Trouble in High Heels (14 page)

“I know that,” he said. “And if you’re not really determined?”

A long silence followed. “Okay. I may not follow all my impulses.”

“Is that bad?”

Another silence followed. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out, won’t I?”

He felt her gaze on him. “You may find out after your attorney looks at the agreement and you sign it and we both make it to the justice of the peace,” he said. This was such a wild card that he still wasn’t counting on anything.

“Is that why you’re making us fly commercial?”

He nodded. “Until we’re married, you’re still broke.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and shook her head. “That’s an exaggeration. I’m not
broke.”

“Unless you want to slash your budget, you’re broke,” he said bluntly. “If you want to give up your job as philanthropist to every imaginable cause on God’s green earth and get a real job, then you’re not broke.”

Her toe started to pump again, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Just drive, please,” she said.

Six hours later, Lori stood in front of the concierge at the Bellagio Hotel, feeling as if she were going to jump out of her skin. The flight had seemed interminable. As soon as the jet landed, she talked with her attorney, who began the conversation by telling her not to do anything rash. During the drive from the airport, she boiled down all his concerns about the premarital agreement to essentially none.

Luckily Tim, the concierge, was also a notary. He witnessed her and Jackson ’s signature on the agreement. “There you go,” he said. “I’m happy to be of service.”

“Can we get married now?” she asked him.

“I’ll have to check availability,” Tim said. “We’re usually booked. If we can’t accommodate you, I can help you find a chapel.”

“For tonight,” she said.

“I’ll try to find something,” he said and picked up the phone on his desk.

“You’re tapping again,” Jackson murmured into her ear.

She curled her toes inside her shoes. His closeness only made her feel more jittery, but she didn’t want him to know that. “I just want to get it done.”

“If you’re this nervous about doing it-”

“I’m not nervous about being married to you.” She bit her lip, trying to compartmentalize her thoughts and feelings. “I know you’ll keep your end of our agreement.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to get a dress or pick out some flowers? I thought women spent their whole lives dreaming of being dressed like a princess on their wedding day.”

“The princess thing is way overrated. I’ve been doing that most of my life.” Without invitation, a vision of what she had pictured for her wedding day slid through her mind. In her fantasy world, Harlan had walked her down a garden aisle, and her mother, visiting from the hereafter, sat in the first row of white chairs with her half brother. Lori’s two sisters would be bridesmaids.

Lori had always been so infatuated with the idea of having all her loved ones alive, in the same place, and not screaming at each other, that she hadn’t spent much time thinking about her Prince Charming.

This wasn’t a real marriage, she told herself. She couldn’t deny, however, that the notion of making lifelong promises with no intention of keeping them seemed creepy.

She couldn’t let sappy, emotional thoughts stop her. She needed to think like a man about this. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “What we’re about to do is business. I understand-”

Tim lifted a hand as he held the phone against his ear. “I can get you an Elvis wedding in thirty minutes. Will that work?”

E
lvis was just over five feet tall and appeared to be approximately three hundred years old. Lori hoped he’d make it through the ceremony. He wore a jet black toupee and a white suit that hung on his skinny body as he warbled “Love Me Tender.” Lori quickly walked down the aisle, carrying a bouquet of artificial white roses. Based on Jackson ’s grim expression and her own sense of facing the gallows, Lori thought “Jailhouse Rock” would be more fitting, but she hadn’t been given a choice. Apparently this Elvis had a very limited repertoire. The hired witnesses, an older woman and young man, sat on the front row of the chapel. The young man was texting on his cell phone.

Clutching the white rose bouquet in her hands, she tapped her foot as she waited for Elvis to finish the song. Jackson moved closer and put his arm at her back, startling her. He lowered his head. “You’re tapping again.”

She tried to stop. She really did. But tapping was better than wrapping her hands around the skinny throat of Elvis and asking him to get on with it.

Elvis finally finished. Adjusting his thick eyeglasses, he looked at Lori and stretched his mouth in a denture-filled smile. “You’re a beautiful bride,” he said, then turned to Jackson. “Isn’t she a beautiful bride?”

Jackson met Lori’s gaze, and she felt an odd dipping sensation. “Yes, she’s beautiful.”

“Every bride needs to hear that she’s beautiful,” Elvis said, pretty much negating the compliment. “We’re gathered here to unite this couple in joyous matrimony. If anyone can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

“The credit card went through just fine,” the older woman said.

Elvis nodded and pulled two sheets of paper from his inside breast pocket. He paused a moment as he appeared to study the paper. “ Jackson,” he said. “Is that right?”

Jackson nodded.

“ Jackson, do you take…”

After that, everything was a blur. In a detached way, as if she were watching herself from the back of the room, Lori heard Elvis officiate and she responded appropriately, but the scene became more surreal than real. Was she really pledging her troth to Jackson? And what exactly was a troth? Some corner of her mind took in the slight snore of the older woman sitting on the front row and the nonstop pecking of the young man texting. Looking into Jackson ’s eyes, she wondered what he was really thinking. She wondered if he secretly wanted to run screaming from this place. Of all her fears, that one was the biggest. Lori wanted to get the wedding done before he reconsidered and backed out.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Elvis said, the words snapping Lori out of her fog. “You may kiss the bride.”

