Fuck, I can’t believe we forgot about last night. Or at least, we did for a while.

Now I think it’s come back to both of us at about the same speed. Which is making this cab ride super fucking awkward. The air between us is so thick with sexual tension you could slice it and put it on sandwiches.

I’ve got my hand folded in my lap, just to make sure I don’t touch him. Nate’s focused on staring out the window at the fascinating desert landscape. His throat moves as he swallows; it’s like I’m hypnotized by it.

My God, the way he rode me, and the orgasm . . . . How the fuck had I forgotten the orgasm?

“On the bright side,” Nate says, carefully not looking at me, “I think I realized where your laptop is.”

Once we’re back in the hotel, we ride the elevator up to his suite. Open the door, go into the bedroom, and bam. Right there in its cute little cherry red laptop case, set up on the now-made bed. Turndown service must have found it. It’s waiting all lonesome for me to scoop it up in my arms and go write more sex scenes.

Hello, beautiful. Mommy missed you.

“How much do you remember now?” Nate asks casually, pacing over to look out the window at the Las Vegas streets below. I stand there, looking over the bed. It’s got its pillows all plumped and in place, probably put on new sheets. The evidence of last night is all cleaned up. But the memories are a little tougher to scrub away.

Hey, that was good. Maybe I should put that in a Lola scene, when she’s straddling . . . never mind. Not the time or place for work.

“My memories are pretty clear now. We were naked a lot of the time.” I’m pretty sure I’m flushing all the way to the edge of my sundress, but that could just be the sunburn. You know, from being in the goddamn desert. “That part was okay. The naked bits. Parts. Whatever.” Stop, tongue. Stop it now. “Dammit, where’s Christopher Eccleston when I need him?” I moan.

“Who?” Nate asks, looking perplexed.

Awesome. Said it out loud. Go me. I look at him, and I find myself tracing the lines of his shoulder, the way his now sweaty shirt clings to the definitions of his chest and abs. Damn. Normally lawyers don’t have that much time to hit the gym. Unless he’s built this way naturally . . . .

“Your eye is twitching,” Nate says with concern, coming over to look at me. “Are you all right?”

Can I just hit rewind on this and go back in time?

“I remember everything,” I mumble, gazing down at my feet. “The shower. After the shower. Champagne and strawberries. Maybe that was the final glass that did us in, you know? Tipped us over into memory-wiping boozeville.”

“But we did remember,” Nate says, moving closer to me.

God, the way his dark blue gaze rakes over my body, it leaves me trembling, my panties growing damper by the second. He brushes his fingertips down the length of my arm, and I shiver in response. I’ve never had such a reaction before, and especially not to someone who, on most occasions, has been nothing but an asshole. I’ve always dated nothing but nice, comforting guys.

Then again, Drew was a nice, comforting guy who couldn’t handle a successful woman and retreated with his tail between his legs. Where did playing it safe get me? Exactly nowhere.

But I’m not thinking about that any longer. Because Nate’s here right now, and there is growing electricity between us. I can feel it, raising the hairs along my arms.

“Do you like remembering?” I ask, looking up at him. I place my hand on his chest, right above his heart. It’s beating faster and faster; always a good sign. What the hell? Live like your fantasies a little, Julia. I raise myself up lightly on my toes, just brushing my lips against his as I speak. “Did it turn you on?”

“It did,” he growls, and kisses me.

It’s light and quick at first, the heat between us sizzling as he pulls away. Damn, I don’t want him to do that.

I gasp when he pulls me tight against his body, trailing his hand down my back. I like it when he grabs my ass and finds my mouth again, kissing me deeply. Oh God. My clit’s already throbbing as I pull him backwards, falling onto the bed with him on top of me.

He kisses me with his eyes open, watching me. His hand glides slowly up my leg, my skirt falling around my waist. Almost to the magic spot, but he slides his hand back down again. Away from the magic spot.

“How the hell are you doing this to me?” he whispers, looking down at me with a puzzled, horny expression. His gaze is smoldering, confused, wild. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this . . . ”

He swallows, maybe afraid of the next word.

I don’t even think, and I barrel ahead. “Alive,” I add. For a second I wince, afraid that the word he was looking for was moist.

But he smiles, and kisses me again, his tongue probing my mouth. I moan and arch my back, moving against him. I can feel his erection pressing into me. Damn, I want to fuck him again. Like now. Right now. No passing Go. No collecting two hundred dollars.

Nate’s hand slips up under my dress, his fingers tracing my bra. My nipples come to attention at once under his touch, and I gasp. He starts to pull at my strap, to take my dress off . . . .

“Wait. Hold on,” I say, trying to sit up.

Nate is off me at once, lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. His chest rises and falls rapidly with his breathing; looks like he needs to calm down. And judging by the tent he’s pitching, maybe take a cold shower as well.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to stop . . . that.” I swallow. “I just can’t go around having these fun Love in the Afternoon type montages until we know for sure whether we are or are not. You know.” I pause.

“Married,” Nate adds, finishing my sentence.

“I was going to say dehydrated, but yeah. That works too.” Nothing like a little humor to lighten the mood. Or lower the erection.

Finally, Nate sighs and sits up. I’m glad we’re going to have an actual discussion about this like actual adults, even if David Tennant is stomping his little white tennis shoes all pissed off that he isn’t fucking a Chicago lawyer right now.

