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He didn’t want the night to end, but she had a plan, after all. He respected her for it. Admired the sense of priority, forethought and commitment she’d put into it. Hell, that plan was probably half her appeal.
“I’ve had a really good time tonight.” Megan shifted in front of him, her gaze skating away as her fingers slid down the lapels of his suit jacket, to where they idly played with the top button.
“Me too. Of course, this is Vegas. It’s still early.”
Her eyes pulled back to his, flickering only once to his mouth. “Early morning.”
And then her shoulders were straightening, her features falling into an altogether too-polite expression. “And I’ve got a big day ahead of me.”
“Big day of attending.”
“Yes. And making up elaborate lies about our night together.” This time her grin was pure imp. “Give Jodie and Tina something juicier to chew on than each other.”
“Wow, you’re going to lie about me?” he asked, settling his hand at the small of her back as they approached the curb in search of a cab. “I’m flattered.”
Nothing available, but one would come along any minute.
Megan shot him a wry smile. “Actually, probably not. I want to. It would be so great. But lying gives me hives. Even for a good cause like keeping the peace at my cousin’s wedding, I’m not sure I’d be able to do it.”
“So you’re one of those perpetually honest types?” he asked as they walked in the direction of the casino where they were staying.
“Pretty much. Not always convenient. But I guess it keeps me out of trouble most times.”
Uh-huh, but if she didn’t stop worrying that sexy bottom lip between her teeth—nothing would keep her out of the trouble he had in mind.
Only, then she noticed the way he was watching her, and looked away.
He didn’t want to lose her attention. Not yet. “With women like Tina and Jodie, I’m thinking not saying anything at all would be as effective as telling them what a stallion I am—which, incidentally, is one hundred percent accurate. Leave them to stew in their curiosity. Speculate to their hearts’ content. And give them nothing.”
“Oooh, it’ll drive them insane,” she gasped, nearly bouncing beside him and making him wonder how deep her wicked streak went. And if it ever blurred the line into naughty. “God knows their imaginations are more colorful than mine.”
Giving in to another smirk, he offered, “I could help with that.”
He was joking. Mostly.
Megan stopped and shook her head, the straight ends of her hair brushing softly across her shoulders. “I’m sure you could.”
Even beneath the lights and glitz of the Strip, he could see the rise of a deep blush in her cheeks, read all the subtle signs of hesitation as they came. He could see her talking herself out of every maybe, what-if, just-a-few-more and only-this-once idea popping into her pretty head. He could feel the tension as she wrestled with her conscience about extending a night they’d both enjoyed.
He knew she wanted to... “But you have a plan.”
Honest. Intelligent. Funny. Independent. Megan was all that and more, with the kind of practical approach to love he couldn’t get out of his head. Eyes to the sky, he pushed out a long breath—that stopped abruptly when his focus caught on the neon sign flashing over her right shoulder.
She had a plan...but maybe it wasn’t the only one.
* * *
God, she didn’t want the night to end. But there was only one place it could go. And as much as the idea of falling into this man’s bed appealed to her, it wasn’t how she lived her life.
It didn’t matter that he seemed more soul mate than stranger. Or that she’d never be in a position to let go like this again. If she gave in, she’d regret it tomorrow.
And when she thought about this night, she didn’t want there to be any regrets.
So she swallowed and did what she had to do. “I have a plan.”
The words opened an emptiness inside her, different from the one that had been so much a part of her every day.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening, Carter.”
His mouth tilted in another one of those unreadable half smiles.
Tempting. So tempting.
“Megan, about your plan.” He caught her elbow in a loose hold. “There’s one thing I’m curious about.”
Facing him, she asked, “What’s that?”
His fingers slipped from her elbow down her arm in a soft caress and, catching her hand in his, he tucked it low against her back. Stepped in and, dropping his stare to her mouth, murmured, “Just this.”
And he kissed her.
At first, the shock of contact was all she could register. And then the slow, back-and-forth rub of his mouth against hers. The firm pressure. The gentle pull. The low-level current riding all the places they touched.
Yes.
Just this.
The perfect end to a night she wished didn’t have to.
Seconds later there was a breath between them—passing back and forth in a soft wash of warm and wet.
“Connor,” he murmured, close enough she could almost feel the vibration on her lips.
