The Fifty-Cent Groom

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “Are you scared?”

  “No. I’ve been arrested before. It’s not that bad. Are you scared?”

  “A little.”

  The silence filled with the soft, rapid rhythm of her breathing, and he found her hand and enclosed it in his. Her pulse raced beneath the pad of his thumb, and he soothed it with gentling strokes. “You’re safe. Just think positive thoughts.”

  “I can’t believe I’m under here.”

  “That isn’t positive. Think about how much better hiding under a bed is than hiding in a closet.”

  “Only because this carpet is so thick. If this room had hardwood floors, it wouldn’t be so great under here.”

  “I disagree. It isn’t what you’re lying on that matters. It’s who is lying beside you.”

  He felt her move and knew she had turned her head toward him. “Now that’s a profound thought for a deliveryman.”

  “I told you I was the shy, intellectual type.”

  “Well, Mr. Intellectual, this must be an entirely new perspective for you.”

  Ben turned his head to meet her gaze in the soft, close darkness. “I’ll admit I generally spend more time on a bed than under it, but I’m open to new experiences.”

  “You’ve gotten more experience than you bargained for this time, though, haven’t you?”

  And then some, Ben thought. “If I had known all the tools I’d need for this job, I’d have asked for a bigger percentage of the tips.”

  “You get to keep the entire fifty cents already.”

  “Hey, that’s right, and when you pay back the fifty cents I loaned you, I’ll have a whole dol-”

  “Ssh. Do you hear something?”

  “No.”

  “Well, listen.”

  He listened. “I don’t hear anything,” he said finally.

  “Neither do I. I thought I heard voices, but I guess not.” Her fingers curled into his palm, seeking warmth or shelter, or maybe just the security of a touch. “This day has been like some fractured fairy tale where nothing turns out the way it was supposed to.”

  “You mean you didn’t plan this?”

  “I planned to charm the eyebrows off West and his guests. I planned to impress the heck out of everyone and increase my business dramatically. I planned to show West how well I fit in with his friends and how easily I can blend into his life. And then, like a bolt out of the blue, the wedding dress makes an appearance and I wind up sharing the underside of a bed with a stranger.”

  “You and I haven’t been strangers since the moment you crashed into my arms.”

  “That’s true. We have been through a lot together in a few short hours, and you’ve been an awfully good sport about everything.”

  “Hey, this is the most entertaining evening I’ve had in years. And I’m always a good sport. See, I told you I’d be more help to you than Cleo would.”

  “You’re right, and I won’t mention that she has been absolutely no help at all.” Sara’s tone dwindled to a discouraged sigh. “Do you think there is even a slight chance that we’ll get out of this with some degree of dignity still intact?”

  “Dignity is overrated. I’ll be happy to escape with the dress.”

  The door opened abruptly and a light came on, channeling illumination around the three open sides of the bed. Purposeful footsteps crossed the room, and Ben could follow the high-gloss Italian leather of West Ridgeman’s shoes. The French doors rattled lightly, and then the shoes disappeared from view.

  “What’s he doing?” Sara whispered, and Ben squeezed her band, cautioning her to complete silence.

  “Everything seems to be in order, sir.” Arthur’s voice came from the direction of the doorway, and the shoes reentered the room. “Shall I phone the alarm company?”

  “Yes.” The French doors closed, and the latch clicked into place. “And ask them to send a technician on Monday to check the wiring. This is the third time in two months that some slight movement of these doors has set off the alarm. It’s obviously too sensitive.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Oh, and Arthur?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Call the garage in the morning and have Miss Gunnerson’s van towed in for service. It’s still parked in back, and I’m certain she wouldn’t have left it behind if she’d had any other choice. You might make sure it’s locked before you retire, not that any thief in his right mind would steal it.”

  “I will check on the van, sir. Will there be anything else?”

  “No. Good night, Arthur.”

  “Good night, Mr. West.”

