Marriage: Impossible (Voretti Family Book 1) (2 page)

The crowd roared like they were cheering for the UFC championships, and gravity switched directions. Sean swayed, trying to find his balance.

An arm came around his shoulders.

He breathed in the scent of tropical flowers and sunshine.
Keri
.

“Come on.” The urgency in her voice jerked him into motion.

Somehow, she got them through the crowd. Another few steps, and they’d moved through an unmarked door into an interior hallway connecting the club to the Palais Hotel.

His legs didn’t want to move, but the first lesson he’d learned in BUD/S training was that he was the boss of his muscles, not the other way around. So he followed Keri down a hallway. Up a flight of stairs. Down another hall, and through an unmarked door.

At some point—he wasn’t sure when—the sounds of pursuit had faded. Keri pulled the door shut, and it stayed firmly closed.

She blew out a breath and smiled at him. “You had to start a fight.”

The tiny movement transformed her face, making Sean dizzy for a reason that had nothing to do with alcohol. He braced one hand against some kind of display case so that he wouldn’t take Keri down if his legs gave out. “I didn’t….”

“I know. I saw what happened.” Her smile faded. “We’ll hang out here until the coast is clear.”

A set of double doors opened, letting a tiny guy in a powder-blue tuxedo into the lobby where they were waiting.

Shit
. Was Sean hallucinating?

“Pardon me, sir. Madame. This is not a basement recreation room.” The man—or hallucination—spoke with a funny accent. Sean concentrated on placing it so he wouldn’t pass out. It sounded French, but not quite, like the guy had copied it from one of those learn-a-language-in-thirty-days programs.

Frenchie wrinkled his nose at Keri like he smelled something funny. “One does not ‘hang out’, as you so colorfully put it, in the Palais Hotel wedding chapel.”

*

Keri stared at the funny little man in the powder-blue tux, half expecting him to burst out laughing and tell her she’d been Punk’d. He held his condescending glare.

Now that the panic and adrenaline of the chase were receding, she noticed all the details of the room that she’d skipped over in her single-minded quest to find a place that wasn’t swarming with security personnel. The jewelry case drew her gaze first. It held the kind of rings a professional athlete would give his wife in the middle of a public cheating scandal. However, the flimsy lock suggested these gigantic stones were probably cubic zirconia rather than the real thing.

The gilt-framed photos on the wall featured brides in dresses that closely resembled lingerie. One bride was frenching her groom. Another couple was blowing kisses to an officiate dressed as Elvis. And then there was the sign—the one she should have noticed within a second of stepping through the doorway because it was hot pink neon.
Palais Hotel Wedding Chapel: We Sell Happy Endings
.

“I’m so sorry,” Powder-Blue Tux said, his nasal voice not sounding the least bit apologetic. “But this area is reserved for customers of the chapel and their invited guests.”

Keri slanted a glance at Sean, who was leaning against the ring display like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Good thing she’d followed him to Reno. He’d always been brave, but he’d never been foolish. Heli-skiing, big wave surfing, and taking the same ninety-foot jump into Lake Tahoe that had killed two local teens last month wasn’t his style. After his kiteboarding injury last week, she’d had to do something. Sean might’ve brought some kind of death wish home with him from his last tour, but she wasn’t going to let him go that easily. Not on her watch.

She gave Powder-Blue Tux her brightest smile. “I’m sorry to cause this disruption, but we’ll only be a few minutes. My friend just needs to catch his breath.”

“I’m afraid he’ll have to do so elsewhere.” Powder-Blue Tux picked up a phone. “Unless you’d like me to contact security….”

“No!” She grabbed a credit card from her beaded black clutch. “Here. Charge us for something. Then we’ll be customers.”

He took the card using the tips of his fingers, like he was afraid it might be contaminated.

“I’ll take that ring.” She pointed to the smallest of the “diamonds,” which had an oh-so-subtle hot pink tint that matched the neon sign.

“I’m afraid our products and services are not available à la carte. So, unless you’d like to purchase a wedding package…”

Footsteps pounded down the hallway, and panic spiked through Keri. “Sure! Yes! We’ll take a wedding package.”

