The Pre-Nup Page 13

  He didn’t answer.

  “Hello?” She frowned into her headset. “Eric?”

  “Uh…” There was a lot of muffled rustling as he stalled for time. “What?”

  “I asked where you were.” She grabbed her hastily packed valise and charged through the terminal.

  “We’re, um, out,” Eric hedged. “Just having a few drinks.”

  “Where, specifically?”

  “Oh, you know, here and there. Garden-variety bachelor party stuff. Playing cards, smoking cigars…”

  Mara sighed. “Which strip club?”

  “Whoa, hey, no one said anything about strip clubs.”

  “Look, I’m at the airport and I need to talk to Josh. Right now.”

  “The Vegas airport?” He sounded appalled, and more than a little panicked. “You’re here?”

  “Where is he?”

  “Why are you in Vegas?”

  “Stop stalling and put Josh on the phone.”

  “I can’t do that right now.”

  Her impatience snowballed into desperation. “Why not?”

  “Hey, is it true you told him to hook up with someone else this weekend? Because I gotta tell you, that’s pretty—”

  “Eric, as God is my witness…” She forced herself to stop and take a deep breath. “Okay. All right. I’m a reasonable woman. What do you say to a little information exchange? You help me, I help you.”

  “What do you mean?” He sounded suspicious.

  “I’ve got the latest dirt on Patrick Spillane. Interested?”

  “No,” he said in a laughably unsuccessful imitation of disinterest.

  “Fine. Then I guess you don’t want to hear about what happened between him and Jen this afternoon.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Yeah, I probably wouldn’t want to know either. You’re very wise to spare yourself the drama. Especially since I know every last detail, and I’m not known for pulling my punches. Anyway, nice talking to you.”

  Eric caved. “All right, all right. We’re at the Black Diamond. It’s right around the corner from the Luxor.”

  “Thank you,” Mara said sweetly. “And Josh is with you?”

  “He just went back into the VIP area with the stripper who was talking to him all night.”

  She forced a laugh. “But nothing happens in the VIP area, right?”

  “Uh…”

  “I mean, no one actually has sex in the VIP rooms, right? That’s only in the movies?” “Well…”

  “Listen to me, Eric. You put your drink down right now and go get him.”

  “I don’t think I can do that,” Eric said. “The bouncer back there looks pretty tough.”

  “Damn it.” Mara balled up her fists and quickened her pace, darting through throngs of luggage-laden tourists. “I have to do everything myself.”

  “So what happened this afternoon?” Eric prompted. “With Jen and Patrick?”

  Mara made a guttural noise in the back of her throat. “Oops, I’m losing the connection.”

  “Hey!”

  She let her voice drop. “Can’t…hear…bad…bye!” She snapped her phone closed, dashed out the doors to the curb, and flagged down the first cab she saw. “I need to get to the Black Diamond,” she told the driver. “And step on it.”

  The exterior of the Black Diamond didn’t look like the den of iniquity Mara had envisioned—no garish neon, no tattered posters advertising cut-rate peep shows, no frat boys urinating in the gutter. The club looked like any other upscale bar. There was even a valet stand staffed with uniformed attendants and a red velvet rope cordoning off the entrance from the sidewalk.

  The interior was another story. Mara begrudgingly forked over the twenty-dollar cover charge the doorman demanded, then stepped into a dizzying display of strobe lights, mirrors, and sequins.

  Breasts and blond hair. For a moment, that was all she could process. Tanned, toned women, most of them clad in G-strings that amounted to little more than two Post-its fastened together with rubber bands, writhed around a veritable forest of stripper poles. After her eyes adjusted to the dim house lights, Mara surveyed the groups of men gazing glassy-eyed up at the floor shows. Most of these guys wore suits or collared shirts and had plenty of crisp dollar bills to dole out. One or two glanced her way when she walked in unattended, but they quickly lost interest when it became apparent she wasn’t going to be gyrating out of her jeans anytime soon.

