What Happens in Vegas... (5 page)

So much for
that
thought. Or any quaint thoughts about a child needing two parents or even a token compliment thrown his way. This was about her. “Embarrassed, are you, for getting knocked up?”

“It’s not embarrassment—at least not for me. I’m going to end up in the papers, yes, but it’s my family I’m concerned about.”

Her pregnancy was newsworthy? That sick feeling started to settle in his stomach again. There was more to this story, and he wasn’t going to like it. “You’re not making any sense at all.”

“My family is…They’re…well…hell.” She met his eyes steadily. “We’re what you might call ‘prominent’ in Dallas, if you get my meaning. My brother runs the family’s company and my sister-in-law is Gwen Sawyer-Harrison—the one they call ‘Miss Behavior’—and she wrote all these etiquette books. We are society-and gossip-column fodder no matter
what
we do, and I’m their current favorite topic at the moment. Don’t believe me? Look me up on Google. Evangeline Harrison. If I so much as
sneeze
in public it makes the news. Turning up pregnant…I can’t even imagine what they’ll say.” She shook her head and shuddered. “Actually, I can. And it’s going to be ugly.”

The implications of her words finally sunk in. Evie was a socialite. An attention-seeking, famous-for-being-rich-and-beautiful socialite. His stomach turned over. Of all the women who came to Las Vegas looking for a good time,
he
managed to find the one who represented everything he most despised.

And she was carrying his baby.

Good Lord. It had to be a Rocco family trait: knock up a
rich-girl-gone-slumming. He had turned into his father. And his kid was going to be severely messed up when Evie decided being a mom didn’t mesh well with her high-glam lifestyle. No, he could protect his child from that. He had what his father didn’t: money. His child wouldn’t grow up in the projects once its mother got over the urge to play Mommy and wanted her old life back—the life that didn’t have a child in it.

Evie was staring at him wide-eyed and expectant, but there was worry in that stare. Three weeks ago, he wouldn’t have pegged her as a socialite, but then she hadn’t been acting like one. And he didn’t have reason to look beyond the surface.

Not that women like that had much depth, anyway. The fact she was here, more concerned for herself and her reputation, proved that. “So the Dallas debutante can’t face the music at home for her little Vegas-escape weekend.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t ‘poor-little-rich-girl’ me. You don’t know squat about me or my life at home. If it were just about me, I wouldn’t give a flip about what the papers said or what anyone thought. But Will and Gwen will be hurt, disappointed and embarrassed. The consequences of my actions are going to affect more people than just me. My family…” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I’m just trying to mitigate the damage. To contain the fallout so it doesn’t land all over the people I love. The easiest way to do that is to get married. Preferably to you, since you’re the father of the child I’m carrying.”

Interesting how the baby hadn’t figured anywhere into that speech. Had Evie given
any
thought to the child? Or him for that matter? He was supposed to jump to attention, relish the opportunity to marry her exalted self? “And if I’m not amenable to getting married?”

The air seemed to rush out of Evie, and she sagged into a chair. “Then I’ll figure something else out. I’m not sure
what
that will be exactly…” She propped her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hands. “Are you saying marriage is totally out of the question? Or are you willing to hear my proposal?”

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. Oh, he couldn’t
wait
to hear this. “I thought ‘I need you to marry me’ was your proposal.”

Evie rolled her eyes. “Want me to get down on one knee?” She shrugged. “So it wasn’t flowers and romance. Think of it as a business arrangement if it helps. We get married—as soon as possible if that works for you—and you only need to stay married to me for a year or so. Sometime after the baby is born, we can file for a simple, amicable, no-fault divorce.” That word slammed into him, driving home his earlier concerns. “I do need you to come to Dallas and make nice with my family and smile for the papers, but otherwise, I won’t interfere with your day-to-day life. I’ll be moving here—”

That nicely addressed one problem, but…“Why?”

“It makes sense. Why wouldn’t I move to be with my husband? And this is far enough away to keep me out of the spotlight at home.” The corner of her mouth curved down briefly.

