What Happens in Vegas... Read online

  “Will called Jackson this morning raising all kinds of hell over him writing a prenup for you without telling anyone what you were planning. Jackson called me assuming I knew you’d run off to Vegas to get married, and I didn’t even know you’d gone back to Vegas at all.” Sabine finally paused to breathe, and Evie could hear the hurt creep into her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why wasn’t I there? And exactly who did you marry, anyway? Did you and Tucker get back together?”

  Oops. “Um, no. I married Nick.”

  “Nick? Who’s Nick? Wait—” Sabine sounded incredulous. “Nick, the-guy-you-hooked-up-with-in-Vegas Nick? That Nick?

  “That Nick.”

  “Oh, Evie…Why?”

  Evie pulled a cushion into her lap and picked at the seam. What to tell Sabine? Bennie wouldn’t believe the “love at first sight” line she was feeding her family, simply because Bennie had been there. She’d talked to her almost every single day since then, and Nick hadn’t entered their conversation at all.

  That left the truth. The truth only she and Nick knew. She could trust Bennie to keep the truth to herself and not go blabbing to the gossip columnists—Evie knew that in her soul; they had too many years of friendship—but at the same time, she didn’t want anyone to know.

  “Evie, talk to me. Something’s not right here. I can tell. What is going on?”

  “Bennie…”

  Sabine’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “Are you pregnant?”

  Will had asked her the same thing, but Bennie asked with concern in her voice, not outrage, and Evie’s resolve cracked. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I am.”

  “And that’s why you married Nick?”

  “Pretty much.” At Sabine’s sharp inhale, Evie hurried ahead. “But you can’t tell anyone. Promise me you won’t. No one knows about the baby yet.”

  “I figured as much. Will would have mentioned it to Jackson, and Jackson would have said something to me. I can’t believe…I mean…Honey, you didn’t have to marry him just because you accidentally got pregnant. This isn’t the Middle Ages. You have—or at least you had—other options.”

  “Nick has the right to know he’s a father. The right to know his child. And the baby…” Evie pulled the cushion against her chest and wrapped her arms around it. “The baby deserves to have a father in its life.” That much she was sure of; ethically, she’d done the right thing by Nick and the baby both. It gave her something, a piece of moral high ground to stand on.

  “All of which could have been achieved without getting married.” Sabine had a wide practical streak and wasn’t one to romanticize anything. “Evie, you barely know him. How could you tie yourself permanently to someone you knew for two measly days?”

  No, she couldn’t tell Sabine that part of the truth. Not right now. The fact this was temporary, just a business arrangement, left a bad taste in her mouth as it was. Thinking about it after the night she’d spent in Nick’s arms…that just turned her stomach.

  “It’s not like there’s anyone here I had hopes of marrying one day.” That much was true. “I like Nick, and we get along great—” she nearly choked on that lie “—and I’m sure things are going to work out great for us. Once I get settled in, we’ll—”

  “Excuse me? ‘Settled in?’” Sabine’s voice took on an edge. “Exactly where are you planning on settling in?”

  “Well…” Evie hedged. Will and Gwen seemed to accept her moving as a given—and it had fueled a bit of Will’s fit last night—but Bennie had a key piece of knowledge they didn’t have…

  “You’re not moving to Las Vegas.” She paused. “Are you?”

  “Well, yeah. It’s where Nick lives.”

  “Nick can move his butt down to Dallas. You can’t just pack up and move to Vegas. Your whole life is here.”

  An excellent reason right there to run away. “And Nick’s life is in Las Vegas. Plus he has a business to run there. It makes much more sense for me to move there.”

  Sabine huffed. “You’ve lost your freakin’ mind.”

  How right she was. But not about this. “No, Bennie. I’m doing the right thing. For everyone.” Evie forced herself to sound upbeat. “I’m really excited. Nick’s wonderful, and I know I’ve made the right decision here. We may be off to a weird start, but there’s a happily-ever-after for me out there.”

  She just didn’t know with whom.

  “Evie, are you positive? I’m sure Jackson can untie whatever legal knots need to be untied to get you out of this.”