Megan blinked, but didn’t step back as she peered up into his eyes. “What?”
The corner of his mouth tipped. “Wanted to make sure you remembered my name.”
“Connor.” She sighed, closing her eyes to savor the moment just a little longer before she left. “That was very nice.”
Catching her with a crooked finger beneath her chin, Connor brought her gaze back to his. When their eyes met, she had to blink. It wasn’t the bittersweet sort of resigned longing she felt that was shining in his eyes. Not by a long shot. It was cocky arrogance and a sharply focused anticipation.
“Not really,” he said, curving his hand so it cupped her jaw. “That was getting you used to the idea.”
Her lips parted to protest, but before she had the chance to backtrack or reword her response, he’d swooped in again. Closing the bit of distance between them without hesitation. Taking her mouth as if it was his to do with as he pleased, making it his own in a way that had Megan’s hands rising of their own volition, her fingers curling into his tailored shirt, her moan sliding free of her mouth and into his. There wasn’t anything even remotely nice about this kiss. It was hot. Explosive. Consuming and intense.
It was the kind of kiss for behind closed doors. The kind she’d never in her life believed she would have allowed to take place in the middle of a crowded sidewalk. But then, she’d never been faced with the need to break away from something so damn good.
And then she wasn’t thinking about what she should be doing at all. Where she was. Or where she was going. There was only the hot press of Connor’s body as he pulled her closer. The skillful exploration of a part of her that suddenly felt like undiscovered country. The slow lick of his tongue against hers.
Delicious.
So good.
Another wicked lick was followed by a slow, steady thrust, and she was lost to it. Her hands moved against the hard planes of his torso in restless anticipation of what more he could give her.
She might regret this tomorrow...but not nearly as much as she would regret walking away tonight.
When Connor pulled back, she was breathless. Hungry. Desperate.
This time, the elusive tilt to Connor’s lips was gone. He drew a slow breath, his brows seeming to draw lower through every passing second until his eyes had become fathomless depths, so dark she wondered if, once she fell in, she’d ever make it back out again.
“Okay, yeah,” he murmured, as though having reached some internal understanding with himself.
“Yeah, okay,” she whispered, nodding. “But we have to go back to your room. I’m sharing a suite with Tina and Jodie.”
Only, then his head lowered to hers, and he pressed a single slow kiss against her lips before moving close to her ear. “I’ve got an even better idea.”
A second later his hands had clamped around her hips and she’d been hoisted over his shoulder, where she bounced with his long strides. Delighted by this show of caveman antics, she breathlessly laughed out a demand for an explanation.
“I’ve got a plan...” he answered, confident and excited. “I’ll tell you about it on the way. It’s up here on the right.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THE QUIET HUM OF THE SHOWER came to a stop, leaving only the silence of the villa roaring around him. Connor stared out over the bedroom terrace and private Caribbean blue pool below, trying to anticipate what he would face when his wife emerged from her steamy refuge.
Megan had held it together through those first minutes of realization, even managing a few joking remarks between bouts of nausea—but as soon as she’d been strong enough to stand on her own, she’d asked for some privacy to clean up.
And he’d been waiting since. Listening to the lock snap on the bathroom door as it closed behind him. Contemplating the single muted sob he’d heard before the echoing spray of the shower drowned all other sound. Piecing together the events, revelations and resolutions of the night before. Trying to reconcile them with the here and now of the morning.
Megan wanted a lawyer.
It had been the only definitive statement she’d made regarding their marriage in those few chaotic moments they’d spent ensconced in their marble-and-brass hideaway. Granted, she was probably as hazy on the finer points of the night as he was, but something possessive inside him was growling in outrage at the thought.
She was his wife.
She’d married him. And not on some lark either, but because she’d recognized the potential between them, same as him.
So yeah, the alcohol may have played into the immediacy of his actions. But with every passing minute, the details of those critical hours they’d spent together and the woman he’d married sharpened in his mind, reaffirming his confidence in the decision to strike while the iron was hot.