“Shall we say the deluxe package? It includes—”

“Yes. I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

“Very well, Madame.” He ran her card, then handed her the receipt to sign, even managing a tight-lipped smile. “And the license?”

It seemed pointless to check her ID after he’d already put the charge through, but she wasn’t going to argue while he was standing next to a phone he could use to call security. She dug the card out of her wallet and held it out to him.

“Not that license, Madame. Your marriage license.”

“No. See, we’re not really getting married. This is only for fun.”

Footsteps again.
Crap
.

She signed the credit card slip with one hand, gaze focused on the door that led back to the hall.

“Very well. Shall we go back?” Powder-Blue Tux motioned toward the double doors he’d come through.

Wherever they led, it was the opposite direction from security, which made her decision easy. “Absolutely.”

Somehow, Sean made it upright on his own power. He lurched through the double doors Powder-Blue Tux was holding open, only to stop abruptly.

Keri reached for his arm, but he hadn’t lost his balance. He was staring at the red-carpeted aisle that ran down the center of the room, dividing the theater-style seating into two sections. A stage at the front held a canopy weighed down by the entire state’s crop of fake flowers. But the really impressive part was the mood lighting. Each of the sconces set into the wall had a different color light, but they shared the same garish glow. It was a whorehouse rainbow.

“What colors were you considering?” Powder-Blue Tux asked.

“What…?”

“We turn off all the lights except your favorites, so that you can process down the aisle to your signature colors.”

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. We only wanted to, uh...soak in the atmosphere.”

“But the deluxe package includes chapel rental, a bouquet, two rings, a bottle of champagne, and two nights in our honeymoon suite.”

Her stomach dropped toward the hot-pink paisley carpet. How much had she paid? She should have looked at the total before signing the receipt. Add the last-minute plane ticket to Reno, and this trip was going to wipe out a huge portion of the savings she’d earmarked for her last three years of med school. “We only needed a place to…. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”

As if to contradict her, Sean dropped into the closest chair. His eyes closed.

“I’m afraid I can’t give you a refund,” Powder-Blue Tux said.

“I wasn’t asking for one.”
No matter how much I might like to
.

“But I can give you these.” He unlocked a cabinet mounted to the back wall and pulled out two silver bands that looked suspiciously like wedding rings.

“We really don’t need—”

“I insist. You did pay for it.”

Keri took a firm step back, but she’d misjudged. Powder-Blue Tux wasn’t going for her. He was mincing toward Sean.

“No!” She hurled herself forward. “Wait!” If Sean threw the little man across the room, security would bust them for sure.

Too late. Powder-Blue Tux grabbed Sean’s hand.

Keri tensed, but Sean just watched, squinting like he couldn’t focus, as the little man shoved the band onto his ring finger.

“There.” Powder-Blue Tux turned toward her, panting. “Madame? If you would allow me?”

She grabbed the ring before he could shove it on her finger. She needed to get Sean out of here before Powder-Blue Tux forged a marriage certificate and pronounced them man and wife. “Thanks. But I’m afraid we have to be going.”

“Huh?” Sean’s head jerked up like she’d woken him from a deep sleep.

“We’re leaving.” She had no idea how she was going to lift a one-hundred-and-eighty-pound SEAL, but once he processed the fact that she wanted him on his feet, he somehow made it happen. His steps were slower than normal, but he navigated a relatively straight line.

“Where’re we goin’?”

“One moment, Madame. Don’t forget this.” Powder-Blue Tux waved a key card in her face. “Your key to the honeymoon suite.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Her hand closed around the card. The edges dug into her palm, and she got the strangest feeling, like that simple act had somehow changed the course of her life.

Powder-Blue Tux’s smile looked almost genuine this time. “Sleep well.”

K
ERI
WAS
HAVING
the best dream of her life. Satin sheets, tropical flowers, and a pair of warm, distinctly male arms around her—what more could she ask for?

Those perfectly sculpted biceps flexed, pulling her close enough that she could feel every hard inch of his body. One of his hands settled on her stomach, the other under her breast.

