the dry heat made the mood exotic, made Maggie feel like stripping off all of her clothes. Or maybe it was the town that did that.
Or him, she thought as Nick walked around the cab, looking gorgeous in faded jeans and a soft-blue shirt.
“Ready?” he asked.
Again she wondered why he was really here. It couldn’t be just her grandma’s request. Maybe Nick thought two nights in Vegas meant two nights he wouldn’t have to go on dates with his potential soul mate in Santa Flora. Or that she’d just call the whole thing off after they got to be friends or—
She whirled around and caught him looking at her, his smile as unreadable as a sphinx.
Oh, no, she thought as she lifted her chin and marched into the lobby. She was not going to forget her goal. She had iron-clad resistance. And unless Nick had a blow torch…
“Oh, my!” Maggie came to an abrupt stop, her gaze moving over every inch of the opulent lobby. Paved in smooth, never-ending marble, the coliseum-size room was edged with thick, verdant botanical gardens. Enormous, complex murals dressed the walls, and the ceilings were a web of intricate gilded geometrics for as far as the eye could see.
“Oh, how beautiful.”
“You certainly are.”
Maggie’s gaze snapped up to his. “What did you say?”
“I said the place certainly is beautiful.” Nick grinned and motioned for her to follow him. “Let’s check in. It’s almost midnight.”
“Sure.” She barely noticed the reception desk designed to mimic a Romanesque ruin because she was reading a sign telling her about the gallery of fine art, twenty different restaurants and the world-class shopping that the hotel boasted.
“Can I help you?”
Maggie nodded at the man behind the reservation desk. “Reservation for Maggie Conner.”
The man smiled and punched the name into his computer. When he looked up again, the smile was gone. “I don’t see a Maggie Conner.”
“Maggie,” Nick whispered beside her.
“Just a minute, Nick.” Maggie’s brows knit together. “Try Margaret. My grandma made the reservations. She could’ve used my full name.”
Again the man typed. This time when he looked up his eyes were apologetic. “No, I’m sorry. There’s no Margaret Conner.”
Nick stepped up to the counter. “Try Nick Kaplan.”
Frustrated, Maggie turned to face him. “Do you really think that if my name’s not there, yours will—”
“Ah, yes, here we are,” the man announced, his bright smile returning. “Suite 1710. Mr. Kaplan, your room comes with a king-size bed, and the bath is equipped with a steam shower and whirlpool tub. It also comes with our signature matching robes and slippers.”
Maggie stared at the clerk, then at Nick. “So, you have a suite with whirlpools and robes and I don’t exist?”
Nick leaned back against the reception desk and gave her a sinful grin. “We could share.”
She glared at him, trying to suppress the heat that rushed to her belly, pooling low and deep. “Get serious.”
The desk clerk cleared his throat and slid two gold plastic keycards toward them. “The suite is booked for two, miss.”
“That’s impossible,” she said. “We’re not married.”
The man raised a brow, and Maggie felt her cheeks burn as she realized how prudish she’d just sounded. Unmarried men and women shared hotel rooms all the time.
Kitty Conner, she mused, gritting her teeth. Forever the matchmaker. Forever and always. But Maggie was not a client, no matter how much her grandma wanted her to find some romance.
She turned back to the clerk. “I’ll take another room. A single.”
“We only have suites available,” the man warned.
She grabbed her wallet. “Fine, I’ll take one of those.”
“Very good. They start at five hundred dollars a night.”
Beside her, Nick snorted. Maggie gritted her teeth and stuffed her wallet back in her purse.
Nick glanced behind them, and Maggie followed his gaze. Although there were dozens of clerks, the Friday-night crowd was starting to back up like a traffic jam. “What’s the big deal, Maggie?” Nick whispered.
The man behind the desk tactfully fiddled with his computer. In fact, he appeared so uninterested in their discussion, she almost expected him to start whistling.
“What’s the big—” She inhaled deeply, then kept her voice low as she spoke. “Sharing a house is one thing, sharing a room is an entirely different matter.”
He grinned. “And you think you might not be able to cont
rol yourself?”
“I can control myself just fine. It’s—”
“Me?”
She tipped her chin up.
