Diamonds & Desire: The Priceless Collection (11 page)

Jordana’s mouth curved. “Well, no, I don’t think I’ll talk her out of it, but I can’t just stand aside and say nothing. And who knows, maybe she’ll listen this time.”

“How do you think her fiancé will feel when he sees you’re trying to come between him and his bride? I know I’d be a tad resentful. Maybe you should keep your reservations to yourself. Let her make her own mistakes.”

She gaped at him. “I thought you agreed with me about rushing into marriage.”

“Oh I do. Trust me.” He sliced a hand in the air. “No one is more skeptical about the idea of marriage than I am. I simply think you will only strain your relationship with her. Might be better to let things happen.”

With a huff, Jordana sat back in her chair. “Maybe.” She shook her head. “But when you throw caution to the wind about major life decisions, it has a good chance at ending badly. That’s why I’m so adamant about talking to Lucee. My mom would want me to.” She snatched the cracker and munched, fixing her gaze on her plate.

There was something more behind Jordana’s concern, something much more personal than worry over her sister’s future happiness. The last thing he wanted to do was pry however. The past was the past. He grabbed his glass and raised it, deciding to elevate this conversation with some levity. “Tell you what I think. Marriage is a scam, Jordana. It’s not as if a piece of paper guarantees happily ever after. I’d rather keep my head above water alone then drown underneath the surface with many.”

She regarded his mocking statement with a half-smile. “Whose quote is that?”

“Mine,” he said, grinning without shame.

The sparkle was back in her eyes as she drank more sangria and he knew he’d accomplished his goal.

They finished their lunch then ordered dessert. He allowed to Jordana choose some monstrous chocolate raspberry ice cream mountain with cookies sliding down the sides in syrup. “You know what I’d like to know?” Logan said, picking up his spoon and reminding himself to get a good workout in tomorrow. “What the fuss is all about. With marriage. What are we really missing out on here?”

Jordana smiled, feigned serious consideration on his question. “A tax break.”

He snapped his fingers. “Healthcare benefits.”

“Some nice rings?”

“Guaranteed sex.” He winked.

“Now you’re talking!”

“And now I get it. What the hell? Let’s get married!”

Her burst of laughter made him grin, made him want to lean across the table and kiss her. The spontaneous urge surprised him because he wasn’t a PDA sort, but she shined like the sun, warming and lifting his jaded spirits. Caught up in their little world, Logan didn’t notice the raven-haired woman who had approached their table until she cleared her throat, making him look up to realize she wasn’t one of the Kreation staff. She wore a bright teal sundress and a big diamond bracelet shined on her wrist, with a camera in her hand.

“Hello.” She smiled with full, shiny red lips. “Pardón, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you could take a photo of me and my husband?”

Jordana beamed a smile. “Of course!”

The attractive older woman smiled in return and handed Jordana her camera. “Che meraviglia! My love, come here. She’s going to take our photo!”

A tall, older man with salt and pepper colored hair and a Hawaiian shirt came happily to his wife’s side. “Another one? I could hire some tourists to follow us around and we still wouldn’t have as many pictures as the ones you force people to take of us.” He didn’t have an accent like she did, and Logan guessed the man didn’t speak Italian.

She giggled. “You love it, sí?”

He snuggled her close.

Jordana rose to stand in front of them, preparing to take the picture. Logan slid up behind her to supervise. “Don’t forget the flash,” he murmured close to her ear.

She bumped him with her hip. “We don’t need the flash, it’s broad daylight.”

“You need it, trust me. The sun is behind them.”

“Its fine,” she said through gritted teeth.

“I’m telling you it won’t turn out...” he sang.

The older couple chuckled at their banter.

Jordana pressed the button, but to her frustration, a picture wasn’t captured. “What the heck?”

“You have to hold the button down.”

“I did hold it down!”

“Give it.” He attempted to take the device from her.

She held it away from him. “She gave the camera to me. I just need a second to figure it out.”

“By the time you figure it out, the sun will set.”

A sharp elbow to the ribs from her made him laugh more than cause him pain, though he doubled over as if profoundly wounded.

Jordana held up the camera once more. “Okay, here we go. Smile!” A picture was finally captured.

