What Happens in Vegas... (4 page)

That promise brought a visual he really didn’t need at the moment, and he quickly opened the door before he mauled her in the parking lot. The hand Evie tucked under his arm caressed his bicep as if they were truly lovers, and he wondered if she was intentionally trying to drive him insane.

Blue was almost deserted at this early hour, which was fine by him. The bouncers merely nodded as he and Evie passed and the bartenders waved.

“Everyone seems to know you,” Evie said.

“I know the owner, so I’m here a lot.” He led her past a velvet rope and down the back hallway.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be back here,” Evie whispered as she tugged against his hand.

At the elevator, he pulled her close. “I told you, I know the owner. Don’t worry.”

She looked around, clearly unconvinced. “Is there anyone in Vegas you don’t know or who doesn’t owe you a favor?”

“I’ve lived here a long time, Evie.”

“I do
not
want to get arrested in Las Vegas.” Her eyes narrowed as the elevator doors opened, and she stared pointedly at the sign marked Private.

“You’re not going to get arrested. I promise.” Evie still looked suspicious. “I thought you’d like to do something a bit different, so I made a couple of calls this afternoon. Look,” he added as the doors opened onto the roof.

Evie gasped. Facing west, they had a great view of the sun starting to set.

“Later in the summer it gets too hot to be up here at this time, but it’s about perfect now.” And he wasn’t just referring to the weather.

“It’s gorgeous,” Evie said as she crossed to the chest-high wall that enclosed the patio. “Is this another VIP-type room?”

“Sort of.” Blue’s rooftop was very exclusive, but Evie had no way of knowing that. He’d hired one of the best designers in Las Vegas to create an oasis here: plenty of green plants, indirect lighting, low couches canopied with gauzy fabrics, small fountains. A giant shade stretched overhead to keep the worst of the sun off, but also gave the roof an intimate feel. Kevin called it the Sheik’s Tent.

“This is…wow.”

He agreed. Evie looked fabulous backlit by the sunset—she seemed to glow. She moved away from the edge to run a hand along the back of a chaise, then moved to examine the table set for two.

She raised an eyebrow as he lifted the champagne out of its bucket. “A private party?”

“Only a very select guest list.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Evie’s mouth. “Be sure and thank the owner for me. This is absolutely perfect.” Before he could respond, Evie was pressed against him, her hands sliding to his shoulders as she rose up on her toes. “The elevator is locked? All the guests are here?”

He slid his fingers into her hair and found the combs holding it up. One small tug and it tumbled around her shoulders. “Uh-huh.”

“Good.” Then Evie’s mouth met his.

The want that had slowly simmered in his veins all day boiled over in that instant, and his hands tightened in her hair to hold her. Evie’s fingers gripped his shoulders, and her nails stabbed against his skin when his mouth moved to the column of her neck and her head dropped back to allow him better access.

She sighed, then shivered, as he tasted her, and the shiver moved through him, as well. Nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, and she slid her hands across his bare chest before she wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself against him again.

Evie’s height had their bodies aligned perfectly—her breasts rubbed against his chest and he felt the hard points of her nipples through the thin material of her dress.

He walked backward, pulling Evie with him, until he felt the edge of the couch butt against his calves. Evie groaned in protest as he broke the kiss to lower her down, her hands fisting in his shirt to pull him down to join her.

Déjà vu. Only better.

Maybe Kevin was on to something calling the roof the Sheik’s Tent. Nick certainly felt like the Sultan of Something, lying on a couch with a mostly naked Evie draped across him as they nibbled on fruit and cheese and watched the city lights cause the sky to glow.

Evie’s bag started to ring, and she wrinkled her nose. But she didn’t move beyond examining another strawberry.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

“Not just no,
hell
no.” She picked up her champagne flute and drank deeply.

He’d never met a woman who could resist a phone. “Why not?”

“That’s my brother’s ringtone. And I am
not
in the mood to deal with my butthead of a brother.”

It was the first time she’d mentioned anyone in her family specifically. “Family problems?”

“Yeah. No. Sort of.” She sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. “I left town without telling him, and he’s a bit peeved about it. He’s left me several voice mails this weekend telling me exactly how much.”

“Your
brother
is upset you left town?”

