Tainted Page 7

  She pulled away first.

  Embarrassed, he stepped backward and bumped into the salon chair next to him. Thankfully, it was empty. “I’ll see you back at the hotel.”

  “See you soon.” She fiddled with the tiara in her lap without meeting his gaze.

  No eye contact after a kiss? Not a good sign for removing Exhibit G from the medical manual.

  It wasn’t until he was nearly to their hotel that he remembered one final detail. They needed rings. “Take me to the finest jewelry store on the strip.”

  The cab driver took the toothpick out of his mouth and glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Finest or least crooked?”

  “Least crooked.”

  Several hours later, Lance prowled around the hotel suite bedroom like a nervous animal. Mary was in the other room, supposedly slipping into her dress, according to her text. He’d been in the shower when she’d returned from the salon and she’d told him not to come out until she was ready. While he dressed in his best suit, he could hear her moving around in the other room and the crinkle of tissue paper.

  From outside the bedroom, Mary called out to him. “Have a drink. Your pacing is making me nervous.”

  He walked over to the door. “What’s taking so long?”

  “I’m almost ready. I had to call someone to help me zip up the dress.”

  “I could’ve done that.”

  “And break tradition?”

  He took her advice and poured a scotch from the minibar, then stood at the window and looked out over Las Vegas. Haze, smog, and sunshine made the sky orange with hints of an impending apocalypse. He downed his drink and waited to be summoned. For the third time in as many minutes, he felt for the engagement ring in his jacket pocket. Still there. A smug smile curved his mouth. The ring was magical, elegant and sophisticated, with a princess diamond surrounded by tiny diamonds. She’d think it was too big, but he didn’t care. He wanted her to have a ring that matched her.

  “All right, you can come out now,” Mary called to him.

  Nerves rumbled through his stomach. Why did this moment feel like the most important one of his life?

  He entered the living room. Mary stood by the windows. Behind her, storm clouds gathered in an angry promise of rain. She clasped her hands together in front of her chest as her mouth twitched in a nervous smile. “I’m ready, finally.”

  Lance stared at her, unable to move, stunned by her splendor. She shone with a light so bright it crippled him.

  “Do you like the dress?” she asked.

  He nodded. Unshed tears choked his voice. Even if he could speak, how would he ever convey her loveliness? The dress was simple with skinny straps and lacy material that flowed gently from her waist to the floor. Her hair was up in a complicated twist paired with the tiara. Subtle makeup enhanced her delicate bone structure and almond shaped eyes.

  “I think the dress cost a lot of money. She wouldn’t tell me how much. It’s simple but very pretty, don’t you think?” Mary’s voice had a tinny quality as the words tumbled from her mouth.

  He drew closer and could see that she trembled.

  “I’m suddenly petrified,” she said.

  God, how he loved her. Nothing in his life had prepared him for the agony of this love that ripped open his chest and consumed every piece of his soul.

  He staggered toward her, like a drunk man. There was no poetry inside him that could do her justice.

  Regardless, Mary needed words. She craved them. If he were to be worthy of her, he must find them. They must be epic. Like the kiss on New Year’s Eve, they must startle her out of her sleeping state so that she might see him.

  He drew in a deep breath. Outside the window, purple clouds sped across the sky. For a split second a sliver of sunlight appeared. Certainty washed over him. He must tell her the truth of his heart.

  “I’ve been all over the world and have had the privilege to see the most magnificent works of art known to man. But never in my life have I seen anything as exquisite as you.”

  Mary’s bottom lip trembled. “Thank you.”

  He dropped to one knee.

  She jerked and stumbled backward, clearly startled. “What’re you doing?”

  Lance took the ring box from his jacket. “I have to tell you the truth. If there were no baby, I would still want to marry you. I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you so long now that I can’t remember the time before you. It’s you, only you, that I want. I know there’s a chance you might never love me back. Nonetheless, I’m a risk taker. I’m betting on us. I believe after a time you’ll come to see I’m the man to trust with your heart.” He opened the box and presented the ring. Her eyes widened as the diamonds sparkled under the light. “Say you’ll be my wife.”

  “This isn’t the deal. This isn’t what we agreed on.”

  “If you don’t love me by the time the baby comes, then I’ll let you go. We’ll get divorced as planned.”

  “I’m broken. You know that.”

  “I don’t care how broken you are. Everyone is in one way or another, including me. If we take our broken pieces and put them together, we can become whole. An impenetrable team. A perfect puzzle, still with cracks, but formed into something profound. Let me love you back together.”

  “Oh, Lance.” She looked up to the ceiling and then back to him. Her hands clasped and unclasped. She sucked in a deep breath like a woman about to fall prey to a riptide. “You won’t want me by the end of this pregnancy. There are things about me you don’t know. Decisions I’ve made that might change your mind.”

  “Nothing, no man or act of God or decision from your past, will ever change my mind. I love you and I always will.”

  “You have to know the odds are stacked against us. The last thing I want is to hurt you, but I know deep down I will.”

  “I’ve made a fortune betting on the dark horse, the outlier. I’ll take my chances.”

