Part 25 (1/2)
s.h.i.+loh stalked toward the window, wanting to get as far away from him as she could. This was too much. It had to be a mistake. Getting married meant giving her power away. Seducing only one man for the rest of her life. She couldn't do that. She had a job. A career. Her boss was going to kill her.
She stumbled over an empty champagne bottle as she scanned the room, trying to make sense of what had happened the night before. A gigantic pink teddy bear with an I Heart Vegas b.u.t.ton sat next to a half-empty room service tray and what appeared to be her wadded up dress.
He slammed his suitcase closed. ”What did you do to me last night?”
She turned to find him glaring at her, menace in his eyes.
”You were the one with the fancy shot, you jerk. You drugged me.” Which proved he was a fool because drugs didn't work on her.
”You were the one who drank it,” he said, yanking a pair of jeans from the closet.
Did she ever. She watched him pull on a pair of worn Levi's and remembered just how she'd drunk the c.o.c.ktail off of him. She felt a delicious tightening between her legs. ”Fess up. What was in it?”
He sighed and drew a hand through his hair. ”I suppose it doesn't hurt to tell you now.” He placed his hands on his hips, which only made his abs look better, d.a.m.n him. ”I gave you truth serum. It was supposed to make you cooperate.” His jaw flexed. ”Instead, you seduced me.”
”That's my job!”
”You made me pa.s.s out,” he accused.
”Me too. I don't remember anything after our screaming o.r.g.a.s.m.”
He looked like he could grind marbles with his teeth. ”Don't say that word.”
”o.r.g.a.s.m?” she asked, watching him flinch. ”What are you? A prude?” She felt something slippery below her foot. ”Oh,” she gasped as she realized she was stepping on a photograph of her and Damien posing with a minister.
She s.n.a.t.c.hed it off the floor.
There she was, radiant in her gold dress, smiling like it was her wedding day. She had both arms wrapped around Damien, who had a hand on her hip and a rose in his teeth. They stood under a trellis with a red and gold sign that read The Hitching Post Wedding Chapel.
”Yeek.” She tossed it back on the floor.
He'd found photos too. Stomach tumbling, she hurried over to where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, flipping through a stack of pictures. She gasped at the proof of their post-wedding limo ride. s.h.i.+loh and Damien kissing underneath the Las Vegas sign. s.h.i.+loh and Damien pretending to be tigers outside the MGM Grand. s.h.i.+loh and Damien inside the limo, kissing like the s.h.i.+p was about to go down, while long-haired, painfully skinny members of a rock band cheered an toasted them with bottles of Captain Morgan. He squinted and studied the last picture closer. ”Who are these people?”
And don't miss UNWRAPPED,
a s.e.xy holiday anthology from Erin McCarthy,
Donna Kauffman, and Kate Angell,
coming next month!
Turn the page for a sample of Erin's story,
”Blue Christmas” . . .
”Santa can suck it.” Blue Farrow kept an eye on the highway and tried to hit the b.u.t.tons on the radio to change the station. She was going to grind her teeth down to nubs if she had to listen to Christmas songs for another twelve hours. It was like an IV drip of sugar and spice and it was making her cranky.
Was she the only one who thought a fat dude hanging around on your roof was a bit creepy? And why were those elves so happy in that Harry Connick Jr. song? Rum in the eggnog, that's why. Not to mention since when did three s.h.i.+ps ever go pulling straight up to Bethlehem? She wasn't aware it was a major port city.
Yep. She was feeling in total harmony with Scrooge. ”Bah Humbug,” she muttered when her only options on the radio seemed to be all Christmas all the time or pounding rap music.
Blue had never been a big fan of Christmas, never having experienced a normal one in her childhood since her flaky mother (yes, flaky considering she'd named her daughter after a color) had done Christmas experimental style every year, never the same way twice, disregarding any of her daughter's requests. The trend of feeling tacked on to her parents' Christmas had continued into Blue's adulthood, and this year she had been determined to have a great holiday all on her terms, booking herself on a cruise with her two equally single friends. She had turned down her mother's invitation to spend the holiday with an indigenous South American tribe and her father's request to join him with his barely-legal wife and their baby girl, and instead she was going to sip c.o.c.ktails in a bikini.