Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) (25 page)

He flags down the waitress and holds up his mug.

“Coffee is the last thing you need,” Lindsay tells him.

“I don’t know what you’re going on about. I’m totally calm.”

She nods. “It’s actually kind of entertaining seeing you so freaked out. I’m guessing it’s a rare event.”

Giovanni drinks his coffee and decides to ignore her silly remarks. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay. As you know, I’ve been married twice, and it’s really not that difficult.” She smiles at him, clearly pleased to be the one with the upper hand. “And it is only temporary.”

He swigs down more coffee and grunts to himself. Difficult or not, temporary or not, in a few hours he’ll be at the courthouse obtaining a marriage license so he can attend his own wedding where he’ll then be married.

To one woman.

Legally married.

Jesus.

He licks his lips and takes a deep breath.
Maybe Lindsay’s right. I am freaking out
.

“So, what are you planning to wear on this glorious day of our blissful union?” she asks with a smirk.

He puts his coffee down. “I, uh, picked something up in
Roma
. A suit.”

“You did?”

He nods.

Lindsay considers him. “What about the rings?”

“I figure we can stop at a jeweler’s after the courthouse and on the way to the chapel.”

“It sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”

“I’m just trying to be efficient.” He prefers going into every scenario with a solid plan. Just the thought of it calms him. He consults his phone and, when he sees the time, tells her they should get going. “We don’t want to miss our appointment.”

On the way back upstairs, Lindsay cracks more jokes about their nuptial bliss. He keeps thinking about her childhood. Though she seemed embarrassed, he’s glad she told him more about herself last night. It sounds like it was both unusual and difficult, but it also explains why she’s such a tough girl, defensive at times, never wanting anybody’s help.

Once they’re back in the room, both of them separate to get ready. She stays in the bedroom while he uses the small bathroom off the living area. After showering and getting dressed, he finally remembers their bargain.

He knocks on the bedroom door, wearing the dark blue Armani suit his cousin Sophia helped him pick out in Rome. He wasn’t planning on spending this kind of money, but Sophia talked him into it, insisting he needed a good suit. And, like most Italians, she didn’t understand the concept of budget when it came to matters of style.

“What is it?” Lindsay asks, swinging the door open with irritation, but then her eyes widen and she sways a bit, gripping the door. “Wow.” She seems almost panicked for a second, but then gives him a smile with what looks like real pleasure. “Look at you. Fantastic.”

“Thank you,” he says, pleased by the compliment. He’s holding the check in his hand, but then freezes when he sees what Lindsay’s wearing. She isn’t even dressed yet, still wearing the hotel’s puffy white bathrobe. To make matters worse, there are large rollers the size of Coke cans in her hair, and her whole face is covered in some kind of pink goop.

“Are you kidding me?” He stares at her in disbelief. “You’re not ready yet? We have to leave soon!”

“Just give me a minute.”

“Do you understand we have to be at the chapel in less than two hours?”

She frowns. “Then stop interrupting me.” She tries to close the door again, but he puts his hand out.

“I came to give you this. Payment for our arrangement.”

“Oh?” She takes the check from him and stares down at it.

“Twenty thousand dollars, as we agreed. I figured you might like to deposit it as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” she murmurs softly.

He watches the thoughtful expression on her face as she studies the large amount of money he just signed over.

As he’s standing there, he suddenly notices a familiar medicinal smell coming off her. “What is that stuff? It almost smells like Pepto-Bismol.”

“It is Pepto-Bismol.” She chews on her bottom lip, still studying the check in a distracted way.

He can’t help grinning as he absorbs the fact that her face is covered in diarrhea medication. His eyes roam over the giant rollers in her hair, past the pink goop, the terrycloth robe, all the way down to her scarlet-red toes. And he realizes none of it matters. It turns out whatever new eccentricities he discovers about her, whatever craziness she throws his way, it all adds up to one irrefutable truth.

He finds her irresistible.

“And the bride wore black,” Lindsay jokes, finally emerging from the bedroom. The only thing truly dressy she packed is a slinky black cocktail dress. She figured it was good enough for a quickie wedding in Vegas until she saw Giovanni in that suit. Talk about a hunk. She’s never swooned in her life, but she actually felt her knees go weak.

Somebody get me a doctor
.

“It’s about time,” he says, glancing up from the chair near the window where he’s studying his phone. He took his suit jacket off, so he’s only wearing the white dress shirt and a blue tie. The effect is devastating. The shirt hugs his broad shoulders perfectly, and the tie brings out the vivid blue in his eyes.

I think I need CPR.

He seems stunned for a moment when he sees her. His eyes take in her face and hair, then roam downward. “You look lovely, Lindsay. Just beautiful.”

“Thanks. Sorry about the black dress.” She glances at herself. “It’s all I had with me.”

He doesn’t reply for a long moment, his expression difficult to read. “It’s all right,” he finally says. “I wasn’t expecting you to wear a wedding dress.”

He gets up and walks toward her, and she decides he looks almost perfect. There’s only one thing missing. “Let’s put some gel in your hair. I have some in the bathroom.”

“Gel? We don’t have time for that.” He shoves his phone into his front pocket.

She reaches down for his hand, knowing for someone as tactile as Giovanni, it’s the best way to reach him. “Come on, it’ll just take a minute.”

He looks like he wants to protest again, but doesn’t, and instead lets her lead him into the large master bathroom. She lets go of his hand to grab the tube of gel she has in her travel bag.

“This will be just the right finishing touch,” she says with a grin. “You want to look pretty for the wedding pictures, don’t you?”

Giovanni seems dubious but stands in front of the mirror in that lost way men sometimes do when a woman tries to groom them. He leans forward for a second and examines himself more closely, running a hand through his golden curls. “I should have gotten a haircut when I was in
Roma
. It’s starting to get unruly.”

