Page 8 of Vegas Baby

“I did.”

“It looks good on you.” He nodded his head, lips curling in an appreciative grin.

Lips she’d be kissing in the days to come. Raina’s knees weakened at the realization and a tiny thrill cut into her core. She stifled a groan. How could this unwelcome attraction be happening when she didn’t even like him?

Howler moved away from the trunk to allow the porter to put her two suitcases inside. The valet held the car door open for her and she slipped inside the car. If her reaction to a compliment was any indication, this husband and wife thing might prove to be a bigger challenge than she’d anticipated.

A luxury sedan pulled up beside the car, boxing them in. An elderly man climbed out before the valet could stop him.

Howler slid into the driver’s side, his broad shoulders making the interior feel claustrophobic. She brushed her thumb along the slick plastic of the coffee cup’s lid, the action somewhat comforting given her troubled state of mind.

“This is some car,” she said, pushing her sunglasses up. A definite throwback to the muscle car of the 1960s. “And a stick. I never learned to drive one.”

He placed his phone on the armrest between their seats and fastened his seat belt. “Yes, and it’s fast. I like fast.”

“As long as there’s room for my suitcases, I’m good. Not that I normally bring this much luggage, but then again, I never expected to pack for a wedding.” Nor had she expected to turn into a babbling mess in the first fifteen minutes of their long journey.

“I rather liked the dress you wore the other night.” He adjusted the rear-view mirror, laughter in his comment.

Raina shook her head, an involuntary smile forming at his little joke. She was glad he had enough forethought to lighten the mood in an already stressful situation. Perhaps this trip wouldn’t be as bad as she anticipated. “You mean my nightgown? I hardly think the Patels would appreciate a guest showing up in lingerie.”

“This is Vegas. Your nightgown was modest compared to some of the other women I saw on the strip.”

“You mean strippers?” she asked, tongue-in-cheek while straightening the white floral skirt over her knees.

The taillights on the car in front of them lit up at last. Howler turned on the ignition and the car seat began to slide forward. “No, I mean women at the dance club. We went clubbing.”

His cellphone dinged and she glanced down at the screen. Two new emails showed, one from a competing team. She curled her fingers into her fist, resisting the desire to click on it and read who the Scorpions were emailing about.

“Wow, I haven’t gone clubbing since college.” When her friends had forced her to go with them. She’d never been a party girl, but the sleeping pill had done a number on her inhibitions. After more research on the drug, she’d found out that less than one percent of the people who took it suffered adverse side-effects. Lucky her.

“You also insisted we go to a karaoke bar.”

“I can’t sing.” It wasn’t for lack of trying. Her mother had insisted Raina take singing lessons. She couldn’t carry a tune, no matter how hard she tried, a common theme throughout her childhood.

“Yes, I know. What you lacked in skill, you made up for in enthusiasm.” He placed his elbow down on the arm rest and knocked the phone to the floor by her feet.

Raina reached for it at the same time he did and winced as they bumped heads.

“I got it,” he said.

She leaned toward the window to give him room to move, biting her lip as his knuckles brushed the bare skin of her foot. A tingle coursed down her spine and she stared outside. This unwelcome attraction was getting on her last nerve. Perhaps the universe was telling her it was time to start dating again.

Of course, she needed to get a divorce first.

“What the hell’s happening?” Howler asked.

Raina snapped her head around and twisted in her seat.

Howler’s torso was wedged up against the steering wheel, his knees pressed on either side of the console. He looked like a human pretzel and by the grimace twisting his mouth, the position was painful.

“It has automatic seat memory. The valet was short,” Raina said. Way to sound helpful.

Red-faced, he searched the controls, hitting random buttons on the display. “Any idea how to disable this thing?”

She reached across his thigh, the heat of his leg seeping through the cotton of his pants. Fingers finding the ignition, she hit the button to turn off the engine. The motor cut off but the seat remained in the same position. She glanced up at him, close enough to see the gold flecks in his eyes. Sitting back, she cleared her throat. “Well, that’s an oh-shit. Perhaps opening the door will do the trick?”

He opened the door and like a marionette, his tall frame began to elongate, knees coming to rest at a more natural angle. She brought her palm to her mouth, trying to stifle the bubble of unwelcome laughter.

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