Kade shook his head, a genuine, easy laugh rumbling in his chest. It was a good sound, a sound that for just a moment made her wish he didn’t have a plane to catch in a few hours. They continued walking, taking in all the sights and sounds that were strictly Vegas.
Kade studied a weathered neon sign carefully. “This is quite the show, but I can’t fathom living here twenty-four seven. Sort of like Disney World; a nice place to visit but living there all the time would be a bit like Alice having fallen down the rabbit hole.”
That made her chuckle, she’d never thought to compare Vegas to Disney or Alice in Wonderland, and yet, he’d nailed it. Suddenly, as if to prove his point, the LED canopy above them exploded into a full light show—thousands of feet of synchronized imagery and sound transformed the street. All around them tourists and locals began to dance where they stood, whether on the sidewalk or in the middle of the street. Some quite good, others, well, two left feet came to mind.
A moment taking it all in and one of the multi-footed dancers bumped into Cassidy, sending her full force into Kade. Pressed against him, her hands splayed across his chest, she blinked at the unexpected energy sizzling under her fingertips.
Slowly, the startled look in Kade’s eyes shifted to sheer amusement. His lips tipped up at the corners, and that amusedglint turned mischievous. “When in Rome, do like the Romans. Shall we?”
Taking hold of her hand, his fingers circled around hers and then with the slightest flick of his wrist, he had her spinning out and then curled her back in again. The unexpected dance move had her head tipping back and a bubble of laughter escaping. Her other hand on her chest, she actually giggled as he had her bopping back and forth and spinning like one of the awkward celebrity contestants onDancing With the Starsmade to look good by their professional partner. Another burst of laughter erupted and she had to ask herself: when was the last time she’d had this much fun?
The tempo slowed along with the light show above and on a regretful sigh, she tugged him down the street toward a doorway from which the sound of a raucous, sing-along piano spilled out. “This is a Vegas highlight for any true music lover.”
The piano bar was packed, the energy infectious. They had to stand in line for a few minutes before a couple people left and they were allowed in. Dark paneling surrounded the room, dim lights kept the patrons incognito, only the two back-to-back grand pianos were illuminated under bright spotlights.
Easily the one player shifted from Three Dog Night’s song “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog” to the Brazilian hit “Girl from Ipanema.” To her surprise, it seemed as if everyone in the place, regardless of their years, knew the lyrics. Even Kade, who she’d thought would be more reserved, was singing loudly now to Michael Bublé’s “Haven’t Met You Yet.”
The waitress came over, handed them a menu with a short list of bar food and a longer list of drinks. Perusing the options Kade glanced at his watch. “Still have a couple of hours, I guess it will be safe to try their famous Punchbowl.” Putting the menu down, he bobbed his head at the next tune to play and leanedinto her. “Quite the music variety,” he said, his fingers tapping to the beat. “No wonder you like this place.”
“I’ve actually never been here before.”
His eyes rounded in surprise. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Though it’s quite famous. Everyone is always talking about it, I just never gotten around to coming.” She wasn’t going to say she didn’t have any close friends and it seemed rather pathetic to come alone. She was glad to finally have an excuse to check it out in person, and was a little sorry she hadn’t done so sooner. This was proving to be more fun than she’d expected. “I do hear that the reason that signature drink is called the Punchbowl is because it packs quite a punch.”
“Now Ihaveto try it.”
The waitress came back and Kade ordered a mixed cheeseboard and two Punchbowls. When the drinks arrived, the sheer size of the tall curvy shaped glass gave her pause. The thing was probably at least twenty-four ounces of punch. She was definitely going to take this one very slow.
Kade lifted his drink, and she did the same. Glasses clinking against the next ivory pounding tune, his voice carried over the song, “To pleasant surprises. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” she echoed, wishing they had more than a few hours left.
Chapter Four
An ice pick seemed to be stabbing at Kade’s temple. Sucking in a deep breath, he made a valiant effort to pry one eye open. The morning light beaming through the crack in the curtains had him slamming his eyes shut again. Not the best idea he’d ever had.
