The Last Bachelor. Judy Christenberry

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      “It’s one of the hotels on the strip.”

      When she discovered the suite consisted of a huge space with a tub big enough to hold half a dozen people and several bedrooms and a living area, she told him they should ask for a smaller place so they could save money.

      He refused. He needed plenty of room so he could handle the desire to put his arms around her. Especially as the sun went down.

      “Will we leave in the morning?” she asked anxiously.

      “Our flight’s around noon.”

      She frowned and said nothing.

      “We’re going to dinner in ten minutes. Okay?”

      “Why don’t we eat here? Look at all this fruit.” She gestured to the delicious-looking fruit basket on the cocktail table. “That would be enough for dinner.”

      “Not for me. Besides, a wedding dinner is traditional.”

      She kept frowning.

      After dinner, Joe took her to the casino. He changed dollar bills into coins and handed her some, explaining she should put one in a slot machine. She slipped the coin in. He told her to pull the handle.

      She did so and waited.

      With a kiss on her smooth cheek, he said, “Sorry, you didn’t win. Here’s another one.”

      She stared at the coin he held out and then at him. “Why?”

      “To try again. To see if you win.”

      “But I didn’t.”

      “So you try again.”

      “No! I will not give your money away.”

      “But it’s supposed to be fun.” He waved his arm. “All these people are playing the slot machines. Don’t you want to?”

      “No. A good wife does not give her husband’s money away,” she assured him, a determined look on her face.

      He sighed. “Okay, we’ll try again later. Do you want to see a show?”

      “What kind of show?”

      He tried to explain what was available. The only thing she showed interest in were the famous white Bengal tigers, but that show was sold out.

      Finally, he had an idea. “How about art? The Bellagio has an art gallery with famous paintings. Would you like to see them?”

      Her eyes glowed. “Oh, I would love that. One day in New York I got to go to a museum. The paintings were beautiful.”

      Joe shook his head in amazement and took his bride to the art gallery. Slowly they looked at the paintings. In college, Joe had studied art, along with architecture and in his spare time did some sketching. But he enjoyed the evening more than he had thought he would, mostly because Ginger liked looking at the paintings, too.

      But he didn’t think anyone else would believe him. A night in Vegas with no gambling, no alcohol and no sex. He’d ordered a bottle of champagne for their wedding supper, but Ginger had preferred Coca-Cola. No bright lights, big stars or crowds of people. Just art, whispered comments and privacy.

      After the gallery, Ginger was ready to turn in. “Do you mind?” she asked. “I’m tired. So much has happened in two days.”

      He put his arm around her shoulder and led her to the elevator. “You’re right, honey. Will you be okay if I come back down for a while?”

      “You like to gamble?” she asked, surprised.

      “Sometimes.” Like when I have to leave you alone, he said to himself. Otherwise you couldn’t keep me from your side.

      With a cautious smile, she told him good-night once they were in the suite. He kissed her cheek and turned away. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

      She nodded and disappeared into the big bedroom.

      Wearily, he turned away. He didn’t want to gamble. But he’d go put in an hour on the slot machines, or maybe blackjack, to pass the time. Then maybe he could go to sleep without thinking about Ginger in the massive bed in the next room. Or, maybe more accurately, about joining her in the big bed.

      He hadn’t realized resisting temptation would be so difficult.

      When Joe awoke the next morning, about nine, he showered and shaved, then dressed before discovering Ginger poring over a book in the living room.

      “What are you reading?” he asked.

      Ginger looked up in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t know you were awake. I’m studying history. I have a test Tuesday night.”

      He shook his head. That wasn’t something he’d brag about: his wife studying while on her honeymoon. “Ready for some breakfast?”

      She agreed, though she said she’d eaten some fruit when she got up at seven.

      “I thought you’d sleep late.”

      “No, I usually get up at seven. Do you sleep late every morning?” she asked.

      He shook his head. “I guess I just stayed up too late last night.” Actually, he’d stayed downstairs until the early morning, trying to tire himself out.

      “Did you lose a lot of money?” she asked, that frown already in place.

      “No, in fact I won.”

      The frown disappeared, but she didn’t show any greedy elation.

      “So come on,” he urged her. “Let’s get some breakfast. I can pay for it with my winnings.”

      “I can pay for myself. I didn’t pay my share for dinner last night.”

      Joe huffed. “I’m the husband. I’ll pay for our meals.”

      “But that’s not fair. You’re helping me. You shouldn’t have to pay.”

      He studied her clear eyes, her earnest expression. Crossing to her side, he took her shoulders in his hands. “Ginger, if we’re going to convince people that we are truly married, we’re going to have to act like it. I’ll pay for our living expenses. You’ll take care of cooking occasionally, cleaning a little. That’s how it works.”

      “But—”

      “No arguments.” With a sigh, he said firmly, “Honey, I’m an architect. I make a lot more money than you. I can afford to take care of you.” He turned her around to face the door. “Now, I want no more arguments about who’s going to pay. Let’s go get breakfast.”

      By the time they’d had breakfast, packed up and got on the plane, Joe had a lot better picture of what he faced when he got his bride back to Mission Creek.

      Heaven СКАЧАТЬ