Page 8 of Nothing Stays in Vegas

As they rounded the corner, heading out to the terrace, she threw a quick smoky glance back at Cal and erupted in a bubbly overload of laughter. His back tensed at the sound—these sisters had a lot in common.

With Dette, Adam and Keith gone, Lara seemed to let off some of her bravado. She walked past him, her gaze averted. Good. His disappointment was following true to nature, taking the testosterone path to manifest in a flash of anger rather than hurt. He was pissed, at her, at himself, in general.

His instincts had gone to shit. No wonder Adam was trying to steer him clear of her. Cal had spent one dreadful night with her—apparently in the role of Eve—and he’d been ready to chew his arm off the next morning to get away. Talk about a mistake. And one he sure as hell was not going to repeat, obviously she’d been scamming him for weeks. Playing the sweet girl, pretending that ugly side he saw in Vegas didn’t exist. He should have known it was too good to be true. Online she could convince him she was anyone she wanted to be. What an ass he’d been to think he could really know someone—think he could fall for them…

Cal reached out to grab her, needing to clarify in no uncertain terms that, internet promises or no, there would not be a second round to the Vegas nookie fiasco. She’d played him for the fool long enough. After that show of open hostility on the stairs though, he was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be an issue.

His hand grazed her arm, catching above her elbow, and suddenly his mind was blank except for the smooth feel of her skin beneath his palm. His grip eased, skimming down to her hand. She stopped and looked back at him, a question softening her green-gold eyes. Then, in a blink, they turned hard and unreadable.

Shaking his head slightly, all thoughts of telling Lara to forget about hooking up were tamped down by blood pounding through his head and chest, racing lower in his body.

Lara looked down at their joined hands.

With an uneasy laugh, he let go. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t even know why he was apologizing. For grabbing her? For the disaster they were together in Vegas? For being so wrong about who he thought she was—then or now? He didn’t know which. For wanting to back her against the wall—for wanting to get inside her the second he touched her? Whatever it was, the abbreviated apology was as far as it went.

And it seemed Lara couldn’t care less. Without a word, she turned and walked from the room.

Raking his fingers through his hair, Cal spun around feeling like the cast and crew of Candid Camera was going to pop out at any second. As his gaze tracked past the open hallway leading to the East wing of the second floor, he caught sight of a blonde in a red sweater, who had to be another sister or close relative based on her resemblance to Lara and Dette. She was staring down at him, her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl etched across her face.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

Chapter Three

The chimes of toasting glasses filled the cool evening air as friends and family mingled over cocktails at small black iron tables around the field-stone terrace. As the sun set, lights suspended overhead began to glow against the darkening hues of the evening sky. With only five days until the wedding, it was a time for celebration and talk of plans to come, but, camped out at the bar, Lara could only think of one thing.

Caleb Daniels had slept with her sister.

Never in her life had she felt more humiliated, more disappointed, and more of a fool than right now. She’d walked out of Dette’s room before she knew who he was, and by the time she realized it was Cal standing in the foyer with Adam, it was too late to run and hide. If he hadn’t been blocking her path to the door, she might have fled the house and state of Massachusetts without a word of goodbye to anyone. Taken her shame and snuggled up with it in the privacy of her own apartment.

She’d been an idiot to invest any feelings into a sham internet relationship. It was ludicrous. How easy it must have been to omit certain details about his lifestyle and tastes, and what a fool she was not to bother questioning. Of course, what was he supposed to have said? That he made a habit of one-nighters in Las Vegas? Probably not. Regardless, Cal wasn’t the man she thought she’d been dealing with. How could she have really expected to know who he was, though? She’d never even met the man.

And, she thought, hanging her head into her hand as the burn of embarrassment crept up her neck for the thousandth time in the past ten minutes, she’d had sex with him…sort of. She’d never even considered doing something like that before, but she’d done it with him.

She’d placed her heart on the line and made herself vulnerable in a way she never believed she could—and he’d probably been laughing the whole time. But then what did that moment in the foyer mean? She’d felt the spark, the connection. She wanted to ask him flat out if he’d felt it too, but even if he had, so what? Even if he’d been as serious about their relationship as she had, he’d slept with Dette! Of all the women in the world, why her?

It certainly wasn’t the first time a guy had shown interest in both of them. So close in age, they’d been sifting through the same sandbox of guys in high school and college. But Dette always got the guys. Not that Lara was one to compete. If someone was sniffing around Dette, it all but ensured that Lara wasn’t going to have enough in common with him to make the challenge worth the prize. She’d thought it would be different with Cal. Her sister was getting married and this man presented himself as someone who didn’t care for the glitz. But then Dette had been his taste after all. In a city with over thirty-two-million visitors annually, he’d picked Dette’s glamour and flash for a roll between the sheets.

Asshole.

Lara tried to keep her eyes on the glass clutched in her hand, tried not to steal another long glance at the back table by the pool. But it was impossible. She knew he was there. And damn him, why did he have to be so incredibly sexy? Since he’d touched her, every nerve in her body had been battling against her doubting mind and screaming out for more. Dragging the air in through her nose, she scrunched her eyes shut and leaned back against the tiki bar. Don’t look at him, it’ll only make things worse.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bitty’s voice pierced the darkness.

Lara squinted one eye at her, hoping to keep the sexy cause of all her troubles out of her periphery. “I can’t begin to explain what’s happened today, Bitty, don’t even ask.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Please. My stomach is so tied in knots, I’m barely choking down

my ginger ale.”

“If you’re not shit faced then I’m wondering what this Popeye business is.”

Popeye didn’t sound attractive or inconspicuous and when Bitty demonstrated her squinty impression, Lara’s cheeks flamed.

She was being stupid and probably looked like some sort of stalker too. Watching from the far side of the terrace, pretending her attention was anywhere other than on him. It was pathetic. Lara straightened and looked her cousin square in the eye. “I’m fine.”

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