  “I’m not in anything I need out of. Thanks, though.” She needed to end this conversation before it killed her. “Look, I have a really busy day ahead of me—lots to pack, and I need to go to the office…”

  “I’ll come help,” Sabine offered.

  “No!” The last thing she needed was a witness today. Especially a witness who knew her so well, she’d be able to see right through the lie. “I mean, we just got married two days ago. We’d like a little privacy, know what I mean?”

  Sabine snorted. “Yeah. I think I do.”

  Evie had the sinking feeling Sabine understood a little too much.

  Then Sabine sighed. “Look. Just pack up what you need for the immediate future. Make a list of everything else you want done or sent to you, and I’ll take care of it. You have enough on your plate.”

  Tears burned Evie’s eyes. “You’re the best, Bennie.”

  “And don’t you forget it. You know I expect to be this baby’s godmother, right?”

  Evie laughed as she swiped at her eyes. “You bet. ’Bye.”

  She closed the phone and tossed it aside. Leaning forward, she buried her face in the cushion she held. Dear Lord, there was no end to the lies. But she was hip-deep in it now.

  Coffee. Coffee would help her face this day, even if it was decaf. She certainly needed a cup before she had to face Nick. Maybe two. She stood, grabbed her phone so she could call Gwen to take the temperature of things there, and turned.

  Nick stood in the doorway, bare-chested and barefoot, his jeans riding low on his hips, looking yummy enough to eat with a spoon and nearly causing her nervous system to overload. But his arms were crossed over his chest, an inscrutable look on his face.

  Damn.

  Evie shouldn’t look so tempting first thing in the morning. Her hair was mussed from both sleep and where his hands had tangled in it repeatedly the night before. Without makeup, she looked fresh-faced and exotically innocent, but her eyes were red-rimmed with unshed tears. He’d heard enough of her conversation to catch the general gist, but something her friend said had gotten to her.

  She shifted, tightening the belt of her robe and pulling the collar closed. The tiny silky robe barely covered anything; it clung to her curves, stopping midthigh on those long legs.

  He’d spent the better part of the night with those legs wrapped around him, trapped between her thighs, and the sensation seemed burned into his memory. The temptation to drag her back to the bedroom was strong, but in the harsh, bright light of day, the intimacy they’d shared last night seemed far away.

  Evie pushed her hair back, tucking the mass behind her ears. “‘Morning. I’m after coffee. Want some?” A perfectly normal and expected set of sentences, but the slight shake of her hands and the too-careful tone of her voice gave her away.

  Evie was a complicated creature. It was hard to believe the same woman who railed at him and called him a bastard last night was now treading so carefully. Evie had helped expand his definitions of great sex, but now she mumbled and blushed like a virgin with regrets the morning after.

  As she passed him, he could smell her—the scent of sex, him on her—combined with sleep and sweat and her perfume. The smell rekindled that primal need to take her…

  But Evie was smiling at him shyly, guardedly. “Breakfast might be more difficult to produce.”

  “Just coffee. I’m not much of a breakfast eater.”

  “Me neither.” She cocked her head at him. “Wow. We
’re so compatible, we’re practically soul mates.”

  His body chose to interpret “compatible” in a different way, and his blood immediately rushed south. But Evie’s voice lacked sarcasm or snark; she sounded almost teasing with the statement.

  “So what are we going to do with all this privacy you asked Sabine for?”

  An eyebrow went up, but the blush that stained her cheeks ruined the effect. “You were eavesdropping?”

  “Just enough to hear how wonderful I am,” he teased, enjoying the way the blush deepened.

  Evie handed him a cup of coffee. “I had to tell Bennie something.”

  “Like we got married because you’re pregnant.”

  “Bennie knows me too well to believe it was love at first sight or anything like that.” Evie drank and then wrinkled her nose, staring at her cup in distaste. “Ugh. This part of being pregnant is not fun at all.”

  It was the first time she’d mentioned the physicality of being pregnant, and he realized he’d never asked, either. “Morning sickness?”

