Chapter One

The relentless pounding in her head was what finally woke Lydia Cross from a sound sleep. Her mouth felt like she had been chewing on a dirty gym sock and her eyes were glued together so tightly it took several attempts for her to pry them open. She lay in a darkened room, attempting to get her bearings. A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table had her sitting up too quickly—which turned out to be a big mistake. Her stomach immediately staged a revolt and she struggled to free herself from under the covers—then promptly smacked into a hard surface. What the hell? Who’d moved the wall in her bedroom? She rubbed her smarting nose and inched along with half-closed eyes until she reached a doorway. She fumbled before locating the light switch and flipped it up. The bright glare that filled the unfamiliar bathroom temporarily blinded her.

After blinking a few times, she was able to focus on her surroundings. Then it finally hit her that she was in Vegas. Her co-worker and good friend, Crystal Webber, was getting married to Mark DeSanto in a few days and their friend Mia Gentry had insisted on throwing the bachelorette party at the Oceanix–Las Vegas. Luckily, Danvers was a big company and they were all able to find temporary replacements so they could take a few days of vacation together with no problem.

The nausea that had temporarily abated while she was hunting for the bathroom returned in full force. She barely made it to the toilet before the contents of her stomach came back up in horrifying fashion. She was doing her best to remain upright when her hair was suddenly pulled back and someone touched her back. She jerked in shock, nearly falling into the toilet, before strong hands steadied her. A masculine voice rumbled, “It’s okay, little one. I’ve got you.”

Lydia managed to shrug out of the hold long enough to spin around and look at her mystery bathroom guest. “Sweet Jesus,” she exclaimed at the sight of Jacob Hay, clad only in snug boxer briefs, towering over her with concern etched on his face. She couldn’t help herself—she drank him in from head to toe. Who in the world could possibly blame her for taking advantage of this screwed-up nightmare to check out the man she’d lusted after for months? In all her fantasies, though, she’d never quite imagined him in this scenario. “Wh—what are you doing here?” she asked in confusion, before belatedly realizing that she was also quite nude. She grabbed a robe off a nearby hook and fumbled to put it on.

Jacob raised an amused brow at her. “After last night, I wouldn’t have guessed that you had a shy bone in your body, gorgeous.”

Oh shit, what’s he talking about? Did I wrap myself around him and beg him to come to my room? “You’ve got three seconds to tell me what in the hell you’re doing in my hotel room,” she snapped. Thank God, she’d finally gotten the damn robe tied. Laying down the law was rather hard when your boobs were hanging out.

Instead of answering right away, Jacob walked calmly around her and flushed the toilet. He then moved to the sink, unwrapped a toothbrush, and filled a glass with water. He motioned her over and she cringed as she realized he was trying to get her to brush her teeth. Maybe she could pause for a moment to take care of her breath before she continued her inquisition. Lydia quickly took care of business before putting her hands on her hips. “Well?”

He looked as if he was biting back a smile. “Could we possibly take this conversation into the next room?”

She resisted the urge to childishly stomp her feet as, once again, he made her feel like an idiot. Naturally, he didn’t want to stand around and chat in the room she’d just tossed her cookies in. “Oh, all right,” she grumbled as she stalked past him. Wait, I don’t remember my room being this nice.

He moved over to the bedside table and picked up the phone. Despite her glare, he calmly placed an order for coffee and Danishes from room service. Then he turned back to face her. So hot, she thought to herself. He studied her for long enough that she began to fidget. When he finally spoke, the deep rumble of his voice in the quiet room had her jerking. “Do you not remember anything about last night?”

Was he nuts? Would she be standing here looking like a complete train wreck if she knew what was going on? But instead of opening her mouth to unleash a sarcastic comment, she took a breath and admitted, “I have no idea. I vaguely remember going dancing at some club with Mia and Crystal.” She rubbed her throbbing temple as she attempted to re-create the events of the previous evening. “Didn’t Mark and some of his friends show up at some point?”

