All recognizable characters belong to Janet Evanovich, I'm just playing.

Chapter 1

RPOV

My finger runs over Steph's hand, finding the diamond studded band in the dark. Married. I can't say it's a place I ever expected to be again, but it's a status change that I'm pleased with. Life has moved at warp speed since our heart-to-heart in her bathroom a little more than a week ago.

After cleaning up the kitchen and grabbing a new shirt from her stash of ones stolen from me, we packed her a bag for a couple days and grabbed Rex before heading to Haywood. I don't think either of us anticipated that the look she took around the apartment before we left was going to be one of her last.

It was that night, as we both lay there in my bed not sleeping, that we laid the groundwork for the adventure we were embarking on. We were spooned together, with Steph getting as close to me as she possibly could, when she admitted that she was scared of messing everything up, of not being able to make things work between us.

"Babe, we've been going fine as a couple for four months now, even if we didn't call a spade a spade."

She runs her hand along my arm wrapped around her waist. She's silent for so long, I assume she fell asleep, making her quiet voice stand out in the quiet stillness around us.

"You really looked at rings?"

I kissed her head. "I did. Kind of freaked me out that it didn't freak me out."

She snorts at that, and I know that she knows exactly what I'm talking about. Neither of us had a good first marriage experience, for completely different reasons. Mine was for a practical reason, not love. Hers started off traditionally and then tanked spectacularly. I know the lingering specter of Dickie Orr's infidelity has made her weary of trusting someone completely; it's just one of the many reasons that she and the cop could never work things out.

Maybe I should check in with her, though. "Do you have the urge to run, screaming into the night?"

Her laugh is quiet, but it's a start. "No, which is kind of freaking me out." She turns in my arms. "We're doing this."

"Yep."

She rubs her forehead on my chest before scooting up a bit, putting us eye-to-eye. "Everything's on the table?"

The moonlight coming in through a crack in the curtains spills across us and I can see her face in the glow. She's awake and clear-eyed, all signs of the earlier tears gone. She's beautiful. I nod my head, wondering where her thoughts have gone.

"Next Saturday."

I couldn't have stopped the eyebrow raise if I tried. I know it's a move that annoys her, mostly because it's a feat she can't achieve. It's an effective way of saying, "Explain!" without having to expend the energy to actually say it and it almost always has the desired outcome.

"I'm kidnapping you next Saturday."

"Babe, you're not supposed to tell the mark your plans ahead of time."

With an eyeroll and a push that I allow, she rolls me onto my back before straddling my hips and leaning forward to rest on my chest. Now every bit of me is awake, especially after she wiggles around to find a comfortable spot.

"I know that, but you're 'Mr. Always Be Prepared,' and I figure you're going to want in on the planning."

"You want me to help plan my own kidnapping?"

Her "Yep!" is succinct and I again find myself wondering what's going on under those crazy curls.

It's a battle of wills as we both remain silent; me, waiting for more details. Her? Watching me with amused satisfaction, knowing that she's got me on the hook. And she does. I go back over our conversation, slowly putting two and two together; in this case rings and everything on the table. It finally clicks.

"Babe, are you going to make an honest man out of me?"

She snorts and kisses my neck. "I've already gotten over the scariest hurdle with telling you about the baby. Well, I mean, not that I actually told you. But I would have, if you hadn't seen the test first. I had this whole conversation planned out in my head and-"

My kiss cuts off her rambling. When we finally pull back from each other, she has that dazed look that I love giving her. "Babe. Kidnapping plan?"

"Right." She shakes her head to clear it. "You and me. Vegas, Baby. Or maybe that's supposed to be Baby, comma, Vegas. Like a list. We did kind of do the baby first."

She looks down at me, suddenly nervous. "If we're going to do this, then maybe we should really do this. Why wait to start the rest of our lives? Like you said, it's unexpected, but not unwelcome after the shock wore off. I don't want anyone doubting what we are to each other. I know the truth, but no matter what, people are going to assume that we're only together because your swimmers did a successful B and E. I mean, my egg was just sitting there chilling, minding its own business-"

Her squeal and bark of laughter as my fingers find her ticklish sides is music to my ears. If she's cracking jokes while talking about getting pregnant and married, then she's fine. We're fine. And she's right. I was already thinking ahead to marriage before I knew about the baby, and I don't want anyone giving her shit about our status.

"Why not here?"

Her laughter immediately stops and I almost regret asking the question. Almost.

"As soon as we take out a marriage license, the gossips will go into overdrive, and it will be three days of being pulled in all directions before we even get to sign on the dotted line. I don't care so much about the pomp and circumstance part of it, just the promises we make to each other. Vegas makes it easy for that. Fly in, do the deed, fly home ready to get on with life. I guess I should've asked if you want family there. And, you know, if you even want to get married."

She's biting her lip now, looking like she's waiting for me to yank marriage off the table. Not going to happen, Babe. I once told her that I didn't do foolish things like marriage and babies, but a lot has changed for both of us since then. She's not wrong about the gossips that love to report on her every move, so the Vegas plan definitely has some appeal. From a safety standpoint, not announcing our plans ahead of time is a smart move. Like Steph, I don't really care about the ceremony, just the commitment. Vegas works just fine for me.

"Yes, on the married part. I'm not traditional on a lot of things, but in my heart, that's one of them. I want us to be united in this. My family will be fine with hearing about it after the fact. That's generally how they hear about news from my life, anyway. We're a go for Vegas."

