A home that was doing a damn fine job of hiding his wife.
He edged through the crowd, striding through the gaps, scanning ahead. Luckily he only hired the best, and his concierge had pointed which way she’d gone.
The Blackwood, nestled between the Monte Carlo and the Mandarin, was in the heart of prime Strip hotels. Unable to stop a habit of a lifetime, something he’d developed as a young kid the first time his folks brought him here, he mentally recited hotel names.
Aria and Vdara on his left before he hit Harmon, Paris, and Bally’s on his right after it.
Memorizing and reciting names had been fun as a kid. Now it served to annoy the hell out of him, as every hotel he passed made him wonder if Poppy had gone into any of them and given him the slip. His heart sank as he passed the Cosmopolitan and Bellagio on his left, crossed Flamingo Ave, and hit Caesar’s Palace.
She couldn’t have got this far so fast, not in those sky-high heels. Before he belatedly realized she’d taken them off before she left.
Dammit, he’d lost her.
Failure didn’t sit well with him, never had, and he clenched his fists, wishing he could punch something.
That was when he caught sight of her, way ahead, halfway between Mirage and Treasure Island. She was moving fast, practically jogging, and he broke into a sprint.
What the hell was she doing? She’d break her neck even without those heels.
Those heels…the moment he’d caught sight of her in them strolling toward him for their ceremony, he’d pictured her wearing them and little else.
Major turn-on, naked Poppy in poppy stilettos.
Okay, so fantasizing wasn’t the smartest move, considering his hard-on seriously hampered his land speed record. Cursing under his breath, he ran, apologizing to pedestrians he edged around, gaining ground.
As he closed the distance between them, he put on an extra burst of speed. Even from a distance she looked magnificent, five-five of defiant diva in a satin wedding dress.
Another thing he liked about this town: its tolerance and open-mindedness. No one batted an eyelid at the babe in a wedding dress strolling down the Strip with her stilettos dangling from her fingers.
She paused at Treasure Island and he strode faster, beyond relieved when he finally reached her. Leaning casually alongside her, he waited until his breath steadied. “You have a thing for pirates, huh?”
“What the hell are you doing here?” She whirled to face him, indignation sparking her eyes caramel.
“I didn’t want you walking out here alone.”
The simplicity of the truth struck him, as did his sudden protectiveness.
Her eyes narrowed, not diminishing their rampant distrust one iota. “I’m a big girl. I’m used to taking care of myself.”
“I understand the independence thing. I’m the same way.”
She crossed her arms, the simple action pushing her breasts together and creating eye-catching cleavage over the top of her strapless dress. “Yeah, you value your independence so much you couldn’t wait for the ink to dry on the marriage certificate before exiling me to the desert.”
Is that what this snit was about? A living arrangement that suited them both?
“I’m not shipping you off. We’re both used to being on our own. I thought you’d appreciate the freedom to do your own thing—”
“While you do the same here?” She took a step closer and he stuck his hands in his pockets to stop from reaching for her. “It seemed to slip our minds, what with organizing a quickie wedding, but shouldn’t we discuss whether this sham is monogamous? Because I won’t tolerate being the talk of the town as Beck Bloody Blackwood screws around while poor wifey is stuck in the desert.”
He recoiled as if she’d struck him. “Is that what you think of me?”
“I don’t know you.” She ended on a hitch and turned away but not before he glimpsed sadness pinching her mouth.
Hell, none of this was turning out as he imagined. Sure, the logistics of the wedding had gone smoothly, but the emotional side of things? Far more complicated than he’d anticipated. He didn’t want to make her sad. He wanted to make tonight special to thank her for giving him the opportunity to make his corporate dreams a reality.
“When I make a promise I keep it, and that includes our wedding vows.”
She continued to stare at the pirate ship, her spine rigid, her profile stoic.
“I didn’t think you’d need me to spell it out, but here goes. We don’t sleep around on each other for the duration of the marriage. Deal?”
She grunted in response.
“Besides, that’s not the reason I offered you the house.” He had to do something to save this disastrous evening and it looked like only the truth would do.