He had the look of a proud teacher as he nodded his head encouragingly. “That’s right. I flew here with Mark and the Jackson brothers. We met up with you ladies sometime during your club crawl.”

Images exploded in her head as jumbled memories came rushing back to her. Dancing. The taste of his lips. Our tongues tangling. Hands touching. My new husband. Wait, what? Lydia stared at Jacob in dawning horror before looking down at the glittering diamond on her ring finger.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“We got married,” she whispered, then promptly staggered over to the bed and dropped down onto it.

*   *   *

Just the reaction every man hopes to see from his new bride, Jacob thought as he took in Lydia’s shocked demeanor.

He sat down on the side of the bed and held her hand, sitting quietly with her for a couple of minutes. Then he placed a few fingers on her forehead and caressed her gently, asking, “Feeling better?” He had no idea why he was checking her for signs of a fever when he full well knew it was the alcohol and the shock that had gotten to her.

Her earlier panic seemed to have receded, leaving a look of helpless confusion in its place. “Did we really . . . get married? I’m imagining that whole thing, right?”

She looked so hopeful that he hated to burst her bubble, but he couldn’t lie to her. He rubbed in what he hoped was a soothing pattern on the back of her hand as he said, “No, it actually happened. The king himself performed the ceremony.”

“The king?” A helpless giggle escaped her luscious lips. “That’s right . . . We were married by Elvis Presley—or at least someone loosely resembling him. God, I still remember the—‘Thank you . . . thank you very much.’”

Jacob found himself laughing along with her. At thirty-four years old, he had just gotten married in Vegas by a terrible Elvis impersonator. And to top it off, his new bride was all but a stranger to him. Hadn’t his mother preached to him and his brother about impulse control from the time they were small? Clearly he’d completely lost his mind last night. Hell, he’d known it was wrong, but when Lydia looked at him all teary eyed and—

She pulled her hand out from under his and ran it through her sexy, tousled hair. Her large green eyes locked on his, and he found himself swallowing hard. So damn beautiful. “I recall pieces of the evening, but not what led up to our—union. Why would we have done something like that? Do you remember anything?”

*   *   *

Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door. “That’ll be room service.” Lydia pulled the sheet up to her neck and cowered as Jacob sauntered toward the door, seemingly not the least bit concerned that he wore only a pair of very revealing underwear. Of course, what did he have to be embarrassed over? His body was chiseled perfection. Broad shoulders and a muscular chest, abs that looked like they belonged on an underwear advertisement, tapering into lean hips and a bulge between his thighs that had her mouth watering.

Hell’s bells. She was married to Jacob Hay.

It was so unfair that she couldn’t remember every detail of the previous night in vivid color. If there was a God, it would come back to her. She was freaked out over the state of things this morning, sure, but the real tragedy was not knowing exactly how it felt to be bedded by—

“Lydia.”

Her head snapped up as she noticed the object of her drool fest standing before her with his hands on his hips. Please, no, don’t put your cock at eye level with me.

“Are you all right? I called your name several times, but you weren’t responding.” He looked at her in concern, probably noticing her dilated pupils and the way her eyes were glued to his package.

Guess what, Jacob? Your new wife is a pervert.

“Um—I.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.” Pointing at the table across the room that now held a carafe, she quickly asked, “Could I have some coffee?” She was sure he wondered why she couldn’t get it, but she needed a moment to compose herself and get her libido back under control. With that thought, she tried to sound casual as she tossed out, “If you want to get dressed first, that’s okay. You must be—cold.”

When he turned to stare at her questioningly, she caught sight of something she’d missed. Because you couldn’t stop looking down long enough to see anything above the waistband. Jacob’s neck and chest had scratch marks and what looked like bites all over them.

No . . . she couldn’t have. She’d never been that aggressive in bed. Surely, it was from an interlude with someone else that preceded her night with him.

