She wasn’t going to give up her one and only dream just because some man didn’t want to worry about her late performance hours and grueling rehearsal schedules. And Mike certainly didn’t seem like the type who would be willing to share a woman’s attention.
“I don’t think you’ll catch me, Mike. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the kind of person who slows down enough to get caught.”
“Neither am I.” He trailed a finger down her arm, starting at her shoulder and working his way down to her wrist. “But with you, I just might let myself for a little while.”
A little while…
Okay, he won her over with those three little words—the only three words she could handle hearing at this point in her life. They could have one more night together before they parted ways for good. The itch could be scratched but her heart would be safe before she got in too deep. “Fine. You got me. You can have me all night and I won’t leave your side till morning.”
They tossed the shots back. Mike gripped the shot glass and stole a quick glance at her. “Deal. But there’s something you should know.”
“Okay.” Here it goes.
This was the part of the date when he’d give her some spiel about how he wanted her to settle down with him. To give up dancing and immediately start having his babies. Trade her cowboy boots for pink pumps.
So not going to happen.
She held her breath, waiting to see what he wanted to tell her—already plotting out her escape route. Looked like the bathroom might be the closest door, but then she’d be trapped.
He rubbed his jaw. “I don’t normally have this talk until after the first couple of dates, but I want to be up front with you right away, because you’re different to me for some reason.”
Ugh, she’d thought he was different. “Look—”
“Wait.” He held a hand up as if he was worried she would start babbling or something. “Don’t read into that. It’s nothing. All you need to know is I’m not looking for a relationship. Not looking for anyone to try and tie me down. It’s not you—it’s me. I just don’t want to get married. Ever.”
The breath she’d been holding whooshed from her lungs.
Oh. My. God.
…
Mike braced himself for the tears. Or the babbling. Maybe both. Of course, she could always just get up and walk away from him, taking that sweet body with her. Why had he decided to tell her his stance on marriage so soon? They were still in the green zone. Not even close to the yellow zone.
Why did he have to go and fuck everything up?
She opened her mouth, her face a little bit red, and he braced himself. Oh, God, it’s going to be tears. Then she…laughed.
She fucking laughed.
“Oh my God.” She clutched her stomach and laughed even harder. So hard he thought she might fall off the barstool. “This is priceless.”
He arched a brow and grabbed her—just in case she toppled over. “I’ve never had a girl laugh at my speech before.”
She swiped at the tears in her eyes, but they weren’t tears of sorrow.
It was a first for Mike.
“Thank God.”
He stiffened. “What the…?”
“I don’t want to get married either. I’m already married…to dancing. And men are always begging me for more.” She looked at him, her bright blue eyes shining. “You have no idea how nice it is to not have to give this speech myself. Why do you think I keep leaving you? It’s because I’m worried you’re going to ask for more.”
“Never,” he said out loud. But inside? He didn’t have a clue what was going on. Why didn’t this make him happy? Knowing she wasn’t husband hunting should be a good thing but he felt hollow inside. “I don’t want that any more than you do.”
“I know!” She sidled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. His heart did a weird stumble at her brilliant smile. “And now I’m all yours. No more running. I can just have fun without worrying you’ll fall in love and want babies.”
“Babies?” A vision of little redheaded babies with bright blue eyes flashed before him. Why didn’t that make him panic? What the fuck? “Hell no.”
She wriggled her ass against his cock. “Thank freaking God for that.”
“Yeah.” He wrapped his arms around her and smiled, despite his inner turmoil. He’d delve into his state of mind at a later date. A much later date. Maybe once he was six feet under. There’d be plenty of time for thinking when he was dead. And he was quite certain this woman might kill him. “Then let’s do a few more shots and hit the town, Vegas style.”
She shrugged. “Why not? I’m celebrating anyway.”
Mike motioned the bartender over and then turned his attention back to Morgan. Her sapphire eyes glowed with excitement. Who would have thought his telling her he didn’t want to be with her forever would make her so fucking happy? And who would’ve thought that her being so fucking happy would make him so fucking mad? “Why are we celebrating?” he barked, the words coming out harsher than he intended.
Ignoring him, she smiled at the bartender—who had just placed their drinks on the bar in front of them—a bit too warmly for his liking. Some country song twanging all about protecting your woman from asshole losers came out of the speakers. For once, he could identify with the damn song. “Thanks, Hugh. You working with me tomorrow night?”
“Yep.” Hugh said, cleaning the bar directly in front of Morgan with a white rag. The bar looked perfectly clean to Mike. “Wanna ride home with me again?”
“Sure, if you—”
“I’ll get you,” Mike said quickly. When Hugh shot him a dark look, Mike leveled a back off or die stare at the fool. Then he smiled at Morgan, letting his left hand skim over her lower back. “I’ll be here to see Brianna anyway.”
“Uh, sure.” She shot him a weird look and pulled away from his hold. She tried to hop off of his lap but he gripped her hips too tightly. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Hugh gave him one last look and then stomped away.
