One More Night (Seductive Nights #3)(36)
Author: Lauren Blakely

“Will the bride be here shortly?”

The question came from the justice of the peace, a smartly-dressed woman with short gray hair and a business-like manner.

“Any second,” Clay said, tipping his forehead to the blond man now running across the plaza in front of the Bellagio: his friend, his client, and the husband of Julia’s sister—Chris McCormick.

Chris stopped short a few feet away. “They’re about to come on down. I had to fix Julia’s necklace,” he said. “She wanted to wear it today.”

“You fixed that clasp?”

Chris shrugged casually. “I can fix pretty much anything,” he said, as a crowd of tourists stopped to snap photos. There would be many photos shot here today. They were about to get hitched in front of one of the icons of Las Vegas.

Then Clay’s breath caught in his throat when he saw Julia in the distance. Walking down the stone path outside the Bellagio alongside her sister, heading towards the fountains with hundreds of sprays of water forming a sort of elemental backdrop to their wedding. His heart nearly tripped over itself as he took in the sight of her in white, wearing a dress that looked as if it was hand-sewn for her. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she walked closer, the fountains behind them spraying a soft mist that cooled him off. Music played from the fountains, as it often did. “Luck be a Lady.” Any second it would shift into the song they’d picked last night to be their wedding song when they found the website that listed the timing and order of the fountain music. Since the wedding party consisted of six people—the justice-of-the-peace, the bride, groom, best man, maid of honor, and Mr. Fix It—they didn’t need a special permit. They were just a small group of people stopping in front of one of the top tourist attractions in this town.

As she walked across the plaza, a sprig of lilies in her hands, her sister by her side, the song began: “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra. He and Julia didn’t have a song, but this tune fit the bill. You are all I long for . . . All I worship and adore. Because that’s how they felt for each other.

Soon, she was mere feet away, and he realized he was still wearing sunglasses. Quickly, he grabbed them, and tucked them inside his suit jacket. He wasn’t going to be that guy who got married in shades. There. Now she could look in his eyes, just as he could in hers. She stood in front of him, the Purple Snow Globe around her neck, the ring on her finger.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she whispered.

“Lucky me.”

The justice of the peace cleared her throat as Brent, Chris and McKenna gathered in a small semi-circle beside them, the water behind them. Julia gave the flowers to her sister, and Clay took Julia’s hands in his. Her touch sent a charge through him. Holding her hand was still such a thrill, and always would be.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in this great city of weddings and pairings to join together Clay Nichols and Julia Bell in marriage, which is an institution ordained by the state of Nevada and made honorable by the faithful keeping of good men and women. Marriage is founded upon sincerity, trust, and mutual love,” the justice-of-the-peace said, rattling off words she’d surely said thousands of times before. The words both mattered and didn’t matter to him. They could be married by a sea captain, a minster, a rabbi, even by someone who snagged his license on the Internet. He didn’t care. All that mattered were the I dos.

In other words, please be true. In other words, in other words, I love you . . .

The justice-of-the-peace spoke more, but Clay couldn’t focus because he was looking in his bride’s eyes, the beautiful green eyes that he loved, and that shined back at him with such heart, love and truth. He wanted to remember this moment for the rest of his life—standing under the high heat of the desert sun, without a cloud in the bright blue sky, Frank Sinatra crooning through the water, throngs of tourists passing by, and the love of his life facing him, about to become his for all time. And he was hers. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest with joy.

The justice-of-the-peace turned to him. “Do you, Clay, take Julia to be your lawful wedded wife?”

There had never been an easier question to answer. “I do.”

“Will you love, respect and honor her in all your years together?”

Or an easier promise to make. “I will.”

She turned to Julia. “Do you, Julia, take Clay to be your lawful wedded husband?”

“I do,” she said, keeping her gaze locked on him.

“Will you love, respect and honor him in all your years together?”

“I will.”

“The rings, please.”

Clay turned to Brent, who handed him the band that they’d picked up that very morning.

He slid a slender, platinum ring onto her ring finger, nestling it close to the diamond that barely matched her beauty.

She placed a ring on his finger. “Now you’re mine,” she said playfully.

“Always have been, always will be,” he said.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

He cupped her face, brushing his fingertips gently down her cheek, wanting to savor the seconds before he kissed her for the first time as her husband. “Hello, Mrs. Nichols,” he said, loving the way her new name sounded on his lips.

“Mrs. Nichols would very much like a kiss,” she said, and he dropped his mouth to hers, kissing her softly, tenderly as the fountains finished playing their song, and she became his wife outside, under the sun, capping off a weekend that had gone so wrong, but had now turned into the most right thing in the world.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Sunday, 8:23 p.m., somewhere over the middle of the country

He closed out the email as they flew through the night, en route to New York. “That’s done. Grant is taking care of everything.”

“Is he?”

“He used to be a sports announcer. He still has contacts at the Giants, so he’s calling in a favor,” he said, referring to the client he’d wrapped up the deal for on Friday. The very same client who’d said he’d do anything Clay needed. He didn’t normally like to call in favors from clients, but he’d learned the hard way that it was better to keep a mobster on your good side. By this time tomorrow, that’s where Charlie would be.

Julia rested her head on his shoulder. “I think that’s a mighty clever solution you came up with, Mr. Nichols, though I do hope we have no more trouble from mobsters.”