The Daredevil. Kira Sinclair
love to catch up with you. Would you like to have a drink?”
No. Yes. “I don’t want to interrupt. It looks like you’re here with your friends.”
Chase’s lips turned up in a self-deprecating smile, glancing over his shoulder at the group of men behind them. “They’ll get over it. Besides, the chance to spend time with a beautiful woman is more important.”
Rina had no idea where the word came from. The last thing she wanted to do was resurrect any part of the past with this man. But somehow “Sure” came out instead of No thanks.
SEVERAL HOURS and a few drinks later, Rina found herself walking down the strip next to Chase. They’d stopped at a couple of places. Played a few hands of blackjack.
She wasn’t drunk. Really. She never, ever allowed herself to drink too much. She was just pleasantly…pleasant.
If anything, she was intoxicated by the heat of Chase, the way her body tingled from the mere touch of his palm to her back as they strolled down the strip. She was drunk on the power of knowing he was as attracted to her now as he had been six years ago.
It had been that way from the start. Their connection. His effortless effect on her body and the automatic override he had on her brain. With Chase, she felt, acted, was a different person.
Oh, she knew—like she’d known six years ago—that nothing substantial could come of the sizzle between them. She wouldn’t risk that kind of attachment…not with Chase. Not now. Not when he was leaving for risk and death and macho feats of heroism.
But she could have this one night. This one chance to slake the physical ache thrumming low in the center of her body. In a few days he’d be gone and she’d never see him again.
The normal Rina, the perfect Rina, the live-by-the-code-of-military-conduct Rina wouldn’t approve. But she’d gotten lost somewhere tonight and the adventurous Rina wanted to feel the slide of Chase’s skin against her own.
He looked down at her with heat-glazed eyes full of appreciation and the center of her stomach seemed to disappear. She had to look away. Either that or go up in flames in the middle of the Las Vegas sidewalk.
A bright display of flashing colors caught Rina’s attention. Blinking neon wasn’t unusual, not on the strip, but the words in shiny pink were.
Fake Vegas Weddings
Punk Your Friends and Family
“Oh my God! How funny.”
Tugging on his elbow, she headed straight for the sign, pulling him behind her. It was attached to a strip of shops. One of them was a tacky, touristy place where you could dress in a costume and have your picture taken. It was attached to a low-rent version of the obligatory Las Vegas wedding chapel.
It was something she’d seen a thousand times. But this place was hocking a different angle. This place was for all the people who went on vacation with the ring of their family’s and friends’ warnings in their ears: Don’t you dare come back married.
Through the window she could see an array of costumes—Southern belle hoop skirts, Confederate solider uniforms, pirate outfits, kilts. Throughout the room there were several sets to correspond with the outfits—an old-timey portrait backdrop, the bow of a ship, the jagged edge of highland mountains.
And an arched white trellis covered with roses and a sign that read, Elvis Available Upon Request.
“That’s so tacky.” She swirled around to face him, a huge smile on her face.
“What? You don’t want Elvis at your wedding?”
Rina scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
Turning back, her hands splayed across the glass as she leaned in for a closer look. Chase bunched up behind her. She could feel the heat of him at her back, soaking through the satisfying haze of wine and her light cotton sweater.
“Let’s do it.” His words rumbled low against her ear.
“Do what?” She knew exactly what she wanted to do with him.
“The Elvis wedding.”
“What?” That wasn’t what she’d had in mind.
“Come on. Marry the soldier before he goes to war.” Chase leaned down over her body as she watched his reflection in the glass. His bigger-than-life smile. That mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He was so different than she was. So…daring.
She shouldn’t.
His arms tightened around her waist, dragging their bodies closer together. Rina fought the urge to let herself lean against him, the desire to have him kiss along the nape of her neck. Tonight she’d left her hair uncharacteristically down. She always seemed to be in uniform, but the upswept, severe style required by the air force did have its advantages. Unconsciously, she dipped her head to the side, making her hair fall away.
His breath caressed her exposed skin as his fingers brushed against the outside curve of her arm, sending a shudder down her spine.
“It might be fun.” Her words sounded fast and shallow. Right now she’d agree to anything, if only he’d move closer.
“Just promise me you won’t send the pictures to the General. I do not want to be responsible for his heart attack.”
She laughed as his reflection in the window pulled a grimace. She could understand. It probably wouldn’t be good for his career to piss off a major general, even if he was stationed half the country away at Tyndall.
“I promise.”
Chase backed away, and Rina ducked under his arm as he held open the door for her. A bell rang out through the space. Within a minute a woman materialized from the back.
“Can I help you?”
Chase answered, “We’d like the wedding package please, complete with Elvis.”
God, what was she doing? The thought of a wedding—even a joke wedding—was sending her heart rate skittering a little too fast.
Most girls grew up with the fantasy of their wedding in their heads—white dresses, fragrant flowers, flickering candles. Not her. She’d grown up with the memories of her parents screaming, the experience of her mother’s funeral, the idea that two people could make each other so miserable they self-destructed…and took their child’s sense of security with them.
“Just fill out these forms for me. Feel free to pick out a gown and tux from over there when you’re done.”
The woman placed several pieces of paper before them. Rina stared down at the tiny boxes. The little lines wavered for a moment before straightening out again.
Chase shifted closer, planting one foot between her own spread feet. The heat from his body fractured the thoughts racing through her head. He felt so good against her.
What was she thinking about? Oh, the wedding. But it was just a joke. Nothing more. Besides. She was being reckless, fearless Rina for once.
Looking down, she started to fill out the paperwork.
“Constance. I didn’t realize your middle name was Constance.” His chest brushed against the curve of her back, his hand snaking around the circle of her waist to hold her flat against him. Her throat went tight at the sensation.
“That’s because I don’t like it. My father picked it. It was my aunt’s name.” Her words were forced, breathy. She sounded like someone else, some seductive siren—someone she’d never been or could be.
“You’re right. I like Sabrina much better.”
“I don’t like Sabrina either…it was my mother’s middle name. No one calls me Sabrina.” Not since her mother had left when she was five. That’s when the General had begun to call her Rina.
He stared down at her with a heat that