Page 5 of Feast

“It’s fine, Ma.”

“And wear a suit.”

“I’ll wear a suit,” he said, trying not to sound harassed. He’d packed the damn thing, hadn’t he? “But I draw the line at a tie.”

“And shave your mustache.”

He followed the arrows to Baggage Claim and Ground Transportation. “Nope.”

“Spencer Jason Nichols.”

He laughed. “Seriously? You’re three naming me over my mustache?”

“I really hate it, Spence.”

“It’s my face,” he reminded her, aiming for the doors leading to the taxi queue.

“Yes, but it’s going to be inmywedding pictures.”

The whine in her voice made him grin. “Doesn’t have to be.”

“Forget it,” she said, going from wheedling to stern with the speed of a veteran mother. “I want pictures of my son at my wedding.”

“Then deal with the mustache.”

She sighed. “It’s going to look like Magnum PI gave me away.”

“Who’s that?” he asked just to annoy her.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, but she was laughing.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Spencer,” she said. “Don’t stay up too late gambling. I’m getting married tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” he promised with a glance at the clock. It was after ten already, and with the two-hour time difference between here and home, the only thing he was interested in was room service and sleep. “Good night.”

“That was sweet,” a voice at his elbow said, and he jerked around to see 3B standing behind him.

“Where the hell did you come from?”

“Bathroom,” she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the terminal, her head tipped back to look him in the eye. “I’m headed to the Wynn. You?”

“Same,” he said, only half paying attention. She was shorter than he’d thought, the top of her head not even reaching his shoulder. He glanced at her feet, noted the heeled boots, and mentally shaved three inches off her height.

“Five-four,” she said.

He looked in her eyes and saw the now familiar glimmer of amusement. “You wish.”

“That’s what it says on my driver’s license,” she said and smiled. “Want to share a taxi?”

He looked into her eyes, whiskey-gold and sparkling with humor and mischief, and thought,Complication.“Why not?”

2

Madison Hackett regularly did things on impulse, which often surprised people. She was an accountant, a profession that had a reputation for strictness and reliability, and she found that people often expected her to act like the numbers she worked with—easily defined, never changing, and always adding up.

She’d made it her life’s goal to be none of those things.

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