“What’s the next step?” Nate asks, as I get off the bed and adjust myself. You know. Like a lady. “Shit, we need to figure out what we’re doing fast. The wedding.” He rubs his face, curses softly. “Mike and Stacy’s wedding’s in a few hours. We have time, right?”

He looks over at me. He’s lucky he’s in the groom’s party. If he were a bridesmaid, he’d be in the hotel room with Stacy for the rest of the afternoon to help get her ready. Guys, they can just show up twenty minutes before the ceremony with their suit in a bag over their shoulder. It’s a man’s world.

“Yeah, we have time. Obviously, we need to find the chapel. We’ve got the photos, and there’s got to be someone who knows where we went. Maybe we can call that adventure service and ask if I was wearing the veil when we came in last night. That might give us an idea of timeline.”

I flip open my phone and stare at the picture. There we are, Nate with lipstick kisses all over his face, Elvis looming over us in the background. Where are you, king of rock ’n roll and shady matrimonial practices?

Just then, the door across the living room opens. Nate’s friend with the frosted tips and the affable smile, Tyler, steps in without a shirt on. Nice. Very nice physique. It would be even nicer if we weren’t all staring at each other with open mouths and wide eyes.

Tyler looks from me to Nate, and a wild smile stretches over his face. He even whoops and pumps his fist in the air.

“Dude. You scored! Awesome, man.” Tyler comes across the room for the sole purpose of handing Nate an imagined post-coital high five.

This is my life now.

He looks over at me. “And hey, uh, good for you too. Nate’s a really good lay. So I’ve been told.”

Tyler then high-fives me as well. Aw. That’s . . . equal opportunity, I guess.

“We actually. We didn’t. Not yet. I mean.” Nate looks at me.

“Already. Not today. At least, if we’re going by when the sun’s up,” I say, really adding a lot to this conversation. Tyler just looks stupefied.

“Wait, what the hell are you doing here?” Nate asks his friend. “Aren’t you supposed to be checking up on the chuppah?” He frowns. “Come to think of it, I should be there too. Fuck.” He closes his eyes.

“Naw, man. Mike and Stacy are cool. Their parents are, like, super into the whole organizing thing, so we’ve just got to show up. No worries!” Tyler finger guns at Nate and laughs.

“Then is there a reason it’s two in the afternoon and you’re walking around without a shirt on? Or pants?” Nate asks. We both stare down at Tyler’s cute little boxers. They have sailboats on them.

He laughs, sounding a little embarrassed. “I, ah, met up with one of the romance convention ladies. Tigers. All of them.” He even rawrs at me.

Sometimes I don’t know what kind of alien world Tyler came from, but it must be fitfully amusing there.

“Nice. Who? Anyone I know?” I tease.

To my surprise, Tyler blushes. Actually blushes.

“Maybe. I mean. Sure?” He sighs. “One of your friends.”

Oh my God, him and Shanna? I mean, they definitely had some prime time flirting going on last night, but I didn’t imagine—

“There’s my fucking star,” Meredith says, walking out of the bedroom in her stocking feet, a cigarette clamped between her lips. She buttons up her cream blouse and shrugs on her beige jacket. She smiles at me. “The fuck are you doing here, gorgeous? You’re supposed to be at your signing.” Meredith puts out her cigarette in an old, leftover cup of coffee. She blows smoke, hands on her hips. “Jesus, we gotta get you moving.”

Oh crap. Oh shit. Oh woe. Oh fuckmuppets. Between the wedding and my panel appearances, this happy little adventure has come at the worst possible damn time.

“Jesus, the signing,” I groan, grabbing my purse and laptop case. Nate and Tyler both stand to the side, looking like they have no idea what is happening or what to do. Which is pretty much exactly the truth.

“I’ll come with you,” Nate says, hands in his pockets.

“Like, I’ll just wait here,” Tyler says, sounding lost.

“Good idea, sweetie. Go tuck yourself back into bed and I’ll be around soon to fuck you good night.” Meredith winks at him, and Tyler blushes again.

What the hell is happening to my life? I point to each of them in turn.

“Meredith, ew. Tyler, thanks. Nate, you don’t have to come with me,” I say as he goes over to the dresser, pulls out a new T-shirt, and throws it on. There is a brief flash of him in all his shirtless glory, which does a number on my heart. And, you know, other body parts. Then he’s dressed. He even takes my laptop for me. Aw. Chivalry ain’t dead.

“We, ah, need to take care of that business together. Later,” he tells me.

We ignore Tyler’s grunting enthusiasm. Not like that, dude. Well. Maybe like that. But look, we need to know if it’s single fucking or married people fucking. Because if it’s the latter, I may be too sick to my stomach to have an orgasm.

“Okay. Come to the signing, do the meet and greet, watch me shake some hands and ink some books. Then we’ll go,” I tell him. Meredith’s already shoving me out the door.

“I’m so proud of you, kid,” she grunts in my ear. Nate comes after us, holding my case.

“I’m kind of intrigued, since hearing you read last night. I want to see what the fuss is,” he says, smiling.

Meredith waggles her eyebrows. “I like a man who likes a show,” she says.

We walk, and I can’t help the slight fluttering nervousness in my stomach.

Hopefully, Nate thinks we’re a good crowd.

It kind of makes me wonder why I care what he thinks.