The Fifty-Cent Groom

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “Below a man’s waistline, at any rate.”

  His gaze fastened on her again, and then slowly, almost reluctantly, he smiled. “You are a piece of work, Ms. At Your Service.”

  “Thank you.”

  “There’s a car pulling into your lane ahead. You might want to slow down.”

  Her foot didn’t budge off the accelerator. “I’m an excellent driver,” she said. “And I’m very good at what I do.”

  “I don’t doubt it. I just wish you’d do it slower.”

  “Obviously, you’re not a risk taker. I’m in complete control. There is nothing to worry about.”

  “What about him?”

  “Who?”

  “The policeman on your tail.”

  She glanced at the mirror and caught the unmistakable flash of yet another delay. “He’s trying to get around me, that’s all. I’ll just change lanes and get out of the way.”

  “I’ve noticed that risk takers are generally optimists.”

  Behind her, the red lights continued to flash their warning, and Sara tightened her grip on her temper as she pulled to the shoulder. “Would you mind getting my driver’s license from my briefcase? It’s in the back.”

  “Sure.” Ben unbuckled the belt and climbed over the seats again. “Move over, Cleo. And you may as well stop pouting. It doesn’t become you and you’re not getting the front seat.”

  Cleo grumbled, stood up and shook herself.

  Sara frowned fiercely at the police car reflected in the side mirror. “Come on,” she said impatiently to the patrolman who had, as yet, not opened his door. “I’m in a hurry. I don’t know why it takes them so long to get out of their cars. This is why people hate getting stopped for traffic violations. It takes so damned long to get the ticket.”

  Ben dropped the license in her lap. “You’re right,” he agreed. “It’s harassment, pure and simple.”

  She looked up with a frown, which he met with an easy grin. Feeling foolish, she turned her frustration where it belonged. “If this stupid dress hadn’t twinkled at me, none of this would have happened.”

  He dropped into the seat beside her. “Did you say twinkled?”

  “Yes, and don’t ask.” Thumping the steering wheel with her hand, she checked the mirror for advancing traffic cops. “Come on,” she muttered, then tapped her fingers impatiently on the console. “If there is anything else that can go wrong this evening, I don’t know what it could be.”

  “I don’t know, either,” Ben said. “But I’m beginning to think the possibilities are endless.”

  Chapter Three

  Ben watched Sara roll down the window and prepare to face the inconsiderate policeman who had stopped her. She extended her license and vehicle registration in cool silence while her foot tapped impatiently against the floorboard. Before he’d stepped onto her porch, all Ben had had on his mind was a cold beer, a hot shower and a bed with clean sheets. Which only proved he’d set his expectations for the evening far too low.

  He was rarely surprised, but she had rushed into his arms, knocked him off his feet and captured his curiosity with her first words to him. He’d been intrigued every moment since. In thirty-four years, he’d heard every come-on, seen every angle, gotten cornered by the best and lived to tell about it. But until today, he’d never had anyone size him up in a glance and conclude he’d do in a pinch. Sara was a new experience, and that was a novelty in itself. If Cleo hadn’t grabbed those keys, Ben knew he would have figured out some other way to get invited along on this ride.

  The patrolman stepped up to the open window, took the papers dripping from Sara’s hand and studied them for several long moments, never once looking directly into the van. “Do you have any idea how fast you were driving, ma’am?”

  “Seventy?”

  The officer clicked his ballpoint pen and began copying information onto the citation. “I clocked you at eighty-three.”

  “Really? Hmm. I wasn’t aware of going that fast. You see, I’m very late for a—”

  “Nothing is important enough to risk your life, or the lives of others.”

  “I know, Officer, and I promise I’ll drive the speed limit for the rest of my life.”

  “Sign here.” The officer thrust the clipboard through the window, and Sara scrawled her name across the signature line.

  “There.” She handed it back and tapped her fingertips on the steering wheel until he returned a copy of the citation, along with her license and registration. She jammed the papers under the sun visor, started the engine and smiled politely at the patrolman. “Please step aside. We’re a little behind schedule.” With that, she put the van in gear and zoomed forward, honking as she merged into the flow of traffic.

  Ben was impressed by her ability to stay focused. “Great exit line.”

  “It would have been better if it had come a little sooner.”

  “Any sooner or faster and you would have torn the ticket right out of the book for him.”

  “I’m in a hurry.”

  The sound of a siren came faint but insistent behind them. “I think he’s aware of that.”

  Sara glanced in the mirror. “What does he want now?”

  “Probably wants to tear up the speeding ticket and give you a medal for bravery.”

  With a frown, she pulled onto the shoulder again and stopped with a jerk. When the cruiser pulled in behind, her foot started tapping out her impatience once again. “I really don’t have time for this.”

  “I don’t think I’d tell him that.”

  She rolled down her window, and Ben settled back to observe round two.

  “License and registration, please.” The patrolman took his time in removing the pen from his pocket and clicking the ballpoint into place.

  Sara gave a frustrated sigh as she jerked them from behind the visor and handed them over. “What did you clock me at that time?”

  “I’m citing you for failure to yield to oncoming traffic and not heeding a legal warning to slow your speed.”