  The door closed, but the light remained on and the shoes made a diagonal trip across the room, gradually revealing a back view of trousers, suspender loops and a portion of tucked-in shirt. Another light switched on, and Ben’s three-quarter-length perspective of West Ridgeman disappeared into an adjoining bath.

  Sara nudged him in the ribs, and Ben rolled his head so he could look at her. “This is West’s bedroom, isn’t it?” she mouthed.

  “Bingo,” he mouthed back.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We are going to hope he’s a sound sleeper.”

  She grimaced, and Ben turned his head again to prevent her from seeing any hint of the amusement burgeoning inside him. It was understandable that Sara would have some difficulty seeing the humor in their situation, but he couldn’t help himself. And to think he had nearly opted for a hotel room and an early night.

  A few minutes later, the shower came on, followed by the clunk of the shower door closing, then quickly by a sharp pinch on his arm. He looked at Sara.

  “He’s in the shower,” she whispered as she scooted out from under the bed. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Ben grabbed for her, but she slipped out and away from his reach. With a sideways lunge, he just managed to get his hand around her ankle as she scrambled to her feet. She bent and peered under the bed. “What’s wrong with you?” she hissed. “Come on.”

  “He’s not in the shower yet.” Ben tugged on her ankle. “He just turned it on.”

  Her brown eyes got wide and panic-filled. He released her, and she dropped to all fours beside the bed just as West Ridgeman—naked as far as Ben’s eye could see—walked back into the bedroom.

  Chapter Eight

  “Sara?” West’s voice was sharp with surprise. “What are you doing down there?”

  With a gulp, she raised her head and wondered why he looked so scrawny without his clothes on. “Hi, there,” she said thickly. “I was, uh, looking for…something.” Uh-oh. What if he offered to help her look? “My, uh, glasses.” Using the top of the mattress for balance, she pushed to her feet. “I was looking for my glasses. But as you can see, they’re not under the bed.” She winced as Ben pinched her little toe. “Nothing’s under the bed,” she added hurriedly, and got another pinch for her trouble.

  West took a step toward her. “You don’t wear glasses, Sara.”

  “I don’t?” This night was never going to end. “That must be the reason I didn’t find them.”

  “Be honest, Sara. You sneaked into my room to try to make amends for tonight’s disaster. You planned to surprise me into accepting your apology, didn’t you?” His self-assurance was too slick, his tone too debonair for the scrawny body they represented.

  With a blink, she brought up her gaze and made it focus on his face. “Believe me, if I had planned this, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “You mean this is a spur-of-the-moment decision? An impetuous act based on an equally impetuous idea?”

  “There’s no reason to make it sound like a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, West.”

  “Forgive me, but I am amazed—deeply flattered, of course, but still amazed to find you in my bedroom so unexpectedly. To be candid, Sara, I didn’t believe you had an ounce of impulsiveness in you.”

  “It came over me very suddenly.” How was she going to get out of this? “And, well, it just seemed like such a goo
d idea at the time.”

  “It doesn’t seem too bad, even now.”

  “I guess that depends on your perspective.”

  “Ah. There’s no need to be nervous. You have my solemn promise that I will still respect you in the morning.”

  She could not believe he had said that. From the way Ben tweaked her toe, he obviously couldn’t believe it, either. “Actually, respect isn’t high on my priority list at the moment, West.”

  He looked startled, pleased, and particularly smug…not precisely in that order. “You’re displaying hidden depths, Sara, and I have to tell you that my first reaction is pure delight. I was beginning to think you would never…warm up…so to speak.”

  Oh, boy. If Ben hadn’t been under the bed, she might have warmed up to West a little more. But all she could think of was Ben under the bed, hearing every word, evaluating her ability to handle the situation, rating West’s seduction techniques—and her responses—like an Olympic judge.

