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What Happens in Vegas...

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What Happens in Vegas...

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Southern belle Evie Harrison has learned to disguise her rebelliousness and be ladylike at all times. But ladies are certainly not supposed to get pregnant from one sinful night with a drop-dead...
Southern belle Evie Harrison has learned to disguise her rebelliousness and be ladylike at all times. But ladies are certainly not supposed to get pregnant from one sinful night with a drop-dead...
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  • Southern belle Evie Harrison has learned to disguise her rebelliousness and be ladylike at all times. But ladies are certainly not supposed to get pregnant from one sinful night with a drop-dead gorgeous stranger.

    Evie's scandalous baby bombshell and the dangerously attractive billionaire Nick Rocco are tantalizing gossip-column fodder that could ruin the Harrison family--even a shotgun marriage is better than an illegitimate heir. So Evie says "I do," preparing herself for a wedding night more explosive than she dares imagine....

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    That was an actual mirrored disco ball spinning over a lighted dance floor. Hundreds of sweaty bodies crowded the dance floor, moving to a techno dance mix, and the bass line thumped like a heartbeat. This club--The Zoo--had strobe lights, LED-lit jungle vines hanging from the ceiling and zebra-striped furniture. This place took tacky to a whole new level.

    And Evie Harrison loved it. In fact, she loved everything about Las Vegas: the neon lights, the over-the-top, let-itall-hang-out attitude, the sheer unapologetic gaudiness of the entire city.

    Las Vegas wasn't Dallas, that was for sure, and that made Evie love Vegas all the more. "Wanna dance, gorgeous?"

    Evie's eyes watered at the alcohol exhaled in her face as the offer was made. "No, but thanks. I'm waiting on someone."

    Thankfully, her would-be dance partner was still in the "happy drunk" stage, and he only shrugged as he moved one table over, presumably with the same question.

    The truth was, she would like to dance. But hitting the dance floor alone wasn't an option. Not that she cared who saw her or what they thought--the joy of anonymity was part of what brought her to Vegas in the first place--but a woman dancing alone would bring every drunk guy in the bar immediately into her personal space, and she couldn't guarantee they'd all be as easily rebuffed as the last one.

    A cocktail waitress with tiger ears on her head and whiskers painted across her cheeks picked up the empty glass off the table. "Can I get you something?" she shouted over the music.

    "A vodka tonic," Evie replied, as her tiny silver purse began to dance across the table from the vibration of the cell phone inside. She pulled out the phone and looked at the number displayed on the screen.

    Will.

    There was no way in hell she was answering that. The phone quit vibrating as the call went to voice mail, and Evie noted it wasn't the first time her brother had called tonight. A quick scroll through the missed-call log showed this was the fourth time in the last two hours Will had called. She was busted.

    She'd left Will a message at his office telling him she was leaving town. He wasn't supposed to get it until Monday morning. The workaholic butthead must've checked his messages already.

    She would not feel guilty. She was twenty-five years old--even if Will still thought she was a wayward teenager--and she didn't need her brother's permission to leave town for the weekend.

    Her drink arrived at the same time as a text from Sabine. Going to casino @ Bellagio with Toby. Don't wait up. The last sentence was unnecessary; she'd recognized the look in Bennie's eyes when she'd left thirty minutes ago and known their girls' night out was officially over.

    She was a little disappointed, but at least Bennie had dropped everything to come to Vegas with her last night when she asked. And honestly, being alone in Vegas sure beat being in Dallas at the moment. Being anywhere beat being at home right now.

    So she lost her patience and said a few things at that brunch she shouldn't have. Evie frowned into her drink. If that witch from the Dallas Lifestyles gossip column hadn't been standing right there minding everyone else's business, no one would have ever known. But no, the whole embarrassing thing got prime treatment on page three yesterday morning.

    She'd apologized to the Dallas Beautification Committee's president and doubled the amount of the company's donation to make up for implying that new benches in the city's parks weren't equally as...

About the Author-
  • Kimberly Lang hid romance novels behind her textbooks in junior high, and even a masters program in English couldn't break her obsession with dashing heroes and Happily Ever After. A ballet dancer turned English teacher, Kimberly married an electrical engineer. She and her husband live in North Alabama with their one amazing child who, unfortunately, shows an aptitude to sports! Visit Kimberly at: www.booksbykimberly.com

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    Harlequin
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What Happens in Vegas...
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