She and Jackson stared at each other for a frozen moment of incredulity. Omigod, they’d done it.

“Go ahead,” Elvis urged. “I have one more song for you.”

Slowly and deliberately, Jackson slid his hand behind her back and pulled her toward him. He lowered his head, and she lifted her mouth. To the sound of Elvis butchering “Can’t Help Falling in Love with You,” they sealed the deal.

Twenty minutes later, she’d returned the faux bouquet and the faux rings they’d borrowed for the ceremony, and she and Jackson climbed into the limo that was part of the ceremony package.

Jackson exhaled and rubbed his face. “That’s over,” he said, then sat up and glanced at the bar. “There’s a bottle of cheap champagne. Do you want any? I think I want a scotch.”

“If it didn’t taste so bad, I’d want some scotch, too,” she said.

He glanced over his shoulder at her and chuckled. “Then what will it be, my beautiful bride?”

“Cheap champagne,” she said, her stomach knotting at the word
bride.
“This is going to sound horrible, but it felt like a funeral.”

Jackson poured a glass of scotch and tossed back a gulp. “There were a few times I was worried Elvis might not survive the ceremony.”

She watched him open the champagne and pour the bubbly liquid into a flute. “It’s hard to believe that people deliberately choose that kind of ceremony.”

“I think we got the second string.”

“Or third,” she said, accepting the glass as he handed it to her.

“Or fourth,” he said and laughed again as he clinked his glass with hers. “It’s done now, Lori. You can spend money.”

She nodded, fighting a sudden hollow feeling. Glancing outside the window as she took a sip of champagne, she stared at the lights. “I’ve never been to Vegas without my father,” she said.

“You’re kidding,” Jackson said.

“No.” She glanced back at him. “He always thought this was the perfect place for me to get in trouble. And of course, he always saw it as his job to keep me out of trouble.”

He nodded, silent for a moment as he took another drink from his glass. “What kind of trouble did you want to get into?”

Her stomach dipped again at the expression on his face. “I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “The usual stuff, I guess. Shoot some craps, visit some clubs.” She laughed. “Dance on a tabletop.”

Pausing, he tilted his head to one side. “We might be able to cover some of that tonight.”

“Tonight?” she echoed, surprised. She’d anticipated going back to separate rooms and separate beds and pretending nothing was different between them. With the exception of the legality, she supposed it wasn’t.

“We’re here. We may as well. Within reason, you can shoot craps while I play blackjack. The only problem is you’ll finish a lot faster than I will.”

“I could do the slots,” she said, warming to the idea. “Or watch you play. Are you any good?”

“I do okay,” he said in a humble voice.

“You must be very good,” she said.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he returned.

“If it’s the truth, why not?”

“When you’re in Vegas, if you don’t want to lose big, never brag about how good you are,” he said. “Or how much money you have.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s always somebody ready to show you how to lose, and there’s always somebody ready to relieve you of your money.”

“Okay,” she said, unable to keep a smile from her face. “I’m going to do Vegas.”

Jackson kept an eye on Lori while he raked in the chips at the blackjack table he’d chosen after careful scrutiny. It was a hot table with a fun crowd and a flirtatious dealer intent on making sure everyone had a good time.

He’d watched Lori win, lose, and win again at craps. He was impressed when she’d walked away after winning. Now she was feeding the slots while she sipped her second margarita.

Thirty minutes later, he felt a foot on his ankle that slowly moved up his calf. Surprised, he glanced around the table and caught the vixen gleam in the eye of the dealer. “My shift’s over soon,” she informed the group, but her gaze lingered on Jackson.

The dealer was attractive and had a good sense of humor. He wondered if he would have taken her up on her offer in other circumstances. At the moment, he couldn’t even consider it.

He was just about to fold and walk away when Lori appeared beside him. “How’s it going?” she asked.

“Not bad,” he said. “I was just getting ready to leave.”

He felt the dealer’s foot fall from his ankle. “Does the lady want in? Are you two together?”

“Yes,” Jackson said.

“No,” Lori said at the same time, then looked at him. “I don’t want to play. I just came to watch.”

“I was telling her that you and I are together,” he said. “We just got married.”

The group around the table crowed and oohed and ahhed.

The dealer smiled. “Just married and you’re here on the floor. I would think you would have better things to do.”

“Soon,” he said, slipping his arm around Lori’s waist, feeling her stiffen in surprise. With his other hand, he scooped up his chips. “Thanks. Have a nice evening,” he said and led Lori away.

“What was that about?” she asked, staring up at him.

“The dealer was extra-friendly,” he said.

She gave him a blank look. “How? Did she give you extra chips or something?”

He couldn’t swallow a chuckle. “No, but she wanted to give me something else.”

Her eyes widened. “She solicited you?”

“It was more of an invitation than a solicitation.”

