Razzmatazz-DDL (5 page)

“What more can you do to me than you’ve already done?” she wailed. She froze beneath him. “You—you wouldn’t dare!”

“Dare what?”

“This is what you wanted all the time, isn’t it? My body!” she shrieked.

“She’s delirious,” Chris insisted from his position of relative safety near the windows.

“You’ll have to kill me first, Alex Carruthers!” she said fiercely.

“Don’t tempt me,” he snapped.

A savage pounding reverberated from the other side of the wall.

“Good God, Alex. She’s your wife—shut her up before she gets us thrown out of here! ”

“Wait a minute! Wait just a dad-burned minute!” Kennie sputtered. He felt her heaving for breath and risked easing the bedspread from her flushed face. “Just who the heck am I married to, anyway?”

“You mean, you don’t know?” Alex demanded. “You don’t remember?”

With her free hand she pointed an executioner’s finger at Chris. “It’s his ring!”

“If you’ll calm down, I’ll try to explain,” Alex urged her desperately.

Her body grew deathly still beneath him, her face frozen in a savage glare. “Start talking.”

“I’m glad she’s yours, old man.” Chris stepped nearer, rubbing his jaw. “Where’d you learn to hit like that?”

“I want an explanation right this minute!” Kennie demanded.

Alex shifted uncomfortably above her, embarrassment flickering through him. “You’re married to me.”

He watched cautiously as she gulped, closed her eyes, then reopened them to stare into his face again. “Married? You mean, really married?” He tensed, waiting for her anger, for the fury to boil up in her once more. But she only shook her head in confusion. “To you,” she stammered. “But—but—”

“Don’t you remember anything?” Chris asked from behind him, peering down at them. “We couldn’t both marry you, so we flipped for you. Alex won.” He leaned against the wall and folded his arms.

Kennie’s gaze snapped from him back to Chris, and Alex felt the heat of her rage, still too close to the surface. “Flipped, as in flipped a coin?” she asked slowly, evenly, and he knew real panic.

“Well, it seemed perfectly appropriate at the time,” Chris interjected.

“Shut up!” Alex said ominously.

Chris jabbered on, oblivious to Alex’s warning. “After all, we couldn’t both have you. We’re not into that kind of thing at all.”

“You tossed a coin for me?” Kennie repeated, her voice taking on a new, incredulous edge. Before Alex could react, she wrenched her upper body free of him and slithered over the edge of the bed.

“Stop her!” Chris shouted. “She’s headed for her purse!”

Alex vaulted off the bed and lunged after her, falling at her feet.

Kennie’s hand was inches away from the pink canvas bag when he caught hold of her ankles and held her back. “Get it, Chris!”

“Dammit, let go of me!” Kennie screamed as Chris snatched her bag off the floor and retreated to the sofa. He turned it upside down and shook. When nothing fell out, he fumbled with the buckles. She gave her left foot a vicious jerk and freed it.

“Kennie, give me a break!” Alex moaned.

But she was free and halfway across the room. Chris had possession of the bag, but Kennie’s slashing nails gave her a distinct advantage. Chris fell back in dismay, staring at the long pink stripe on the back of his hand. “She scratched me!”

Kennie plunged her hand inside her purse, fumbled, then, with an expression of triumph, pulled out a can, aimed and squeezed.

Her mouth fell open as the air horn blasted.

And blasted.

And blasted.

Alex clapped his hands over his ears. The pounding on the wall resumed; the telephone began to ring.

Advancing one angry step at a time, Alex shouted, “Cut that blasted thing off!”

Kennie jiggled the button, but the jammed horn continued to blare. She gave a frustrated growl and finally tossed it at Alex. “You figure it out!”

As Alex dived for it, she frantically searched her purse. Wincing at the noise, Alex shook the air horn, but it blew on. Desperate, he finally gave up and ran to the door, flung it open, and hurled the horn into the hall. It hit the opposite wall and immediately silenced.

Slamming the door behind him, Alex whirled back toward her and froze, his eyes wide and focused on the can of Mace that was mere inches from his nose.

“Back off, buster,” Kennie threatened.

“Just let me explain,” he pleaded, backpedaling. “It’s not what you think! Nothing happened that we can’t fix, if you’ll just calm down!”

