"Sir," the officer broke in, not looking at all impressed by the drunk's legal knowledge. "Prostitution may be legal in the state, but it's not in Clark County or the city limits of Las Vegas."
Dropping his finger to scratch his head and look suitably confused, Green Eyes frowned. "Really? Well, jus' the same. She's no hooker. She's my fiancée. An' we're getting married tonight."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, it is." He reached back and caught Olivia's hip with a blind hand to tug her closer. "We're looking for a chapel right now as a matter o' fact."
The officer arched a skeptical brow.
Her groom gave a defeated sigh. "Look, man. We're jus' drunk and horny. Is there a law agains' being drunk and horny?"
"No, but there is one against drunk and disorderly. And prostitution within the city limits."
Olivia's intended sank back against her, clearly intimidated. "Oh," he said in small voice. Her fingers clutched his arm.
"Do either of you have any identification on you?"
"Uh, yeah, sure," her fiancé answered, promptly digging into his back pocket.
Olivia blushed, remembering where she'd stashed her ID.
Green Eyes had already handed over his driver's license when he turned to her. "Babe?"
Both men stared expectantly. Fearing incarceration more than she did immodesty, she gave a loud sigh. "Wait a second," she mumbled and turned slightly away from them, lifting her hand to her cleavage.
"Nice," her fiancé cooed, his eyes lighting with interest as she wiggled her fingers between the leather ties and fished around. "Say, honey. Need any help digging that out?"
"No," she snapped and sent him an irritated look. "That's exactly what got us into trouble in the first place."
"Sorry," he mumbled, lifting both hands again, this time surrendering to her. Then he grinned over his shoulder at the waiting officer. "She's the love of my life."
Olivia finally latched onto a hard chunk of plastic and tugged. Along with her driver's license came a wad of cash and a single condom. Her eyes went wide and she glanced guiltily at the cop.
Great. Now he was never going to believe she wasn't a hooker.
Shoving the money and prophylactic back into her cleavage, she handed over the warm piece of identification.
The officer clipped both IDs to his badge and said, "Alright then. Mind if I check both your clothes for officer safety?"
"Um, sure," Olivia's companion said. "Whatever you need, officer."
So, Olivia found herself with her legs spread and her fingers behind her head as a pair of impersonal hands ran quickly down her body. She glanced at her fiancé to find him scowling as he watched. But he repeated the same stance without protest when it was his turn.
The officer had them both sit on the side of the curb about ten feet away from each other as he spoke into his radio and cleared their identities. A couple of minutes later, right about the time Olivia was sure she'd be spending the night in jail, the officer returned.
"Okay, folks. Both of your licenses check out. You're free to go. Thank you for your cooperation. But I'm warning you now. If I see you again tonight with your public displays of affection, I'm arresting you both. Find somewhere private for it."
"Thank you, sir," Olivia's fiancé said as he popped to his feet. He went straight to her and held down a hand to help her up. She reached for him, and he hauled her to her unsteady stilettos. As he wrapped an arm around her waist, he turned back to the officer and cheerfully repeated, "We're getting married tonight."
The cop finally showed a glimmer of amusement. "Congratulations," he said, his mouth pulling tight in an effort to hide his smile. "But I recommend you tie the knot before you start the honeymoon. And find a hotel room for it."
"We will," her intended answered and tugged Olivia away.
They hurried along for a good block, clutching each other gratefully before they slowed. Finally they paused and rested their backs against the wall of a closed storefront while they caught their breaths.
"Okay," her fiancé announced, breathing hard. "That scared the holy hell out of me."
Olivia pressed her fingers to her stomach. "You're telling me," she gasped. "I thought I was going to pee my pants when he said we were in an area thick with prostitution."
A warm hand clutched hers, surprising her with the comfort that accompanied it. "Maybe we should hurry and get married," he suggested. "Before that happens again."
Olivia looked down at their entwined fingers. Holding a hand felt strange. Actually, it had felt more impersonal to tickle his tonsils with her tongue than it did to weave her fingers though his. She lifted her face and realized she didn't know him at all. She knew absolutely nothing about this man. The fact that she'd just about had sex with him on a public street shocked and mortified her.
The truth finally sank in. They were getting married. Married!
What in God's name was she thinking? Yeah, okay, the move would totally aggravate Vivian. But it would affect her too. She'd have a freaking husband.
Olivia opened her mouth with every intention of calling it quits when he threw her for a loop and lifted her hand to his mouth. His lips brushed gently over her knuckles; he caressed her with his hot moist breath. She could only watch in entranced fascination.
No one had ever been so tender with her before. But his sweetness affected her more than anything else ever had or probably ever could. As he turned her palm up and kissed the pulse on the inside of her wrist, she blinked repeatedly, falling under some kind of spell that bound her to him in the most unexplainable way.
