the fountains countless times before, oh how different it was when a strong, sexy guy put his arm around her and was humming along with the melody. Tucker’s warmth seeped into her body where they touched. His breath stirred her hair as he pressed his cheek against her temple. Leaning against him, she let out a soundless sigh. The moment was so perfect she wanted to tuck it away in a scrapbook.
After the song ended—way too soon, as far as she was concerned—the crowd dispersed. Tony and Rhonda looked ready to call it a night, but Tucker proposed a trip to Risqué, a nightclub at the Paris hotel.
“I’ve never been there,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “but I hear there are couches and beds to lounge around on. Plus, the men’s and women’s bathrooms are next to each other and the only thing between them is this frosted glass wall.”
Mariah thought that sounded perversely interesting, but Tony nixed the idea. “Normally I would, Tuck, but Rhonda and me have to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s the big day, you know.”
Tucker rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, Tone. One last hurrah. You don’t need that much energy to say ‘I do’, right?”
But Tony stood firm. “It sounds like a great place, but maybe another time. You guys go on ahead. Dance a little, check out those crazy bathrooms, but drop us off at the hotel on your way.”
Back at the Venetian, the happy couple exited the limo, but only after insisting that Mariah attend the wedding. Of course, she agreed. Pamphlet or no, the wish expired at nine tomorrow night and she intended to wring all the time with Tucker out of it that she could.
The limo driver cleared his throat. “Mr. Tucker, you getting out here or you want me to take you somewhere else?”
“Give me a sec, Al.” Tucker turned to Mariah. “You know where I’d really like to go?” he asked in a low voice.
“Where?”
“Back to your place.” He gave her a half smile. “Is that okay?”
Her place? Puzzled, Mariah nodded.
Twenty minutes later, when she and Tucker were lounging on her plum-colored chenille sofa nursing a couple of beers, she asked, “So why are we here in my boring little apartment and not in your luxury penthouse suite?”
They’d both kicked off their shoes and she had put on some music.
Tucker lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m in hotel rooms all the time. I like your apartment. It’s comfortable, lived in.”
This surprised her. With his aggressive confidence at the poker table, Tucker seemed like such a man’s man that she was surprised he liked the downright feminine flavor of the place.
“Makes you feel like you’re at home, huh?” she said with a self-satisfied smile.
He scoffed. “Like home? No. My place isn’t really…I don’t know. I don’t really spend that much time there.”
“What’s wrong with it? Is it a pit of empty pizza boxes and dirty laundry?”
He chuckled. “No. I’m not a messy person. It’s just not, you know, homey.”
“Then maybe you need to hire a decorator. If I could afford one, that’s what I’d do.”
“What I really need to do is just unpack.”
“New place?”
“No, I’ve actually been there over a year,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I just haven’t put away all my stuff. Most of it’s still in boxes. When I’m not traveling, I’m tired from traveling and not in the mood to put stuff on shelves or hang pictures.”
“Catch twenty-two.” Mariah tucked one leg underneath herself. “Well, mi casa es su casa. All I ask is that you don’t leave the toilet seat up.”
“Oh never. That’s another one of Bill’s Marriage Mandates.”
Mariah laughed. “Bill should write a book.”
Tucker took a sip of his beer. “Maybe you’re right. He and Claudia have been head over heels for as long as I’ve known them.”
“And it looks like Tony’s going to follow in their footsteps.”
“Yeah.” Tucker’s face fell slightly. “Sure looks that way.” He put his beer
After the song ended—way too soon, as far as she was concerned—the crowd dispersed. Tony and Rhonda looked ready to call it a night, but Tucker proposed a trip to Risqué, a nightclub at the Paris hotel.
“I’ve never been there,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “but I hear there are couches and beds to lounge around on. Plus, the men’s and women’s bathrooms are next to each other and the only thing between them is this frosted glass wall.”
Mariah thought that sounded perversely interesting, but Tony nixed the idea. “Normally I would, Tuck, but Rhonda and me have to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s the big day, you know.”
Tucker rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, Tone. One last hurrah. You don’t need that much energy to say ‘I do’, right?”
But Tony stood firm. “It sounds like a great place, but maybe another time. You guys go on ahead. Dance a little, check out those crazy bathrooms, but drop us off at the hotel on your way.”
Back at the Venetian, the happy couple exited the limo, but only after insisting that Mariah attend the wedding. Of course, she agreed. Pamphlet or no, the wish expired at nine tomorrow night and she intended to wring all the time with Tucker out of it that she could.
The limo driver cleared his throat. “Mr. Tucker, you getting out here or you want me to take you somewhere else?”
“Give me a sec, Al.” Tucker turned to Mariah. “You know where I’d really like to go?” he asked in a low voice.
“Where?”
“Back to your place.” He gave her a half smile. “Is that okay?”
Her place? Puzzled, Mariah nodded.
Twenty minutes later, when she and Tucker were lounging on her plum-colored chenille sofa nursing a couple of beers, she asked, “So why are we here in my boring little apartment and not in your luxury penthouse suite?”
They’d both kicked off their shoes and she had put on some music.
Tucker lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m in hotel rooms all the time. I like your apartment. It’s comfortable, lived in.”
This surprised her. With his aggressive confidence at the poker table, Tucker seemed like such a man’s man that she was surprised he liked the downright feminine flavor of the place.
“Makes you feel like you’re at home, huh?” she said with a self-satisfied smile.
He scoffed. “Like home? No. My place isn’t really…I don’t know. I don’t really spend that much time there.”
“What’s wrong with it? Is it a pit of empty pizza boxes and dirty laundry?”
He chuckled. “No. I’m not a messy person. It’s just not, you know, homey.”
“Then maybe you need to hire a decorator. If I could afford one, that’s what I’d do.”
“What I really need to do is just unpack.”
“New place?”
“No, I’ve actually been there over a year,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I just haven’t put away all my stuff. Most of it’s still in boxes. When I’m not traveling, I’m tired from traveling and not in the mood to put stuff on shelves or hang pictures.”
“Catch twenty-two.” Mariah tucked one leg underneath herself. “Well, mi casa es su casa. All I ask is that you don’t leave the toilet seat up.”
“Oh never. That’s another one of Bill’s Marriage Mandates.”
Mariah laughed. “Bill should write a book.”
Tucker took a sip of his beer. “Maybe you’re right. He and Claudia have been head over heels for as long as I’ve known them.”
“And it looks like Tony’s going to follow in their footsteps.”
“Yeah.” Tucker’s face fell slightly. “Sure looks that way.” He put his beer
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