One Wild Wedding Night_ Runaway Part 1

Runaway.

One Wild Wedding Night.

by Leslie Kelly.

Pro1ogue

Scheduling a January wedding in Chicago probably hadn't been among the world's best ideas. Especially since the Windy City had been humped all week by a meteorological snow monster that seemed to want to stick around for the entire winter.

Somehow, though, despite the thick, white flakes that had swirled down around the church, everything had gone as planned. And now a winter wonderland surrounded the hotel where the afternoon reception had been held.

In Izzie Santori's opinion, the day had been perfect.

"Happy, Cookie?" her new husband, Nick, asked as he kicked the door to their room shut. His hands were too full to do the job. Full of Izzie, still clad in her long-trained wedding gown.

"Deliriously."

He pressed a kiss on her throat as he lowered her onto her own feet. "Only you could make a white wedding gown look sinful."

"I'm a natural at sin."

"Don't I know it. I work with you, remember?"

Arching toward him, she twined her fingers in his black hair, which had grown out from its military cut since he'd left the marines. The length suited him, especially when he pulled the silky strands back into a ponytail at Leather and Lace, the upscale strip club where they both worked. "I'm so glad we had an early wedding so everyone from work could come."

"Me, too. I doubt that church has held so many strippers, c.o.c.ktail waitresses and bouncers at one time before." He kissed his way to her earlobe. "You were so beautiful today, Iz. Like always, you made every other woman fade into insignificance."

"I did have some very pretty bridesmaids," she pointed out.

He nodded, lifting her hand to start unb.u.t.toning the long row of tiny b.u.t.tons at her wrist. "You did, not that they looked anything alike. Talk about variety."

That was true. Izzie's bridesmaids had certainly run the gamut. Her maid of honor-and cousin-Bridget, was a quiet, sweet-faced brunette who never had a harsh word for anyone. She'd been Izzie's best friend since childhood.

Bridget was nothing like Leah, a feisty stripper who worked with Izzie at the club. The girl was young and sweeter than anyone would suspect, given her rough background. Blond and bouncy Leah was definitely the ant.i.thesis of Izzie's sister Mia, with her short, jet-black hair and hard edge.

Mia's years as an attorney, prosecuting some pretty awful crimes, had made her even tougher than she'd been growing up. A fighter and a tomboy, Mia had eschewed big sister Gloria's good-girl desire to be a housewife and little sister Izzie's bad-girl desire to be a dancer. Frankly, Izzie had held her breath after asking Mia to be in the wedding, knowing it was not her sister's thing. But family was family. She'd come through.

Then there was Vanessa. While, like Mia, she had some serious att.i.tude, Vanessa also oozed s.e.x appeal and warmth. The stunning African American was a good friend of Izzie's from her Radio City days.

Finally came Gloria, the oldest Natale girl. Married, thirtysomething. Pretty in an Italian housewifey way. Gloria was bossy and old-school, which was why Izzie had both a maid and a matron of honor. Gloria would have been mortally offended if Izzie hadn't asked her.

Definitely a varied menu of bridesmaids. All of whom had looked stunningly beautiful in their dark red velvet gowns. All of whom were women she adored, for their strengths and their kindness, their intelligence and their loyalty. "They were so wonderful and supportive," she murmured.

"Well, hopefully some of my single cousins are keeping them company downstairs in the hotel lounge this evening."

"Sorry to disappoint your cousins, but Leah just led a group of them to a bar up the street."

Nick frowned for the first time in days. "In this weather?"

"It's stopped snowing and I'm sure the roads are slowly being cleared." Nibbling her lip Izzie added, "It's only a couple of blocks away and I paid the limo driver to make sure they got safely back here to their rooms tonight."

"Look out, Chicago , h.o.r.n.y bridesmaids are on the prowl."

"I don't imagine too much can happen since Gloria's with them." Gloria was happily married to Nick's oldest brother. The mother of three had seemed relieved when her husband had offered to take their boys home so she could enjoy the night on the town with the rest of the bridesmaids. "She'll play chaperone."

"Oh, right. Chaperone to a lawyer, a bookkeeper, a stripper and a Rockette."

"You got something against strippers and Rockettes?" she asked, c.o.c.king a challenging brow.

He had finished working her sleeves open and slid around behind her to start on the long row of tiny b.u.t.tons up the back of the dress. As he slid each one free, he kissed the tiny bit of skin revealed, sliding his lips over each of her verte-brae with heart-pounding restraint and sensuality.

"Uh-uh, Cookie. Some of my favorite people are strippers and Rockettes."

She dropped her head forward, sighing as he continued to undress her. Conversation was the last thing she wanted. Thoughts of her bridesmaids began to fade.

But before thrusting the whole subject out of her head altogether, she rea.s.sured them both. "They'll be fine. They're grown women, they're not driving, and they're in a group. What could possibly happen?"

