God, am I really going to do this?

The words echoed through Cecily’s mind. The ink on their prenuptial agreement wasn’t even dry, yet here she stood beside a man dressed as Elvis, ready to follow through with this ridiculous scheme. She had been on a contact high the entire time, but now—

She’d dreamt about her wedding day since she was a little girl, and not one of those daydreams featured Elvis in any way, especially not walking her down the aisle. This was almost surreal. Like a scene from a cheesy romantic comedy. Then again, her life had been a comedy of errors since her father passed, so why would her wedding be any different?

Except Chase wasn’t an error. Everything in her gut told her he was all she hoped. Even her inner cat purred in agreement, despite its impatient pacing. The alpha-feline part of her wanted him. Bad. As in MINE forever, bad. Still, her human side knew this was crazy.

Cecily drew a steadying breath. Not only wasn’t this situation fair to her, it wasn’t fair to Chase. He was the last of a dying breed. A true gentleman. That he happened to be a sex-on-a-stick hottie was a fringe benefit.

She silently shook her head. Malcolm was right. She had time to do this organically, so why was she rushing things?

Because he asked.

He did. Then again, technically, she asked first, but Chase was the one who asked her now and made all the arrangements. If he didn’t really want this, then why go through all the trouble? Maybe they were both on a contact high.

Her gaze met his at the opposite end of the tacky aisle, and she held her breath. High was the right word. Especially with their kind of contact. Chase had called their sexcapades mind-blowing. There was no other explanation that made sense. To be standing here right now, they both had to have lost their minds. At least they could plead temporary insanity later.

As she watched him standing at the end of the white runner, her stomach clenched. Chase was everything she’d ever dreamed about. Gorgeous, sweet, sexy as all get out, and again, he asked her to marry him as well. Plus, he signed Malcolm’s balls-in-a-vice prenuptial agreement without blinking an eye. He had to want this.

But why? Why would Chase marry someone he barely knew? He liked her. That much she knew for sure, but he certainly wasn’t in love. And for what? The thrill? A gamble?

She dismissed the self-argument. Time was ticking on so many fronts. If she waited to fall in love organically, and things didn’t work out, she’d have wasted months and months. Still, if she married Chase and it didn’t work out, she’d still be at square one with nothing to show for the effort.

Except a baby.

She cringed inside. Chase signed the prenup in good faith, but she still hadn’t told him about that one small requirement. She’d been honest about everything else, so why not that?

You know why.

The subtle nudge from her conscience spoke volumes. She didn’t tell Chase about having a baby because of fear he’d change his mind. Marrying someone on the off chance the arrangement might work was one thing. If things went south, the collateral damage was limited to two people. Add a child and the whole story changed.

A child was an inexorable tie to a former mate, forever, and the possibility of sharing a child with someone you despise would be a deal breaker. She’d seen it with her father and Susan, after she tried to pull her switcheroo with Jackson. Susan broke her father’s heart and hardened his spirit, and now she risked doing the same to Chase.

It’s not the same. You’re not trying to pass off someone else’s kid as his.

Still—

Cecily fidgeted with the flowers in her hand, trying to keep her mental sparring from showing in her face. She was half a step from turning runaway bride. Uncertainty was normal under the best of circumstances, but this? She squared her shoulders, ready to call the whole thing off when the “Wedding March” swelled from speakers on either side of the doorway. Her mouth opened to object, but Elvis took her elbow and swept her toward the cheesy altar. This was it. If she planned to turn tail like a fraidy cat, it was speak now or forever hold your peace.

The minister wiped his brow. Book in hand, he smoothed his hair, looking every bit like he rolled in after an all-night bender. Cecily caught Chase’s eye as he tried not to laugh at the old drunk. His gaze was confident and sure, making her doubts bite harder into her gut.

“Wait—” she breathed, but before she could say another word, she was at the end of the aisle and out of time.

The Elvis impersonator placed her hand in Chase’s outstretched palm, crooning, “Thank you, thank you very much.”

“Game on?” Chase whispered.

Sweat formed between her breasts as he waited for an answer. Her inner cat chuffed, nudging from the inside. Okay, okay, but if this doesn’t work—

An answering purr vibrated in her chest as she swallowed back on her doubt. She nodded, issuing a silent prayer this wasn’t a meteoric mistake. “I am, if you are.”

“There’s my girl.” Chase winked, lifting her hand to his lips before turning with her to face the minister.

“Dearly beloved—”

Cecily toyed with the gold band on her left hand. Chase had insisted on matching rings with a simple filigree swirl. The understated design was a nod to his Spanish heritage and nothing more. He said the simplicity of style was to remind them of starting with a blank page. Really blank, since they barely knew each other.

That was Chase in a nutshell. Romantic yet pragmatic. The whole thing didn’t seem real, but it was, and so was he. Real, and hers. For now.

The intruding thought squashed her momentary happy with the reality of the situation. Chase had signed up for one year, with an option for more. No more. No less. Not yet anyway. That would depend on a lot.

Like being honest with him?

She sighed against the guilt lodged in her throat. She should have told him and let the chips fall.

You still could, you know.

Lifting her wine glass to her lips, she looked out the restaurant window at all of Vegas lit for the world to see. She nodded silently to herself. She’d tell him, but not tonight. Tonight, she wanted to pretend this was more than just a gamble, and Lady Luck was on her side for once.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, watching her.

She shrugged, turning from the window to answer. “I’m just thinking how unreal this all seems.”

He nodded. “I know what you mean, but I’m not sorry. Are you?”

At the question in his eyes, she smiled again, shaking her head. “Nope.” Inhaling, she let out a quick breath. “Though, I do have to call Malcolm. He’ll want the papers you signed as soon as possible.”

Chase nodded, sipping his wine. “I figured. We can have the front desk FedEx the paperwork to him in the morning. In the meantime, I have another idea.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Another?”

He laughed. “Funny how I already know that look, and it never bodes well.”

Cecily smirked. “Okay, wise guy, tell me what you’ve got cooking behind those gorgeous eyes.”

He reached for her hand across the table. “I say we finish dinner, and then head back to the hotel and pack.”

“Pack?” Her brows pulled together. “Don’t you have the closing tomorrow?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “At nine am. After that I’m free.” He hesitated, and then grinned. “I mean we’re free,” he restated with a chuckle. “I suppose it’s going to take a little getting used to thinking in terms of we instead of I.”

“Okay, so we’re free,” she replied. “I thought the game plan was to stay in Vegas for a few days and then head back to New York.”

“New York?” He cocked one brow. “Don’t you mean Boston?”

“My apartment is in Manhattan, Chase. Plus, my office is there as well.”

He angled his head, eyeing her warily. “And mine is in Boston. Above the bar. Remember?”