He followed her line of sight, and then his lips curled up into a devilish smile. His eyes blazed with heat and she felt her core clenching in response. “For such a little thing, you pack quite a punch, sweetheart.”

Sweet baby Jesus. She felt her mouth opening and closing without a sound as she took in the damage she’d inflicted on him. Did she think the man was a chew toy or something? Those indentations weren’t made by one little nibble. No, she’d obviously attacked his chest and nipples like a rabid dog. She was relieved that his boxer briefs outlined his dick so clearly now. At least that was proof she hadn’t bitten off the sucker. She put a hand over her face before mumbling, “Stuff like this doesn’t happen to me. I’ve never even gone down on a guy!”

She continued to toss out all of the reasons that the last twenty-four hours were unbelievable, but a hand on her leg had her pausing to look up at a more serious Jacob. “What?” she asked, strangely unnerved that he no longer looked amused by their circumstances.

Clearly it was finally dawning on him that he’d married her. The poor man was probably about to weep at his misfortune. She’d surely marked his body for life.

“You’ve never performed oral sex?” Jacob asked, sounding strangled.

Removing his hand, Lydia could only gawk at him. Finally, she managed to ask, “Out of everything I just said, that’s what you’re focused on?” Overshare much? Why in the world would she have blurted out something so personal to him? Granted, apparently he was her new hubby, but still . . . When he continued to stare at her, she added, “It just never came up, okay?”

Really poor choice of words, Lydia. Now she was stuttering as she went into more unnecessary explanations. “My fiancé, Brett, didn’t really enjoy the whole—oral aspect and he was my one and only, so—”

“You’ve only had sex with one man before last night?” Jacob croaked out. Lydia gave a squeak of surprise when he flopped down on the bottom of the bed, barely missing her toes. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling as if it contained answers to some of the questions that must be running on a loop through his mind. She wanted to mention again that he could put some clothes on, but truthfully, a nearly nude Jacob wasn’t exactly a hardship. Their conversation was becoming more and more surreal. She didn’t even know him well enough to consider him a casual acquaintance. He was her man crush, and she enjoyed objectifying him anytime she caught a glimpse of him in the hallways of Danvers International, thinking that there was no harm in entertaining herself with the fantasies.

The only time she could remember actually carrying on a conversation with him was when he’d helped her in the parking garage at the office once when her car wouldn’t start. Yet somehow, she’d married him last night and then gone ahead and had what was probably mind-blowing sex to top it off. Am I upset because we’re hitched or because I don’t remember my night in bed with him?

In a voice laden with sarcasm, she said, “If we could possibly step back from my sexual history for a moment, I’d like to discuss a more important matter here. You seem far more knowledgeable about last night than I am. So could you please tell me what led up to finding myself married to you this morning?”

A quick peek toward the foot of the bed showed Jacob’s washboard abs rippling as he scrubbed his hands over his face. Look away, girl, he’s not really yours. His voice was deep and gravelly when he began explaining. “You said that you remember Mark showing up last night.” She nodded her head, and he continued. “Mark and I were in San Francisco. I guess when he spoke with Crystal, he decided to take a detour and visit her. I told him it was fine with me. I’d planned to get a room and crash for the night. Asher and Dylan Jackson were here on business since their family owns the Oceanix Resorts, so I ended up having a drink with them. I ran into you in the hallway outside the bathrooms.”

“And you actually recognized me?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Of course,” he said, sounding slightly offended. “You’re not an easy woman to forget, Lydia, trust me on that.” She tried her best not to melt into a warm puddle at his words. She’d have been thrilled had he just admitted that she looked vaguely familiar. “Anyway, we chatted for a few moments, and I walked you back to the table where your friends were. It was pretty late by that point and most of the ladies were in the process of leaving. Within a couple minutes, only you and I were left. So we had a few more drinks and talked. In hindsight, we probably should have switched to water, but that didn’t happen.”

Lydia pinched the bridge of her nose before saying, “I still don’t see how we got from there to having Elvis marry us. I’ve had a few drinks before without marrying the first man I ran into.”

