EXCERPT #1
Tom cleared his throat.

“I know you’re on the clock, and this is a mess, but Jack’s with Chunk and we have no idea what’s happening next. Emergency rooms take hours, so we have some time. What would you like to do? Are you hungry? Shall we get some dinner? I’ve never seen Las Vegas before. Shall we take a look around?”

“From what I’ve seen of your work, I don’t think you’re going to like the aesthetic here very much.” Ranney had only been there once before, with Carmine, for some sort of packaging expo. She’d spent most of her time by the hotel pool and therefore avoided the stereotypical Vegas experience. The desert weather had been lovely, the hotel food was exceptional, and she never set foot in a casino or even pulled a slot machine handle.

“But it’s iconic! Come on, I can’t be here on the ground and not see it, I may never be back!”

“Tom, what about the wedding party? You’re supposed to be hanging out with them!”

“I already explained that. They’re my relatives and a bunch of future in laws of Charlie’s. I can be with them anytime. I can’t be with you anytime. And certainly not in Las Vegas, Nevada.”

And that was the moment when she realized just how much she wanted to go with him. She wanted to see Las Vegas–with him. She wanted to sit next to him in the back of an Uber and listen to him talk. Lean against him, close enough to breathe the scent of his skin. Hear everything that had ever happened to him before they met, even if he told her in that annoying British accent–which was becoming less annoying and more charming by the minute.

Dear God, was this some unanticipated perimenopausal side effect? In all the articles that she’d read on the subject, had this ever been mentioned? Intense and inappropriate lust for a virtual stranger?

Speaking of inappropriate, what exactly was his age, anyway? She needed another look at his profile and she needed it now. Because if he was anywhere near her daughter’s age–if he was young enough, say, to have attended one of Nessa’s childhood birthday parties–she was going to fake stomach flu and get on the next plane home. Claire could have this entire field all to herself, whether she was capable or not.

“Are you all right?” Tom asked. “You’re looking a bit… shaken up. I thought emergencies were your specialty?”

 

EXCERPT #2
But… marriage?

When he smiled, his whole face lit up, but those eyes stayed on her, appreciative and wanting. “This is bonkers, completely crazy. These are intelligent people, they aren’t going to believe this is real. You told me yourself a few hours ago that it isn’t real.”

All Ranney could do was lean in further, mesmerized.

Nessa’s words stirred a deep rebellious streak inside her. Was this abnormal? Impossible? Was she prey? Would marrying Tom on a lark like this be a stupid act of a woman seeking — what? What was she seeking?

Novelty, certainly.

One kiss did not a marriage make. Then again, she and Tom were far more compatible – on the surface, at least – than her and her first husband. And the Saltzman Prize was a big deal.

“Oh, now, that’s not so good. That is not what I thought. I drove you for three hours last night, I thought real.” Achilles had turned and was leaning on the console between the front seats. “Maybe I made a mistake. We should go.”

“You’re right,” Ranney said softly to Tom. “It is silly. I can be a bit too strategic at times. Marriage as a tool for helping a client might be a bridge too far. I mean, it could help. It would be quite a story to tell in later years. Our motto at work is Whatever It Takes, after all. But it’s impetuous and completely out of character for me, so — ”

“Hold on,” Tom said. “Achilles, we need a minute. We’ll be right back, don’t leave.”

Jumping out of the car, he ran around and opened Ranney’s door. She stepped out, the afternoon heat hitting her in a wave. The lightweight sweater she’d put on in Boston was now damp with perspiration but, as much as she wanted to strip it off, the silk camisole she was wearing underneath was not okay on its own. Pushing up the sleeves, she headed for the small patch of shade under some palm trees at the edge of the parking lot.

“You are talking about getting married,” he started. “That’s not a joke, not something you just say ‘never mind’ and walk away from a few days later, unless you’re that pop singer, whatever her name is. It’s a binding legal contract–very binding.”

“It’s a piece of paper,” Ranney countered. “You are technically a U.S. citizen, yes? Your mother was born here. You just haven’t claimed your citizenship.”

“Yes.”

“Then this is just till you get your dual passport. Or before that, if you find someone else you want to marry.”