“And that’s a good thing?” Women like Evie usually thrived on attention—the more the better.

“I’ve spent enough time in the fishbowl. Some anonymity will do me good.” She cleared her throat again. “But, this is the digital age, so for the sake of appearances, it might be better if we lived together—as roommates only, of course—but if that’s out of the question for you, we can figure something else out.”

But which part? The living as roommates or living together at all? She’d put some thought into this. But who on earth got married and then lived as roommates only?
Probably the same kind of person who planned their divorce before they
proposed.
“That’s it?” he asked sarcastically. “You’re not asking much, are you?”

“I
know
it’s a lot to ask—and it will cramp your dating style a bit—” her mouth twisted, and he disliked the implication he picked up women in bars as a regular habit “—but all I really ask is that you don’t do anything that could get back to my family, or Dallas for that matter, and cause embarrassment for me, my family or the baby.” She paused and bit her lip. Something else was coming…“And you’ll need to sign a prenup.”

Evie had thrown a lot at him in the last few minutes, and he was still trying to process all of the information. She seemed to take his silence as disagreement, though, and reached for a manila file on the coffee table. “I’ll give you a few minutes to read it over, and then…and then we’ll talk more.” She stood without making eye contact and went to the minibar, where she poured a soda with intentional slowness.

Curious, he flipped open the file. It was a pretty standard agreement: anything Evie had before their marriage—and damn, it
was
substantial—stayed hers. Upon her death, her assets went into a trust managed by her attorney for their child—or children, he noted with surprise. Likewise, everything of his remained his, but without a codicil for the children if something happened to him. She obviously hadn’t told whoever drew up this contract she was pregnant already, because there were clauses regarding her inheritance and her heirs if there were no children from the marriage. Darkly, he realized that she’d left him a nice settlement in case of her death.

If he’d been looking to get married, it would be a sweet deal. But he hadn’t been looking to get married. The baby—
his
baby—changed everything.

But in case of divorce…“What the hell is this, Evie?”

Nick could tell by the tensing of her shoulders she’d been waiting for him to reach that section.

She faced him with bravado. “That’s your settlement. It’s rather standard, actually, to set a fixed sum for each year of marriage. In our case…well, I wanted to compensate you for the inconvenience of marrying me.”

Inconvenience
was an interesting word choice. So was
compensate.
“Sounds like a bribe to me.”

Her jaw dropped. “It’s not a bribe—”

“Then why is the next clause a nondisclosure agreement that forfeits that money if I talk?”

“I’d like some privacy,
some
part of my life I don’t have to worry about making the news. That clause isn’t anything out of the ordinary, and the money—”

“I don’t want your money, Evie.”

“But—”

“I believed you when you said you didn’t need my money. Trust me when I say I don’t
want
yours. I don’t need a stud fee. That deed was done for free.”

Evie turned a shade of red that clashed with her hair. Then she squared her shoulders and looked at him coolly. “There’s no need to be crude. I was only trying to be fair to you.”

Politeness dripped off every word. Watching Evie retreat behind a wall of good manners would be amusing in any other situation, but bordered on absurd now. “I don’t see anything about custody arrangements.”

“Because most people aren’t pregnant when they sign pre-nups, and you can’t make custody arrangements for children that don’t exist yet.” Evie was still unfailingly polite, but he could hear the undercurrent of frustration in her voice. “Those arrangements come with divorce papers.”

Custody arrangements were foremost in his mind at the moment. Damn it. He had a master plan and marriage—to anyone—hadn’t been in it. He was ahead of his schedule, but marrying a spoiled socialite wasn’t on that schedule
anywhere.
And a baby…

Risk of fallout or not, he didn’t doubt Evie would go home to have this child if he refused to marry her. He didn’t give a damn about her reputation or the “problems” that would cause her family, but it did create problems for him. One, he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on Evie while she was pregnant. She could do God-knows-what for the next nine months and cause the baby to have all kinds of problems.

He was a hands-on project manager: marrying Evie would give him oversight of this pregnancy.