She took a breath, and the tiny hint of friction that came with it sent a jolt of pleasure through her. The temptation to explore all that hard muscle was too much to resist. She pressed back against him, her legs tangling with his.

Damn.
Every inch of him was hard. The kind of hard that made her soft and wet and very concerned that she not wake up before her body got what it suddenly, desperately needed.

She angled her hips back, the only barrier between them her thin lace panties and his boxers. And while it was nice the dream gods hadn’t stuck her with ratty cotton, they could’ve saved some time by doing away with the underwear entirely.

Dream Man’s lips traced the side of her neck. His stubble raked her skin, and her nipples pebbled against her T-shirt. She needed his hands…his mouth…his body on top of hers.

She was so close. If she could only get rid of that stupid lace. Get him inside her.

He gripped her thigh. Bit the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder.

She didn’t recognize the sound that came out of her. Her whole body pulsed with need. Every muscle, every organ, every cell strained toward him, the need so much stronger than any dream she’d ever had.

Because it wasn’t a dream. This was real.

Holy shit, this was real.

She eased her eyes open, making sure they were pointed well away from those arms wrapped around her middle. Even her sleep-addled brain knew she needed a second to ease into
that
. Instead, she focused on the cut-glass candy bowl on her nightstand.

Where had that come from?
She kept her junk food stash in the top cupboard of the pantry, and—

Wait a minute. Those deep red wrappers weren’t the right shape to hold Hershey’s Kisses or Lindt Truffles. Those looked more like…

Condoms.

Not her condoms. Not her nightstand. Not her bed.

She was in the honeymoon suite at the Palais Hotel, and she’d been making out with Sean.

He moved against her, one hungry body seeking another, and she was suddenly, completely awake. Awake and impossibly wet. She pressed against him, desperate and needy—

“Keri?” He pushed her away, evacuating to the far side of the bed in a single, fluid motion that showed off those muscles she’d been examining a second earlier.

She’d fantasized about having him in her bed for years, but the reality—even the abbreviated version—had been better than all of her daydreams. Of course, he hadn’t glared at her like she’d auctioned off classified military documents to the highest bidder after any of their fantasy encounters.

“Uhm.” Her gaze fled downward to escape his glare. And—okay—because she wanted to check out those abs. “Hi.”

He pulled on a shirt, blocking her view. “What the
fuck
?”

So he’s a little freaked out. That’s only natural, given he’s spent the last twelve years treating you like his little sister. Do
not
get upset.

“Don’t worry. We were only…” Her gaze, which had drifted farther down, encountered the one part of his anatomy that was most definitely still happy to see her.

Need rushed through her like a tidal wave, sweeping away rational thought. She wanted to finish what they’d started. Now.

She didn’t realize she’d moved across the bed until he took a step back. The sudden movement drew her gaze to his legs. New skin was forming at the site of his kiteboarding injury, but she still remembered what it had looked like at first—red and raw—like half the skin on his leg had been scraped off when the kite dragged him through the sand.

Her stomach lurched, purging the completely inappropriate desire.

She took a breath, reminding herself to look at what was right in front of her instead of the
before
picture burned into her brain. “Your leg looks better. You’re using the antibiotic ointment I gave you, right?”

Muttering something that could have been a yes or a no, he pulled on the jeans she’d taken off so he could get a good night’s sleep. And also because she’d wanted to get a look at what was under them.

That was a dangerous thought, so she banished it from her head. “It’s really important that you use the ointment. Seriously, Sean. Multi-drug resistant staph infections cause over 11,000 deaths every year, not to mention—”

“Fine. I’ll use it. Now would you stop
staring
at me?”

“I’m not staring.” She
was
staring, darn it all.

She forcibly transferred her gaze to the left. Where it landed on the bowl of condoms.

His gaze followed hers. “Are those…” He shook his head. “How did I get here? This isn’t my hotel room.”

“You were kind of out of it. I didn’t know where your room was, and since we had this one anyway, I figured we might as well use it.”

His forehead knit like he was trying to bring back the exact sequence of events that had led him here. “I remember talking to Bri. And then that bouncer was in my face and he shoved me into the wall, and… You got me out of there.”