“No problem.” He picked up the shot glass and tried to ignore his motivations for offering her a ride. It wasn’t because he didn’t want her alone with Hugh. It was so he could get laid. That was all.
Morgan traced the wood particles engrained in the bar top. “So…why are you coming tomorrow? And what is Brianna to you?”
Was that a hint of jealousy he detected in her voice? Nah. Couldn’t be. “She’s my sister.”
“Oh.” She relaxed against his chest again. “I didn’t know you were her brother. You’re the oldest, right?”
“Right. One other sister…living, that is.”
“Yeah, Brianna had mentioned that she had a sister who was killed in a car wreck about thirteen or fourteen years ago. Your other sister took in her baby, right?”
“Right.” Kiersten had done a fantastic job raising Chris.
She hugged him, her sweet fragrance washing over him. Calming him. He held her close and wanted to punch himself for the feelings sweeping through him. Since when did he want comfort from a woman? “I’m sorry. And I know about Brianna’s husband, too. Well, the first one. But now she’s married again and so happy. So in love.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. Brianna definitely loved Thomas. So much that sometimes, on a rare occasion, Mike wondered if he was being an idiot to avoid love. Then he remembered he wasn’t and went back to his ways. As he damn well should anytime the thought of settling down occurred.
Morgan didn’t seem to notice his silence. “Isn’t your other sister getting married soon?”
“Yeah. To my best friend.” He played with her hair. He liked the way it curled over his fingers. “That’s the party I was at when we met.”
“You mean the night you stole my seat and called me a st
ripper?”
“We took an empty booth—and I made a mistake.” He shrugged. “But yeah. That night.”
She rolled her eyes but ruined the effect by grinning. “I’d argue more but I’m in too good of a mood.”
“All because I don’t want a relationship?” His heart did an odd little twist. “That makes you so damned happy?”
“Don’t be so conceited. I’m not happy because of you.” She spun her empty shot glass on the bar. “I’m happy because I got a callback.”
A callback. That must be a dancing thing. “A callback, huh? That’s exciting. What’s the part?”
“It’s Chicago.” She practically bounced up and down on his lap, which did amazing things to his cock. “Freaking Chicago, Mike!”
He smiled. He had no idea what significance the city in Illinois played on her audition, but she seemed awfully excited about it. “Is it in Chicago?”
“No.” She rolled her eyes and laughed lightly. “Chicago is a play. A musical, actually.”
He released a breath he’d been holding. He vaguely remembered seeing a trailer about a movie called Chicago. He hadn’t realized it was a play, too. “Oh. I didn’t know they were opening a show here in Vegas.”
“Well, it might stop here, and maybe in Chicago, too. But it’s the national touring company. I’d get to move all over the US, dancing and singing my heart out all across the country.” She held her shot glass up to Hugh, and pointed at it. The girl wasn’t kidding about celebrating. “Can you imagine it? Me, in Chicago? They’re considering me for the chorus with an opportunity to understudy the Velma Kelly role.” A look of annoyance crossed her features and she muttered, “Which is probably going to a nineteen-year-old.”
He could imagine it, even though he didn’t have a clue what type of show Chicago was. And for some reason, he didn’t like her leaving him. “That’s awesome. Congrats.”
“Thanks.” She shot him a confused look. “You okay?”
He wasn’t sure. These feelings she brought out in him scared him. But he wouldn’t tell her that. If he even gave her a hint of what he was feeling for her, she would run faster than the Energizer Bunny on crack. Instead he twirled her around in his arms so that she faced him and planted a deep kiss on her lips. And if she clung to him breathlessly when he pulled away…then who could blame him if he grinned?
“Fucking fabulous. We’re going to get drunk and paint the town red.”
“Yes.” She hopped off his lap and wiggled her hands, doing a cute little dance. The look in her eyes made his heart do weird things. Like melt and go all soft. “With jazz hands!”
He blinked at her. “I have no idea what they are or what you just did—but sure. Wiggle around all you want.”
She threw her head back and let out a rich, hearty laugh. He’d never seen her look so damn…carefree. “First, we do our shots. Then we dance.”
Yeah. He didn’t dance. But he could watch her dance all night if she wanted. He reached around her and picked up their drinks. Hugh, the bartender, watched them closely. Too closely. “Ready?”
They lifted their shots and emptied them. Already, Mike—who’d been drinking beer ever since he reached the casino—was feeling the effects of the shots hit him. Morgan was a little bit blurry, the bar was a little bit louder, and the music a little bit too inviting. He stood and grabbed Morgan’s hand, tugging her behind him toward the elevator. She wore those brown cowboy boots again. He never had a thing for boots…until now.
She squealed. “Slow down! Where are we going?” she called out, craning her neck to see him.
He kept right on going, heading for the elevator. After seeing Morgan onstage, he’d reserved the honeymoon suite for tonight. Having a sister high up in the casino’s administration had a few perks—one of which included a free room. A room he had every intention of breaking in tonight.
Not that Brianna had known he would be choosing the honeymoon suite when she’d given him his room voucher.
