Winter Wedding In Vegas. Janice Lynn

Gracie on her desk at work, she doubted Slade had ever been inside the room, that he’d ever had reason to be in her personal office. Yes, they worked in the same multifloor cancer clinic. But prior to their being chosen to go to this conference to discuss the research being done at their facility, they’d not really interacted except when he’d sent her running by asking her out.

      Because she avoided men like Slade.

      Had for years.

      The last time she hadn’t, she’d ended up pregnant and alone.

      Nausea hit her. After their first time she and Slade hadn’t used birth control. He’d only had the one condom, and they’d been too delirious to acknowledge the ramifications of unprotected sex.

      How stupid was she? Was he?

      The timing in her menstrual cycle wasn’t right for pregnancy, but she wasn’t so foolish as to think it wasn’t possible.

      Her hand went to her bare belly. Was she? Had she and Slade made a baby? Dampness covered her skin that had nothing to do with the shower water. She loved Gracie with all her heart, would do anything for her precious daughter, but she’d never planned to have more children. Not without finding a man who met all her criteria for Mr. Right, which included what kind of father he’d be to Gracie.

      Then again, she’d never planned to get married to a man she barely knew either, and she’d done that.

      Her parents would be so proud. Ha. Not. Her actions this weekend would just once again affirm their disappointment in her.

      She finished rinsing her body, then stepped out of the shower and eyed the half-empty cup of coffee.

      She picked up the cup and, with great sadness, poured the lukewarm liquid down the sink drain.

      No more coffee or anything else that wasn’t healthy for a pregnant woman until she knew for sure one way or the other that she and Slade hadn’t created a new little life.

      * * *

      Slade leaned back in his chair and watched the impressive woman woo the crowd with her smiles and witty sense of humor.

      Taylor went through the slide presentation she’d put together on the data their oncology clinic, Nashville Cancer Care, had collected on Interallon, a new experimental cancer-fighting drug they’d been successfully administering as part of a larger nationwide research trial. Remission rates of metastatic breast cancer had increased by 40 percent in patients who’d received the trial medication over current treatment modalities. They were hopeful FDA approval would be soon so the medication could be administered more widely.

      Taylor pushed back a stray strand of pale blond hair behind her ear and pointed a laser at the current slide, referring to a particular set of data.

      He’d slid his fingers through that soft, long hair last night. Not that you could tell just how long or lush her hair was with the way she had it harshly swept up. Neither could you tell how gorgeous her big green eyes were behind those ridiculous black-rimmed glasses she wore. Definitely you couldn’t tell how hot and passionate her body was beneath her prim and proper gray pantsuit and blazer.

      She epitomized a professional businesswoman presenting data to a crowd of health-care professionals who couldn’t possibly appreciate how amazing she was.

      Slade scanned the crowd, noticing several of the men watching her with a gleam in their eyes. Well, maybe some of them did see just how amazing she was, but he pitied them. She was his. His wife.

      He couldn’t believe he’d gone that far.

      He usually had no problems with women, but Taylor had always been different. For months he’d not been able to convince her to give him the time of day and he had tried. Repeatedly, he’d struck up conversations only to have her end them and avoid him.

      She made a comment, misspoke a word and poked fun at herself, getting a laugh from their audience. Slade skimmed the crowd, noticing several of the men seemed to be further enchanted by the woman on stage.

      Green slushed through his veins, clogging the oxygen flow to his brain. Had to be since he sure wasn’t thinking straight because his brain—or was it just his male ego?—was screaming, Mine. Mine. Mine.

      “Now...” She flashed another smile at the crowd, pulling them further under her spell. “I’ll turn the podium over to Dr. Slade Sain to present specific case studies and then we’ll field any questions together.”

      They walked past each other as he took the podium and she returned to sit in the seat next to his at a table that had been set up at the front of the auditorium. He tried to meet her gaze, to smile at her and tell her what a great job she’d done, but she kept her gaze averted, purposely not looking at him.

      Which annoyed Slade.

      He stewed all the way to the podium and then did something almost as stupid as slipping a golden band around a woman’s finger when he had nothing to offer her but more broken dreams.

      “Ladies and gentlemen, give my wife a round of applause for the great job she just did.”

      Taylor’s face paled.

      Slade’s face probably did, too. What had he just done?

      Several of the people in the audience who knew them gasped in surprise. A few called out their congratulations.

      When their gazes met, Taylor looked annoyed, but then she pasted on a smile for the crowd.

      Their colleagues and class attendees settled down and, despite the horror bubbling in his stomach that he’d just made their mistake public, Slade got serious. He believed in the benefits of Interallon and wanted others to have the opportunity to significantly benefit from the still-experimental medication. Despite whatever was going on in their personal lives, it was his and Taylor’s job to educate their colleagues, to get others involved in the medication trials, as the pharmaceutical company pushed to have the FDA expedite approval.

      He went over their case studies, answered questions, then pointed to one of their colleagues whose hand was raised with a question. The doctor had started out with him and Taylor the night before, but they’d ditched him and a handful of others when they’d left in the limo.

      “Sorry to change the subject off Interallon, but when did you and Dr. Anderson get married?”

      “Last night.” Slade glanced toward Taylor. Her green eyes flashed with anger beneath her glasses, but she kept a smile on her lovely face. No doubt he was going to get a tongue-lashing when the presentation finished. He deserved one. He wanted to scream and yell at himself for his stupid remark, too. “Next question.”

      The man raised his hand again and spoke before Slade could call on another person. “You and Dr. Anderson got married last night? When you left dinner, you got married?”

      Taylor stood, walked over to the podium, and took the microphone. “Dr. Ryan, you’ll understand if Dr. Sain and I request personal questions be saved for a later, more appropriate time. Right now, we prefer questions regarding Interallon and the success our clinic and the other clinics involved in the trials taking place are having with this phenomenal resource in our battle against a horrific disease.”

      Put in his place, the man nodded. Taylor immediately called on another person and fielded a question about the medication being used in conjunction with currently available treatments.

      “At this time, the studies using Interallon in conjunction with other cancer-fighting modalities are just starting to take place. Nashville Cancer Care will be heading up one of those trials early next year.”

      Another flurry of questions filled the remaining time and no one brought up their nuptials again until after the class was over. Several of their colleagues shook their hands, patted their backs and gave them congratulations.

      “I didn’t see that one coming,” Dr. Ryan commented, looking back and forth between them. “I didn’t even know you two were seeing each other.”

      Slade