  She sighed sadly. “Not that. Not yet, at least. It’s the lack of caffeine. I don’t care what people say—decaf just doesn’t taste the same as regular. And facing the day without caffeine just sucks.”

  “So you’ve given it up entirely?”

  “Caffeine, sushi, Brie, alcohol, pâté…there’s a whole list of wonderful stuff I’m not allowed to have anymore. Plus there’s a whole list of things I should be eating that just doesn’t balance out what I’m giving up. It’s almost depressing. Oh, and the prenatal vitamins—yuck. They’re the size of horse pills and they stink.”

  How did Evie know all of this? The question must have shown on his face.

  “I did some reading on the plane,” she said by way of explanation and dismissed it with a shrug. “By the way, you don’t happen to know who’s the best obstetrician in Las Vegas, do you? I’ll need to get an appointment soon.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so organized.” He’d assumed Evie’s actions to this point had all been reactionary, but now it seemed she had put some thought into this beyond saving her own reputation.

  “I have layers.” Her mouth twisted and she lifted her chin. “I just might surprise you.”

  “You already do.” He could tell she didn’t know how to respond to that candid statement.

  “Ditto.”

  To be fair, he’d been a little reactionary himself the past couple of days, and that wasn’t something he was used to at all. He still had a lot to figure out about Evie and how he wanted this to shake out in the end, but for now…“So what is the plan for today?”

  Go back to bed and stay there was too much to hope for.

  She leaned a hip against the counter, and he mirrored the movement, as if this was just a normal morning chitchat between husband and wife. “Well, I need to go see Uncle Marcus, and I need to check in with Gwen and see if Will is still acting like a butthead about this. I have to call my assistant, and I need to start packing.”

  Back to the topic that set her off last night. Not that he minded how that worked out. But living arrangements did need to be settled. “I assure you my home is fully furnished with all the modern conveniences. But feel free to bring any personal items you’d like to have around. We’ll find someplace for them.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Your original plan involved you moving in. And it does make sense. I have plenty of room, and it will be much easier in the long run.” Right. And he’d be able to keep an eye on her and the baby.

  Evie frowned as her hands went to the collar of her robe again, pulling the edges even farther over each other. In light of last night, she had to be thinking about her earlier plan to just be roommates. But last night had changed the game.

  Even if she hadn’t figured it out by now, that idea was out of the question. If Evie was moving to Vegas, she was moving in with him.

  And if she was moving in, she was moving into his bedroom.

  Chapter Eight

  EVIE DIDN’T RECALL SIGNING a treaty or even participating in peace talks, but she and Nick seemed to have called a ceasefire. A truce of sorts.

  Which should have made her happy, especially since Uncle Marcus had called with an invitation to lunch—and there was no way to get out of an “invitation” from Uncle Marcus—in order to meet “her young man,” and it was just too nerve-racking to play happy couple when Nick looked at her as if…Well, as if there was something wrong with her.

  But it was an uneasy, superficial truce—at least for her, because the only thing that was different from yesterday was the completely mind-scrambling sex they’d had last night.

  It was hardly what relationship experts would suggest as a way to broker peace, but somehow, it had worked. Somewhat. Nick wasn’t being overly friendly, but he was less monosyllabic today. He wasn’t quite the same man who’d shifted her out of her usual orbit in Vegas, but he wasn’t that same cold-eyed man she’d left the wedding chapel with, either. Somewhere in the middle was the man who’d done things she didn’t think were humanly possible to her body last night and made her love every minute of it.

  And yet this morning…well, it was weird, to say the least. Neither of them mentioned last night. Or the future. Or anything really. Their conversation had been well, not easy, but not difficult, either. It had been a surprisingly simple morning full of surprisingly normal conversation like “Would you like the shower first?” and “What channel is ESPN?”

  It was nerve-racking at the same time it was oddly comforting, but in the grand scheme of things that was still a major improvement.

  More importantly, it had made lunch a little easier. Uncle Marcus was buying their story, and Nick seemed to be passing this interview with flying colors. She tried to feign interest in their spirited discussion of…what? Mutual funds? Seriously? At least it was something.