Secondly, refusing to marry Evie now could put him in legal difficulties later when he
did
sue for custody. She could use this moment against him later, claiming she’d offered him the chance to claim paternity and he’d refused.

The fact she had money—and a powerful family—added a degree of difficulty to the situation. If on the off-chance she did decide to fight him in the future, she’d have the wherewithal; he didn’t need to give her any additional ammunition.

That was a slim chance anyway. Her family probably wouldn’t want a reminder of Evie’s mistake. They wouldn’t want his less-than-blue-blood or his blue-collar DNA sullying the Harrison bloodline.

But marrying Evie would give him all kinds of rights and give him some control over the situation. If Evie proved to be a good mother, he didn’t
have
to divorce her, and his child could grow up with two parents. People married for less noble causes and managed to live somewhat harmoniously. She’d called it a business arrangement. Crude wording, but true.

Decision made, he took a pen out of his pocket and drew a line through the divorce settlement clause and initialed the change. “You’ll need to initial that before you sign. We can get it witnessed and notarized when we get our marriage license.”

He didn’t realize how tense Evie was until he saw her close her eyes as the relief washed over her. When she opened
them, the relief there was tempered by an uncertain discomfort and cautious disbelief.

Nick knew exactly how she felt.

Dear Lord, was she actually going to
do
this? Evie felt a weight lift off her shoulders only to be replaced by a strange sick feeling in her stomach. She’d spent all her time working on the plan to get Nick to agree, but she hadn’t thought beyond that. Marrying Nick sounded so good in theory—the baby would know its father, she wouldn’t have to face the press—but now that it was about to become
reality,
she was afraid she was about to make a huge mistake.

For both her and the baby. This baby wouldn’t lack for anything, and she worried now that bringing Nick into the situation instead of just facing the music alone might not be the best idea in the long run.

Because this Nick wasn’t the one she remembered. The fun-loving, laid-back Nick of a few weeks ago had been replaced by a man with a hard jaw who very early on in this “meeting” had began to look at her with what she could only describe as distaste. And she didn’t understand why.

After all, she’d worked very hard to make her proposal as palatable for him as possible. She’d rehearsed this; she wasn’t coming to him all needy or trying to play on his conscience. She was offering him a very fair arrangement, and he was acting like…like…

His sarcasm, the cold bite in his words, the way he was scowling at her…
Ugh.
Topped with the cool efficiency as he flipped through the prenup and discussed details…She almost backed out of the whole plan because she’d be better off dealing with Will than Nick. At least she knew how to handle Will when he got like this.

For someone whose plan was coming together, who was getting exactly what she wanted, she felt as if she was
strapped in a guillotine, unsure whether she dreaded or welcomed the fall of the blade. She gave Nick one more chance to back down. “Are we really going to do this? Like right
now?
”

One dark brow arched at her. “Why wait? This was your idea, not mine. Cold feet already?”

Yes.
“No, not at all.”
Now what?
Lighten the mood, that’s what. “So…what do we do? Go to the courthouse? Elvis at a drive-through?”

Nick thought for a moment, and Evie would have given her trust fund to know exactly what was going through his mind. “I actually have a few things to do first. Give me a couple of hours and then we’ll go.”

A couple of hours. She felt the guillotine blade slide a little bit. That short of a reprieve wouldn’t give her much time to get her head sorted back out. “Okay.” What was she going to do with herself for a couple of hours?
Besides
hyperventilate.

“Do you have a dress?”

That snapped her back to the conversation. “Pardon me?”

“A dress? To get married in? I’m assuming you’ll want pictures to show your family, and you won’t want to be in jeans.”

She hadn’t thought of that. She mentally sorted through her suitcase and came up empty. That showed how out of it she was; she came to Vegas to get married and didn’t even pack a nice dress. Maybe deep down, she’d been expecting—hoping?—this plan would fall through and not happen at all. “You know, I don’t. I guess I can shop for something while you…you do…whatever it is you need to go do.”

Nick nodded, but his scowl didn’t diminish at all. “I’ll pick you up at eight, then.”