Hot Commodity(5)

"What in the hell are you wearing?" he asked, sounding utterly awed.

Olivia rolled her eyes. He had just noticed. "I’m an apprentice for Cat Woman."

He gawked for another few seconds and actually impressed her when he managed to lift his face to meet her gaze.

"I think I like it," he murmured but then his eyes instantly dropped again to scope out her cleavage, which seemed to be his favorite area.

"Enough to marry me?" Olivia asked and slid off her chair to lift her arms and turn in a slow circle, displaying the goods.

He continued to stare for a moment. He seemed to realize she was waiting for a response when she stopped with her hands on her hips and sent him a probing look. He shook his head to clear it. "Sorry," he said. "But I just had this really vivid picture of me running my tongue up the back seam of those fishnet hose."

Olivia lips widened. She leaned forward so he could look down her cleavage, which he did. "I’ll tell you what," she murmured huskily as she ran her long fingernail down his arm. "You can lick anything you want to if you marry me tonight."

He bobbed his head, transfixed. "All right."





Two



Olivia was stunned. It worked. Her skin tingled with sudden apprehension. Good God, it really worked. She’d asked a complete stranger to marry her, and the drunk had actually said yes.

What was she supposed to do now?

He started to slide off his stool until he noticed her untouched bourbon and coke. Pausing, he lifted his eyes. "You didn’t drink yours."

"I didn’t order that," she reminded him.

He stared at her as if she was insane then nudged her glass toward her. "But I bought it for you." He paused with an almost injured expression. "Besides, you shouldn’t let good liquor go to waste." He proceeded to blink his long lashes and stick out his bottom lip. It looked so much like something a five-year-old girl would do, she sputtered out a surprised laugh.

"Oh, for God’s sake." She snatched the drink from him and downed everything in one hearty swallow.

Her companion watched avidly. When she set the empty cup down, his eyebrows rose. "Damn." Grinning, he pointed a finger at her and shook it a little. "See there. That’s exactly why I’m marrying you. You drink like a pro."

Olivia could only roll her eyes and turn away to stroll from the bar. She was pleased to notice he obediently trailed after her.

Once they were out on the sidewalk, he tripped and stumbled on a crack in the concrete. Olivia caught his arm. Since he continued to sway like a flimsy tree limb in the breeze, she kept her hand around his bicep as she hailed a cab. But as soon as one pulled to the curb and she opened the back door, he resisted.

"No cab," he said, holding his belly as his face turned a pale shade of green.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, fearing the worst. But he merely turned away as if the sight of the yellow taxi made him sick to his stomach.

"Motion sickness," he said and started down the sidewalk away from her. "Just need to walk."

Olivia sighed and shut the cab door. "Okay," she said more to herself as she chased after her stumbling groom. "We can surely find a wedding chapel somewhere close. We’re on the freaking Strip, for crying out loud."

Her intoxicated fiancé threw an arm around her shoulder, bumping into her as he walked a crooked line. "Are we really, really gettin’ married?" he asked, as if he suspected she was playing a prank on him.

"Yes," she said and slung his arm off her shoulder, scanning the streets for an all-night wedding chapel.

Her groom grinned at a passing couple. "We’re getting married," he informed them and once again wrapped his arm around Olivia’s shoulder, tugging her close. "Yes, we’re goooooooing to the chapel," he sang loudly and off key. "And we’re gonnnnna get mar-ar-arried."

Olivia sighed. She didn’t push him away this time, but slipped her hand around his waist and steered them in the direction she wanted to go. He followed where she led for a good two blocks, right up to the point where they passed a bar advertising "Karaoke Night."

"Karaoke!" he cheered and veered them toward the front door.

"Wait!" Olivia called frantically, grabbing after him.

All she caught was air.

He opened the door and headed inside. Unwilling to find herself another hunky and completely wasted groom, Olivia followed, grinding her teeth.

He’d already made his way to the stage and was talking to the emcee by the time she found him. When he caught sight of her approaching, he grinned and turned back, holding up bunny ears. "Two microphones please."