Can't Buy Me Love (19 page)

Brodie leaned away from the blonde and closer to the man behind the counter. “Are you sure we’re married?”

“Quite certain.”

“Married?” she squeaked.

“One hundred percent sure?” Brodie added.

“It was a lovely ceremony.”

“Married?”

Damn
, Brodie thought. He was too nice of a guy, but he couldn’t stand the panic he heard in her voice. He faced her and took her left hand in his own, turning them both so she could see their identical rings. “Seems we tied the knot last night, sunshine.”

****

“But it was a dream,” Savanna whispered. The gold twinkled its reality, and she felt her limbs go numb. Just in time she remembered her state of dress—or rather
undress
—and hastily clutched at the gaudy sheet before she exposed herself to the curious gaze of the proprietor. And her husband. Dear God, what had she done?

Her plan had been simple. Follow Parker and find out just who wore the Dangerous Pink lipstick she’d seen on his collar. Then her father couldn’t protest when she broke off the engagement. But just where had her careful plans gone awry? In the bar of the not-so-prestigious Do Drop Inn and Casino where she had stopped to gain her courage? She’d known no one would recognize her there—especially not while she was wearing a shoulder-length black wig and dark glasses. It should have been the perfect place to relish in her victory. After all, she had succeeded where two P.I.’s had failed.

But things had gotten twisted around sometime after the bartender brought her a second tea, after
he
walked in. From that time until now, everything was fuzzy. If she didn’t know differently, she’d swear that she had been intoxicated or dreaming—or perhaps both. But it was real, from the ring on her left hand to the faint mark the hunk had left on her right shoulder.

She looked to this man who was now her husband. He was her husband, and she didn’t even know his name. Arnold was going to have a fit. She was in the habit of making a mess out of things, but this was the worst one yet. She’d slept with a stranger. Married him even. She’d screwed up big time. “I would like my dress back, please,” she said demurely. Or as demurely as she could, given her present circumstances.

“Perhaps you should look upstairs.” The hunk nodded his dark head toward the couple who had just arrived and was staring at them quizzically.

“I suppose you’re right,” she replied with as much dignity as she could muster. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “But I’ve looked there.”

“Try the chandelier.” He grinned. “It
was
quite a night.”

His lopsided smile stayed with her on her long, uneven trip back up the stairs and to the honeymoon suite where they had spent the night. Together. Locked in a carnal embrace sanctified by the state of Nevada.

As the hunky pervert suggested, Savanna found the scrap of red silk generously known as a dress hanging on the plastic chandelier. She quickly donned it, though its modesty was considerably less than the hotel’s sheet. But she couldn’t talk to her father, even on the phone, if she was half-naked. She picked up the hotel’s red plastic phone and dialed.

“Daddy?”

“What did you do now?” Arnold Morgan’s voice was resigned. They both knew she only addressed him as “daddy” when she was in trouble. And they both knew that was all too often.

“Um… I had a little problem last night.”

“How little of a problem?”

Savanna bit her lip. The image of her new husband standing—naked—in this very room with his workman’s tan and his whipcord leanness flashed so clearly before her eyes that he could have been standing there still. “I’d say he’s about six-two.”

“Must you cause trouble with every bouncer in the city?”

“I don’t think he’s a—”

“How much did you lose?” Her father’s voice was tight, a tone she was quite accustomed to.

“It’s a matter of perspective,” she hedged, not at all liking the way the conversation was going. Was it just her imagination or was her father more upset than usual? “All in how you look at it.”

“How much, Savanna?”

She sighed. “About half.”

“I don’t have time for these games. Half of what you had in your purse? Half of what I gave you last night? Half of what, Savanna?”

“Half of everything. You see, I married him.”

“
What
?” Her father’s explosion was more than she was prepared for. Never once, in all of her antics to gain his attention, had he ever acted like this.

“I said,” she started again, nervously twisting the phone cord around her finger, the one that held the shiny new ring.

“I heard what you said.” His voice had returned to its normal coolness. That in itself was terrifying. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“Yes, Daddy. That’s why I need your help.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Then finally, her father spoke, the one word ominous as it came across the phone lines to her. “No.”

“No?” She must have heard him wrong. He always bailed her out of whatever trouble she managed to land herself in.

Aside from owning the Clover Leaf, one of the largest and most successful casinos in Las Vegas, Arnold Morgan was a very influential man. He always took care of it when Savanna got a speeding ticket, or when she was asked to leave a club, or had a bad run of luck at the blackjack table. He always took care of it. Always.