“Can’t you just trust that I’ve got something incredible planned for us?”
She fell against him, no longer fighting to be free. “But I wanted to dance first.”
“We’ll dance after.”
The elevator door opened and they stepped inside. He immediately captured her lips in a heated kiss. He noticed that an older couple watched them with wide eyes. He grinned at them.
Once the older couple exited the elevator, they were alone. “Fucking…and then dancing,” he whispered against her lips.
“Fine.” She lowered her arms down his back and caressed his abs through his shirt before slipping her hand between his legs to stroke his cock. Her light touch sent a fist of desire to his stomach. A glint burned in her blue eyes. “But I’m on top this time.”
Fuck yeah.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Morgan opened her eyes but then quickly slammed them shut again. Holy Mother of God, the sun was trying to kill her. Trying to make her head implode or something. She groaned and rolled the other way…but came up against a hard, fully clothed male chest. And she was definitely dressed, too. Complete with her boots. Cautiously, she peeked out of her lashes and checked out the man.
Oh. Right. Mike.
Wait. Didn’t he have to work or something? She should probably wake him up. “Mike? Do you need to go to work today?”
“Not till eleven,” he grunted, not moving.
Lifting her head took considerable effort but she managed to get it high enough to glance at the clock. It was only seven-thirty. They had time. She snuggled closer and he wrapped his arms around her. Okay. This wasn’t so bad. She could work with this. The hangover would pass if she slept a little bit more…
Mike groaned and lifted his hand to his head. “Fuck me. Did we drink the whole bar last night?”
Morgan sighed and gazed up at him. Hot damn, he even looked hot when hung over. She probably looked like a freaking zombie, and maybe smelled even worse, but he looked like he just walked out of a GQ magazine. She slowly sat up and hugged her knees, ducking her head and swiping her hands under her eyes, feeling mascara crusted around her lashes. “Maybe. I feel like we did.”
“Hm.” He played with her hair, his fingers lightly sliding against her back. She liked it when he played with her hair, which was odd since she usually didn’t like men touching her idly. “I don’t remember anything after we had sex on the balcony.”
Oh my God. Just the memories of that made her insides go all weak. “Me either. We may have gone back down to dance.”
“Yeah.” He sat up and massaged his temples. “I think I’m going to go shower. That might help me feel more alive.”
Now that sounded like a good idea. “I might join you.”
He stood up and held his hand out, his eyes flashing with a promise of what would come if she did. “Please do.”
She slid her hand into his, but the clinking of metal on metal caught her attention. She froze, and so did he. They both looked at each other, wide gazes latched. She didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe. As if breathing might make it more real. As if the bands circling their fingers would just fade away if she didn’t move. “Oh, please no.”
His grip on her tightened and he didn’t move either. “What the hell was that noise?”
She licked her parched lips. “It sounded like rings.”
“On our left hands? Why the fuck would we be wearing rings on our left hands?”
Nausea swept over her, hard and strong and unforgiving. “Uh, if we were married…”
“No.” He paled, and maybe even turned a little bit green. Her heart sped up at the panic in his eyes, feeding her own. “We couldn’t have. We didn’t have a license. And it was late at night. We couldn’t have.”
“You already said that.”
He let out a s
trangled sound. “But it’s true. Right? You can’t get married unless you do it right, and the courthouse isn’t open at midnight.”
She closed her eyes, a fuzzy memory flashing back. Of Mike calling one of his buddies. “Oh. My. God.”
“What?” His fingers tensed on hers. “What do you remember?”
She stared back at him and he still looked like he was about to run for it. Heck, so was she. “Your cop friend pulled some strings for us. He had a buddy in the system or something. I vaguely remember it now. He thought it was funny. So did we.”
Mike dropped her hand—more like threw it back at her—and stumbled backwards. “No. No no no.”
“Yes.”
He looked down at his hand, his eyes wide. Sure enough, a silver or white gold band circled the ring finger of his left hand. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.” Morgan looked down at his hand, the same sinking sensation hitting her just as it was probably hitting him. “What the hell were we thinking? No, what were you thinking?”
“Me?” he practically shouted. “This wasn’t my doing.”
“It has to be. I wouldn’t do this. No way. No how.” She crossed her arms. “So why did you ask me to marry you? What were you thinking?”
He spun on her, a glare scalding her skin. “You’re out of your mind.”
“No, you are if you think this was my idea.” Anger took over her and she welcomed it. It was better than the nauseating dread and helplessness she’d been feeling seconds ago. She leapt to her feet and shoved his shoulders as hard as she could. He didn’t even budge. Of course. “Why did you take advantage of me when I was drunk?”
“I can’t believe this.” He dragged his hands down his face and she couldn’t look away from his wedding ring. She knew she wore one, too, but she refused to look at it. Maybe if she didn’t, it would just go away. “You’re accusing me of doing this? I didn’t ask you. You must’ve asked me.”
She laughed. “As if. The last thing I’d want to do is marry you.”
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