  She spotted Eric at the bar, brooding over a beer, so she made her way over to him and yelled over the pounding rock ballad blaring through the speakers. “Hey!”

  He whipped around, his expression startled and guilty.

  “Where’s Josh?” she hollered directly into his ear.

  He hollered back something that sounded like “This is the suckiest bachelor party ever.”

  “Where’s Josh?” she repeated.

  He scowled and launched into a rant, the only words of which she could make out were “Patrick Spillane.”

  “Oh my God, I don’t have time for this. Where’s Josh?”

  Eric didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Mara watched a tall, leggy stripper entice a customer up from a lap dance and lead him back to a black velvet curtain in the corner.

  She charged after them, threw back the curtain—and found herself up against a stony-faced Goliath in a tight black T-shirt.

  He crossed his arms and blocked her path. “This area is restricted.”

  She tried to hold her ground as his massive head loomed over hers. “VIP rooms, right?”

  “That’s right. I’m going to have to ask you to step back.”

  “But my fiancé is back there!”

  “Then I’m definitely going to have to ask you to step back.”

  “But I need to see him!” Mara pleaded. “Right now! He…I…Before he does something we’ll both regret!”

  “Only paying customers are allowed past this point.” Goliath shuffled forward, forcing her back into the main room.

  “I understand, but—”

  “House rules, no exceptions.” He wedged one bulging biceps against the door frame. “Paying customers only.”

  “Fine. Be that way.” Mara turned and raced over to the nearest mini-stage, where a petite brunette was finishing up her set.

  Mara cleared her throat. “Um, miss? How much for you to go back to a VIP room?”

  The dancer adjusted the strap of her bejeweled red thong and tilted her head. “With you?”

  All the men within earshot were suddenly paying rapt attention. Mara lifted her chin and tried to look non chalant.

  The dancer pursed her glossy lips. “Two hundred.”

  “Dollars? Why don’t you just rob me at gunpoint?”

  “That’s the going rate.” The woman rolled her shoulders and jiggled her ample breasts. “Don’t worry; I’m worth it.”

  Mara glanced away from the frontal nudity toward the black velvet curtains separating her from Josh. “Is there any way I can get a discount if I don’t want you to dance?”

  “You don’t want a dance?” The stripper narrowed her eyes. “Then what exactly do you expect me to do back there?”

  “Oh, forget it. Here.” Mara opened her wallet and counted out a stack of twenties. The testosterone-charged crowd grunted their approval as the brunette took Mara by the hand and sashayed back toward the curtains.

  When they passed through, the dancer nodded to the bouncer, who melted away into the shadows.

  “Here we are.” The dancer led the way down a narrow, mirrored hallway, then drew back another set of curtains. She smiled and winked. “Ladies first.”

  Mara stepped through the doorway into a sumptuous, gold-trimmed Vegas version of a Moroccan oasis. A bar lined one wall, and the rest of the room was comprised of private, fabric-draped cabanas that could be closed off for privacy. The atmosphere in here was much more intimate than the aggressive exhibitionism out on the main floor. The music was softer, the air warmer, the lights d
immer.

  The dancer nodded toward the bar. “Care for a drink?”

  “No, I’m good.” Mara edged closer to the nearest cabana and tried to catch a glimpse of what was happening inside. She could hear female giggling and what sounded like male moaning. But not Josh. She knew Josh’s sex noises.

  “Naughty, naughty,” the dancer trilled, steering her toward an open cabana on the far wall. “No peeking.”

  Mara dug in her heels and fumbled for an excuse. “I, uh, have to use the ladies’ room.”

  The dancer tapped one five-inch Lucite platform stiletto and gave her a shrewd once-over. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I just really have to—”

  “Listen, honey, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but Black Diamond girls are class acts. If you try anything kinky, I’ll get you tossed out of here so fast. I don’t care how much money you throw at me.”

  “I’m relieved to hear that.” Mara’s ears pricked up as the sound system paused between songs. Amid all the clinking glass and rustling fabric and creaking leather, she thought she heard the low undertones of Josh’s voice.