She relaxes a little before she freezes and stares at me, wide-eyed. "Holy shit! Did I just propose to you?"

With a smirk, I confirm her worst fear. "You did, Babe. No take-backs, and now we're going to celebrate."

With that, I rolled us over and remind her how we got to this point. She's exhausted and practically purring by the time I was done with her hours later. After one last kiss, she was out like a light, but I was wide awake and slipping into planning mode. Just because she didn't want the headache of a wedding here didn't mean we were hitting a drive through chapel with an Elvis impersonator marrying us like he was asking if we wanted fries with our order. Mama may have given up on me doing things the "right" way years ago, but she might actually kill me for that one.

By the time Steph was up and moving late the next morning, I had arranged for Tank to cover the office the week after our Vegas weekend, made reservations for a suite with a wedding package at the Venetian, and reservations at the same resort in Hawaii where we stayed while searching for The Rug. I'd deny it if anyone called me sentimental, but it felt right returning there, married for real. I want Steph, and everyone who badgers her for information when we get back, to know that this isn't just about the baby.

When I told her all that over lunch, her tears were immediate, and I was concerned that I had screwed up her plans. She just shook her head, pointed to her eyes and muttered, "Hormones!"

"Do you get to claim that already?"

She shrugged and said, "Don't know but it's what I'm going with. I like it. A wedding our parents can look at pictures of, but don't get a say in. Nice and low-key. I hadn't gotten any further in my plan than fleeing to Vegas with you duct taped in the trunk."

That got her another eyebrow raise.

"Fine. We both know I would have been the one duct taped in the trunk. My plan was to get you to Vegas with the promise of an all you can eat salad buffet and a lot of sex."

"Both would have worked." She rolled her eyes at me before finishing her Ella-made mac and cheese.

That morning, several of my employees came to me asking if I heard the rumor that Steph no longer worked for Vinnie. They closely watched my reaction, probably thinking that the change in employment was a precursor to her going back to the cop. They were left stumped after I merely confirmed that I had heard, but it wasn't until Steph came down to seek me out before leaving that they got their first inkling that things had changed. We were together, getting married and having a baby, and there was no reason to pretend otherwise. I left the door to my office open and pulled her into my lap, soaking in her presence before turning her loose on the world. A kiss at the elevator punctuated the message that Steph wasn't going anywhere.

The week before we headed to Vegas, Morelli tried cornering Steph more than once to find out why she quit working at Vinnie's. She kept it to a generic, "Where I work is no longer your concern." The cop in him wasn't satisfied with that and continued to hound her. One of my men eating at Pino's called me to report the shithead harassing her toward the end of the week and I decided that maybe lunch with Steph was a good idea. Morelli scowled as I slid into the booth with Steph, giving her a hello kiss that stopped just shy of indecent.

"Manoso," came out through gritted teeth. "Let me guess, you just happened to be in the neighborhood."

Glancing down at Steph's salad and small cheese pizza, I held in a smirk. She worried about if she would be any good at the motherhood thing, but she was already making small adjustments for the baby. The sensitivity to smells was off and on, and she declared she was going to take advantage of the good days when she could.

"Came to have lunch with my girlfriend. Why are you here?"

'Girlfriend' earned me a scowl before he ignored me and went back to peppering Steph with questions. She ignored him, waving down the waitress and asking for a to-go box.

"Joe, we're not together and haven't been for 4 months. I'm very happy with Ranger. That's all you need to know about me."

His look was murderous as we walked out, but the final days before our trip were cop-free. Out at her car, she surprised me by asking if she should just go ahead and move her clothes and personal stuff to my apartment since she had the afternoon off. Within seconds of her asking, I had my phone out and a fleet SUV picking up boxes and heading to her apartment. Three hours later, Dillon had her keys, and she was a fulltime resident at Haywood. If the men had an opinion, they kept it to themselves.

Yesterday, we flew into McCarren International Airport in Las Vegas. A limo met us at the arrivals area and whisked us over to the Venetian. I had booked Steph some time at the spa before meeting with a personal shopper to select a wedding dress. I would meet her there, and then we'd make our way out to the wedding chapel, where an officiant would marry us. After photos and a sunset gondola ride through the canal, we would retire to our suite for a private dinner and our wedding night. When I laid out the plan, Steph smiled and said,

"Damn. I should let you plan all my weddings!"

An eyebrow raise would've let her know this would be her last wedding, but she was too busy looking around to see it.

I expected an attack of nerves from at least one of us as we walked together to the chapel but there was only a feeling of peace. Steph was stunning in the simple strapless off-white gown with nary a pearl or bit of lace in sight. A little bit of tradition peeked through in her accessories; the sapphire drop-pendant necklace that I had gifted her as her something blue went well with her paternal grandmother's old lace handkerchief and the diamond studs she "borrowed" from me. The curls I loved were still there, artfully tamed and held back from her face.

The ceremony was short and traditional, followed by the hour of photos that was part of our package. It was something I would have skipped, but I knew our mothers would have a fit and I wanted Steph to have something to show off when people asked us about our "quickie" wedding. I felt like a monkey on display during our ride in the famous white gondola, but the smile on Steph's face was worth it. If she felt any guilt about the witnesses to the beginning of our marriage being perfect strangers, she didn't show it.

The vows we took during the ceremony may have been the standard "do you" ones, but the private vows that I made to her when I made love to her that night were the real words of my heart. This wasn't a kneejerk reaction like when I got Rachel pregnant; I knew in my gut that we would have gotten here on our own, and we're playing for keeps.