“You have gorgeous hair. What’s it like when it’s longer?”

“A big mess.”

“Ringlet curls, I’ll bet.” She wets her hands with water first and pats a little onto his hair. Then she squirts some gel in her palm and rubs them together. “Come here.”

He leans closer. He smells delicious, like some kind of subtle, but expensive cologne. Her butterflies are starting up again. His nearness is turning her on, but she tries to ignore it. She’s wearing peep-toe platform pumps, but he’s still a few inches taller as she reaches up with both hands to run gel through his soft curls.

She senses his eyes on her, and when she looks over at him in the mirror, he’s watching her intently.

Her fingers continue to rake her through his amazing hair, tugging a bit, bringing some control to it. When she’s finally done, she turns again to check her work.

This time, when their eyes meet in the mirror, Lindsay is struck by how right they look together. As if it’s all destined somehow. As if they were a real couple getting ready for their real wedding today.

Giovanni gives her one of his genuine smiles—like a happy groom—and it takes her breath away. She doesn’t even know where this emotion is coming from—this crazy longing.

“What do you think?” she whispers.

He doesn’t look at his hair, keeping his eyes on her in a way that makes her wonder if he feels it too. “Lindsay . . .” is all he says, his voice low.

She trembles a little. It’s like they recognize each other. Recognize that maybe at heart, they’re the same kind of people. Whatever his problems are and whatever hers are none of it matters.

It’s just the two of them.

I can’t get pulled into this again.
Abruptly, Lindsay breaks eye contact with him.
I won’t let myself.
She steps back and busies herself with closing the tube of gel.
He’s still watching her, but she pretends not to notice.

To his credit, he doesn’t try to touch her. “We should get going,” is all he says quietly.

They leave the bathroom and he grabs his suit jacket, along with some kind of large manila envelope, before they head down to the front of the hotel and wait for the valet to retrieve their car.

She brought the check he gave her tucked away in her purse, figuring they can stop at one of her bank’s branches after the ceremony and deposit it.

Twenty thousand dollars.

Every cent of her poker winnings returned, as if by magic. She should feel relieved to have the money. Now she can pay for school, pay for a new place to live, and she has a bankroll again if she decides to hit some of the poker games in Seattle.
I’m not broke in Las Vegas, not by a long shot.
The problem is she keeps thinking about Joseph and Sara.

The valet drives up in their poop-brown sedan and Giovanni takes the keys from him. The air conditioner is cranked full blast, but the car’s interior is two thousand degrees.

First, they stop at the courthouse to get the marriage license. As they wait in line, Giovanni opens the folder and, to her surprise, has some papers for her to sign—a prenuptial agreement along with the adoption paperwork.

Lindsay’s eyes widen as she studies the former. “I’ve never signed one of these before.”

“Phillip’s lawyer faxed them to me. He thought it was a good idea for both of us. Just standard stuff. I printed up one for you too.”

She snorts softly. “I don’t exactly have assets to protect.”

Finally, they get the marriage license but are so rushed for time they drive directly to the chapel without stopping at the jeweler’s. Luckily, they discover the chapel sells cheap wedding rings. They both pick out plain gold bands, and it all feels surreal to her.

To her amazement, he’s set it up so they’re getting married by an Elvis impersonator.

“An Elvis wedding?” She raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? That doesn’t sound like your style.”

He shrugs. “Guess I just wanted to prove to you I have a sense of humor after all.”

It’s clear he’s trying to appear calm, though he’s obviously still freaking out. The normal healthy flush on his cheeks is gone, and he actually looks pale. One of the chapel’s salespeople, an attractive older blonde dressed up like Marilyn Monroe, asks if he’d like a glass of water after they pay for their wedding rings.

“I’m all right, thank you,” he tells her.

“Maybe you a need a doctor.” Lindsay smirks. “Or a sedative.”

“We get some nervous ones in here sometimes,” Marilyn admits. “You two will be fine though. You make such a cute couple.”

“Thanks.” Lindsay takes Giovanni’s arm. “Olaf and I are just so damn excited to be here!”

He makes a strangled noise.

For whatever reason, she doesn’t feel particularly nervous anymore. She knows how easy it is to get married after all. Unfortunately, she also knows how easy it is to get divorced.

Married in Vegas. Divorced in Reno.

She’s never done that exactly, but there’s a first time for everything.

When it’s finally their turn to be married, the short, chubby Elvis minister comes out in a white spangled jumpsuit and jumps onto the small stage in front of them. Lindsay and Giovanni stand across from each other.

“Please take your bride’s hand, sir,” Elvis tells Giovanni in a fake Mississippi drawl.

He takes her left hand. To her surprise, his is warm and dry.

She assumes they’ll recite their vows now, but instead, music starts coming through the speakers. There’s some rhythm guitars and a rolling drum beat. Before she knows it, the Elvis minister is singing Lord Almighty and going on about his temperature rising. It takes Lindsay a second to recognize it’s a rollicking version of “Burning Love.” He stomps all over the stage in his shiny white jumpsuit, waving his hand in the air as he belts it out.

It’s so unexpected that she can only stare with her mouth open. She glances over at Giovanni, who appears just as stunned.

“Woohoo!” Elvis yells as he dances around with his little pot belly, occasionally pumping his fist in the air. He seems to have forgotten most of the lyrics because he’s mostly going “Yeah!” and “Mmmm . . . mm” with a few more “Woohoos!” thrown in for good measure.

Lindsay admires his enthusiasm. In fact, she finally pulls her hand away and starts clapping, and joining in.

By the time the song winds down, she’s even managed to get Giovanni to join in with a “Woohoo!”

“Wow,” she says when it’s finished. “That was awesome!”

Giovanni nods, chuckling in agreement.