And no, the irony wasn’t lost on him that after his patient, methodical approach to finding a wife had failed with Caro—Megan had just dropped into his lap. Sure, sure, he’d had to sell her on the idea once he’d seen the sense in it. But he was a man with a knack for identifying opportunity and the skills to convey the benefits of said opportunity to others. He could size up a situation and break down the key factors, without waiting for the proverbial knock at his door or encyclopedic pitch most people required prior to taking action. And what he’d seen in Megan told him she was the kind of opportunity he shouldn’t kick out of his bed for eating crackers— or, more specifically, downing half Nevada’s monthly import of vanilla vodka in one night.
Their agendas were simply too well aligned to ignore. The timing too right. The practical approach too perfect. And she’d been like-minded enough to see it and agree.
Megan fit him to a T, so he wasn’t prepared to admit he’d made a mistake. Not yet anyway. Though he supposed the next few minutes would be fairly telling on that count. A bout of hysterics, for instance, would most definitely have him reconsidering his stance.
The lock released with a loud click and Connor steeled his gut for what came next. Only, somehow the sight of Megan, towel dried, freshly scrubbed and swimming in a thick, oatmeal robe as she tentatively pushed a damp tendril from her brow, was something he had no defense against.
She was beautiful.
And the steady way she met his eyes proved she wasn’t a meltdown in progress. Though taking the rest of her body language into account—the crossed arms, one hand securing the overlap of panels high at her neck and the other wrapped tight around her waist—suggested she wasn’t quite ready to pick up where they’d left off the night before. She looked cautious. Alert. And cool.
She looked strong, and it had his pulse jacking as much as the sight of those sexy little pink toenails peeking out from beneath the hem of her oversize robe.
“Feeling better?” he asked, planting a shoulder against the sliding door rather than giving in to the urge to get closer. He wanted her comfortable. As quickly as he could make it happen.
“Yes, thank you.” Clearing her throat quietly, she glanced briefly around before returning her attention to him. “I needed that. Needed a few minutes to get my thoughts together. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting out here, though.”
Conscientious. Nice. “Not a problem. It’s been an interesting morning, and it started off a little faster than I think either one of us expected.”
Her brows lifted as she drew a long breath. “It did, but considering our situation, that’s probably for the best. We’ve got a lot to cover in a short time.”
And then before he had a chance to ask, that steady gaze filled with purpose and her thumb popped up like a bullet point as she began.
“So, we’ll both need a lawyer to navigate the legalities involved in granting an annulment. But I’d be willing to bet the front desk has at least some cursory information available about the process, this being Vegas and all. I’ll ask when I run down to make copies of whatever documentation we got from the...chapel?”
Connor offered a short nod, his frown deepening as she ticked off to-dos with her fingers.
Independent. He admired it...but she was working in the wrong direction. Megan had made it to four before he’d pushed off the wall and caught her slender hand in his own. “Hey, slow down a second.”
Her breath caught and her eyes went wide. “The fourth was this,” she said, her voice coming quieter as she wiggled the offending digit in his grasp. “Your ring. I was afraid to take it off until I could give it back to you.”
Connor’s brow furrowed as she began to slide the platinum-and-diamond-set band free.
“Wait. Let me look at it on your hand.”
Her gaze lifted to his, questioning and wary.
“It looks good on you.” Worth every considerable grand he’d sunk into it the night before.
Megan nodded, the corner of her mouth curving in quiet appreciation. “The most stunning ring I’ve ever seen. I wish I could remember more than how incredibly it sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights in the wedding-chapel bathroom.”
Connor let out a low chuckle, playing with the band where it sat on her finger. And then stopped, suddenly not finding her words funny at all.
Staring down at the little crease working its way between her brows, he asked, “Megan, you don’t remember me buying you this ring?”
She swallowed, and the crease deepened. “You can’t even imagine how much I wish I did. But no. I don’t actually—” Seeming to think better of it, she cut off her words with a shake of her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
Like hell. “Megan, it matters to me. Do you remember when I asked you?”
“No.” Not a blink, not a waver.
“The wedding?”
“I’m sorry. No.”
Connor stared at her, his mind stalled on the seeming impossibility of what he was hearing. Yeah, she’d obviously had a few too many—they both had. Hell, he’d been hit hard enough where more than a few minutes had been required for the details to shuffle into place, and he probably had at least seventy-five pounds on her...but blacking out?
“Megan,” he started, working to keep the urgency out of his voice. “Exactly how much of last night do you remember?”