  “I might be your darkest horse yet.”

  “You’re my dark horse, Mary Hansen. The finest of my choices.” He took her left hand. “Will you marry me?”

  “Promise me you’ll forgive me if I hurt you.”

  “I promise.”

  “Then, yes.”

  After securing their marriage license, they had the driver take them over to the wedding chapel. When they arrived and went inside, they were greeted by a receptionist, given a plastic-coated number—fifty-four—and told to wait in the lobby with the other couples. While they waited, he looked around at the other couples. Some, like them, wore traditional wedding attire. Others were in street clothes and seemed to have consumed more than their share of libations, given the giggles and inappropriate displays of affection.

  “Does that mean we’re the fifty-fourth couple of the day or week or month?” Mary whispered.

  “Week? Maybe? I don’t know.”

  For the first time since he’d given it to her, she held up her hand to gaze at the ring. “Tell me this is a fake diamond. Please.”

  He shook his head. “Does that sound like me?”

  “This must’ve cost a fortune. You don’t have money to just toss around on gigantic rings. It’s irresponsible.”

  He didn’t say anything. The money discussion would come later.

  She continued to look at her hand. “I can’t help but love it. I’m enamored, which goes to show you how shallow I am.”

  “It looks nice on your hand. I knew it would.”

  She spread her hand over his knee. “My mom always said I had princess hands. When I was a kid, that was the only pretty thing about me.”

  “Impossible.”

  “No. Imagine skinny as a rail, buck teeth, and thick glasses.”

  “Sounds adorable.”

  She pushed her hand into his chest. “You’re hopeless.”

  He played with her dangling earring, then brushed his fingertips down the silky skin of her neck. “I wish the whole world could see you right now.”

  “I just wish my mom
could see me.”

  “I wish that too. I wish my dad was here. I miss him so much sometimes it’s debilitating.”

  “It just hits you out of nowhere,” she said. “And it’s like the first time.”

  “Yes.”

  They looked into each other’s eyes and an understanding passed between them. This is true intimacy between two people. This is what I’ve looked for all my life. How could she not know this was love?

  “My dad would make a big fuss over you,” Lance said. “He loved women.”

  “I would’ve have loved to meet him.” She grabbed his hands. “But I know what a great man he was because I know you.”

  Their number was called.

  “Let’s do this.” He stood and then pulled her to her feet and escorted her across the room and into the chapel.

  Elvis, dressed in a white suit, stood at the front of the room. More specifically, this was Elvis after he’d eaten too many peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Mary squeezed his hand. “I’m nervous suddenly.”

  “Don’t be. Elvis won’t bite,” Lance said.

  “Come on up here, little lady.” He sounded like Elvis. He looked like Elvis. Fake Elvis, fake marriage. Fake it until you make it. “Let’s get you two hitched and off to the fun part.” Elvis gestured for them to meet him in the front. A plump woman with pink hair sat to the side, knitting furiously. “That there’s my wife, Melva. She’s your witness and photographer.”

  Next, Elvis looked over their marriage license. “All good. Come this way so we can get a few photos.”

  Melva set aside her knitting and grabbed a camera. She had them pose in front of the arch in various positions. “I’ll get these out to your email lickety-split,” Melva said.

  Elvis cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

  Five minutes later, they were married.

  Chapter Four

  Mary

  * * *

  THE CAR MADE its way down the Las Vegas strip under a stormy sky. Mary was blind to the scenery. Instead, her mind replayed Lance’s earlier confession. He loved her. He wanted a real marriage. A happily ever after.

  At first, her heart had hummed with joy. Until the memory of what she’d done brought her crashing back to reality.

  What would happen if she told him the truth? How would she even say it? I lied to you about one of the most important decisions a person ever makes. I tricked you into getting me pregnant. His feelings would rapidly change when he saw her for what she really was. A desperate, bitter, liar. She must tell him. It was the right thing to do, and the only solution to stifling his ridiculous notion that he loved her.

  She accepted Lance’s hand to help her to get out of the back of the car and waited under the awning of the hotel while he tipped the driver. A gust of wind rustled the skirt of her gown. The distant sound of thunder caused her to shiver. Around her, people passed to enter the lobby of the hotel, many smiling at her. Nothing like a woman in a wedding dress to melt the heart of the masses.

  A few minutes later, they walked into their suite. The table had been set for dinner. Tempting aromas of garlic and butter filled the room. Despite the emotional impact of the day, her stomach rumbled.

  “I didn’t know what you’d feel like, so I ordered a few different items,” he said.

  A steak, a pasta dish, fried chicken, and a hamburger were lined up on the side table.

  “I’m starving,” she said.

  They sat down to the feast, sampling bits from each plate. They talked and joked about the day’s events like it was an ordinary day. In his presence she forgot about everything but him. She could look at him all day in his blue suit that matched his eyes.

  When they had their fill, he stood. “Will you dance with me?”

  “Dance?”

  “I want to dance with you while you’re wearing that dress. Please?”

  She agreed, reluctantly. The last thing she needed was to feel his arms around her, tempting her, reminding her of the night they’d spent together.

