Something about the way she said it had his curiosity standing up for a stretch. “Oh, yeah—how come?”
Her hand lifted in a sort of dismissive flutter, which stopped almost before it began. Then meeting his eyes, she said, “Sorry, it’s a little too personal for a fake first nondate.”
Connor grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “So why not make it a not-quite-so-fake first nondate. Or maybe a fake first date, though if we’re already faking it, we ought to go for a second or third date...when all the good stuff starts.”
Her smile went wide before giving way to a laugh out of line with the girl-next-door everything else about her. The laugh had his head cranking around for a second take. And sure enough, when her eyes were half closed, her lips parted for that low rolling sound of seductive abandon, he was the one left staring.
For a second.
Before he shifted back into gear. “Seriously, I’d like to know.”
He could see it in her eyes, in the tilt of her head and the way her body had already started to turn away. In her mind, the decision was made, and mentally, she was halfway to the door. Too bad.
But regardless, he didn’t want to leave her hanging after she’d mustered the nerve to come over.
“I’ll walk you out,” he said, but she shook her head and smiled.
“Thanks, I’ll be fine, though.”
“Fair enough. I’m Connor, by the way.” He extended his hand, feeling like an ass offering to shake goodbye after the exchange they’d shared, but for some reason wanting to test the contact anyway.
“Megan.” She reached across the table and met his hand with her smaller one—and a flash of neon pink arced through the air, coming to land in his lap.
The hand in his clenched as he looked down and read the block lettering.
“What the—?”
Peals of laughter rang from the table where Megan had been sitting. The bridesmaids she’d been trying to escape. Or so she’d said.
His hand tightened around hers as, leveling her with a stare, he pulled her forward and then down into the open chair. “Sit. Now I need to know.”
Megan looked into his eyes, a thousand thoughts running through hers before she slumped back in the chair and said, “Okay, Carter—”
“Connor.”
She swallowed. “Connor. Right. Sorry. So here it is...”
CHAPTER THREE
Nine hours earlier...
“I THINK YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS is trying to tell you something.”
Megan grinned into her glass, trying not to laugh as she took the next sip. Sweet martini goodness coated her tongue, making her wonder how she’d gone through so much of her life without having tried one of these white-chocolate concoctions. They were delicious.
Oh, wait...the subconscious...
“Okay, what?”
“This trip to Vegas. It’s your subconscious screaming some deeply repressed need to take a chance. Do something crazy.”
They were back to this again. Megan shot him a knowing look, only to find his unrepentant one on the other end. “Or, this trip is about my cousin getting married.”
“Denial is a powerful thing.”
“Forget it. I told you already. I’m not running off and marrying you, so please stop begging.”
Carter—shoot, Connor, why couldn’t she remember!—let out a bark of laughter. They both knew marriage wasn’t what he’d been getting at. Just as they both knew he wasn’t actually serious.
He knew what her plans were. Had been truly interested when she’d laid them out, explaining her choice to pursue artificial insemination via sperm donor. And rather than back away slowly, he’d decided they both needed a night to cut loose and have some fun. The kind without consequences. The kind that revolved around easy conversation, harmless flirting and more drinks than were a good idea.
Knowing it would be the last, and finding a certain comfort in the utter lack of expectation from the man she was with, Megan agreed.
And she’d been near breathless with laughter ever since—milling through the grand casino, stopping at one attraction and then another, caught up in the sort of fun in which she never indulged.