“What are you drinking, Mackenzie Taylor?”
“Flirtini.” She tried to say it with a straight face, then laughed. “What a stupid name for a drink, you know? Who calls something that? Flirtini.”
“Whatever the lady wants, she shall have. No matter how stupid the name.”
I also noticed a stripe of untanned skin on her ring finger on her left hand. Was Mrs. Taylor stepping out on Mr. Taylor? This whole encounter just got more interesting. I slipped an arm around her waist, and she snuggled against me. I bought her the flirtini, and another, then we moved to tequila shots. Ms. Taylor, I learned, could drink.
We returned to the Bellagio, walking down the strip through the throngs of people. She gazed around like she’d never seen anything like it, and we paused at each of the casino’s flamboyant facades. She took her heels off and walked the last stretch in her bare feet. I took her to the exclusive Oak45 club near the Bellagio’s top floor. We sat in a dark corner of the bar, plush little couches gathered in a circle where a group of people could sit. We faced tall windows overlooking the fountains—currently dormant—and Paris and Bally’s.
Neither of us were steady on our feet at this point. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I pointed at the tan line on her hand. “Does Mr. Taylor know you’re out with me tonight?”
Mackenzie’s face fell, and she pulled away from me. Busted, lady. Did she really think I wouldn’t notice the tanned spot on her finger? This was not my first rodeo.
She stood up and wobbled but resisted when I reached out to steady her. “I should go,” she said.
Damn, I wished I had kept my mouth shut. “Hey, look, we’re in Vegas. What happens here stays here. If you don’t mind, I don’t mind.”
“It’s not what you think.”
My laugh was crueler than I’d intended. “It never is.”
“No, I mean it. I caught him in bed with his personal trainer.”
Ouch. “Man or woman?”
“Woman.” She paused a moment and smirked. “I guess it could have been worse.”
“It can always be worse. So you caught them in bed together? I’m happy to be your sweet revenge.”
“I left him.”
“How long were you married?”
“We weren’t. We were engaged. The wedding was in January.”
“He couldn’t even wait before he started cheating?”
Mackenzie crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at me. “I should really go. I’m here on work.”
“Your boss sent you to Vegas? They’ll understand if you’re a little hungover in the morning.”
“Oh, I’m going to be hungover in the morning, alright.”
“I want to help you forget your ex.”
A tiny smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. The more time I spent with her, the prettier, more beautiful she became. And more intriguing.
“What are you into, Mr. Creed?” She sat again, though not cuddled up close to me like she had been before.
“Like, sex stuff?” My mind was on a single track. I couldn’t help it. Dominating you, Mackenzie Taylor. Making you do things you’ve never imagined doing.
“No. Like in your life. What gets you excited?”
Oh. That answer wasn’t as easy. I didn’t say “money” because I knew how it would make me sound. I hadn’t discussed my financials with Mackenzie yet. She obviously knew I had money, but the scope of my wealth would have made her pretty head spin. Everything I could think of that I liked all came back to money. Not cool, Scott. What happened to you?
“Hiking,” I answered. How long had it been since I was out in the woods, just me and nature? “Craft beer. You?”
“What’s your passion?”
Again, money. Screw it, it’s a one-night thing. She can go if she doesn’t like it. “Money.”
She cocked her head. “How so?”
“I have… a lot of it. It’s like a garden. I like to grow it, and maintain it, and spend it.”
“Investments?”
“Many of them.”
“I’m picturing Scrooge McDuck diving into his money bin.”
“Now the Duck Tales song is stuck in my head. Do you know what would actually happen if you tried to dive into a bin of gold coins like Scrooge does?”
“I don’t know, but from my basic knowledge of physics and the expression on your face, I can’t imagine it’s good.”
I laughed. Mackenzie Taylor was a funny lady. “Let’s just say telescoping spine.”
“Not pleasant. I’d imagine it’s hard to clean the gore off the coins.”
I couldn’t resist. I reached for her, pulled her to me, and kissed her on her plump, luscious lips. She froze, and for a moment I thought I’d made a mistake, moved in too fast. Then she softened in my arms, her hand finding the back of my neck. Her lips parted, and she tasted like raspberries and flirtini. Her mouth was small, I noticed, and my imagination burned. I sat back on the plush couch and pulled her on top of me. She fell on me, legs wide, and she looked around to see who watched the gratuitous PDA.
“It’s Vegas, baby, no one cares,” I reassured her, my hands clasping her ass.
“I care,” she whispered into my mouth.
I was so used to being with women who only wanted me for my money, who wanted a quick roll in the hay because I own a yacht and I’ve got a six pack. Hearing her say that ignited something in me. I can’t lie: alcohol played a part.
“I have an idea,” I murmured against her lips. “Let’s get married.”
She laughed. “I’m drunk, but I’m not that drunk.” (Spoiler: she totally was that drunk.)
“No, seriously.” The more my whiskey-infused brain latched on to the idea, the more I liked it. To hell with Giuliana PostvanderBerg, I wanted Mackenzie Taylor. “It’ll protect your honor, and you won’t have to deal with cheating dirt bags ever again.”
She turned her big brown eyes at me full force, like dual laser beams. “Promise?”
The booze answered for me, full of enthusiasm. “I promise.”
The waiter brought the next round of drinks we’d requested. A pair of tequila shots and some beers as chasers. We slammed the shots, and Mackenzie yelled a little “whoop” of victory.
“You don’t think we’re too drunk for this, do you?” We chugged the two beers, clinking our bottles at the end.
“No way.” I grabbed my phone and called one of the chapels—they send a limo to the hotel to pick you up. The guy on the phone said the Clark County Clerk was open for another twenty minutes, and the limo would be happy to stop there on the way to the chapel. “You’d better hurry, then.” Sounded good to me. What a magical place that the clerk stayed open until midnight.
“I didn’t expect to wear this at my wedding,” Mackenzie giggled. She texted her friend Susie, I texted Ryan, but neither of them answered us. They snooze, they lose.
“We’ll get the license, we’ll get you a dress, then we’ll get married. It’s all good.” She loved it. She loved the limo. “Baby, you’ll get used to this if you stick with me.”