  He pushed a button on his phone. Music played from the Bluetooth speaker on one of the side tables. She moved into his arms. “What is this song?”

  “Frank Sinatra. ‘The Way You Look Tonight’. My mom and dad had it at their wedding. I always thought I’d have it at mine. When I saw you in that dress, I knew it was truly the perfect song for tonight.”

  What was she going to do about this man? This perfect man. Tell him what you did.

  “I have something to tell you,” she said.

  He looked down at her with such hope in his eyes that her courage failed her. She couldn’t tell him. Not tonight. Maybe when they got home tomorrow.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Thank you for making this day special. No matter what, we’ll be able to tell the baby about our wedding.”

  “And we’ll have photographs.” He pulled her closer as they swayed to the music.

  She looked up at him. His full mouth curved into a smile. She shivered, remembering what it was like to kiss him. He caught her gaze in his. They stopped moving and simply stared into each other’s eyes.

  “I’m going to kiss you, unless you say not to,” he said.

  “I won’t say no.”

  He pulled her even closer and kissed her, gently at first until her arms circled his neck. They kissed until the music stopped. She pulled away, breathless. “I should change,” she said.

  Lance let her go but reached for his phone. “One more photo before you take off the dress. Just to remember this moment.” He made her stand by the window and snapped pictures with his phone. Finally, he relented and let her leave to change.

  In the bedroom, she realized she couldn’t get out of the dress without help and called out to him. He showed up in the doorway with a scotch in his hand. He’d taken off his jacket and tie and had rolled up his sleeves. Her breath caught. Had there ever been a more gorgeous man? She doubted it.

  “What can I do for you?” Lance leaned against the doorway, his eyelids lowered to half-mast. He’d looked that way the night she’d danced for him on the table.

  “I need you to unzip the dress.”

  “Ah yes. Another reason to thank Layla.”

  She smiled as she turned around to show him the back. “I think you have a crush on Layla.” Earlier, she’d noted how he’d looked at the wedding shop owner with admiration. It had bothered her, wakened that awful monster inside her that fed on insecurity and distrust.

  “There’s only one woman I have a crush on,” he whispered in her ear. His fingertips brushed her shoulders and down the length of her arms.

  She shivered.

  He unzipped the dress, torturing her by caressing the freed skin with his thumb as he made his way down her back. When it was completely unzipped, she turned back to him. “Thank you.”

  “Not so fast.” He placed his fingers under the spaghetti straps and slid them from her shoulders. “You’ll need me to help you with this next part.” He peeled the dress from her torso until it pooled at her feet. “Hold on to my neck and I’ll lift you.”

  She did as he asked. He lifted her up and out of the dress, before setting her on the ground. The dress crumpled to the floor, like a weary ragdoll. Mary’s hands dropped to her sides. Naked now, other than undergarments and the high-heeled sandals, she stared back at him.

  “Jesus. I thought you looked good in the dress.” He drew her to him and ran a finger along the lacy edges of her bra. “You know how badly I’ve wanted to see you like this again?”

  If he wanted her, she would let him take her. Just tonight. She’d have him for one more night. Tomorrow she would tell him the truth.

  She looked up at him. “Do you remember that night? All the things you did to me?”

  His eyes glittered in the dim room. “Hell yes. I remember everything. Every single moment.” He traced her collarbone with his mouth. She gasped when his fingers unhooked her bra. “Do you?”

  �
�Yes.” She slid her bra off and tossed it toward the dress.

  He put his fingers into her bun and pulled the pins loose. Her hair cascaded around them. He tugged her closer. Instead of kissing her mouth like she thought he would, he pressed his lips to the soft skin under her right ear. “Do you want me to do it all over again?”

  Oh God.

  With his free hand, he hovered just above the nipple of her left breast. Her swollen breasts ached for his touch. He spoke hoarsely into her ear. “Do you want me to tell you or should I show you?”

  “Show me.”

  He lifted her into his arms and strode across the room. At the bed, he set her down with what she suspected was great restraint. He slid the sandals from her feet and gazed down at her. “Christ, you’re gorgeous.”

  “Take off your clothes,” she said. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

  “You stay where you are.” Within seconds, he’d discarded his shirt, pants, and socks. He joined her on the bed.

  She ran her hands down his muscular torso. Yes, just as she remembered.

  He groaned and pulled her under him. “You want to know what haunts me? The memory of your face the first time I made you…”

  Her mouth went dry. She flicked her upper lip with her tongue.

  “Do you remember the sounds you made?” he asked.

  She nodded, flushing. Anyone within a fifty-mile radius probably heard her.

  He pressed his finger against her mouth. “I remember what that wicked tongue of yours did to me. And the way your back arched, and your soft skin and hard thighs and perfect breasts. None of which a man could forget anytime soon.” He traced a finger from the hollow of her throat to just above her left breast. “I remember what you looked like the second time and the third time too.” His fingers stopped at the pulse in her neck. “I remember how your pulse raced.” He whispered in her ear. “And how wet you were.”

  “Lance. My God.”

  “Do you want me to do it again?”