“Not gonna happen, Miss Conner, I promise you.” His smile turned smug. “I shall be the perfect gentleman. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
He leaned in, his mouth close to hers. “You ask me not to be.”
His breath on her face and his mouth so close made her quiver. She swallowed hard and forced a mask of indifference. “As you so eloquently put it, ‘not gonna happen.’”
He moved back a step, his eyes dancing with amusement. “So if we both agree, what’s the problem?”
What was the problem? Maggie thought. She could restrain herself—curb her attraction to Nick and focus on the reason they were here. Speaking of which… “Did my grandma tell you she had this room-sharing thing planned?”
“Your grandmother’s a great lady, and she’s getting married tomorrow night. She wants us to be in the hotel where the ceremony is taking place.” His gaze turned serious. “Look, Maggie. I had a grandmother like yours. Let her have this weekend the way she wants it.”
She bit her lip. He was right and she knew it. Her grandma’s happiness was what was important. And if Kitty wanted to believe she was finding her granddaughter a bit of romance, Maggie would give her that—for the weekend, anyway. She and Nick weren’t teenagers. They could control themselves.
She turned back and gave the man behind the desk one heck of a shaky smile. “We’ll share the suite.”
“Have you ever been a best man before?”
“This will be a first, Kitty.” Nick smiled down at the pretty older woman who stood next to him in the elevator as it shot upward to their respective rooms.
It was close to one-thirty in the morning. After he and Maggie had met up with the engaged couple, they’d all shared a late-night snack and discussed wedding plans. Ted didn’t have any children and, because of the last-minute nature of their plans, he’d asked Nick to be his best man. Nick had readily accepted, but he couldn’t help wondering whether his own father would ask Nick to stand up with him if he were ever to get re-married. Nick hated to admit it, but the thought of seeing his father with a good woman—seeing the man happy—actually interested him these days.
“Just wait,” Kitty said. “You and your friends will all get caught about the same time. Suddenly you’ll find you’re on a first-name basis at the tuxedo rental store.” Kitty looked over at Maggie and gave her a wink.
“He has no intention of getting caught,” Maggie said. “Right, Nick?”
“Well, let’s just say that the bait would have to be pretty spectacular.”
Ted laughed. “Amen to that. Luckily, I managed to snag both. Pretty and spectacular.”
Kitty beamed. “Trust me, Nick. Just buy a tux. You never know when you’ll need one.”
Nick saw Maggie roll her eyes heavenward and he chuckled. He didn’t have the heart to tell Kitty and Ted that he didn’t believe in marriage. They were two of the nicest people he’d ever met. He was glad that he’d come, albeit a little concerned about Kitty’s request to stay in the same room with Maggie.
A weekend with Maggie. Champagne, desert breezes and one bed. Would her walls come tumbling down? And more important, did he want them to? Hell, yes, he did. But he also knew what he was and was not capable of when it came to romances. And he was pretty sure his capabilities were not what Maggie would have in mind, even if she did slip up and fall into his arms.
The elevator dinged. “This is our floor,” Kitty announced, her eyes dancing. “Come along, darling.” She blew Nick and Maggie a kiss and walked out of the elevator arm in arm with Ted, calling back, “You two have a good night, and we’ll see you in the morning.”
Once they were alone, Maggie turned to him and smiled. “Thanks for coming, Nick. Even though I wanted to give her a good talking to for this cohabitation sabotage nonsense, it’s made her really happy that we’re here—and to see me with…”
When she didn’t finish her thought, he did it for her. “A man?”
She smiled. “You’d think I was a nun the way she acts.” She touched her locket, and again he wondered what the gold trinket’s real significance was.
“Well, you said it yourself, you don’t date much.”
“I didn’t say at all. I’ve gone on plenty of dates in the past. And I’m sure I’ll go on many more when my business is up and running.”
Nick’s gut tightened as the elevator came to a stop at their floor. For some strange and incredibly annoying reason, he didn’t like to think of her out with another guy. Where on earth was she going to find someone who was right for her? A man who wouldn’t take any of her grief, a man who was willing to stop her silly romantic notions by kissing her until she was breathless.
Good luck, he thought, she was going to have a hard time finding a saint like that.
“Your grandmother and Ted seem really happy,” he said as they walked down the hallway.