“My parents died when I was young. Will and Gwen—she’s his wife—took me in and raised me. So Will treats me rather like a child.”

“And you’re dodging his calls? No offense, but isn’t that a little childish?”

Evie smacked him playfully. “You don’t know my brother.”

“As you said, you are an adult. What could he possibly do to you?”

“Nothing but yell at me, but that’s never stopped him before. Will’s just…He’s a…” She sat up and pulled his shirt closed around her. “Something happened earlier this week—nothing major—but it got blown a bit out of proportion. He got mad, and I got mad and now I’m AWOL because I wanted a
break
from the drama. I certainly don’t want to hear it while I’m here.” She sighed and grimaced. “Will thinks he’s the master of the whole freakin’ universe and, therefore, in charge of everything.”

“Including you.”

Evie rolled her eyes. “Definitely including me. I know he means well, but, dear God, it gets old. It got old about the time I turned twenty-one. Do you have any siblings?”

“No.”
Thank God.
It was tough enough getting himself out, if he’d had to worry about siblings, too…“It was just me and my father after my mother left.”

Evie’s eyes clouded. “Your mom left?”

He stiffened at the question. He very rarely spoke of his
mother, and those that knew the story had learned long ago not to broach the subject. He couldn’t fault Evie for asking since he’d brought it up, but he was surprised at himself that he’d let it slip out.

Evie blanched. “I’m sorry. That was terribly rude of me to ask such a personal question. Please don’t feel like you owe me any response at all. Forget I said anything.”

She seemed so sincere, he almost wished he could explain. “No apology necessary, Evie. I just don’t like to talk about it.”

“Why don’t we just
not
talk about our families? Everyone has some nuts on the family tree—some are just more annoying than others.”

“And some think they’re the master of the universe.”

“Indeed. He’ll have plenty of opportunity to yell at me tomorrow when I get home. Why settle for the telephone version when the live action is
so
much more interesting.”

It seemed Evie had an interesting family dynamic. But they’d called a halt to all uncomfortable family discussions, so he didn’t press the topic.

“It’s a shame you have to go back so quickly.”

Evie shrugged as she settled her head against his chest and traced circles on his skin. “But if I ever make it back to Vegas…”

“Give me a call,” he finished.

She pressed a kiss on his chest and he responded by rolling her to her back and settling his body between her legs. Evie looked adorably mussed—hair tangled from his hands, mouth slightly swollen—and sexy as hell. He rested his chin on her chest, enjoying the silky feel of her skin as she toyed with his hair.

Evie ran her thumb over his eyebrow, and he knew what was coming next. “How’d you get this scar?”

“Bar fight.”

She laughed, causing her body to move under his in a way guaranteed to get his attention. “No, seriously.”

“I am serious. A guy swung a bottle, and I got this.”

“Oh, my gosh, I’ve never met anyone who’s even witnessed a bar fight, much less been in one.” She looked at him oddly. “Who started it? Was it over a girl? Like last night at The Zoo?”

“I wasn’t
in
the fight, Evie, I was trying to break it up.” Understanding crossed her face, and she nodded. “It was part of my job—breaking up fights, that is. I was working at this sleazy joint when I was in high school—”

Evie’s eyes went wide. “High school? Isn’t that a little bit illegal?”

“Maybe. But I needed a job and Henry—the owner—needed a bar back and someone to help break up fights.”

“The fights were a regular occurrence?”

“I told you, testosterone and alcohol are a dangerous mix.”

She grinned. “What about the pretty girl?”

“Not always necessary—especially in sleazy joints.”

“Were you this big in high school?” She ran her hands over his shoulders as she asked, and the openly appreciative look on her face caused his body to harden again.

“About.”

Evie’s hands were now on his arms, tracing his biceps. “Linebacker for the football team?”

He could have been, had he not had to work. “Nope.”

“Let me guess, between your size and your scowl, you’re good at breaking up bar fights.”

To the best of his knowledge, he hadn’t scowled since Evie landed in his arms last night. That had to be a world record—but Evie didn’t know that. “What makes you think I scowl?”

She ran a finger across his forehead. “This crease here. Definitely caused by scowling.” Evie trailed her finger down over his cheek and to his lips. “Who do you scowl at now?”