"I can't wait until you're mine," he said, licking the skin and causing a shot of pure adrenaline to rush through her. He lifted his face and sent her a smile that had her drowning.
"Wedding or honeymoon first?" he murmured, his eyelids heavy with desire.
Forgetting all thoughts from the moment before, Olivia licked her lips and listened to herself say, "Wedding."
He smiled, making her loins swell and tingle.
"Then let's get married," he announced and linked them together at the elbows.
Their stroll down the sidewalk resembled the way Dorothy and her crew had looked on their trip to Oz. They skipped along jauntily, arm in arm over a concrete sidewalk instead of a yellow brick road, and sang the Dixie Cups' version of 'Chapel of Love' instead of stressing over lions, tigers, and bears.
He was the first to spot a wedding parlor. "There," he said pointing. "All night weddings. Let's go."
But as they neared the chapel, another sign caught Olivia's attention. Her eyes lit. "Elvis!" she screamed and tugged on his hand. "Ooh! Can we get married by Elvis? Please, please, please!"
"Yeah," he said, glancing that way. "Yeah, let's get married by the king." He dropped his voice and wiggled the corner of his top lip, doing a mediocre Presley impersonation.
Olivia was so excited she threw her arms around him and kissed him. His lips instantly caught hers, and soon he was the aggressor. His fingers tangled in her hair as he held her captive, stroking her mouth with his until she melted against him, limp and dazed and so totally alive, everything inside her could burst out at any moment. She couldn't remember another time in her life she'd felt so free and exhilarated.
When he finally broke away, breathing hard and looking dazed, she laughed and kissed her way down his neck.
"Holy damn," he panted. "You trying to kill me, woman?"
"I'm trying something," she answered and slid her hand over the front of his pants. He shivered.
"That's it," he said, stepping back and snatching her wrist. "We're getting married right now." He grinned and tipped an imaginary hat like some cowboy would to a woman in an old country western movie. "Don't you worry none, little lady. I'll make a decent woman outta you yet."
She threw back her head and laughed. He interlaced their fingers and tugged her across the street, breaking into a slow jog as they dogged traffic.
They were both winded and laughing
by the time they stepped inside the building, where Elvis's "Can't Help Falling in Love" played in the vestibule.
Keeping his hand securely latched around hers, Olivia's groom pulled her toward the front desk.
The lady behind the counter grinned. "Let me guess. You two want to get married?"
When Olivia's groom cheered, "Hell, yeah," the woman pulled up a pamphlet from behind the counter and described all the packages and wedding themes they offered. Within minutes, they decided on the Blue Hawaii ceremony.
As the receptionist shoved the paperwork at Olivia's fiancé, she turned to Olivia. "Do you need a ring, sweetheart?"
Olivia glanced at the man beside her. "Do I?"
He lifted his face. "Well, yes." Then he turned to the receptionist. "Get her the biggest damn ring you got."
The woman cleared her throat discreetly. "And how will you be paying for this, sir?"
A wallet appeared in his hand; he tugged out a gold-faced credit card. After getting her paws on the plastic, the receptionist spun energetically toward Olivia. "Come on, sugar," she said, motioning Olivia to follow. "Let me show you the rings we have."
Olivia only needed to take one look before she saw the wedding band of her dreams. A one-and-a-half carat, marquis-cut white diamond embedded in thick platinum twinkled up at her, and she had to have it. Surprisingly, it fit. Once she tried the jewel on, she didn't want to take it off, but the receptionist coaxed it from her finger.
"Just a few minutes more," she assured Olivia. "Then you can wear it forever and ever. Okay, sweetie?"
Olivia followed it longingly with her eyes as it was tucked safely back into its box.
After the paperwork was finished, she signed her name where she was told, and before she knew it, she found herself standing next to her groom, waiting for the wedding march to begin.
She glanced up at him standing next to her and found herself studying his jaw. He was such a handsome man. At that moment, she really did want to spend the rest of her life with him, just so she could stare at him all she wanted.
The music began, and a sudden thought struck her. "Hey," she said, tightening her hand on his arm.
He glanced down. "Hmm?"
She leaned closer. "What's your name?"
He grinned and slurred out a name. He said something with one syllable, starting with a k sound and ending with an n. Or maybe it was an m. It sounded like Kim or Kam. But the music was so loud, she could barely hear. So, she figured his name was probably Ken. She almost laughed at that. She'd derogatorily been called Barbie more than once in her life. It seemed fitting to end up with a Ken.
"What's yours?" he asked, nudging her elbow to catch her attention.
"'Livia," she slurred out, beaming up at him.
He held out a hand and grinned. "Nice to meet-cha."
Three
She was married. And for some reason, Olivia felt extremely giddy. Now that she was Mrs. Ken Whatever-His-Last-Name-Was, she was free: free from Vivian and that crusty, old tycoon her mother wanted her to marry. She had her handsome, young Ken, and they were going to live happily ever after. Forever.