  West advanced toward her with lust in his eyes and she prepared for a siege. “Did I mention how—and I mean this most sincerely—sexy you look in that tuxedo shirt? Not another woman at the party tonight could have worn that outfit and gotten away with it. And I guarantee that every man in the room was thinking the same thing I was.”

  His voice dropped dramatically as he reached her and, despite her better judgment, she had to ask, “What were you thinking, West?”

  He chuckled. One of those short, soft laughs some men use to smooth over any possible offense that might be taken from his next remark. “I was wondering what color lingerie you were wearing underneath.”

  “Maybe I’m not wearing any.” She moved her foot before Ben could tweak her toe again. He was going to get them both caught if he didn’t stop that.

  West all but drooled as he slipped an arm around her shoulders and put a hand on the button placket of her shirt. “And I’m the lucky man who is about to see for himself.”

  “Not so fast.” She placed her hand over his. “You left your shower running.”

  “Let it run. I can afford to pay the water bill.”

  “But, West, there’s plenty of time, and—” she traced her finger across his bare chest “—anticipation is half the pleasure, you know.”

  He caught her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed her palm. “You’re quite the temptress tonight, Sara.”

  “I do seem to be on a roll.” Ben Northcross was going to owe her a lot more than fifty cents for this rescue, she decided. “Take your shower, West. The mystery of what I’m wearing under this shirt can wait a little longer.”

  “I’m not sure I can wait another second.” He jerked her against his naked body and bent his head to claim her lips in a sloppy kiss.

  Sara allowed the embrace to continue just long enough for Ben to have time to wonder if he was going to be stuck under the bed during an entire love scene. Then she placed her palms against West’s bare chest and pressed him back. “Go take your shower,” she said in her best seductress whisper, making sure it was loud enough for Ben to overhear. “And when you come out, I’ll be ready for you.”

  West ran his tongue across his lips then gathered her close and kissed her again. “Sara, Sara, Sara,” he murmured a long moment later. “I may actually forgive you for wrecking the party and my house, after all. Why not come into the shower with me and earn a few extra brownie points by scrubbing my back?”

  “That’s so tempting, but I really had my heart set on surprising you.”

  “You already have. A thousand times over.”

  “I meant,” she said hastily, “I want to be able to surprise you again.”

  “Totally unnecessary, love. You have persuaded me to be yours tonight…body and soul.” He cupped her hips, then his hands sidled up her back…and stopped to investigate the long, ragged slit in her shirt. His smile ebbed slightly and his voice picked up the tone of a prosecuting attorney. “What happened to your shirt? How did it get torn like this?”

  Sara could practically hear the ice breaking under her feet, but she tossed her hair, called up her best impression of sultry and aimed for his most vulnerable spot—his ego. “I tore it, West.” Hoping she hadn’t forgotten how, she batted her eyes at him. “I thought that would make it easier for you to rip it off.”

  There was a muffled thud under the bed, but West was too preoccupied to notice. “Oh, Sara, baby. So there was some planning involved, after all.” He bent to kiss her again, but she put her fingers against his lips.

  “Shower first,” she whispered. “A hot, steamy body is such a turn-on.”

  “I’m not sure I can get much hotter.”

  “Of course you can,” she murmured huskily, thinking that if this didn’t work, she might have to resort to stuffing him in the shower by force. “Go take your shower. Please.”

  He backed away from her with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. “All right, but let the record show that I object to this delay.”

  She batted her eyes some more. “I love it when you talk legal to me.”

  “Defendant is hereby ordered to remain in this courtroom until tomorrow morning.”

  She nodded and waved.

  “Discovery will begin after a short recess.”

  She blew him a kiss.

  “I’ll return to examine your briefs.”

  She wished she had an electric gavel to prod him into that shower. “Remember, hot and steamy. This is one case you won’t want to lose.”

