He pried open one eye, identified the expression on her face as horror, and quickly shut it again before she noticed. He considered pulling his pillow over his head and going back to sleep.
“My mother will kill me!”
Tucker stifled a sigh. It would have been nice to avoid this, but he couldn’t pretend to be surprised. She’d been humming on adrenaline when she’d agreed to his proposal last night.
She grabbed hold of his shoulder and shook him. “Tucker, wake up. We have to fix this. We have to undo this. Tucker!”
He opened his eyes. Hers looked a little wild as she stared down at him. He went up on his elbow. “C’mon, Gillian. That’s just mean. I know you enjoyed yourself. No way you faked all those orgasms.”
“What? No. I don’t fake it! Well, sometimes, maybe, but not with you. Not last night. I didn’t fake with you.”
“There you go.”
He started to pull her back down to him, but her full breast was dangling inches away from his mouth, so he reached up and took it.
A moment later, she shuddered a breath, moaned low in her throat, and surrendered. It was well over an hour later, after they’d rolled in the sheets some more, then dawdled together in the shower, and Tucker had confirmed that no, she did not fake it, that she brought the subject up again. She was wrapped in one of the hotel’s bathrobes and standing at the window, staring out at the Las Vegas Strip when she softly said, “It’s not about the sex, Tucker. It’s about the wedding. What we did was insane.”
“Why?”
She turned to face him. “You don’t just get married on a … purse high. You have to think it through, you have to plan, you have to tell your mother and buy a dress!”
Tucker tried somewhat hard not to be annoyed. “So, what’s most important really is the wedding, not being married.”
She winced and closed her eyes. “Ouch. I guess that when it comes to my mother, it is about the wedding and the dress. I’m her only daughter. If I eloped to Las Vegas without her there to see me get married, it would break her heart.”
“You did elope in Las Vegas, and she wasn’t there to see you.”
“That’s why we have to fix this, Tucker. We had a quickie wedding. Now we need to get a quickie divorce. Or an annulment. I’m sure they do that here.”
Now, it was Tucker’s turn to stare out of the window and think. Gillian and her wedding gowns and her mother. He shouldn’t be surprised or take it personally. This was how they made their livings. This wasn’t Jeremy’s “all about the wedding” accusation. She’d brought up two aspects of it, two critical pieces that were intertwined with the woman who she loved above all others. This wasn’t wedding obsession. It was maternal love. Had he made a poor battlefield decision last night? Was it time to retreat and regroup?
Maybe, but damn. He’d gained ground, and it went against his grain to give it up.
Gillian’s voice broke into his thoughts. “What’s so horrible about this is that given time, I think you and I could have something special. I don’t want to screw that up.”
Given time. Tucker turned around. His gaze sought his suit vest still lying on the floor where she’d tossed it in the early hours of the morning. He envisioned the watch tucked away in its pocket.
“I do too, Glory. I think you and I can have something outstanding.”
“Do you think we could fall in love?” The yearning in her voice broke his heart.
“I think we’re definitely approaching the tipping point toward that, yes. I am, for sure. You turned to me for comfort and support. You came to me when you needed arms to hold you. You made love with me last night like you meant it. It wasn’t just sex, Gillian. We are more than friends. Aren’t we?”
She nodded. Tucker crossed the room to her, reached out and tucked a strand of silky hair behind her ear. “I’ll be honest with you, Glory. I’ve never been in love before, so I’m not one hundred percent certain what it’s supposed to feel like. What I can tell you is that I’ve never felt this way about any other woman.”
She hugged herself and rubbed her arms as if she were cold. “Hearing that makes me feel both fabulous and afraid. It’s too soon for me, Tucker. A short time ago, I was ready to marry Jeremy. I thought I was in love with him. I couldn’t have been more wrong, so now I don’t trust my own emotions.”
“Understandable.”
“I am certain about one thing, though. I absolutely positively can’t go home and tell my mother I got married last night by Skinny Elvis!”
“I’m really sorry it was Fat Elvis’s night off.”
She closed her eyes and groaned a laugh.
“Maybe this thing between us is backwards from what you had before.”
“What do you mean?”
“You weren’t ready to marry me, and you’re not sure you are in love with me, so that means we’re perfect. This wedding was meant to be.”
“You’re crazy. Tucker, this is no way to begin a marriage. You need to be thoughtful and deliberate and certain. You need to plan.”
“Or maybe you need to turn the rules upside down. One thing the military taught me is the power of disruption.”
“This certainly was that. Backwards, upside down, disruptive? That’s not the way I roll, Tucker. No, this … impulse … can’t stand. We have to get a divorce. Like the saying goes, what happened in Vegas needs to stay in Vegas.”
“But—”
She implored him with a look. “Maybe if we take care with one another, we can navigate these waters without anyone being hurt. I want us to stay friends. More than friends. Who knows what will happen in time?”
Tucker bit back a sigh. Time. Strategy. Battlefield adjustments. Sometimes a strategic retreat ensured an eventual victory. Keep your eye on the prize, McBride. He gave their situation a few moments’ thought, then said, “Okay. We’ll do things your way. You oohed and aahed over the bathtub at one point last night. Why don’t you go soak and relax while I make some calls? I’ll order up breakfast and see what we need to do to comply with Nevada law.”
“That sounds great.” She went to him and went up on her toes and kissed him quickly. “Thank you, Tucker.”
When she would have retreated to the bathroom, he grabbed her arm and tugged her back to him and gave her a long, thorough kiss. “You’re welcome.”
His calls yielded some surprises that led to more calls. By the time breakfast arrived and he tapped on the bathroom door to let her know, he had a plan that worked for him and one that he hoped would appeal to her.
Over omelets, he outlined their options, beginning with the most complicated and ending with what he preferred. “In order to divorce here in Nevada, one of us needs to establish residency for six weeks prior to filing for divorce. I have a buddy who conducts intense, advanced survivalist training in the Nevada desert in the summer. He’s willing to switch places with me and take over my classes, so following Jackson’s wedding in June, I could move out here for the duration. After we file, I understand that we can get the deed done in a couple of weeks to a month.”
“Oh,” she said, her teeth tugging on her bottom lip. “Wow. You’re offering to spend the summer in Death Valley so that I don’t have to tell my mother about Elvis? I don’t know if that makes you my hero or an idiot.”