Yes, everything seemed right in the world.
As soon as they were handed a copy of their license and Ken shoved it into his back pocket, they were on their way.
He hailed them a cab and held open the back passenger-side door, sweeping out his arm with a flourish for her to enter first. "Dear wife," he offered.
She grinned. "Why thank you, dear husband," she answered, making sure to brush by him as she passed.
He growled possessively in her ear and caught hold of her hip as he followed her inside. He yanked her back to him for a hungry kiss even before he had the door shut. Olivia felt glad she was already sitting or her jellied knees would've given out. But the man truly had a magic mouth. And he knew how to use it.
"Hey!" the taxi-driver called from the front seat, sounding annoyed as if that wasn't the first time he'd tried to get their attention. "Where to?"
Ken lifted his head long enough to spit out an address. Then he crushed his mouth back to hers.
"Tonight," he murmured against her hair as his lips traveled down her temple. "Tonight, baby, I'm going to make you mine."
His hand moved up her thigh and disappeared under her skirt. Half a second later, hot fingers cupped her through her thong. Olivia's head fell back and she hissed out an intoxicated breath. Catching sight of her exposed throat, he leaned forward and nipped at her collarbone with his teeth. Then he licked the spot and she gasped, never having realized her neck hid such sensitive delight.
Her French-tipped nails dug into his shoulders when he grabbed her waist and pulled her into his lap so she could face him. Straddling him, she tugged his head closer. He dipped his mouth to her cleavage and caressed the slopes of her breasts with his warm breath.
She was so drunk, a part of her mind became numb to the reality of their foreplay. She felt outside herself, like an observer watching him kiss her chest and stroke her through her underwear. It certainly didn't seem like her playing naughty in the back of a cab. It felt fabulous, yes, but it didn't feel real. So she made no attempt to stop him.
When they finally came to a jarring halt, Olivia whimpered because Ken had to lift her off his lap so he could shell out their fare. Tab paid, he reached for her, and she clung desperately, kissing his jaw as he opened the door.
"In the house," he panted and nudged her out into the warm night.
They were still standing there kissing as their ride disappeared. Finally, Ken broke away to rasp, "Inside."
Olivia turned and jerked to a startled stop. Ken bumped into her from behind. The mansion was every bit as big as her home in California, but this place looked about twenty years newer.
Her jaw dropped. "You live here?"
It didn't seem possible. He looked too poor, and he'd been in such a low-class bar.
"My sister's place," he said from behind her, his hand coming around her waist as he pulled her back against him and stroked the rim of her ear with his tongue.
She shivered and leaned back, taking the fingers at her waist and nudging them down. Like a good boy, he dipped his hand inside the waistband of her leather skirt.
Though her mind turned fuzzy with need, she had one last moment of clarity to frown and ask, "You live with your sister?"
He pressed her from behind with his erection as if guiding her toward the front door with it. "She makes me stay at her place when I'm in town," he answered, though his voice sounded muffled, what with his teeth full of her earlobe.
He tugged slightly. She moaned and arched back against him, forgetting her curiosity.
The twenty-foot walk to the front door was the longest Olivia had ever made. Erotic touches and naughty words filled every step. She honestly didn't think they were going to make it. She came so close to the edge she was ready to throw herself down on the sidewalk and pull him on top of her. As he pinned her against the front door and rid her of her stilettos, panty hose and thong, she wrapped her legs around his waist, tilting her hips up to receive him. He cursed and kissed her hard as he struggled to dig his key from his pocket. Unable to coordinate, he finally sat her down and then nudged her a few feet away, telling her he needed to concentrate. She laughed but stayed back.
"Here, hold these," he muttered and shoved the shoes and hose at her. "Thanks."
He fumbled for a second, cursing the whole time, and finally they were in. Grinning, he turned back and wrapped an arm around her waist to lift her feet a few inches off the ground. Then he carried his bride over the threshold.
"Well done," she murmured, wrapping her legs back around his waist where they belonged and kissing his jaw.
"I try," he rasped, pressing his erection against her and burying his face in her neck. She dropped a shoe.
He paused there, still kissing, driving his tongue into her mouth for about ten seconds before he cursed and wrenched back. "The alarm!"
He peeled her off,
setting her delicately on the floor. As Olivia wobbled unsteadily, her bare toes landing on cool marble, Ken hurried to a panel on the wall and muttered to himself.
"Come on, come on. What's the freaking code?"
After a moment of thought, he nodded and punched in a few numbers. When the red, blinking light changed to solid green, he sagged in relief. Then he turned back toward her.
There was no lamp glowing inside the house, so the bright moon outside was their only light source. It shimmered through a long bay of windows to help her make out the basic features of her new groom. But mostly shadows masked his face, making him appear suddenly large and dominating.