She yelped as Jacob pinched her toe. “Thanks for the ego boost, sweetheart. You make it sound as if you tied the knot with the casino janitor.”

“This is no time to get sensitive,” she chided, although she did feel a little guilty for the unlikely possibility that she had, in fact, hurt his feelings. Her opinion wouldn’t keep a man like Jacob up at night.

His hand remained on her foot, and strangely enough, he began rubbing it absentmindedly. She wondered if he was aware that he was even doing it. “You told me about your fiancé dying and how sad you were that you’d never have your happily-ever-after like Crystal and Mark.”

“Oh, good Lord.” Lydia sagged back against the mattress, feeling boneless in her embarrassment. Maybe the bed would swallow her up and she could end this misery now. She’d literally been crying in her beer in front of the man she fantasized about licking like a Popsicle. Color me pathetic. “And you what, took pity on me and decided to help me mark a big one off my bucket list?”

The hand on her foot froze as he said, “It really wasn’t like that, Lydia. We really connected and got swept up in the moment together. I could see that you were still in pain, even though it’s been three years since Brett died. You had a life planned with him and then it was taken away from you. Naturally, you would feel that loss keenly at an engagement party. You showed no sign of being jealous of Crystal and Mark. You were just sad that the wedding you’d planned never came to be. So even though you were joking when you asked me to marry you, I said yes. Then we took a cab a few blocks to the wedding chapel and made it official.”

It was worse—so much worse—than she had even imagined. “Jacob,” she began hoarsely once she could speak past the lump in her throat. “I—I don’t know what to say. You didn’t have to marry me last night just because you pitied me. And I can’t believe I went along with it. Was I coherent when I said, ‘I do’?”

She squealed in alarm when Jacob suddenly shifted to his knees, and in a blur of movement that her eyes could hardly track, he was straddling her body. He looked beyond pissed when he gritted out, “Let’s get a few things straight. First off, I didn’t marry you because I felt sorry for you. Get that out of your head right now. Did I feel bad that you’d lost your fiancé? Hell, yeah. I’m only human. But your strength really struck me last night, Lydia. You were so damned happy that your friend had found Mark and there wasn’t a trace of pettiness behind it. You told me about sitting with Brett in his last days and doing everything short of moving mountains to make all of his last wishes come true. It was clear to me that you could have given up and walked away, but you stayed with him until the end. You’re strong and selfless. So when I asked you what your dream was and you said to get married the way that you’d planned, something came over me, Lydia . . . I wanted to give it to you. It may be crazy, but I had no reservations when I gave you my name.”

Lydia was riveted as she stared up at him. The truth of his words was plain to see in his body language. She’d told him everything about Brett’s death; otherwise, he’d never have known all of the details that he’d so achingly replayed for her. She could feel her bottom lip tremble as tears welled in her eyes. “But we’re strangers,” she whispered. “Before last night, the only thing I really knew about you was that you were handy with a spare tire and worked for Mark DeSanto. And I’m sure you knew even less about me.”

Jacob lowered his hand to gently trace the curve of her mouth. “I desired you from the moment you stood before me in that silky white dress in the garage, looking like the most beautiful damsel in distress I’d ever seen. I’m surprised you didn’t notice what a fumbling mess I was while I was working on your car. I wanted to ask you out that day, but—well, things were so damned complicated in my life then, and I thought you deserved a man who could devote all of his attention to you.”

“That hasn’t been that long ago,” she pointed out. “What’s changed for you since then?”

He opened his mouth and then closed it again. Finally, he shrugged and said, “Maybe I just didn’t want to miss my chance with you. Sooner or later, someone would come along and sweep you off your feet and I’d have kicked myself that I’d let you go without getting a shot.”

She felt dazed as she considered his words. Had he really been that attracted to her from their first meeting? That would mean that he’d felt at least some of what she had after the time they’d spent together that day.