“Thank you so much,” she said in her heavily Italian accent, taking back her camera. “I couldn’t help but watch you from our table. What a beautiful couple you make! How long have you been together?”

Jordana snorted and Logan was very much about to do the same when he found himself grabbing her waist with his arm and said, “Not long enough.”

Jordana whipped her gaze on him.

The Italian woman’s husband laughed and gave a hard wink.

“It is wonderful to see young couples in love, no?” his wife sighed. “It’s all over you both how happily married you are.”

Jordana tensed, but Logan squeezed her, silently encouraging her to go with it. “Well, we have a hard time hiding it, don’t we honey pot?”

Her wide eyes met his with I-can’t-believe-you’re-doing-this pouring out of them. She opened her mouth, then smiled, splaying an affectionate hand on his chest, which he liked a little too much. “Right. We’re as happy as a couple of west coast clams.”

Logan choked on his laughter.

“Are you here on your honeymoon?” the woman asked.

Logan wasn’t sure how far he was going to take this little farce, but didn’t see the harm in playing the role of a married man for a moment. “Just a little weekend getaway. I told her anywhere she wanted go, I’d make it happen. She said Vegas, and I couldn’t say no.”

“Come si può dire di no a una bella ragazza come lei?” How could you say no to a beautiful girl like her? “So sorry. I was asking—”

“Non so quando mai dire no.” I do not know when I will ever say no. Logan smiled.

“Your fluency is impressive! Did you learn from your parents?”

“Non signora.” Pleased to speak her native language, Logan quickly summarized how he studied Italian in college from his father’s insistence he learn both it and Spanish for business. And that Logan perfected it by dating an Italian girl for a few months for good measure. The busty woman laughed then linked her arm in her husband’s, switching back to English. “Where are you staying? Here?”

“Yes. We just got in last night,” Jordana replied.

“Oh! We are too. You must meet us tonight! We insist, no?” She tugged at her husband’s sleeve.

“Of course they can. My company is throwing a gala tonight in the Élan Ballroom. We’re celebrating a merger. You’re welcome to come as my guests. Open bar, music, the works. Formal, fancy gig. Can’t show up in boots or coconut bras.”

Logan chuckled and turned to Jordana. “What do you say? You have a dress.”

“You’re right.” She looked a little unsure, but smiled at the couple. “Thank you for the invite. We’d love to join you.”

After getting some of the details of the party, the couple, Marlena and Oliver Redgrave they learned, waved their goodbyes and wandered back to their table. When they were far from hearing distance, Jordana lightly pushed at Logan. “What was that all about?” she asked with an incredulous half-laugh.

“She was impressed with my Italian.”

“I’m not talking about that and you know it. By the way, what were you two discussing?”

“She wanted to know how I learned Italian.” He decided to give her a half-truth. The part about never saying no to her he could keep to himself.

“I’m curious, too. You were speaking it last night with your client. How did you become fluent?”

“By studying abroad and listening, practicing…and dating a rather talkative native.”

“Talkative?”

He feigned a serious tone, lowering his dark brows. “Oh sure, she said a lot of things in bed, shouted them in fact, like—”

Her hand smacked over his mouth. “That’s a detail I don’t need to know. You know what I really asked about a minute ago,” she said, hands on hips. “You told them we were married.”

“I didn’t tell them anything. I just didn’t correct her when she made the assumption.” He picked up their sweating glasses of sangria.

“How can we mock marriage one minute then pretend to be a part of it the next?” she chastised, accepting her drink.

He gave a careless shrug. “This is Vegas. We can be whatever we want to be out here.” He took a sip. “Including married. We’ll put on our party best and have some fun with it.”

She eyed him with skepticism. “Hmm. Dress up and pretend to be husband and wife? Now that’s a scam.”

“It’s not as if we have to prove it. Just for tonight. We’ll look like one of those rare married couples who actually like each other. Maybe we’ll inspire some unhappy folks to be nicer to their spouses.” What came over him to lie to strangers and claim Jordana was his wife, Logan couldn’t really say. Though, it’d be amusing to pretend to own a title he knew he’d never take.

“If you say so.” A slow smile spread across Jordana’s face, warming up to his idea and suddenly, he couldn’t wait to show off his make-believe wife.