Chapter 1.

Leah Muldoon hadn't known the other members of the wedding party until a few days ago, but she knew she liked them. Which wasn't too much of a surprise-Leah liked everybody.

That was a rarity in her business, considering every pretty woman was a potential rival on the stage, but she didn't care. Stripping was merely a way to pay the bills while she went to school to get her nursing degree. Just an easy way to sock away the cash by exploiting the only a.s.set she had: her body.

It sure as h.e.l.l beat using that body for the kinds of games her stepfather had asked her to play when she was sixteen. Well, he'd asked her once. Then she'd stabbed him and taken off, becoming a teenage runaway...another statistic.

That probably sounded worse than it was. She'd only stabbed him in the wrist. And it had been with a fork. But the pig had definitely deserved it, if only for destroying her few remaining decent feelings about the home she'd grown up in.

"You're all lucky to be part of such a great family," she said, offering a loopy smile to Izzie's sister Gloria, a pet.i.te brunette with a big mouth and a lot of hair. The woman sat on the other side of the table at the crowded Chicago pub.

Vanessa, one of Izzie's friends from New York-a tall, gorgeous black woman with the longest legs Leah had ever seen-cleared her throat and lowered her rum and c.o.ke. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Okay, we're both outsiders. Want to be my sister?"

"Sisters can be a pain in the a.s.s. Let's stick to friends."

Friends. Sounded great. Exactly what she needed most.

Well, almost. Lovers would be a big plus, too. It had been a long time since she'd had a man in her bed.

Gloria took offense. "Hey, not all sisters are pains in the a.s.s." She glanced at her own sister, Mia, the attorney.

Mia stared at her gla.s.s, a grin tickling her full lips. "I'll plead the fifth."

When the laughter died down, Bridget rose, saying she was ready to leave. Leah glanced at her watch and decided to leave, too. "I have to nap off those mai tais in case I decide to go in to work tonight." She yawned, having worked until two last night.

"I dance better when I've had a drink or two," said Gloria.

"You think you do," muttered her sister.

"Watch it or I'll pluck the little hair ya have left."

Smiling, Mia shook her head. Her short black hair gleamed. "Uh-huh, sure. I'd like to see you try, old lady."

Gloria had been getting ribbed all week about being the only married bridesmaid and had endured lots of mother-of-three-never-gets-laid comments.

Leah wished she could stay and enjoy more of the friendly bickering, as well as the typical men-suck griping among single women, but she figured she ought to at least think about going to work. She wasn't on the schedule, but even a short Sat.u.r.day night beat any other night of the week at the club. And her bank account was singing the blues this month after paying for her spring tuition, plus buying wedding and shower gifts.

So saying goodbye, she followed Bridget to the door. They wove through the crowd of people cruising between tipsy and tanked. Leah hadn't gone that far...but two drinks on top of no food or sleep had affected her. She ignored the come-ons...Leah was used to those. She usually had a bouncer watching her back, however, and was not used to dealing with actual gropes. So when a third guy accidentally b.u.mped into her, she just as accidentally impaled his foot with the spiked heel of her shoe.

Reaching the door, she slipped into her ratty coat, regretting having to cover the stunning gown. Unlike most bridesmaid dresses, this one wasn't painfully ugly. The soft, red velvet sheath was something Leah could use again.

"b.u.t.ton up." Bridget sounded motherly, which was funny since she was probably only a couple of years older than Leah.

The command was easier said than done since half of Leah's b.u.t.tons were missing. Leah pulled the coat around her body, crossing her arms. Hopefully the position would prevent Bridget from seeing the frayed sleeves or uneven hem. She'd love to replace it. But the money she'd spend on a new one was better spent on trivial things like food and rent.

Her gloves were even worse, with holes in the tips of two fingers. Those she could afford to replace...she just hadn't had the time. But they were better than nothing.

Stepping outside, she burrowed her face into her collar, her skin p.r.i.c.kling under the a.s.sault of the wind. Spying the stretch limo parked across the lot, she put her head down and headed for it. She hadn't gone far when she heard Bridget.

"Oh, no, I left my cell phone inside." Bridget waved her on. "Go on. No sense in both of us going back."

Bridget didn't even wait. She spun around and hurried inside, leaving Leah to either go after her and brave the crowd of fast-fingered guys or crawl into the warm, private car.

No contest. Yanking the back door open, she slid inside, hearing the driver talking on the phone up front. She was immediately enfolded in warmth and comfort. Luxury, even.

Sinking back against the cushiony seat, she let her body absorb the heat and her nostrils inhale the unfamiliar odors of fine leather, good whiskey and a spicy, masculine scent reminiscent of the sea. She closed her eyes to enjoy it, idly wondering why the car seemed so much more luxurious-not to mention masculine smelling-than it had earlier in the evening.