He pointed toward the bed then asked in a hesitant voice, “Do you remember anything that happened here afterward?”

Lydia felt heat rush into her cheeks. Bits and pieces of the time she’d been in his arms were steadily coming back to her. There were gaps, but the longer she was awake, the more she remembered. Thank God. She would likely have never gotten over forgetting her first time with Jacob. “Not all of it,” she admitted. “But . . . I know you, um, were on top, then I was, and then your mouth . . . Any other times that I’m missing?”

Sounding strained, he said gruffly, “No, baby, I think that about covers it. Thank fuck.” He ran an unsteady hand through his thick, dark hair. “Last night was . . . special to me. And it was going to suck if you didn’t have any recollection of it.”

She put a hand over his and squeezed. “I know how it felt, Jacob. I was really confused when I woke up this morning. I’m guessing both from the alcohol and a lack of sleep. But things are starting to come back to me.” Her eyes darted down as she added, “You made me feel cherished. You held me as if I was someone that you cared about. I haven’t had that in a long time. With the chemo and his illness, Brett was unable to—you know, so . . .”

“I understand,” he said softly. He shifted to the side. Lydia was mourning the loss of their body contact when he rolled her into his arms.

She snuggled against him, loving the musky, masculine smell of his body. “What now?” She hoped he didn’t detect the hint of misery in her voice. They were strangers who had married in a moment of temporary madness. The only thing to do was to have the marriage dissolved and move on.

The sad thing was, they had been together for less than a day, but she knew that she’d miss him dreadfully when he was gone. But since he’d done what he thought she needed last night, now she would be strong and return the favor by giving him his freedom without any hassle. “Can we get an annulment since we’ve—you know, slept together? Does a drunk Elvis wedding really count as a legal marriage?”

Jacob’s chest rumbled under her ear as he laughed. She felt something press against the top of her head, but surely he wouldn’t have kissed her, would he? That would be a gesture of affection, and they barely knew each other. “I don’t know the particulars of a Vegas wedding, sweetheart, but it’s nothing we need to worry about right now. No need to rush into anything without thinking it through.”

She rolled her eyes, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “I think the ship has already sailed on the whole rushing into things, wouldn’t you say?”

“Sure,” he agreed easily. “Maybe what I should have said was that we don’t have to make any decisions right now. We will figure things out once we get home and the dust has settled. Today, we’ll fly home together and go from there.”

“But I’m supposed to travel back with the girls at nine.” She flipped over to look at the bedside clock then shrieked quite loudly in Jacob’s ear. “Dammit! It’s past that time now! Why didn’t they call or come by my room? I can’t believe they would just leave me here.”

She was on the verge of a full freak-out when Jacob calmly announced, “You’re flying home with me on Mark’s plane. He and Crystal are staying an extra day, so we’ll go back today and then I’ll send the jet back for them. We’re leaving at noon, so we have plenty of time to dress and have breakfast before the car picks us up.”

I’m lying with a scantily clad Jacob Hay calmly discussing cars and jets. Someone needed to pinch her and bring her back to reality. Even as Lydia pondered how bizarre the morning had been, she couldn’t help but marvel at how well she was handling it all.

It’s not as if something like this had ever happened to her before. So why wasn’t she having some kind of panic attack? Delayed reaction? Possibly some kind of trauma-induced shock? She thought it was more likely that she simply didn’t want the dream to end. Heck, just a few days ago, she would have bet money that she’d never even enjoy a first date with Jacob. Now she was cuddled in his strong arms and it felt almost natural—as if she belonged there, which was absolutely nuts. She shifted slightly, moving her hand, and froze. Oh God, the ring. How could she have forgotten about that? Was it real? It certainly looked as if it was. And it was easily two carats, maybe more, and there were more diamonds in the matching wedding band. Extending her arm, she wiggled her finger and asked, “Where did this come from?”

He gave a lazy laugh before putting his hand next to hers. A wide silver band adorned his finger. She gasped in surprise. “It came from the same jewelry store that this one came from.”