Chapter Nine

That evening, in her room, Jordana was wrapped in a fluffy white towel, staring at the beautiful dress Logan had purchased for her this morning.

A floor-length silk gown that reminded Jordana something the goddess Aphrodite would wear. Its color at first appeared ivory cream, but as she brought into the light, there was a subtle reflection of the barest yellow.

She held it up against her in the mirror. A spaghetti-strap design, with a sweetheart neckline, it wrapped to the left hip, with multi-colored jewels at the tuck and flowed all the way to the floor.

When she slid into the dress and checked in the mirror, she could hardly contain the thrill of wearing something so exquisite.

She ran her hands down the front, turning left, then right, smiling. Too bad she didn’t have any pretty earrings to go with it.

But, she did have the Sigvy. She would still give it back to him, but it would go perfect with this dress, and since the occasion was formal, it’d be appropriate.

She arranged her hair in a loose updo and finished her makeup with a touch of gloss to her lips.

Her cell phone went off. Rushing to her purse, her heart jumped when she saw it was Lucee. “It’s about time you called me,” she answered.

“Jordy! Omigod, it’s been a crazy day. It took us three hours to get the marriage license, and then I left my cell phone on the counter while we were filling out the paperwork. So annoying. We were at the hotel by the time I realized it was missing, but we were having so much fun at the craps table we didn’t go back until later. Thank God they’re open twenty-four hours on the weekends. Where are you?”

“I’m uh...” She could hardly believe she was dressed in a designer gown, about to accompany Logan Savant to a party, pretending to be his wife for the night. She plopped down on the bed. “I’m staying at the LaVoisier.”

“Huh? Seriously? Miss fancy pants. I totally assumed you’d be at a cheap hotel or something. You went all out!”

Jordana ran her hand on the bedspread. “Well, the hotel wasn’t really my idea. I came with someone.”

“Oh, good. Then you’re not out here all by yourself! I was going to invite you out, but you must be having a girl’s night. Which is totally cool because we’re exhausted. We’re gonna crash early. Like in five minutes,” she laughed.

Of course Lucee assumed Jordana came with a girlfriend, not a guy. “Actually—”

“I bought the hottest white dress at this boutique store. It’s vintage!” A giggle. “Okay, so we found a cute place off Strip to get married. It’s called The Red Velvet Chapel. We just reserved our ceremony for ten in the morning. Yuck, that’s so early, but it was the only time they had left. I can’t believe I’m going to be a missus this time tomorrow!”

Jordana held her breath. “Lucee.”

“What?”

Now was the time to voice her misgivings, but as her sister waited for her to continue, Jordana’s previous conviction refused to take the stage. Logan’s words about letting Lucee make her own decisions rang in her memory. Maybe tomorrow, before the wedding, she would try again. Sighing, she finally replied, “Nothing. I’ll see you in the morning. ‘Night sis.”

Lucee gleefully said goodnight and hung up.

Logan’s deep voice in the main room of the suite caught her attention, and a sudden rush of renewed attitude sparked. Smiling, she stood before the mirror and assessed her appearance, righting the diamond necklace. She took a deep breath, as if meeting her prom date for the first time, anxious to see what he thought.

As she walked out of her room, he was on his cell phone, his back to her.

“Well, I told him the move was ill-advised from the beginning. Now he’s wasted everyone’s time and we have to…” Dressed in a black suit that fit to perfection, she couldn’t believe he was going to be on her arm for the night. Her movement caught the corner of his eye and his head snapped in a double-take. “Walter—gotta run. Someone very important just walked in.” His hand dropped to his side as he raked her whole body with his gaze. “You look incredible.”

She couldn’t have asked for a more gratifying reaction. She came closer to him, the gown flowing behind her. With her heels, she was almost able to meet him eye-to-eye.

He took her hand in his, making her turn around. “And you brought the necklace. Thought you might wear it to the gym here?” he added teasingly.

“Well…” She wouldn’t tell him she’d originally brought to give it back to him. Not yet. He’d probably turn her down. “Is it too much?”

Shaking his head, smiling, he said, “Not at all. It’s where it belongs.”