  It still bothered her a lot, though, that the one thing Nick did seem to like about her was how good she was in bed.

  For one, it would mean she had completely misjudged Nick—both when she’d made the decision to sleep with him in the first place and again when she’d decided to marry him. She didn’t want to think she was that naive. Or so easily blinded by her hormones.

  “You’re not eating, Evangeline. Is there something wrong with your salad, my dear?”

  Uncle Marcus’s question snapped Evie back to the conversation. Damn, her brooding over Nick had caused her to forget where she was. Uncle Marcus might be closing in on eighty and his heart problems had left his body frail, but he still had the ability to make her feel like an uncouth tomboy with little more than a pointed stare.

  “No, Uncle Marcus, it’s delicious. I’m just rather tired today. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  Nick coughed slightly, and she cursed herself silently as she added, “Between all the traveling and then dealing with Will yesterday…Well, you know.”

  Marcus nodded. “Oh, I got an earful from William this morning, but I’ll be sure to let him know that your Nicolas seems to be on the up-and-up and not at all a gold digger.”

  Evie bit her lip as Nick stiffened at the label. Nick had borne Uncle Marcus’s pointed and unrelenting interrogation—however cloaked in politeness it was—with a restraint and patience she admired and envied.

  Now, in typical Uncle Marcus fashion, he seemed to believe that his stamp of approval—or disapproval—marked the end of all discussions on the topic. She could wish, but she and Will still had a conversation on the horizon. Patting Nick on the arm, where she could feel the tightened muscle, she smiled at Uncle Marcus. “Thank you. Will trusts your judgment so much, I’m sure that will go a long way in easing his mind about our marriage. I know this caught him off guard.”

  “You must realize, Evangeline, this has caught all of us off guard.” His mouth curled just the slightest bit down in disapproval. “I still don’t see why you had to run off to Las Vegas for some quickie wedding, when we’ve looked forward to
your wedding day for so long.”

  Oh, let’s not go there. “I know, Uncle Marcus.” She tried to sound appropriately contrite. “But you know sometimes I just get caught up in things.” Her cheeks were hurting from the smile she’d worn for the last hour, but she forced herself to keep it up and just prayed it looked like sincere excitement. “Nick kind of swept me off my feet.”

  “I had hoped you had outgrown your occasional penchant for the dramatic by now. It embarrasses the family and the company when those dramatics hit the papers.”

  Ouch. Uncle Marcus sure knew how to score a direct hit on her conscience. As if he somehow felt her inner wince, Nick took her hand. Everyone else might see it as newlyweditis, but she took it as a much-needed pillar of support. If only Uncle Marcus knew how she was trying so desperately not to embarrass everyone with even more drama…

  “I’m afraid I’m to blame for this,” Nick interjected and she nearly choked. “Evie’s spontaneity is part of her charm, and I encouraged her more than I should have.”

  She couldn’t believe her ears. Nick was defending her?

  “I’m not accustomed to the level of attention Evie attracts,” he continued as she tried to hide her shock behind her water glass. “I hoped an elopement would make a quick splash and be forgotten, whereas planning a big white wedding would draw endless amounts of attention. I don’t like the idea of being fodder for the society columns.”

  She was still reeling from that statement, but when Uncle Marcus nodded in agreement, it took everything she had to keep her jaw from hitting the table in shock. Her world spun off its axis, and she could only hope her eyes weren’t bugging out of her head as Nick and Uncle Marcus bonded over the tiresome burden of being grist in the gossip mill.

  “That’s probably a wise attitude to have, young man. Beat the busybodies at their own game. I’ve always felt there was far too much speculation about everyone else’s personal business going on. Never cared for it, myself.”

  Evie looked around the room carefully. It was the same dining room where she’d eaten hundreds of lunches the last decade, filled with the same people she’d known for years, yet she felt she’d landed on another planet. She’d love to know exactly when the pod-people had taken over Marcus’s body and implanted this new aversion to “what everyone else thinks.” She’d spent the last ten years worrying about what everyone else thought and might say—primarily because Marcus worried about it so much. In fact, Uncle Marcus was usually the first in line to raise an eyebrow.