“You are making marriage sound like choosing flavors of ice cream.”

“For some people, it is.”

“Not me.”

“Look, you have everything to gain and nothing to lose but the legal fee to annul it. We’re both single and neither of us is in a relationship. We don’t need to tell our families. We don’t need to move in together or even see each other in Boston. It’s a technicality, a marriage of convenience. Eyes on the Prize.”

As she listened to her own voice painting this transactional picture, though, less transactional images were forming in her mind. This would in no way be a traditional situation, not at all, but surely they’d see each other occasionally? Just to check in, catch up, maybe have dinner? They wouldn’t be together, really, but she had to admit he was right.

In some way they would be bound. Her pulse quickened.

“Why would you do this?” His eyes searched her face, but he was smiling. Broadly. “You have a life, a daughter, friends. You barely know me, and a few hours ago, you didn’t want to get to know me any better. So, why now?”

“A rabbi I know once told me not to ask the why questions,” she smiled. “He said there are some things that cannot be explained.”

He squeezed her hands, then used one thumb to stroke a spot on her wrist that made her blood race. “This is crazy.”

“Everybody should do something crazy once in a while. Too much sanity makes you old.”

 

EXCERPT #3
It felt to Ranney like things were moving both very quickly and very slowly here.

It was only yesterday morning that she’d been sitting at the office conference table in Boston, confident that she knew what her future looked like, both immediate and long term. Then an unexpected phone call came in and thirty or so hours later, she was in Las Vegas, married to a virtual stranger. Her daughter wasn’t speaking to her, her employer had no clear idea where she was, and for that matter, neither did she.

That was the fast side.

On the slow side, she had been trying to get to the Freestone Club for over twenty-four hours now, and she was still hours away. Her totally inexperienced co-worker (at least, inexperienced in event protection) was alone on the scene of what promised to be a delicate situation to handle, she had been wearing the same clothes for far too long, and she was operating on minimal sleep.

Of course, much of that was par for the course in a high-pressure, high-stakes, unpredictable line of work like hers. Having a spat with Nessa was not unheard of, either. As far as she could tell, it was pretty typical for mothers and daughters, especially when they were close.

Marrying a virtual stranger on an impulse, though? Not par for the course.

Why had she done it?

 

EXCERPT #4
Between the flickering fireplace and the view beyond the windows, they were surrounded by glittering lights. Tom returned from his shower, wavy dark hair wet and gorgeously mussed, his bathrobe tightly cinched at the waist, yet – it was clear.

He was, well… ready to play.

He took one side of the sofa and she curled into the other, tucking her legs underneath her and tugging the hem of the shirt down as far as possible. For good measure, she pulled a toss pillow onto her lap. After her bath, she’d decided against wearing the thick white robe because it had seemed so undressed, but maybe it would have been a better choice.

Especially given Tom’s decision.

“Usually the serious conversations happen a little further on,” he said with a rueful little smile. “But we’ve done everything out of order so far, why should this be any different?”

“I think I’ve already said my piece. I have been having a wonderful time with you for two days now, but it’s been a 48-hour adrenaline rush. That’s not real life. And okay, through some weird set of circumstances, we happen to be married, but that’s not real life, either.”

All she got in answer was a head tilt, complete with a small smile that widened as he studied her.

In the other room, her phone began to ring–Nessa’s ringtone, which she had set as a bypass so that even when the phone was silenced, her daughter’s calls rang through. In typical mom fashion, no matter that her child was an adult, she reacted as if it were a tornado alert.

“I have to get that! Excuse me.” Also like a tornado alert, she wasn’t sure whether she should be running out into it or taking cover.

She ran, but by the time she spotted her phone on the marble counter and picked it up, the call was gone. Holding it in her hand, she pondered calling back.

Who was she becoming? Of course she should call back. It could be Kari or — oh. It was Nessa.

Regardless, the mere idea that she wouldn’t be available at any given time for work or her daughter was becoming tantalizingly… delicious? Choosing Tom over work was so easy. Too easy.

Yet it felt so right.

For so many years, Ranney’s life revolved around Nessa, work, and Mame. What if there was more?

And Tom was offering that more to her right this very moment.