“Fine.” He sighed. “Get ready and we’ll leave.”
“Yay!” Standing on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. “Don’t worry. If you hate anything, we can come back here.” And with that, she darted to the bathroom.
Matt watched her cute ass sway in sexy white lingerie, the long golden curls of her hair skimming her hips. Man, she was gorgeous. A slow smile curved his lips. She was also his. As she disappeared into the bathroom to spend about four years on her makeup, Matt looked down at his brand-new wedding ring. He’d put aside his discomfort and make their trip one to remember. It was the least he could do.
For his wife.
Hours later, Matt gritted his teeth as Jena murdered Adele’s ‘Hello’ on the stage of a karaoke bar on the Strip. They’d been walking through one of the casinos, surrounded by slot machines with their flashing lights and ringing bells, when Jena had pointed to a dark corner of the vast room and squealed. The next thing he knew, he was being dragged into a seedy bar so she could sing on stage. Or, try to sing.
There was no denying, his wife was made for the spotlight. From her voluptuous curves to her long legs—made even longer by her mile-high sparkly stripper shoes—she oozed sex appeal. Add in her stunning face, those big eyes of hers, and all that long, wavy hair, and every man in the place was drooling. Which pissed him off big time.
Fortunately, Jena’s singing went a long way toward killing any fantasies the audience might have.
“I can’t take anymore,” someone called out. “Get her off the stage!”
The crowd was turning as Jena wailed to the backing music. People mumbled. One or two heckled. It was only a matter of time before Jena noticed and then she’d be all sad eyes and pouting lips. There was only one way to prevent that from happening. With a sigh, he climbed onto the stage beside her.
She beamed at him but appeared confused when he took the mic from her hand. When a cheer went up, Jena frowned at the audience.
“What’s going on?” she whispered at him.
“Excuse us,” he said into the mic. “We’re changing things up a little. I’m going to sing, and my lovely wife is going to dance.”
There was a mixed reaction from the crowd. Cheers. Boos. Mainly indifference.
Jena covered the mic with her hand. “Why are you stopping my song? I was doing great.”
“I want to show off your dancing,” he half lied. She was a killer dancer. “And I want to do this with you.” That was a full lie. He’d rather have his nails removed with pliers than sing in front of a crowd.
She gave him a look filled with such love that he felt ten foot tall. “Can you sing, though? This crowd’s tough. I don’t want them to turn on you. Maybe I should keep singing, and you should dance.”
Man, he loved his clueless woman. He squeezed her shoulder. “Princess, you’ve seen my dancing. Trust me when I say, my singing is better. Anyway, they won’t be listening to me; they’ll be too busy watching you dance.”
She bit her lower lip and glanced at the restless crowd. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” He cued up their song. “We’re doing one of Josh’s numbers. If you tell him about this, I’m divorcing you.”
With a giggle, Jena faced the crowd. “Let’s knock them dead.”
The crowd groaned when the music started. Matt ignored them and kept his eyes on Jena. She’d already started dancing, and it was mesmerizing. Sexy, fluid perfection. It made him want to take her back to the hotel and make use of the Californian king size in their suite. He was so focused on watching her that he almost missed his cue, which earned him another heckle.
Then he started singing, and it was Jena’s turn to stumble. She stared at him wide-eyed as he put the years of singing lessons his mother had forced him to take as a kid to good use. The same singing lessons he’d had to pay his sisters never to mention to a soul—especially Josh McInnes.
When their song ended, the crowd cheered and whistled. Some of them even got to their feet.
Jena threw herself into his arms. “We need to go on America’s Got Talent,” she shouted over the noise.
And Matt burst out laughing.
They’d eaten dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe and stocked up on snacks at Hershey’s Chocolate World. They’d joined the crowds to watch the pirate ship battle outside Treasure Island, the volcano erupt outside The Mirage, and the fountains dance to a Celine Dion song outside the Bellagio. They’d sung in a Karaoke bar, played the slots in Caesar’s Palace, and taken a strange walk among pink flamingoes living in an indoor park in the appropriately named Flamingo casino.
Now, they were in a nightclub where one of Jena’s friends from Atlantic City worked as a go-go dancer. And Matt was beginning to think he didn’t have the energy to keep up with his wife. Because, although she was still jumping around, all he wanted to do was go to bed and sleep for a week.
“So, this is what middle age feels like,” he said to a guy standing next to him at the bar.
“Long night?” the guy said as his large, and clearly armed friend watched them closely.
The guy’s bespoke suit and the fact that he was traveling with a bodyguard screamed wealth and entitlement, making Matt wonder if he was chatting to a celebrity. Not a famous one, obviously, because Matt didn’t have a clue who he was.