His Carolina-blue gaze was locked with hers, neither moved, neither spoke. For a wild moment, Jordana forgot where they were. If he would have taken her in his arms and ripped off her dress right then, she wouldn’t have complained. Of course, it would’ve been a shame to stand up Marlena and Oliver. Breaking the sexual tension, she softly pinched the knot of his tie. “Are you sure you still want to go through with our little charade of Mr. and Mrs.?”

“Definitely.” Heading to the door, he opened it. “I mean, we can’t go back now.” He winked. “We’re committed.”

Once in the elevator, he took her hand in his, surprising Jordana at the intimate gesture. “We should come up with a story of how we met. Just in case.”

He snapped his fingers. “Good call. Let’s go with something safe, like through mutual friends or at a party. Boring, but realistic.”

“Or something romantic like we were the last two people on a ferry to Tiburon.”

He sent her half-smile as the elevator descended. “Cute, but not there’s no way there’d only be two people on that ferry.”

“Hey, it’s our story, we can tell them whatever we want.” As they stepped out, she added, “Oh and I found a ring in my jewelry case to use.” She held up her left hand to show the thin gold band. “You know, to make our story more authentic. Also, my engagement ring is being cleaned and you can be one of those husbands who don’t wear one because…you lost it while we were scuba diving in Hawaii or something.”

“I didn’t even think of the rings. Man, you’re good.”

The Redgraves exclaimed in joy when they met them at the entrance to the ballroom, the party already in full swing. Marlena looked gorgeous in a tight, strapless black gown, dripping in a waterfall of diamonds. She hugged Jordana as if they were old friends and spoke very fast Italian, of which Jordana guessed she was complimenting her on the dress.

“Don’t mind Marlena, she forgets to speak English when she’s had too much wine,” Oliver said, and she laughed.

Jordana couldn’t have imagined a more spectacular party.

The works indeed. The theme was very old Vegas glamour. An abundance of gold and red detailed flower arrangements were set as centerpieces, towering matching tapestries flanked the entrance, and servers smartly dressed with tuxedo jackets with tails and white gloves walked around with champagne to the upbeat big band music. Logan also happened to be familiar with the company the party was for, Stone and McAvoy.

He pulled her around the ballroom to look at everything. She was barely able to snare a piece of cheese from a passing waiter before champagne was thrust into her hand for a toast. The spirit and jubilance of the room made it impossible to sit still, though they tried to eat a few bites before both were coaxed on the dance floor.

First, she danced with Oliver while Marlena danced with Logan. Jordana laughed heartily as the older man dipped her in exaggeration, swinging her around until she was near dizzy. The next song and she was thrust into Logan’s arms.

The only place she wanted to be.

***

Most of the women he accompanied to parties were a bore. Too concerned with other people’s opinions, too busy judging other’s clothing, relationships, mannerisms. Or too caught up in looking perfect to let their hair down and have a real drink, a real dance, or start a real good time.

Jordana was the complete opposite and damn, did Logan find that a refreshing change of pace. She kept surprising him and his adoration for her grew every hour. One minute she’d give a quick-witted rejoinder to his sarcastic remarks, the next she did a dead-on impression of Marilyn Monroe, making everyone laugh. Men were enchanted by her and she didn’t even know it.

He never let her out of his sight, feeling a strong unusual possession take hold. It wasn’t simply because she was beautiful—by God though, she really was—he just felt she was truly his and his alone now. Throughout the night, he would surprise himself by asserting she was his wife, when it was unnecessary to do so. And probably unwise. Marlena and Oliver were supposed to be the only ones who thought they were married.

They were standing by the Redgrave’s table, taking a break from the dancing, when she looked up at him and smiled. So genuine and artless, and the knowledge he had made her happy pleased him. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her to his side, a slow grin spreading his mouth.

A photographer unexpectedly snapped a picture, catching them both off guard. The young curly-haired man handed him a card. “Give me your email and I’ll send the photo to you, free of charge.”

“Sure.” Logan wrote down his email and the photographer thanked him.

“Forward the pic to me,” Jordana said. “At least I’ll have one picture in this dress.”

“You’ll wear it again. Remember all those galas I need you for.”

She smiled. “Oh that’s right.”