  He waggled his eyebrows, pursed his lips in a promised kiss and disappeared into the bathroom. Sara thought about following him…as soon as she smuggled Ben out of the room, that is. One night with West could cinch her future, pave the way for a marriage proposal. On the other hand, she hadn’t planned this, hadn’t thought it through. What if it was the wrong action to take? Worse, what if Ben waited for her in the van? Or in the kitchen? What if she couldn’t keep her mind on West for worrying about where Ben was and what he was doing? As she heard the shower door open and close, followed by the changing rhythm of the spray, she made her decision. She leaned down and whispered, “Let’s go!”

  As Ben rolled out from under the bed, she raced to the door, cracked it open and glanced up and down the hall. Waving the all clear, she stepped out of the bedroom and waited for Ben to join her before she shut the door behind them.

  “Was he wearing a necktie?” Ben asked.

  “Not that I noticed, no.”

  “I suspected he was underdressed for the occasion.”

  “Well, he wasn’t expecting company.”

  “What a diplomatic answer.” Ben complimented her tact. “Any other woman would have made some tacky comment about his shortcomings.”

  “Could we talk about this later?”

  “Sure, if you want to.” He looked left, then right, then left again. “Which way is the exit?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” She chose a direction and took off in a hurried trot.

  Ben hustled to keep up. “Well, at least you can truthfully say you’ve been in his bedroom now.”

  “Yes, well, so can you.”

  “This is just a hunch, but when he figures out you’ve fled his jurisdiction, hot and steamy is going to take on a whole new connotation.”

  “I know, I know, but it wasn’t like I had the option of asking him to turn his back while you crawled out from under his bed.”

  “Let the record show that I thought you handled the situation magnificently. Ridgeman is going to spend an extremely restless night.”

  “So are we, if we don’t get out of this hallway before he throws open that door and starts looking for me.”

  “Then we’d better hurry.”

  As if she needed to be reminded. Her life’s plans were washing down the drain at this very moment. All because of that silly wedding gown. Temper rising, she reached the sweeping front stairway and ran down at a brisk trot.

  Ben was on her heels when she made the second-floor landing, where
greasy stains commemorated Cleo and Brody’s roast-beast feast. His footsteps matched hers precisely as she reached the foyer, turned into the long living room, crossed the dining room and headed for the swinging door that led into the kitchen.

  “You get the dress from Arthur’s room and I’ll stand watch.”

  “Forget the dress.” Sara pushed past the kitchen door, barely noticing that the backward swing almost caught Ben square in the face. “I’ll pay for it if I have to. I’ll pay the fee you’re supposed to get for delivering it. But under no circumstances am I going anywhere near it.” She reached for the back-door knob.

  “You’ll set off the alarm,” Ben warned.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Feel free to stay and offer my apologies.”

  Before she could turn the knob, the door opened from the outside and Arthur stepped in to greet them with a dispassionate gaze. “The boutique is closed,” he said. “Unless, of course, you are here to return the clothes you borrowed.”

  “We were just on our way out,” Sara said and moved to pass him.

  “But since you’re here,” Ben said, then grabbed her hand and held tight, “we’d like to take the wedding gown with us.”

  Arthur nodded amicably. “You have my blessing.”

  “We’d prefer to have the dress.”

  Sara tugged, trying to pull free. “There isn’t time for this,” she muttered. “He’ll be down here any minute.”

  “I assume Mr. West is aware you’re in the house.” Arthur started to close the door, but she caught it with her free hand.

  “We’re leaving now, Arthur, so if you wouldn’t mind, tell him that something came up and I had to rush home. Or maybe you could tell him you didn’t see me and thought I left a while ago. I know it’s a lot to ask, but please, just this once, be a sport and cover for me.” She jerked against Ben’s restraint, tugging him off balance and out the door with her.

  “I really don’t want to leave that dress.” He hurried to get his foot inside the doorway. “Listen, Artie, run up to your room and throw the wedding gown out the window. I’ll catch it and everyone will be happy.” He paused. “Well, not everyone, but three out of four ain’t bad.”