Page 29 of It Happened in Vegas

He looked amused. “Spontaneous, huh?”

“Yep.” I crossed my arms, trying to look professional and not at all like I was imagining exactly what his lips would feel likeagain. And because my nipples decided to play a game of peek-a-boo through the thin fabric of my blouse.

“I like that,” his voice changed to husky. “You’ve given me a blank slate. You may be powerless to stop how often I decide we need to kiss. Of course, feel free to lay one onmeanytime, Soph. I’d never turn one down.”

The plane suddenly suffered from a bout of turbulence. I grabbed the armrest between us, but landed on his hand instead. He flipped his so our fingers laced. “I got you. If we go down, we do it together,” he said.

My breath caught, shocked by the kinetic energy between us. I swallowed hard, mind racing for a switch of topics. “I meant to call ahead and have a cot brought into the hotel room.”

“A cot? Bad idea. Once the hotel personnel puts two and two together, rumors will spread like wildfire that we aren’t sleeping together.”

“So? Just because we’re supposedly dating doesn’t mean we’re doing anything more.”

“Doesn’t it? People will be skeptical we’re together if we’re not actuallytogether.Besides, those cots are uncomfortable and I don’t need to throw my back out and make our weekend miserable. I get enough of that hauling beer kegs around, and I’ll be damned if I brought you into this weekend just to haveyousleep on a cot. We can handle sleeping in the same bed, can’t we?”

“With a line of pillows between us, maybe.”

Then he broke out into a chortle. “You’re not accounting for those certain acts of spontaneous shared combustion taking place, beyond kissing?”

“No, I’m being practical. Leaving things open can lead to certain things happening. And I’d hate for either of us to have any regrets later.”

“Regrets? ” Why did his question skitter out like gravel, sexy and sly. “You think being with me would be a mistake?”

“Regret might be the wrong word. A lot can happen in one weekend.”

“Well, you know the saying… what happens in Vegas?” He winked at me, then yawned and stretched his arms overhead. “I’m taking a nap. But feel free to snuggle up to me and nap, too, if you’d like.”

Oh, I’d like. “But the terms and conditions?—”

“Are covered under the spontaneous clause. Let’s see what happens and go with it.” He was much more laid back about this than I felt at the moment.

Not tired, I ran through the details of the weekend one more time. He slept the rest of the way. When we landed in Vegas, it was early evening. The desert heat hit us like a brick wall, refusing to budge as we stepped out of the jet. A shiny black car whisked us from the private airport hangar to the massive resort hotel hosting the wedding and the entire production.

Inside, the lobby sparkled with chandeliers and brass. The sound of activity in the casino reached us, with reels spinning, bells and whistles, and payout celebrations.

I kept pace beside Keaton, trying to look as cool and casual as he was, as his date.

We checked into our room, where in the middle there stood a plush king size bed. Which I ignored for now. After a quick freshen up, taking turns in the bathroom, we headed down to the welcome reception. I fidgeted in the elevator.

“Hey, relax. You’ll do great,” he assured me, reaching out and giving my hand a squeeze. “And you look gorgeous tonight, by the way.”

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach from his attention, multiplying my nerves. I stepped out of the elevator car on shaking legs and held onto his arm for dear life.

The event space gleamed in polished gold and champagne towers. A string quartet played near a giant floral arch where couples posed for professional photos.

Keaton had changed into navy suit pants and a crisp blue button-down shirt. He’d combed his hair back in a way I hadn’t seen before, and it totally gave him a cool vibe as if he wasn’t cool enough before.

I’d chosen a little black dress, sleeveless with a plunging back, convenient, for his hand found the small of my back as we walked in. Casual. Natural. Devastatingly familiar, like he’d been doing it our entire lives.

“Smile,” he murmured.

I let out a breath I’d been holding. “I feel like I’m walking into the lion’s den, having to meet all your friends.”

“They’ll love you,” he assured me, as if we really were a couple and I had to pass the friend test.

Not once since meeting the reality star crush of my dreams did I ever imagine walking right into his reality show hand in hand. People stared at us, or should I say, women glared at me like I had no right taking Keaton off the market for the weekend.

We made it to the open bar where Vanessa and Ben stood. The winning couple from Brewed for Love and now bride and groom greeting people, all smiles.

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