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“Do you even hear yourself?”

“I do. You’ve had a decidedly corrupting influence on me. Are you happy?”

I was. I really was. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever being happier.

All of the venues were in casinos on the strip, and I couldn’t resist slowing down dramatically in front of something completely unrelated that we were passing by.

She saw where I was going and made sure I saw her roll her eyes.

I pushed it even farther, turning, pulling up to and parking at the little white chapel.

We stared at each other. I grinned. “Marry me, and I’ll give you a raise.”

“You sure would. Getting half in the divorce would certainly be a raise.

“That’s cynical.” I paused for effect. “Wives usually take more than half. And divorce isn’t a joke, you know.”

“Sure it is.”

She was right as usual, about the venues. She didn’t even have to ask me after we got a tour of the space we were shown in the Cavendish casino.

“This one,” she said, and she was right.

It was a lovely modern space that was basically a large multi-level suite with floor to ceiling windows and views of the strip. None of the other venues had even come close to comparing.

She was so smug about it that I wanted to bite her. In fact, I did.

I backed her slowly to the wall right there, boxing her in with my arms.

She looked unfazed. “We don’t have time for whatever this is,” she said, unruffled.

I bit her lower lip, licked it, and started kissing her.

We weren’t even alone. The person showing us the room was getting quite the show. I couldn’t make myself care.

The only thing that made me stop was Ro herself pushing me away.

“Move it along, nympho,” she told me and walked away.

As an insult, it lacked heat. And she was very, very ruffled.

“Any other errands we need to run?” I told her as we walked back to the valet.

“That was it for today.”

We were passing by Frankie’s famous tattoo parlor, and I pointed at it. “What would I have to do to get you to have my name tattooed on your ass?”

“Are you reciprocating?”

“Of course. I’m not an animal.”

“You’d have to get my full name. Just getting Ro is a copout.”

I could tell she was messing with me, just being outrageous to see who broke first. She’d come to the right place, or the wrong one depending how you wanted to look at it. “Devereux spelled out on my ass. Deal. And you have to get Turner, written in letters with thorns all over them.”

“Deal,” she said instantly, with relish. “You get yours first.”

“You’re evil. Truly.”