What Happens in Vegas…

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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.

Chapter Four

EVIE 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.