Her father sighed, a heavy, defeated sound that she’d never heard from him before. “Savanna, I’ve done the best I could with you since your mother died. But I’ve let you get away with too much. No more. This is the end. You were supposed to marry Parker—”

“I know, but, Daddy, he’s a cheating slime ball.” Her voice rose as she restated the same argument she’d presented to him last night via her cell phone. But just like last night, Arnold wasn’t listening. That’s why she came up with Plan B. Find another husband and she wouldn’t have to marry Parker. It had seemed like a good idea at the time…

“You’re spoiled and in desperate need of a hard learned lesson.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she obediently replied. There was no use in arguing with him. Not when agreeing with him would get her what she needed.

“I’m serious, Savanna. You’ve not only jeopardized your future, but mine, and that of the Clover Leaf as well. As a matter of
my
perspective, you can stay married to this unfortunate bastard, before I’ll let him get his hands on everything I’ve worked so hard to build.”

“Yes, Da—What?” she sputtered, almost dropping the phone in her shocked state. She must have not heard him correctly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re on your own, Savanna. Consider yourself disinherited.”

The phone went dead in her hand.

“Daddy? Daddy?” She clicked the reset button several times, but it was no use. He wasn’t there.

On her own? Disinherited? No, surely he didn’t mean that. Not really. He might be upset now, but all she had to do was go home, fix him a drink, and tell him she was sorry. It was a foolproof plan, and it had always worked in the past. Always.

****

Brodie slung his duffel bag into the bed of his ancient pickup and scanned the parking lot. He had a full day planned, his head was killing him, and Nan was going to be... Well, he didn’t know how Nan was going to take this. She could be so unpredictable. How was he going to explain to her that somehow during the course of the wedding celebration, he found himself playing the part of the groom? Then again, how could he explain something he didn’t understand himself?

He looked around once again, searching for his bride. He’d waited in the lobby for twenty minutes, and when she showed no sign of coming downstairs, he’d waited ten more in the parking lot. He had at least hoped to swap information with her. That was standard for car accidents. If a driver hit another car, it was only right to get out and exchange insurance information. What exactly did one do for matrimonial crashes? He couldn’t even remember her name for crissakes!

She probably slipped out the back door to find some other unfortunate fool, Brodie thought as he opened the pick-up’s door. Right now, he had an appointment to get ready for, but later—much later after his head quit hurting—he would call the chapel and find out her name. Perhaps with that he could find out where she lived, and then he could file for a divorce.

He winced at the thought. He had never wanted to get divorced again. Hell, he had never wanted to get
married
again. Ever.

He slid into his truck and started the coughing engine. The balding tires sank into the soft black asphalt as he backed Old Blue out of her spot.

“Wait!” He checked his mirrors to see his bride running across the parking lot after him. That was, if mincing along in nosebleed heels and a second-skin dress could be called running.

Some throwback gene of knighthood, coupled with the need for resolution, caused him to slow the truck enough for her to fling open the door and immodestly scramble into the cab.

“We need to talk,” she said breathlessly.

“I think it’s a little late for that, sunshine. What we need is a lawyer.”

She smiled in a cat-and-the-canary sort of way. “You’re exactly right, but Nevada divorces can be expensive.”

Brodie’s stomach plummeted to the soles of his uncomfortable dress shoes. He might not have finished college, but as a poli sci credit, he had completed a course in Nevada law. And Nevada, like California, was a true community property state. Once they were divorced, she was entitled to half of everything. The construction company, the house, the truck. Okay, so the truck wasn’t worth much, but it was his and it ran—occasionally.

Unfortunately, Brodie hadn’t studied the consequences before he accidentally married a golden haired, gold-digging hooker.
Blame that on the tequila
. It had nothing to do with the feelings he’d been having lately. Feelings that he was getting old with nothing to leave behind. Marriage wasn’t for him, he’d said so a thousand and one times. Matrimony and babies were for people like Gina and Jackson.

At the thought of his friends and how his marriage would affect them, Brodie cursed. God, his head hurt. He slipped on his sunglasses and tried to ignore the nagging feeling in his gut. The feeling that like the permanency of his tattoo, this marriage was inked forever on his destiny.

“I know what you mean,” he finally answered.

“Good.” She turned on the cracked seat to face him, and Brodie, despite the pounding in his head and the stabbing white light of the Nevada sun, felt himself tighten. She looked damn good in that skimpy little dress. Regardless of her nameless identity and her potential to bankrupt him—regardless of
everything
—he wanted her again.

“If you’ll just give me a ride…” She smiled with bright innocence. “I can make this unfortunate situation practically painless.”

Painless for her maybe
, Brodie pulled his pick-up onto the street. He was the one who would end up being taken. After all, how much could a prostitute stand to lose?

Contemporary romances by Amy Lillard

Ten Reasons Not To Date A Cop

Love Potion Me Baby

Brodie’s Bride

Can’t Buy Me Love

and coming soon

Blame It On Texas

All You Need Is Love

Southern Hospitality

http://www.amywritesromance.com