Mai tais. That explained it. Everything seemed better looking after a few drinks, which was one reason Leah rarely drank. She'd hate to be tipsy enough to look out in the audience one night, think she saw Prince Charming and wake up in the arms of a fat, hairy guy named Rocco the next day.

Rocco definitely wouldn't have a car like this. The Prince Charming of her dreams would, though. She'd been fantasizing about him since she was a kid, waiting for him to whisk her away from her lousy life. Only, he'd never come. She'd whisked herself and done a d.a.m.n fine job of it, if she did say so herself. With or without her clothes.

Smiling and letting just a tiny bit of princely fantasy slip into her brain, Leah yawned, curled deeper in the seat.

And fell asleep.

"Let me get this straight. You have no idea who this woman sleeping in my car is or how she got here?"

Slone Kincaid kept his voice low as he talked to his driver through the open part.i.tion between the front and pa.s.senger areas of the limo. He didn't know why. He should be shaking the irresistible blonde awake and kicking her out of his car, which she'd either mistaken as her own or stumbled into drunk. But something made him whisper as he kept his eyes on his unexpected guest.

Curled up in the corner of the backseat, she was a pet.i.te package with bright blond curls and pouty lips. He'd stared at the lips and the creamy cheeks for a minute when he'd gotten in, unable to tear his gaze away. She looked young-vulnerable-and while pretty, she wasn't stop-your-heart gorgeous, as some women he'd dated were. So why she'd stopped his, he had no idea.

Unexpected, that was all. He just hadn't pictured his evening going like this-with him forced to leave a bar he'd stopped at on a whim due to a fire alarm, then stumbling over a s.e.xy, unconscious girl in his own car.

He'd pointed her out to his oblivious driver. Richie-who'd been fighting with his girlfriend every other hour since Slone had hired him-wasn't the most observant sort when not driving. As proven by the blonde in the torn coat.

The coat. It looked old, like something out of a rag bag. So did the gloves covering her small hands. He couldn't see what else she had on as she was curled into a ball in the corner, her legs tucked under her on the seat. And suddenly Slone thought of a third reason for her presence: she could be homeless. Cold. Desperate.

He understood the feeling. At least, the desperate part. And some people would probably describe him as cold.

Homeless, however, he was not. In fact, avoiding his home, where he would have to play host to his pushy family tomorrow, was why he'd had Richie cruise around Chicago for a while tonight, rather than heading right to his penthouse. And the resulting pit stop at a downtown bar to kill some more time-and wait for the snowplows to get ahead of them-had left him with this unexpected stowaway.

"I swear, boss, I didn't hear her get in, didn't even see her back there. She musta been real silent. Sneaky-like."

Slone doubted that. More likely Richie had been trying to out shout his girlfriend.

"You want I should roust her outta there?"

Glancing at his watch, Slone gave it some thought. It was only nine-thirty, he had nowhere to go and nothing special to do until the Bossy Women's Brigade, in the form of his family, descended tomorrow afternoon for lunch. The bar was closed and fire trucks with sirens blaring-not that his guest noticed-were now pulling into the parking lot.

This woman could provide a nice diversion. "Let's drive around for a little while."

His driver gaped. "You mean...with her?"

Slone nodded. "Yes. With her."

"Are you going to wake her up?"

"That isn't my intention."

His employee slowly shook his head but didn't say a word. Instead, he turned around in his seat. Slone watched the woman, wondering if the car's shift from a slow idling rumble into Drive would awaken her. But it didn't.

Not thinking about it, he reached for the switch and closed the privacy panel. It wasn't as if he was planning anything private. He'd never had s.e.x back here-though there had been one occasion when a singer he'd dated had been determined to give him a so long b.l.o.w. .j.o.b before she moved out of state. Now, though, nothing could happen with an unconscious stranger. But he wanted to watch her...without Richie watching him.

He slid down the long side seat until he sat across from the blonde. Close enough to feel her warmth and to smell the subtly exotic perfume rising from her skin.

Who are you? Shrugging out of his coat and jacket, he loosened his tie, which he'd had on for a dinner meeting, then unb.u.t.toned the top few b.u.t.tons of his shirt. He sprawled back in his seat, pouring himself a drink from a glittering decanter in the limo's bar. Bringing the crystal gla.s.s to his lips, he slowly sipped from it, never taking his eyes off his slumbering companion.

The car was warm, yet her arms were wrapped tightly around her waist. It was as if in her dreams she was still outside and needed more protection than her ragged coat could provide against the bitter winter air. The way she hugged her body pushed the curves of her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s high-high enough to put the taste buds in Slone's mouth on high alert.

She was much more voluptuous than he'd first realized.

With her chin tucked into her collar, her golden hair had fallen across her face. Long, curly strands hung well down the front of her, draping the curves of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. An image swept through his brain of her wearing nothing but that hair, with her rosy, hard nipples thrusting through in invitation.