“Hmmph. That’s-” She broke off, as if she couldn’t come up with the right description. “Bold.”

“Vegas isn’t known for subtleties.”

“True,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the dealer with a frown.

“Let’s cash in my chips and I’ll take you to a club,” he said, wanting to get her in a better mood.

She met his gaze again and slowly smiled. “That could be fun. We can dance.”

“Dance?” he said. “I thought you wanted to dance on a table. I’m not dancing on a table.”

“I was joking about that. You don’t have to dance on a table.”

“I don’t dance.”

She sighed. “I guess that means I’ll have to find someone else to dance with me.”

Shit. He was going to have to dance.

Twenty minutes later, Jackson was wedged intimately between Lori and someone else he’d never met in his life. The dance floor was packed with writhing bodies, and he and Lori were positioned in a dark corner. The good news was that the moves he made were so limited, no one could see that he couldn’t dance.

Lori spun around, wiggling her ass and jiving to the music while Jackson shifted from one foot to the other. She rocked her booty against him, clearly unaware of her effect. He would have to be inhuman not to grow hard from the way she brushed him.

She emanated exhilaration. Throwing her head back and laughing, she danced with abandon. Her sense of freedom written on her face, she turned and looped her arms around his neck and shimmied against him. Torn between pushing her away and pulling her against him, Jackson couldn’t stop looking at the expression of sensual joy on her face.

“Do you like it?” she asked, raising her voice so he could hear her.

He hated it. Except for the way she was rubbing against him. “Do you?”

“I love it,” she said, removing her arms from his and spinning around again. She rubbed her booty against him and he got so hard he felt as if he would explode. Even though their marriage was a business arrangement, he couldn’t help thinking about the natural follow-up to the ceremony. The honeymoon night, which in Jackson ’s mind meant nonstop hot sex.

The fast song ended and a slow one began. Lori turned to face him and met his gaze for a long moment. Unspoken thoughts, desires, wishes, and fears flowed from her to him and back again. The next second, she moved against him and slid her arms behind his neck.

Jackson automatically wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her flush against him. He knew he was playing with fire, but she was making it all too easy. Breathing in the scent of her hair, he skimmed one of his hands up her back, under the curtain of her hair to the nape of her neck. He felt her shiver in response.

She lifted her head and nuzzled his neck. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, and when he slid his knee through her thighs, she opened for him.

Jackson felt his arousal roar through him like a fire out of control. He wanted to feel her naked breasts in his hands, against his skin, in his mouth. He wanted to feel her bare, silky thighs opening for him with no fabric or barriers between them. He wanted to slide inside her and appease the hard ache she caused. He wanted to fill her up so that the only thing she could think about was him.

In some last corner of his mind, his rational self reminded him that this could be just a dance for her. Just because she was rubbing herself against him like a sex kitten didn’t mean she wanted to go all the way. Especially with him. Maybe this was more about the three margaritas she’d drunk than him.

That last thought should have taken the teeth out of the gnawing, growling need that seemed to consume him. Maybe it would have, if she hadn’t stretched up on tiptoe and pressed her mouth against his.

Every muscle in Jackson ’s body tightened. How was he supposed to turn this down? She slid her tongue over his bottom lip and his heart stuttered in his chest. Mentally swearing, he felt like a dog pulling at chains. One seemed to rip free, and he devoured her mouth, plundering her, kissing her the way he wanted to take the rest of her.

Lori made him too aware of his sexual need. She’d done it from the very beginning, and at this moment with her so close to him, he felt as if he were on a steep cliff over the ocean. It wouldn’t take much to push him straight over the edge.

Jackson couldn’t deny or hide the rough, edgy want for her anymore. He needed her to see it and feel it so she would either back away or decide she wanted him. He pressed his hand against her lower back, so that she rubbed against his aching erection. He waited for her response, expecting her to pull back.

Instead, she undulated against him and slipped her tongue inside his mouth. Jackson thought he might explode right there on the dance floor. He sucked in a mind-clearing breath but inhaled her sultry scent along with the oxygen.

He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Sweetheart, if you don’t want to finish this in bed with me, then we’d better stop.”

She stopped and looked up at him, her eyes full of the same arousal that raged through him. He counted the seconds until she said something. One. Two. Three.

“I don’t want to stop,” she said. “Maybe we should head back to the limo.”

“I’m not going to ask again. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said without a heartbeat of hesitation.

Jackson immediately took her hand and led her out of the club. The night air was cool, but not cool enough to slow him down. With the limo parked just steps away, the driver spotted them walking toward him and he opened the door.

“The Bellagio,” he said to the driver and helped Lori into the back seat. He pushed the privacy panel closed, and before the driver pulled out of the parking lot, he pulled Lori onto his lap.

They kissed with feverish intensity. He slid his hands underneath her shirt, searching for her full breasts. She immediately followed his lead and tugged at the buttons of his shirt, skimming her hands over his chest. The sensation drove him crazy. It was all he could do not to rip off his jeans and hers and drive himself inside her. He had never felt this overwhelming need for a woman before. Never.