  She dashed over to the corner cabana and, before her diminutive escort could intervene, ripped aside the gauzy gold veils. “Aha!”

  Josh was cozied up on an overstuffed velvet banquette with a bottle of champagne, a silver platter of strawberries, and the most beautiful woman Mara had ever seen in real life.

  Not to mention the most buxom.

  Not to mention completely nude except for a handful of silver sequins strategically scattered across her pubic bone.

  Now Mara knew how Ellie had felt while comparing herself to the infamous Vixen_MD. The woman currently hanging off her fiancé was the flesh-and-blood nightmare of every bride-to-be who sent her fiancé off to Vegas for one last hurrah: flowing hair the color of freshly burnished copper, huge doe eyes, and abs so toned they almost looked airbrushed. Her skin was flawless and deeply tanned, save a tiny patch of white in the shape of a flower near her hip, where she had obviously placed a decorative decal while tanning.

  Mara had braced herself for any number of sordid scenarios. Bumping, grinding, possibly even a blow job; she had, after all, basically dared Josh to do it. What she was not prepared for was the sight of this flame-haired hussy gazing soulfully into her man’s eyes…and her man gazing soulfully right back.

  “I knew it!” Mara rolled up her sleeves and prepared to release her surging adrenaline via senseless violence. “I caught you! You’re caught!”

  Josh and the sequined seductress stopped cooing at each other and blinked up at her.

  Josh was the first to recover his composure. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I might ask you the same question,” Mara said. “How could you?”

  “Hey!” The dark-haired dancer caught up with Mara and sank her manicured talons into Mara’s forearm. “You can’t do this! I’m calling security!”

  “No, no, it’s okay.” Josh turned to his companion. “This is her.”

  The stripper sized up Mara through heavily mascaraed eyelashes. “You don’t say.”

  “Yeah.” Josh reached into his pants pockets, produced his wallet, and took out a few bills, which he handed to Mara’s escort. “She can stay here with us. It’s fine.”

  The brunette consulted the redhead. “You okay with this?”

  The world’s most gorgeous female nodded. “If he says it’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t worry.”

  The brunette made a face but retreated, leaving the other three to face off over berries and bubbly.

  Mara opened her mouth to rip into Josh, but the stripper beat her to the punch. “So you’re Mara. You have some nerve, showing up like this. Ever heard of boundaries?”

  Mara leaned across the tiny round table and got right up in the other woman’s face. “First of all, I don’t need boundary talk from someone who bares her booty for tips. Second of all, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, you little—”

  “This is Bentlie,” Josh said quickly, before Mara could finish her sentence. “She’s—”

  “Oh, I know what she is.” Mara glared at the dancer, who glared right back. “Now back off; this guy’s engaged.”

  “So what?” The stripper lounged back against the banquette and took a slow, leisurely sip of champagne.

  “So obviously you don’t care about oh, you know, morality, but I do.”

  The stripper stopped smiling. Her hazel eyes glittered coldly. “From what I hear, you’ve got no room to talk about morality. In fact, from what I hear, this guy’s not engaged anymore. You know, I meet a lot of men in my line of work. A lot of low-down, no-good, lying, sexist, bottom-feeding assholes. But not this one.” She trailed her fingers from Josh’s wrist up to his shoulder. “He’s a nice guy.”

  Mara’s blood pressure skyrocketed. “Hands off.”

  “Why do you care?” the redhead challenged. “Didn’t you tell him to go sleep with another woman?”

  “What exactly have you two been doing back here?” Mara demanded.

  Josh straightened up in his seat and tried to avert the head-on collision. “We should go.”

  “Not so fast.” Bentlie nibbled on a strawberry. “Josh and I have been talking. He has lots to say, and obviously, you don’t listen.”

  “Oh, now you’re a therapist in a thong?”

  “I get paid a lot more than a therapist,” Bentlie said loftily. “And I don’t need a psych degree to see that you treat him like dirt and he’d be better off without you.”