  “I was barely moving when I pulled out,” she said in a huff, then took a deep breath and changed her tune. “I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right. I will slow down and yield to traffic. And I won’t honk the horn anymore, either.” She held up her hand, palm out. “Scout’s honor. Now can I go?”

  “You can go just as soon as I finish writing out this ticket.”

  “Is it going to take long? I’m really late.”

  The patrolman slowly pulled off his sunglasses, withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped the lens. “Where are you going in such a rush?” As he started to replace the glasses, he seemed to notice her clothing for the first time. “Are you on your way to be married?”

  “I was before you stopped me, but I don’t know now. You may have ruined my life in one—make that two—attempts to meet your daily quota of traffic tickets.”

  Ben rubbed his jaw, awed by her audacity, amazed that the patrolman appeared to swallow it with a smile, hook, line and sinker. He adopted a noncommittal expression when the officer pointed at him with a frown. “He doesn’t look like a bridegroom.”

  “He doesn’t look like a bartender, either,” Sara said. “But that’s what he is.”

  The policeman oriented himself with a glance at the highway signs, then addressed Ben. “Where are you going? The church on Mission Park Road?”

  Ben shrugged. “I’m from out of town.”

  “There’s a church on Mission Park Road,” Sara confirmed.

  The officer turned his attention to her. “Would that be the Methodist church?”

  “Maybe.” Sara’s smile was all anxiety. “I’m not thinking too clearly at the moment.”

  The patrolman nodded his understanding. “Nervous, huh?”

  “Getting more so by the second.”

  He looked at Ben. “What about you?”

  “I’m nervous, too.”

  “The way she drives, you’d be a fool not to be. You may be getting a lot mor
e than you bargained for.”

  “Yes,” Ben said with a smile. “That thought has occurred to me.”

  The patrolman tore the ticket out and handed it to Sara. “You can tear that up. My wedding gift to you. But you’ve got to slow down. And the speeding ticket stands.”

  “Thank you, Officer,” she said. “That’s very kind, and I hope you’ll understand when I say that the next time I’m in a hurry, I hope you’re off duty.”

  She rolled up the window and put the car in gear, but she did wait until the patrolman had turned his back and was walking toward his vehicle before she peeled out. “Honestly, don’t the police have better things to do? I mean, it isn’t like I was shooting at motorists or anything.”

  “True.”

  “And I always use signal lights when I change lanes.”

  “I noticed.”

  “He should be out catching real criminals, not stopping law-abiding…What is he doing now?” She frowned at the mirror, then turned her head to look at Ben. “Can you believe it? He’s going to pull me over again.”

  Ben bent to look in the side mirror. “I think he’s going to escort us to the church on Mission Park Road.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Probably because you told him you were getting married there and that you were late.”

  “I didn’t tell him that. I said I was late, which is true. And I said I’m on my way to be married, which is true when you consider the overall scheme of my life. I’m just not on my way to be married tonight.”

  “You should have given him directions to the West Ridgeman house. Then he could have escorted you somewhere you actually want to go.” Ben paused. “I’m not sure, but I think I saw the dress twinkle at him.”

  “That isn’t funny,” she snapped.

  The patrol car pulled around them in a flash of lights and the siren came on with an intrusive congratulations. Ben crossed his arms and settled back in the seat. “I love the VIP treatment.”

  “Don’t get too comfortable with it. I’m going to lose him at the next exit ramp.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Because I don’t want to detour by the Methodist church.”

  “Are you always this spontaneous?”

  “No.” She switched lanes, following the speeding black and white. “I like to know exactly where I’m going and exactly how much time I need to get there. And until today, that has not been a problem.”

  “What happened today?” He couldn’t resist humming a couple of bars of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

  “Would you forget about that?” Her sidelong and unamused glance delighted him. “I only imagined that. It didn’t really happen. And I am not going to slip and say it again.”

  “I thought it was charming.”

  “Uh-huh. Now, check for traffic on your side, because I’m taking the next exit.”

  “What about our escort?”

  “With any luck, he won’t look in his rearview mirror for the next mile or so.”

  “I doubt that reaching the church and discovering we’re not behind him will make him happy.”

  “Another delay will not make me happy. So there you have it.”

  Ben looked over his right shoulder to check for cars in the inside lane. “You’re clear.”

  She shot across both lanes of traffic and down the exit ramp, turning left on a yellow light, passing under the viaduct and taking the entrance ramp onto the expressway heading in the opposite direction. “We’ll get off at the next exit, and by the time he realizes we’re not behind him, we’ll be out of sight.”

  “Have you considered stunt work as a career?”

  She rolled her eyes. “What kind of idiot risks life and limb for the sake of someone else’s entertainment?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You’re risking your life and limbs—and mine, too, incidentally—just to get to a party.”

  “It isn’t just any party.”

  “I certainly hope not, considering the amount of frenetic energy you’ve invested in eluding the police, not to mention the monetary contribution you’ll be making to the city coffers if that officer ever catches up with you.”

  “What’s he going to do? Write another ticket? Even if he tracks me down, after tonight I’ll be able to afford it.”