Rubbing his eyes, he shook his head in a vain effort to clear his mind. Regret for moving his aching head shot through him as sharply as the prick of that ice pick. Where the heck was he?
Once again lifting his lids, slowly, he took in the wall in front of him, a massive flamingo painting on one side of the curtains. Beside that a standard issue corner chair and lamp. A hotel. He was definitely in a hotel. The bright light shining into the room meant—morning.His flight. Crap. He must have missed his flight. Wiping at his forehead with both hands, a muffled moan startled him. Turning toward the sound, his gaze landed on the lump beside him.Aw, hell.He wasn’t alone.
Two slender, firm arms stretched out from beneath the sheets. Blinking, he focused on the swath of dark hair fanned across the pillow. Another moment and the lump shifted, giving him a birds eye view of a beautiful sleeping face. Cassidy.Blast. He didn’t need X-ray vision to know that she wasn’t wearing much, if anything, under that sheet. Scraping his hands down his face, he heaved a deep sigh. What had he done? She wasa nice girl. Most definitely younger than him. According to his calculations, by almost a decade. He hadn’t known her long, but any fool could see she wasn’t the sort for waking up in hotel rooms with near strangers. Damn it. Now what?
Sitting up, he spun around, setting his feet on the ground, his gaze falling on the nightstand. Or more so, a sheet of beige paper with ornate blue scrolling, large print and a golden stamp. Blinking to focus, he stretched out one hand, closed his fingers on the corner and bringing it closer, carefully read: Cassidy Anne Barker. Kade Eric Sweet. No one but Uncle Sam used his middle name. His gaze shifted to the key words underneath their names. Like a bolt of lightning, a shock ripped through him. In large, bold, black letters the words Marriage License might as well have been in pink neon.Holy hell. At least now he knew what he’d done. Oh, lord.
Some serious conversation needed to happen and he wasn’t going to do it sitting in bed stark naked. Or without caffeine. The ache in his head and fog in his brain would require lots of caffeine. Easing off the bed, he inched slowly toward the bathroom door in search of… where were his pants? The bathroom was empty. Still in the doorway, he turned to scan the bedroom, his gaze drifted to the other side of the bed. Her side.
Like bread crumbs to the witch’s cottage, a line of clothing—pants, shirts, boxers, panties, a bra—made a trail from the front door to the bed. Good heavens. Unless they’d both passed out upon collapsing on that massive bed, logic told him any chance of an annulment had flown out the window long before sunrise.
Quietly crossing the carpet, he grabbed what was his in one arm, and picking up her things, he set them on the chair in the corner. Taking a moment to look at Cassidy—she seemed so peaceful, so content, like a sweet angel—his chest constricted. How the heck was he going to fix this?
Shaking his head, he used the pain to snap his attention away from the woman that he had no business staring at, legal wife or not, and returned to the bathroom. Door closed behind him, he finger-brushed his teeth, splashed water on his face, and donned his clothing as quickly as possible.
Now all he had to do was remember what the heck happened. How had they gone from a drink at a fun piano bar to a marriage license in a Vegas hotel room? He had very vivid and clear memories of dancing in the street, singing along with the piano players, laughing, ordering another one of those addictive fruit flavored beverages. Or was it two more?
Raking his fingers through his hair, his gaze fell once again on Cassidy. This was so not like him. He never gets memory-erasing drunk, and he doesn’t do one night stands, not even when his buddies were out and about de-stressing with the local ladies. He liked to know his companions for more than a few hours. Like the tip of your tongue repeatedly drawn to the empty spot where a tooth had been lost, his gaze kept returning to that piece of paper. Married. Apparently, he still didn’t do one night stands.
A prickly feeling at the back of her neck drew Cassidy from the nicest dream. Not that she had any idea what she’d dreamed, but she felt so good, it had to have been wonderful. So why did she have an uneasy feeling, like she was being watched, which was ridiculous since she lived alone.