Clearing her throat, she asked, “Was it expensive? How much does a sterling silver ring cost? Can we return it all?”

“You’re pretty cute when you ramble.” He chuckled. “Our rings are platinum, not silver, so no, they weren’t exactly cheap. As I said earlier, I don’t think we should concern ourselves with anything major right now, so let’s not rush out and pawn anything, okay?”

Stunned, Lydia asked, “But why would you buy something so expensive when you knew it wasn’t a real wedding?”

He looked uncomfortable as she stared down at him. Finally, he shrugged and said, “We’ve both acknowledged that we had a bit too much to drink last night. I’m sure neither of us was thinking clearly. It obviously seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

She opened her mouth to question him further when a nearby phone began ringing. He shifted their weight until he could look at the screen on the nearby bedside table. She thought she saw him wince before he said, “I’ve got to take this. Why don’t you go shower and dress?”

You’ve been dismissed.

Before she could move, he answered the call with a, “Just a second,” then appeared to be waiting for her to move. She scrambled off his chest and out of the bed with all the grace of a dancing elephant. “I’ll, um—just be in the bathroom.”

As she was hurrying into the other room, she heard him say, “What do you need, Chris?”

Chris? That was a man’s name, right? Why had he made such a point to get rid of her if he was just taking a business call or even one from his buddy? She’d had the distinct feeling it was a woman, but there had been no affection in his voice. Actually, he’d sounded cold—as if he didn’t like the person on the other end of the line.

Lydia started the shower, and then dropped her robe onto the floor. The mirror showed marks on her body as well, but Jacob had still gotten the worst of it. Hers looked more like whisker burns. Then her nipples hardened involuntarily as pieces of her night with Jacob played in her head. She had hazy recollections of his mouth on her body—and dear God, between her legs. As her clit started to throb, she wanted nothing more than to march back into the bedroom and beg him to ravish her again, this time while she was sober. It seemed like a crime that she couldn’t recall every moment. When a knock sounded at the door, she jumped backward, narrowly avoiding a nasty fall. “Er—yes?” she called out. I sound guilty, as if I’m in here thinking of sex—and him.

“Everything okay? I thought I heard you say something.” Geez, had she actually been in here moaning while thinking of last night? She needed to do some damage control—fast. “Mmm, no. I was just . . . singing in the shower.” Lydia cringed at her lie. Couldn’t she have come up with something better than that?

There was silence for a moment before he came back with, “What song?”

Are you kidding me? Who in the hell carried on a conversation about something so mundane through the bathroom door? It was almost as if he knew she was lying and was trying to make her squirm. “‘Fight Song.’” She blurted out the last thing she could remember singing. She doubted he knew the empowerment song, but hopefully, it would satisfy his curiosity enough to get him to go away.

“Really?” he mused. “I like that one. Carry on with whatever you were doing then.”

Lydia wasted no time getting in the shower and shutting the door behind her. Within a few minutes, she was finished and drying off with one of the hotel’s fluffy towels. She wrapped another around her hair before dressing in her robe once again.

When she opened the door and stepped out into the room, he gave her a leisurely once-over before walking toward the bathroom. “Do you have any idea where my luggage and purse are?” she asked, looking around the room.

“Everything should be on the other side of the bed. I found your room key and grabbed your stuff while you were showering. Let me know if I missed anything.”

The next few hours passed in a blur. After they had both dressed, they opted for breakfast in the restaurant downstairs while waiting for the car to pick them up for the airport. Lydia stared at the passing scenery in a daze. She could barely fathom what had occurred during her girls weekend in Vegas.

She’d assumed Jacob would be rushing her toward divorce court with embarrassing haste, but instead, he changed the subject or brushed off her concerns when she brought them up. Finally, she’d stopped trying and decided to enjoy the brief moment as a married woman. After all, in the real world, a man like Jacob Hay was about as likely to walk through her door as the Easter Bunny.