The Redgraves glided from the crowd, approaching them with grins as another couple came with them. “There you two are!” Marlena cried.

“We can’t keep up with you guys,” Logan told them, hand at Jordana’s back.

“It’s not an easy thing to do. Takes practice,” Oliver said with a chuckle. “We’d like you to meet our good friends. Marie, Howard, this is Logan and Jordana Savant.”

Guilt filled him that his “harmless” lie had now been shared with multiple people, and that Jordana had been roped into it. Next time, if there ever was one, he would correct someone who assumed they were a married couple. Less anxiety in the end.

Marlena grabbed Jordana’s hand. “Sarah had to see your necklace up close. It shines from across the room! Come, we go to the ladies for a nose powder. And to talk about the men behind their backs.”

Jordana gave a soft laugh as Marlena looped her arm in hers.

Logan watched, smiling at Jordana when she sent him a sexy glance over her shoulder.

“Ah, the look of love,” Oliver mused beside him.

Logan wanted to frown but knew Oliver would question it. Love? Second time today. The word made him cold. There were reasons why he swore off serious relationships, countless reasons. No time. He liked his freedom. He hated the fallout. And there was always a fallout. His ex-girlfriend had lasted maybe three months...well, more like twelve days when he added up the hours he actually spent with her. He knew it was mostly his fault, keeping his distance, keeping his fingers in a proverbial cross from taking things to the commitment level. And because they had run out of things to say to each other. The passion faded pretty fast on with that one.

“How did you two meet?” Oliver asked, interrupting his thoughts.

The truth would work. “At a charity. A friend of mine had misquoted some line in a book and she corrected him. She was wearing that necklace and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.” He finally snapped out of it, sending the man a wry smile. “From that moment on, I just had to have her.”

Oliver smiled, tucking his hands in his pants. “I know the feeling. When a man wants something, he’ll do anything. Right?”

A hard tapping on his shoulder had Logan turning around.

“Logan! Yoo hoo! My boy, it is you!” the woman exclaimed.

It was Libby Devaney, a close friend of his mother’s, who was dressed in her typical outrageous fashion, a brightly colored abstract patterned dress with a huge matching bow in her hair. He considered her a pseudo crazy aunt.

He smiled and bent down to brush a kiss on her cheek. “Libby. What a surprise. You look lovely as ever. What are you doing here?” Out of all the soirees in Vegas, she had to be at this one.

“Oh, Ernest had a hand in the merge, so they invited us to the celebration. What about you?” She squeezed his hand.

“Er, well—”

“It’s been far too long since you’ve sat at my table for one of my famous roasts.”

She could never stay on topic. “Keep sending me invites. You never know when I’ll show up.”

“I hope you do! Especially since your mom has kept me out of the loop where you’re concerned.”

“Libby! We have to go!” said an impatient woman behind her.

“Where’s Ernest?” he asked.

“Waiting for me in the car. We’re too old to be whooping it up like you young things.” She quickly kissed his cheek. “Must go! You and your mother have a lot of explaining to do. Oh yes, you do! We’ll be having a serious chat when you get home.”

Whatever that meant. Unless she’d heard him being introduced as Jordana’s husband... “Libby, wait.”

But his pseudo aunt rushed away. Shrugging, he rejoined Oliver and Howard in conversation until the women returned. Having missed her more than he cared to admit in those few minutes, he took Jordana to the dance floor. The band had begun playing a sexy, romantic tune.

“Did you have fun talking about me in the ladies room?” he asked as he brought her close in his arms.

A brow lifted with a curving smile. “You wouldn’t believe some of the things women say in there.”

He chuckled. “I’m beginning to realize it’s a sacred place now. You have been privy to a lot in the powder room. Last month if you hadn’t heard one particular conversation, I would probably be handed a pregnancy test right now.”

She shook her head. “I still can’t believe that really happened. That I interfered like that.”

Staring in her eyes, he told her with sincerity, “I can believe it. I wish I had more people like you around, Jordana. God knows my life would be better for it.”

Seemingly taken aback by his comment, she came up and kissed his cheek. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

And he meant it. By god, he really meant it.

“It’s past midnight,” he said quietly, looking into her eyes, “Are you tired?”