“They do, don’t they?” Maggie smiled. “I like Ted. What did you think of him?”
He slid the electronic key in the door. “Good guy. We’re going to try on tuxes tomorrow, so I’ll find out for sure.”
She grinned. “I expect you to report back if there’s anything amiss.”
“If he has another wife hidden away or a harem locked up in his basement, you’ll be the first to know,” he said, holding the door open for her.
They were both laughing as they opened the door, but once they were inside, the laughter came to an abrupt halt. They stood side by side in the marble foyer of the suite, staring at the luxury sprawled out in front of them. To Nick, it wasn’t the lavishness of the room that had him staring; it was the pure sensuality of it. Rich colors and soft, plush fabrics. Candles, roses in vases, wine chilling, strawberries dipped in chocolate.
That Kitty was something else.
Nick followed Maggie down the steps and into the living room, trying to look at the place through a contractor’s eye instead of a lover’s. The layout was perfect. There was a separate living room with a couch, a desk, two comfy chairs and a balcony facing the man-made lake and fountain.
Leaving Maggie in the living room, he walked into the master bedroom. Perfectly centered in the room was a massive king-size bed. Moonlight from the second balcony cast cloud-like shadows over most of the space. As promised, the master bath was a lover’s retreat, filled with plush red towels, sunken marble tub and a glass shower built for two.
Trying to push away images of Maggie lightly wrapped in one of those short red towels, Nick closed the bathroom door and walked back to her. She stood in the center of the living room, staring up at the ornate ceiling painted with naked cherubs frolicking through mystical gardens.
“I’ll take the living room,” he said.
She tore her eyes from the lofty mural. “Are you sure?”
Hell, no, I’m not sure. “Is that an invitation?”
Her ten-second hesitation felt like an hour. “No,” she said finally, a hitch in her voice. “I just meant that I could stay in here and you could have the master bedroom. I don’t need a king-size bed. I don’t take up that much space. It’s really made for two people. So if you—”
“You’re rambling, Maggie,” he said with a chuckle.
She laughed, too, then stepped back to sit in one of the big, overstuffed leather chairs. Her heel caught on the edge of the thick, tawny-colored rug and she pitched sideways.
Nick lunged forward, catching her and pulling her up. Holding her against him, he looked into her eyes to see if she was all right. He saw embarrassment, but nothing worse.
“You okay?” he asked.
She stared up at him, her eyes liquid and dark blue, and nodded with the barest movement of her head.
Nick knew it was time to let go of her. But he didn’t move. She felt too good against him, the floral scent of her drugging his senses.
Her gaze still locked w
ith his, she ran her tongue over her lower lip.
“Not fair, Maggie.” He groaned the words like a man being forced to divulge more than his name, rank and serial number.
He released her. This wasn’t going well. He needed to get out of here, away from her for a while. Just being around her was making his head hurt and his body ache.
“I’m going to go down to the casino, play a few hands of blackjack,” he said.
She nodded again, her cheeks flushed.
“I’ll try not to wake you up when I come in.” And I’ll try to fight the urge to climb in bed with you when I do, he thought, stuffing one of the gold keys in his pocket and walking out the door.
Weddings in Las Vegas were as commonplace as bad home permanents. But women like her grandma were not, Maggie noted. By the time she was through with her breakfast the following morning, Kitty had invited practically the entire hotel—staff included—to her evening wedding by the pool. Rumor had it that Ted had paid a pretty penny for the spot, but if he was worried about finances he certainly didn’t show it. He and Kitty had also hired a dance band and recruited the head chef and pastry chef from the hotel’s best restaurant to cater the event. They’d purchased the fanciest of wedding finery for themselves and had insisted that Maggie and Nick have the same. So by ten-thirty Ted had taken Nick away and Kitty had whisked Maggie into one of the top designer shops in the hotel, where she was trying to convince her granddaughter that a red, strapless sheath would be perfect for the maid of honor.
“Am I being a pain in the butt?” Maggie asked after their twenty-minute tug-of-war slowed.
“Yes.”
“But you’re the bride. You’re the one who should stand out. In red, I’ll—”
“You’ll be beautiful. And I want you to look beautiful.” Her gaze dipped to Maggie’s locket. “Don’t you get tired of being the perfect granddaughter, Maggie?”