Kennie grabbed her sandals from the floor, then edged her way toward the door. “I’m leaving, and you’re not following. Is that clear?”

“Kennie,” Alex implored. “Give me a chance!”

“She’s crazy,” Chris insisted. “Let her go!”

A loud knock sounded at the door. “Hotel security—open up in there!”

Seconds later the door burst open. Flanked by two armed security guards, the concierge stood in the doorway, a gaggle crowded behind them.

“Excuse me,” Kennie snarled, and shoved her way through their midst.

Alex lunged after her, leaving Chris to pick up the pieces. But he merely waved a handful of bills in the concierge’s face and ran after the two of them. “My ring! Don’t let her get away with my ring!”

~o0o~

A half hour later, Kennie limped on a broken heel down Virginia Street, toward the early-evening sun setting over the Truckee River. Half her hair had tumbled loose from its topknot of curls and dangled around her shoulders. Her electric-yellow dress gaped in front where two almost-crucial buttons were missing. She blew a wisp of hair out of her face and waited impatiently at the corner for the light to change, ignoring the stares of onlookers. Her gaze happened upon the arching sign overhead:

RENO

THE BIGGEST LITTLE CITY IN THE WORLD

And I’m the biggest little fool in the world, she thought in confusion, glancing over her shoulder and seeing Alex hurrying to close the distance between them. Unshaven, his tuxedo jacket askew, he clutched the bruised and bedraggled bouquet and wedding album. Though her energy was nearly depleted, she refused to let him catch her, refused to give him another chance to convince her to.... To what? She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to find out.

She darted into the street, dodging cars and ignoring horns. Alex and Chris followed her into the fray, and somehow they all emerged unscathed on the other side.

“Kennie, if you’d just listen....” Alex pleaded.

“How can I avoid it? You’ve been chasing me for three blocks,” she snapped desperately.

“Please, Alex, get my ring and let her go!” Chris begged as he huffed at Alex’s side. “That woman’s been nothing but trouble ever since you married her!”

Kennie noticed that a half dozen heads swiveled toward Chris, or she would have slugged him again, harder. Instead, she clenched her fist, knuckles still aching from their earlier collision with his jaw, tilted her nose higher in the air and stalked on. Her destination dominated her thoughts: Cannon International Airport.

“Couldn’t you slow down a little?” Alex called, catching up to her.

She picked up her pace.

“Don’t you remember anything?” he asked from behind her.

Nothing after the casino, she thought. Vague memories of bells clanging, of lights flashing...a flamingo-pink building...wonderful, wonderful laughter.

“Kennie.” His voice taunted her gently. “Don’t you even remember our kiss?”

Kiss? Of course she remembered the kiss, right there on the street in front of Harrah’s—or was it Harold’s?—with flashbulbs popping, half blinding her....

She stopped short, and Alex and Chris collided behind her.

“For crying out loud, will you make up your mind?” Chris complained. “Are you running a marathon or holding up traffic?”

Several thoughts assaulted her at once. For the camera, Kennie Sue. For posterity. For our grandchildren.

The pink building...champagne...the veil caught between their lips, then brushed away...the scent of roses, the swell of music.... Another kiss.

She remembered.

Cheeks burning, Kennie stared up at Alex. She remembered, and he knew it. She remembered his strong hands on her waist, his lips moving against hers with tantalizing delicacy, then harder, deeper, until a sweet lethargy oozed through her body.

She remembered because it was happening to her again as she stood right here on a busy sidewalk, basking in the warmth of his eyes. The tiniest twinkle danced in their brown depths. He knew it, too, darn him!

Setting her jaw, she spun away, then, abruptly, spun back. “What camera?”

“Huh?” Alex looked puzzled.

She shoved a strand of blond curls brusquely out of her face. “When we kissed—what camera?”

Now she could read his mind. Suddenly he was cocky, confident again, flashing that devastating smile. “Why, Kennie Sue, you really don’t remember, do you? The camera at the wedding chapel, of course.”

She cringed. The flamingo-pink building was a wedding chapel. The events of the previous night were coming back in alarming, disturbing snatches, and she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to remember any more. “You mean, there are pictures of this disaster?”

Alex produced the album and opened it. He flipped past the blank guest page, past the blank page for gifts received, to the back, where a dozen Polaroid pictures were haphazardly stuck beneath the crinkled clear plastic.