“Drunks in bars. Such is the hospitality industry in Las Vegas.” He captured her finger between his lips and sucked gently. Under his chin, he felt her heartbeat accelerate.

“So that’s how you know the owner of this place—and everyone else.” She smirked. “Well, you certainly are hospitable.”

He nipped at her finger, causing her to jump. He pushed himself up, wedging his hips firmly between hers, and caught her gasp in his mouth.

Evie’s hands slid up his back as her tongue slipped inside his mouth to torment him. She echoed his groan as his hands tangled in her hair, and her legs wrapped around his waist.

Faintly, he heard her phone ring again.

E
VIE PACED WHILE THE TIMER
counted down the last few seconds. The cool blues and greens of her apartment decor were supposed to create a soothing and relaxing environment. They were failing miserably.

When the timer dinged, she jumped. “Please, please, please,” she mumbled as she walked through to her bathroom—also done in soothing colors and also falling down on the job.

She looked carefully at the array of tests lined up on the vanity. Six different brands, purchased at four different stores in the next county this morning after she’d called in sick to the office.

Every last one of the damn things said “positive.”

Oh, she really felt sick now. She sat on the edge of the tub while the horrid reality settled on her shoulders.

Last night, she’d turned the calendar over to June and realized she hadn’t had a period in May. That thought lead her to her day planner, where she realized she last had her period the week before she went to Las Vegas.

Sleep was impossible after that.

But she’d kept calm—sort of—telling herself there was no need to panic until she had a reason to. She looked at the line of tests. Oh, she had reason to panic now. Good reason.

She was pregnant.

She was going to be a mother, and, dear God, she wasn’t ready to be someone’s mother. She wanted children—several, in fact—but motherhood had always seemed like a distant prospect. Motherhood would come after she’d built some kind of career for herself, when she could have a house in the suburbs and do the whole nuclear-family thing with a white picket fence and a dog. And, most importantly, a husband.

Instead, she would be raising a baby alone. Well, not alone, exactly—she
did
have family—but it wouldn’t have a father. How would she tell her child one day, “Your dad? Well, honey, I met him in a bar in Las Vegas…”

The child wasn’t even born yet and she needed to start looking for a good therapist to help it through the issues of growing up without a father because its mother was stupid enough to get pregnant during a two-night stand in Vegas.

She ran her hands through her hair and pulled at it. “I’m so screwed.
This
is so screwed.”

And it would only get worse from here. This news would kill Uncle Marcus. His heart wasn’t very strong these days, and the shock and horror would kill him for sure. Pain throbbed behind her left eye. Of course, the upside was that Will was going to kill her anyway, so she wouldn’t have to live with
that
guilt on her conscience for very long.

Oh, and the papers were going to have a field day. It wasn’t enough that she was unwed and pregnant—and that would be plenty for the gossips to chew on its own—but they were also going to brand her a giant slut because her last breakup had been quite public and fodder for the gossip mill four months ago. All of Dallas knew she was single.

“Nice” girls didn’t sleep around and get knocked up. She was supposed to be some sort of role model for the youth of Dallas—a “real lady,” as Gwen put it. She was, as Uncle Marcus continuously preached, a Harrison—not some trashy
Hollywood starlet. Promiscuity might fly for the rich and famous somewhere else, but not here. Not in her world. That’s why she’d gone to Vegas in the first place.

Society had rules: they weren’t fair, and they weren’t right, but they were still rules. And she’d just broken a major one.

Oh, God. She’d pulled a lot of stunts, garnered a lot of publicity—both good
and
bad—but nothing like this.

This
was a nightmare.

Would anyone believe she’d gone the single-mother route intentionally? Used a sperm bank or something? She snorted. Not likely.

The tests with all their positive results seemed to mock her, and she swept them into the trash with one hand. Then she went to the bed to lie down.

In her freshman year of college, she’d invented a boyfriend because she’d seemed like the only girl in her sorority who didn’t have one. Leonardo had been Italian, gorgeous and conveniently studying architecture in Rome. Leonardo had served her well that first uncomfortable semester, and she wondered if an imaginary boyfriend would work now. Maybe he’d been tragically killed in a freak scuba-diving accident off the coast of Australia before he even knew she was pregnant…

Right. Even if she could resurrect Leo—and promptly kill him off—there was no way she could claim a long-distance romance. She’d been too visible lately, too often in the society pages to have anyone believe she’d had time to go overseas. In fact, she’d barely left Dallas—aside from one little trip to Las Vegas.