  “Really? Why? Is West going to announce your engagement and his intention of paying all your traffic tickets?”

  “I told you, West doesn’t know he’s going to marry me. At least, he didn’t the last time we were together. But he might make a special announcement tonight that could put my balance sheet over the top.”

  “And that is…?”

  “I can’t tell you, but it’s important.”

  “He’s going to run for president and you’re in charge of the coffers.”

  She shook her head. “Politics is not on his agenda. Or mine. Right now, the only thing I’m worried about is making the right impression on his friends and associates.”

  “Why would you worry about that?”

  “Because my future depends on it. If I make a good impression, not only will I get new clients, affluent clients, but West will begin to see me as a part of his social group and less as strictly a business associate.” She glanced at him. “I’m sure it sounds ridiculous to you, but for a girl who was born on the wrong side of the tracks, this is the light at the end of the tunnel. I’m not going to blow it.”

  Something in her voice and in the set of her chin told Ben more than he wanted to know about Sara Gunnerson, and some lingering trace of sensitivity in his calloused heart went out to her. “So this is a career milestone and a personal step up the social ladder.”

  “I wouldn’t put it exactly like that. For me, being invited to attend this party as a guest means my plans are becoming reality. It marks the beginning of achieving the goals I’ve set for myself.” The van sailed down the next exit ramp and made a left, merging into the Friday evening rush hour. “Providing, of course, that I can get out of this wedding gown before West sees me.”

  “The twinkling wedding gown.” He teased her gently, hoping to see her smile.

  To his surprise, she laughed instead. A throaty, heart-stopping, womanly amusement made all the more charming because she was laughing at herself. “A twinkling wedding gown. Isn’t that the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard?”

  “In the last hour? No, I think that would have to be when you said that dress wasn’t your style. You must know you look enchanting in it.”

  Her glance was skeptical. “Flattery will get you only as far as the driver’s seat.”

  “I get to drive the A Vice van?”

  “Since this model didn’t come equipped with autopilot, you’ll have to take over while I change. Unless you want Cleo to drive.”

  “She has so many vices her license was suspended.”

  “Then that makes you the designated driver, providing that your license hasn’t been suspended, too.”

  “I’m legal.”

  “Then I’m not making any great leap of faith, am I?”

  “I’d say the leap of faith came when you offered me a job.”

  “Oh, that was a little unorthodox, maybe, but hardly any great risk. I wouldn’t worry too much about tonight. West is quite a connoisseur of wine, and the most exotic drink you’ll have to mix will probably be a gin and tonic.” She leaned down and released a lever. The seat slid back as she scooted to the edge in order to keep her foot on the pedal. “Now, slip in behind me and take the steering wheel.”

  “Now?”

  She frowned at him. “Yes, now.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to pull over and stop the vehicle before trading places?”

  “Are you always so careful? Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. I’ve already stopped twice, and I don’t have time to do it again. My entire future hinges on what happens tonight, and I am not going to arrive any later than I already am.” She wiggled closer to the edge of the seat. “Now, there
’s plenty of room, so just put your leg over, straddle the seat and ease your way down.”

  He looked through the windshield at the moderately heavy traffic. They were careening down a busy street like a duck doing the backstroke, and she wanted to switch drivers. He couldn’t believe she thought stunt work posed any great risk. Maybe he ought to offer her a job. “You’re the boss.” He released the seat restraint, levered up and over, and in two moves and a quick slide, he was cupping her body in the curve of his…and thinking that in this instance, the reward definitely outweighed the risk. He enjoyed the feel of her nestled between his thighs and admired the warm ivory of her back contrasted against the pattern of ivory lace that covered it. Nerves of steel and skin like silk. Now that was an interesting combination.

  “What are you waiting for?” Her voice vibrated with urgency. “Unbutton me.”

  “Shouldn’t we kiss first?”

  “In your wildest dreams.” She wiggled her shoulders as if that alone would motivate him.

  “You could be missing an earth-shattering experience.”

  “I’ll live with the regret.”

  He touched his fingertip to the only uncovered swatch of creamy skin and stroked across it, wanting her to experience some discomfort, if not some second thoughts about picking up strangers. “What if I can’t?” he said provocatively. “What if I don’t want to?”

  Her laugh evolved slowly, percolating in her throat before bubbling over and sending the husky notes streaming over him in a warm, pleasurable rush. “Aren’t you the least bit leery of hitting on a woman in a wedding gown? This dress has commitment written all over it, and I’d bet the ranch that you’re the kind of guy who starts singing, ‘Don’t Fence Me In’ after the second date.” She shook her head, and her hair brushed her shoulders in a silky, dark wave. “You don’t scare me, Ben. I had you pegged long before I invited you to climb into this van with me. Now, be the nice guy you really are and unbutton the dress.”

  So much for teaching her a lesson. He dropped his hands to the buttons. “You’re far too trusting, Sara. You might have pegged me wrong.”

  “But I didn’t,” she said with aggravating confidence. “I’m probably the least trusting person you will ever encounter, but I do trust my own judgment, and my intuition almost never steers me wrong.”