It Happened In Vegas. Amy Ruttan

It was all an image, another empty promise. She really hated politics. It brought out the worst in her father, a man she fondly remembered as being so different.

      He hadn’t always been this way. She remembered a different father, a loving, caring and real man. It was this political side of him she wasn’t thrilled with.

      Jennifer picked up a flute of champagne and tried to avoid the flash of cameras as reporters flocked around her father. Her perfect sister stood with her parents, smiling and chatting with the press, eating up the attention. The attention brought to her family made her nervous because she hadn’t had the best relationship with them since her father had got into the political arena over a decade ago.

      She was, after all, the black sheep, which meant the press were constantly dogging her heels. They’d backed off somewhat since she’d become a doctor. A doctor wasn’t juicy enough for the paparazzi. Well, it was thrilling enough for her.

      She’d rather be in the OR tonight, saving lives, but instead she was here and pretending to be part of the “perfect” family that her father wanted the world to believe they had.

       Ha.

      No family was perfect, but her father was ashamed of his roots. How he didn’t come from a wealthy heritage.

      He didn’t want anyone to know that he was the illegitimate son of a congressman and an intern. That he’d worked with his hands to better their lives.

      Her father only wanted his voters to see how he’d risen like a phoenix from the ashes.

      Everything else burned away.

      Jennifer swigged back the expensive champagne and then took another one, ignoring the waiter’s eyebrow rising as she set her second empty flute back on the tray.

      The waiter left before she could take a third.

      It was probably for the best, but Jennifer just shook her head and meandered to a safe, dark corner where she could go unnoticed by everyone.

      You’d think that accepting a trauma surgeon fellowship on the east coast would be something most parents would be proud of, and maybe her father would be, but her perfect sister, Pamela, had managed to become engaged to a high-society socialite from Manhattan and all Jennifer had managed to do was become a surgeon in a hospital.

      It was like she had rabies or something.

      No matter what she did, she couldn’t shake off her past. She couldn’t shake off the stigma of being the black sheep in the family.

      The one who didn’t want to rise from the humble beginnings of her life and mingle with the social elite. She wanted to help the poor and less fortunate.

      She fumbled in her purse for the illicit pack of cigarettes, something which she’d been trying desperately to give up since her days as a hellion teen. She’d been off them for a while, but being around her family made her do crazy things.

       “Why do you always do things to make me look bad?”

      A shudder traveled down her spine as her father’s voice whispered in her ear.

      Jennifer pushed open the French doors and stepped out into the cool night air. The patio was mostly empty. Everyone was inside, enjoying the party.

      There was one sad-looking cigarette in the package. Old and almost crumpled. She pulled it out and turned to toss it away, remembering why she’d quit when she’d started medical school.

      It was being around her perfect family that made her go bonkers.

      She didn’t like the act. Couldn’t they be real?

      “That’s not healthy for you, you know that?”

      Jennifer spun around and saw that she wasn’t alone on the patio. A soldier was half-hidden in the shadows, only three feet from her, sitting on a bench.

      He leaned forward and she could see the hazel of his eyes reflected in the moonlight. His face was slim, long, but there was something enticing about it. When he smiled, it was a half-smile that ended in a deep dimple in his left cheek.

      “I wasn’t going to smoke it. I was going to get rid of it. I quit a long time ago,” she said.

      The soldier stood slowly and stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, lanky and devilishly appealing in his dress uniform. He whipped off the dress hat and held it under his arm, revealing a buzz cut.

      “With all due respect, miss, it appeared that you were ready to devour that cancer stick.”

      Jennifer chuckled and glanced at the cigarette in her fingers. “Okay, I thought about it, but only for a moment.”

      He stepped closer and took the cigarette from her hand, snapped it in half and tossed it over the side of the patio into the bushes. “There, the temptation is gone.”

      “Hey, that’s littering. You do realize that, don’t you?”

      He placed his hat back on his head and raised an ebony eyebrow. “Are you the litter police?”

      “No, but you’re a soldier. You should know better, hooah and all that.”

      This time he grinned and his white teeth gleamed in the darkness. “Hooah and all that?”

      Jennifer laughed. “Sorry, I don’t know. I’m on edge.”

      “And I just threw away your only means of escape?”

      A blush tinged her cheeks. “Something like that.”

      “Well, my apologies, but I would hate to have you ruin your years of abstinence by lighting up tonight.”

      “I thank you for your concern, soldier. I do.” She snapped her clutch closed. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to the party?”

      He shrugged. “It’s not my thing, too many people. What about you?”

      “What about me?” she asked.

      He leaned in and a tingle zinged down her spine. “What’re you escaping from?”

       Don’t let him get to you.

      She was a sucker for men in uniform, men out of uniform and bad boys in general. All the types of men her parents didn’t approve of.

      Of course, the only men her parents approved of were from money, high society or a WASP. Also known as her sister’s fiancé.

      Jennifer cleared her throat and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

      “Oh, I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

      “How do you know?”

      “You’re fidgeting. Admit it, you’re nervous around me.”

      “A bit, but you’re right. I’m escaping. I’m not really into shindigs like this.”

      “Want to get out of here?”

      “Uh, you’re a complete stranger.”

      “I’m a soldier, though. Doesn’t that make me honorable or something?”

      “Not really.” She grinned. “I’m Jennifer.” And she stuck out her hand.

      He took her hand in his and the touch of his skin sent a jolt of heat through her blood.

      “I’m Nick. I guess we’re not strangers any longer?”

      “Nope. We’re not. What was that you were saying about getting out of here?”

      He held out his arm. “I hope you don’t mind riding a motorcycle.”

      “I don’t mind in the least.”

      Nick turned to lead her back in through the party and she pulled him back. “What’s wrong? Are you having second thoughts?”

      “No, I just don’t