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Las Vegas, Nevada

Zane Scott woke slowly, trying to remember exactly where he was. He could hear water running. He had an impression of a crowded bar, laughter, and voices.
His little sister’s twenty-first birthday.

She’d wanted to celebrate in Vegas, and he’d flown out to meet her and her friends because she’d asked him to. His parents were there too, but they’d bowed out long before the evening ended. He remembered drinking tequila shots, thinking there was no way Mia was old enough to drink, and scowling at the random dudes who came by to chat with Mia and her friends.

Her friends were all around the same age, and they flirted outrageously with him. He didn’t mind. He knew better than to bang any of them, no matter how drunk he got.
He had a sudden impression of skin on skin, hot sex, and the satisfaction of at least two orgasms. He’d definitely banged someone last night. But had it been one of Mia’s college friends? A shudder rippled through him.

God, he hoped not. They were pretty enough, but they were kids. He was thirty-one, a full ten years older than his baby sister. No way would he have let down his guard enough to fuck one of her friends. Would he?

The water stopped running. He pushed upright slowly, his head aching. He didn’t usually drink so much, but it’d been a long few months and he’d welcomed the break from work. All his teammates were married or getting married. Some of the wives were pregnant, or soon would be. It was downright domestic at HOT HQ these days. He was the only one still up for spontaneous bar hopping or for darts and wings at Buddy’s Bar & Grill.

The guys still went to Buddy’s, but they tapped out early, saying they had to get home to their women. Zane sighed. It was a lonely business being the last unattached operator on the team.

He told himself to snap out of it. He liked being single. Banging a different woman every night if he wanted. Not being tied to a schedule for going out or coming home. He reached for a bottle of water on the bedside table and drank it down. He set it back on the table when something glinted on his left hand.

He blinked. Stared. Spread his hand to stare some more.

There was a ring on his left hand. He lifted it to stare at it a bit closer. Gold, smooth, encircling his ring finger. As if he’d gotten married.

The chill that shuddered through him earlier became an ice storm.

Married. Oh, shit.

He’d gotten married. It’d happened. He remembered standing in front of Elvis, saying vows to a woman with red hair and luscious lips that he’d wanted wrapped around his cock.

“Oh Jesus,” he groaned. Of all the stupid fucking things.

He’d married a woman he didn’t know last night. For some hot sex and a blow job.

Fucking hell…