  “You can’t talk to me like that!”

  “I’ll talk to you any way I want.” Bentlie raised her eyebrows to Josh. “Why do you put up with this?” She turned her attention back to Mara. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a guy who actually respects women? I don’t think so. Sounds to me like you’re spoiled and selfish. You don’t deserve him.”

  “That is not—”

  “Still talking.” Bentlie smirked. “I can’t believe you threw away a catch like this.”

  “I didn’t throw him away.”

  “Hello? You sent him off to Vegas and told him to have sex with someone else. Face it, babycakes, the engagement is over.” She smiled at Josh. “You’re lucky you escaped before it was too late.” The two of them exchanged a meaningful look.

  “All I asked for was a pre-nup,” Mara said faintly. “All I wanted was—”

  “Blah, blah, blah, you, you, you.” Bentlie examined her lacquered red fingernails. “You want, you need. You’re an idiot.”

  “I see where this is going. You think you should have him instead?”

  “Hell, no.” Bentlie helped herself to another strawberry. “I’ve had enough of marriage to last me a lifetime.”

  “Her ex-husband was terrible to her,” Josh informed Mara. “Verbally abusive, compulsive liar, gambling problems.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Mara snatched up Josh’s champagne flute and drained the contents. “I am not going to sit here trying to justify myself to some random stranger—”

  “I have a name,” Bentlie said.

  “Give me a break. Bentlie’s not your real name and we all know it.”

  Josh looked disappointed. “It’s not?”

  “Of course not!” Mara couldn’t wait to deflate the dancer’s mystique. “Her real name’s probably something like Sarah or Kristen or—”

  “Alex,” Bentlie admitted, twirling a lock of red hair around one finger and amping up her expression of wistful vulnerability. “But I don’t tell customers that. Only real friends.”

  “I understand.” Josh’s eyes shone with gallantry. “You have to keep some things private.”

  “Enough.” Mara circled the table, grabbed Josh’s elbow, and hauled him to his feet. “Tonight’s therapy session is officially over.”

  Josh waited for the next break between songs before telling Alex, “You have my card. Give me a call and we’ll figure something out.”

&nbs
p; Mara stopped yanking at his sleeve and punched him in the shoulder. “Figure something out? What is that supposed to mean?”

  He started toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

  “Oh no. I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me—”

  Josh lowered his voice and regarded her with flinty detachment. “Let’s. Go.”

  Her protests died halfway to her lips and she found herself trailing along behind him.

  “Bye!” Alex called after them. “It was great to meet you, Josh. Stay strong! I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” Mara said to Josh’s back as they made their way into the smoke and mirrors of the club’s main floor.

  “Then don’t.”

  “Well…” She tried to figure out exactly when she had lost the upper hand. “Aren’t you going to explain yourself?”

  “Nope.” Josh waved to Eric and started across the room toward the bar. “I’d say the situation’s pretty self-explanatory.”

  “Hey!” She stumbled after him. “Don’t just walk away from me!”

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” He kept going.

  “Wait! Let’s just talk this through for a second.”

  “Mara.” He stopped long enough for her to catch up. “Why are you here?”

  She lowered her eyes and forced out the words. “I came to apologize.”

  He ignored all the tits and ass and mirrored disco balls surrounding them on all sides and watched her closely. “Really?”

  She studied the worn maroon carpet. “Yes.”

  “Well, go ahead then.”

  Her head snapped back up. “What’s that?”

  “Apologize.”

  “I just did.”

  “No, you didn’t. You said you were going to apologize.”

  Her cheeks burned. “I was. Until I saw you with the minx with no tan lines.”

  “Don’t talk about her that way. She’s a very nice girl. In fact, I was hoping you could talk to her. She’s having some legal issues with her divorce—”

  “Did you have sex with her?” Mara blurted out.

  His brows snapped together. “Of course not.”

  “Did you kiss her?”

  He rocked back on his heels and stared at her.