One little trip, that until just a few minutes ago, had held the top spot on her Greatest Memories list. One trip so far outside her reality she hadn’t even talked about it to Sabine—beyond the basic details—so she could keep it special and untouched and perfect just as it was in her memory. She didn’t
bother analyzing or deconstructing it, but she found herself revisiting it a lot, reliving that feeling of freedom…

And Nick.

She thought about Nick much more than could possibly be healthy, remembering his dangerous good looks, the sensation of his body against hers, that devil-take-it attitude that he also brought out in her. Her dreams had become complex and erotic, and she often awoke frustrated and needy, but, even worse, they’d sowed discontent in her waking hours. None of the men in her circle were as good-looking or disarming as Nick, and none of them seemed to understand the real her the way he had—much less bring the real her out from its hiding place behind her family name and social responsibilities.

In short, none of the men here were Nick. And while Nick was totally wrong for her in so many ways, that fact hadn’t checked her overactive imagination or made a bit of difference beneath the surface.

Of course, she’d have to tell him at some point. He had a right to know she was carrying his baby. But while she’d fantasized about going back to Vegas in the future and looking him up,
this
hadn’t been part of that fantasy. She couldn’t even fathom how he might react to the news. Would he be upset? Did he even want children? Or would she be saddling him with a responsibility he didn’t want?

Much like Will and Gwen had been saddled with her.

No, this was different. It may have been an accident, but babies were a possible side effect of sex, and if Nick didn’t want that responsibility, he shouldn’t be…

Jeez, when had she started channeling Uncle Marcus? Evie snorted. Next, she’d be demanding Nick marry her like this was the Dark Ages or something…

The proverbial lightbulb went off. The answer to all her problems was unbelievably simple: she needed a husband.
Everything would be fine if she got married: there’d be no embarrassment to the family, no heart attacks for Uncle Marcus, no explosions from Will, no gossip in the society pages.

Well, there’d be a little of that, considering she was getting married so quickly to someone whom she hadn’t been connected with in the past, but she could survive that fallout. The romantic idea of eloping—and that gossip—could be ridden out, and in another month or so she could announce she was pregnant.

This was perfect. Relief spread through her body, and feeling much better, she rolled out of the bed and to her feet. She had the bones of a plan now; she just needed to flesh them out. Energy flowed through her as the plan started to solidify. She’d go to Vegas tomorrow and marry Nick.

What if Nick doesn’t want to get married?
the little voice in her head asked.

That was the hitch in her plan. She didn’t know how Nick would respond to the news he was going to be a father, and she really didn’t know how he felt about marriage. What would she do if he said no?

Nick wasn’t going to say no. He couldn’t. He’d want to do the right thing.

And if he didn’t? Well, she was a Harrison, and she’d just have to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Nick crossed the lobby, his body and mind at odds. Something wasn’t right—possibly even very wrong—but he couldn’t have stayed away if he’d wanted to. His skin had felt tight and hot since he’d found Evie’s message on his phone after his meeting with the soon-to-be-former owners of The Zoo.

Her message was the stuff of teenage male fantasy: “I’m at the Bellagio. I’ll be here all day, so call or just come on by when you can.” She’d left a phone and room number, and his body had reacted like she’d run a hand over him.

But when Evie left almost four weeks ago, she’d seemed unsure when—or even if—she’d be back in Vegas. To hear from her so quickly…well, it was a stroke to his ego, but also disconcerting. He knew something wasn’t right—he could hear it in her voice—but he was headed for her hotel right now because he wasn’t thinking with his big head at the moment.

Maybe he was just being paranoid. Looking for problems where none existed. He couldn’t shake the feeling, though, even as he knocked on her door.

Evie was a bit slow answering, and while she looked happy to see him, her smile was hesitant—not that dazzling, megawatt one he remembered so well. “It’s good to see you again. Come on in.” She held the door open for him, turning her cheek up for a chaste kiss as he passed.

