Hot Commodity (Banks / Kincaid Family #1)(7)

Olivia whimpered and licked her suddenly dried lips. "I...does it?"

"Now, wait a sec," her fiancé butted in, sounding insulted. He stepped partially in front of her and, she had to admit, his protective gesture felt nice. "She’s not a hooker, damn it. That’s my fiancée you’re talking to, pal. We’re gettin’ married tonight. Besides, I happen to know prosistush—prostitution is legal in Navada, cause this buddy of mine once—"

"Sir," the officer broke in, not looking at all impressed by the drunk’s legal knowledge. "Prostitution may be legal in the state, but it’s not in Clark County or the city limits of Las Vegas."

Dropping his finger to scratch his head and look suitably confused, Green Eyes frowned. "Really? Well, jus’ the same. She’s no hooker. She’s my fiancée. An’ we’re getting married tonight."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, it is." He reached back and caught Olivia’s hip with a blind hand to tug her closer. "We’re looking for a chapel right now as a matter o’ fact."

The officer arched a skeptical brow.

Her groom gave a defeated sigh. "Look, man. We’re jus’ drunk and horny. Is there a law agains’ being drunk and horny?"

"No, but there is one against drunk and disorderly. And prostitution within the city limits."

Olivia’s intended sank back against her, clearly intimidated. "Oh," he said in small voice. Her fingers clutched his arm.

"Do either of you have any identification on you?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," her fiancé answered, promptly digging into his back pocket.

Olivia blushed, remembering where she’d stashed her ID.

Green Eyes had already handed over his driver’s license when he turned to her. "Babe?"

Both men stared expectantly. Fearing incarceration more than she did immodesty, she gave a loud sigh. "Wait a second," she mumbled and turned slightly away from them, lifting her hand to her cleavage.

"Nice," her fiancé cooed, his eyes lighting with interest as she wiggled her fingers between the leather ties and fished around. "Say, honey. Need any help digging that out?"

"No," she snapped and sent him an irritated look. "That’s exactly what got us into trouble in the first place."

"Sorry," he mumbled, lifting both hands again, this time surrendering to her. Then he grinned over his shoulder at the waiting officer. "She’s the love of my life."

Olivia finally latched onto a hard chunk of plastic and tugged. Along with her driver’s license came a wad of cash and a single condom. Her eyes went wide and she glanced guiltily at the cop.

Great. Now he was never going to believe she wasn’t a hooker.

Shoving the money and prophylactic back into her cleavage, she handed over the warm piece of identification.

The officer clipped both IDs to his badge and said, "Alright then. Mind if I check both your clothes for officer safety?"

"Um, sure," Olivia’s companion said. "Whatever you need, officer."

So, Olivia found herself with her legs spread and her fingers behind her head as a pair of impersonal hands ran quickly down her body. She glanced at her fiancé to find him scowling as he watched. But he repeated the same stance without protest when it was his turn.

The officer had them both sit on the side of the curb about ten feet away from each other as he spoke into his radio and cleared their identities. A couple of minutes later, right about the time Olivia was sure she’d be spending the night in jail, the officer returned.

"Okay, folks. Both of your licenses check out. You’re free to go. Thank you for your cooperation. But I’m warning you now. If I see you again tonight with your public displays of affection, I’m arresting you both. Find somewhere private for it."

"Thank you, sir," Olivia’s fiancé said as he popped to his feet. He went straight to her and held down a hand to help her up. She reached for him, and he hauled her to her unsteady stilettos. As he wrapped an arm around her waist, he turned back to the officer and cheerfully repeated, "We’re getting married tonight."

The cop finally showed a glimmer of amusement. "Congratulations," he said, his mouth pulling tight in an effort to hide his smile. "But I recommend you tie the knot before you start the honeymoon. And find a hotel room for it."

"We will," her intended answered and tugged Olivia away.

They hurried along for a good block, clutching each other gratefully before they slowed. Finally they paused and rested their backs against the wall of a closed storefront while they caught their breaths.

"Okay," her fiancé announced, breathing hard. "That scared the holy hell out of me."

Olivia pressed her fingers to her stomach. "You’re telling me," she gasped. "I thought I was going to pee my pants when he said we were in an area thick with prostitution."

A warm hand clutched hers, surprising her with the comfort that accompanied it. "Maybe we should hurry and get married," he suggested. "Before that happens again."

Olivia looked down at their entwined fingers. Holding a hand felt strange. Actually, it had felt more impersonal to tickle his tonsils with her tongue than it did to weave her fingers though his. She lifted her face and realized she didn’t know him at all. She knew absolutely nothing about this man. The fact that she’d just about had sex with him on a public street shocked and mortified her.