“Give them to me!” she said urgently.

But Alex snatched the album away, grinning. “Why do you want them?”

“I’m going to destroy them,” Kennie ground out through clenched teeth.

“Oh, no, you’re not.” He smiled smugly. “I paid for them. They’re mine.”

“Ooh....” she fairly growled, squeezing her eyes shut in frustration. She breathed deeply as too many scathing, snarling words fought to tumble out of her mouth.

Hands tucked in his wrinkled tuxedo pockets, the bouquet tucked securely under one arm, and the wedding album under the other, Alex managed to look charmingly rumpled, like a little kid who’d slept in his clothes.

She tried to harden herself against that charm, fought against an unreasonable urge to forgive him.

Mercy, it was difficult to stay angry at him. His hangdog expression could wring tears from a marble statue. Quick to anger but quicker to forgive, Kennie was no statue. After all, she’d said “I do,” the same as he had. Was it fair for her to expect him to carry all the blame?

She responded to the gentle push on her back as Alex propelled her forward. He fell in step beside her. “You’re being unreasonable, you know.”

She did a low simmer. It was one thing to think it herself but quite another to have him point it out to her.

“I realize this situation is a bit… shall we say, avant garde, but nothing’s happened that can’t be corrected,” he assured her.

“Hallelujah!” She sidestepped to avoid brushing elbows with him at every step. But even so, he was too close for comfort, and as if that weren’t bad enough, Chris was practically on her heels, grumbling under his breath.

A charter bus wheezed to a stop beside them. Gray-haired ladies began disembarking, cackling to one another. In moments, dozens of women wearing matching blue chambray shirts decorated with the logo of their organization—Gambling Grannies—swarmed around them. They split into groups, and most headed directly for the closest casino. A few, however, fell in step behind Kennie, Alex and Chris.

Alex closed his hand over her upper arm, ostensibly to help her down the curb. Shards of pain shot up her left calf as it protested the lack of support from the broken heel of her sandal. But why did she have to feel tingles all the way from his warm fingers to the nape of her neck? Frustrated by her body’s rebellious reaction to his touch, she pulled away from him once they got across the street.

“You do wonders for a man’s ego, you know. I’m beginning to take this personally.” His tone was one of mock insult.

“Beginning?” Kennie stopped and stared at him, appalled. “Beginning? Believe me, I took this thing personally the moment I woke up in bed with you two this morning, and the more I hear, the more personal it gets!”

The group of ladies behind them exchanged puzzled glances and drew closer to them.

“Last night you acted as if I was doing you a favor,” Alex said.

“A favor?” She faced him, her arms akimbo. “Just what in tarnation is that supposed to mean? Next you’ll be telling me I held a gun to your head!” She wheeled away from him and headed toward the bridge.

“You poor dear,” a quavering, motherly voice said from beside her. Kennie turned toward a short, stout woman who had a kind face and a silver pompadour that added five inches to her height. “I understand the problems of the heart. Myself, I can’t cross this bridge without thinking about Albert,” the woman confided, sniffing.

“Do we have to hear this again, Maizie?” complained a blue-haired matron who wore a rhinestone pin spelling VERA on her bosom.

“It was on this very bridge in 1936,” Maizie went on, ignoring Vera. “Our divorce had just become final. I threw his rings over the side, right at this very same spot. Very nearly threw myself over, I was so distraught.”

Kennie eyed her ring finger.

“Don’t you dare, Kennie Sue,” Chris hissed from behind Alex.

“Relax. It’s okay,” Alex assured him.

Maizie continued. “No sooner did I get back to the hotel than I received the telegram. Albert’s appendix had burst and he was dead—and I missed inheriting three-quarters of a million dollars by twenty minutes!”

“Thank you, Maizie,” Vera intoned. “Now that you’ve gotten that out of your system again, can we go on to the casinos?”

But Maizie offered Kennie her hand. “Come along with me, and let us help you. I’ve only been divorced once, but Vera’s been a grass widow four times.”

Distracted, Kennie shook her head and broke away, moving doggedly toward the side of the bridge.

“Dearie, where are you going?” Maizie called.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Vera chided. “She’s going to throw herself in!”

Maizie gasped, then wagged a gnarled finger at Alex and Chris. “Well, don’t just stand there—stop her!”