Not exactly the greeting his body had hoped for, and the alarm bells rang louder. The bells were temporarily muted, though, by the realization he wasn’t in an ordinary hotel room. Evie was staying in a suite—and a damn nice one at that.

“How’ve you been?” Evie led him to the sofa and indicated he should sit. Her spine ramrod straight, she perched on the edge of the sofa and clasped her hands in her lap.

“Good. And you?”

Evie’s smile faltered, but she recovered quickly. “I’m well, thank you. I’m glad you came.” Her voice was strained, teetering on the edge of something.

“And I’m glad you called. I didn’t think you’d be able to return to Vegas so soon.”

This was awkward. Evie was acting strangely—too polite, too formal and totally unlike the woman he remembered. She was casually dressed in jeans and a green top that brought out the color of her eyes, and her auburn hair was tied back in a long ponytail that draped over her shoulder. But she could have easily been wearing white gloves and a ball dress for all
the cool formality of her attitude. If it weren’t for the suffocating tension and the pinched look she wore, he almost expected her to offer him tea and a crumpet at any moment.

“Would you like something to drink? A snack, maybe?”

He bit back the absurd laugh and hid it by clearing his throat. “Evie, what’s wrong? You’re acting…” He searched for the right word. For lack of anything better, he added, “Weird.”

Her shoulders sagged a little and she ran a hand across her face. “I know. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this, but there’s just no good way.”

There were those alarm bells again, clanging with intensity as Evie took a deep breath. “Then spit it out.”

She blew out the air noisily and met his eyes. Hers were bleak, slightly haunted. “I’m pregnant.”

The surprise at her announcement was minimal, but it didn’t keep him from feeling as if he’d been punched in the stomach with the confirmation. Where to start…? “You’re sure?”

Evie cocked her head. “Very. And, yes, I’m also sure you’re the father.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that.” The sick feeling in his stomach and the million other things his brain was trying to process put more bite in those words than he intended.

“Sorry. There was no offense intended, but it is—
would be
—a reasonable question for you to ask, especially since we used protection.”

“Fat lot of good that did, huh?” He’d known Evie was going to be trouble; he just hadn’t known how much at the time. Now, he was in deep.

Evie shrugged. “Nothing’s one hundred percent. However, you should know that I also plan to keep the baby.”

He’d come to that conclusion already. She wouldn’t spend the money coming here to tell him if she planned to terminate the pregnancy. The first of the knots in his stomach untwisted
with that knowledge. Which meant she…“So you need money?”

Her eyebrows went up in surprise. “No. I don’t need any money. I’m fully able to support this baby by myself.”

A moment too late he realized that was a stupid question to ask. Evie was staying in a suite at the Bellagio; that in itself was proof she didn’t need financial support. He’d thought before how Evie looked “expensive,” and obviously she was. But just
how
expensive was a question mark. He shouldn’t judge her based on his mother’s actions, but beautiful rich women…

Evie continued, unaware of his thoughts. “And I’m also happy to work out a visitation agreement that will be agreeable to us both—totally dependent on how much involvement you’d like have to have with the baby, of course.”

Involvement? Visitation? Damn it, he’d forgotten for a moment that Evie lived in Dallas. His child was going to be a thousand miles away, and his mind began to race with questions and possibilities and…

“But there
is
something I need from you.”

That stopped his thoughts. Evie was about to drop the other shoe. Her eyes were serious, and she looked as if she was steeling herself for what she wanted to say. If she didn’t need money, then what? Cautiously, he asked, “And that would be…?”

She took another deep breath. “I need you to marry me.”

The words hung in the air as he waited for the punch line.

There didn’t seem to be one. “Excuse me?”

Evie shot to her feet and began to pace. “I know, it sounds old-fashioned in this day and age, but I need you to marry me.”

“You said you didn’t need financial support.”

“And I don’t.
Seriously.
I have more money than I know what to do with.” Evie rolled her eyes, making that sound like a bad thing. “What I don’t have is a hus-husband,” she tripped over the word, “and for me, that’s a
huge
problem.” Her hands
were moving frantically as she spoke, and she finally clasped them together. Maybe he’d read this situation wrong. Evie was certainly agitated; maybe she was worried, scared…“I know this sounds really strange, but I have to get married. I can
not
be an unwed mother.”