The Fifty-Cent Groom

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  Relief and gratitude blended into a smile—her first genuine smile since she’d arrived at the church. And Ben had put it there. Oh, sure, he’d probably gotten a few people to help him put away the tables and chairs. Most likely, a couple of those women who were fawning over him after he caught the bride’s garter. But she didn’t care. The wedding was over. She could go home and put her feet up…as soon as she found him.

  “Ben?”

  His name sounded hollow in the cavernous room and echoed slightly against the overhead beams.

  “Ben?”

  Had he left with those women? After declaring he’d stay with her until his underwear unraveled? The smile that tempted her lips was meant for her alone, but it curved upward for all to see…if there had been anyone left, that is. So where was Ben? And how was she going to get home?

  The answer was parked outside the back door when she pushed it open and looked out. A shiny white van, nothing fancy, but still four wheels and a cargo space, awaited her likc Cinderella’s coach. The back was open and Ben was inside, loading the candelabrum. He jumped down and grinned at her. “Hi. I’ve almost got everything onboard…except for you, of course. The tables and chairs stay, right?”

  She nodded. “How did you manage this?”

  “I picked up one box and carried it out, then I went back and got another and carried it out. Then I—”

  “The van,” she interrupted. “How did you get the van?”

  “I rented it.”

  “With an expired credit card?”

  “It was a gold card, if you’ll recall. I managed to pull a few strings and clear up the misunderstanding.”

  She wanted to believe him. “What kind of strings?”

  “Will you stop worrying about that? It’s all perfectly legal, I swear. I thought you’d be relieved, grateful even.”

  “I am, Ben, but…you’re sure the policeman isn’t going to come looking for us again?”

  “After all the nonbillable hours you promised for his favorite charity? Not a chance. Trust me, Sara. This is a rental van and it isn’t costing you a cent. Okay?”

  There really was no reason to argue with him. However he’d gotten the van, she was more appreciative than she could say. “Thank you, Ben. How did you find the time to go get it?”

  “I knew we couldn’t move all this stuff with the Harley, so while you were busy telling the wedding party what to do and where to go and when, I slipped off. I got back just in time to catch the garter. Didn’t you miss me?”

  His thoughtfulness combined with the day’s stress, and Sara did something she hadn’t done since her seventeenth birthday, when she’d learned her mother hadn’t died ten years before, but had simply walked away and never come back. She put her head in her hands and burst into tears.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You must think I’m an idiot, crying like that for no reason.”

  In the church’s kitchen, Ben dabbed the corner of her eye with a wet paper towel and wiped away a smudge of mascara. “You just reached the end of your rope. Happens to all of us at one time or another.” He blotted her other eye, pleased to have the excuse to keep her chin cupped in his hand. “If I’d remembered how susceptible you are to reverse psychology, though, I’d have done something mean instead.”

  “Do you do mean things, Ben?”

  “My sister would tell you that the only person meaner than me is her ex-husband. But she’s an idiot, so you can’t believe what she says.” His thumb made a slow, sensual stroke across her cheek, and Sara inhaled sharply, then released a low, shaky sigh.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Really. I was just so surprised to walk into this room and discover all the work I thought I still had to do had already been done.”

  “You hired me to work, didn’t you?”

  “Well, yes, but normally, none of my employees would take the responsibility to pack a van, much less rent one.”

  “My motives were entirely selfish, I assure you. I didn’t want those big candlesticks to scratch up my motorcycle.”

  She smiled, as if she knew the Harley had not been his main concern. “It’s still the nicest thing that has happened to me in a long time.”

  He stopped dabbing, lifted her chin with a slight pressure and looked into her eyes. “In that case, your life is sadly deficient in nice things.” Leaning forward, he brushed her lips with his, felt her shiver of response and returned for a deep and satisfying taste of her mouth.

  It was several enjoyable seconds before Sara pulled away. “We’re in the church,” she whispered.

  “I knew there was something holy about kissing you.” He returned to her lips with an eager reverence and then proceeded to explore the line of her jaw with soft, swift nibbles.

  She pulled away again, although he could tell that her resolve took longer to form and a good deal more effort to implement. “We should not be kissing in the church.”

  “Where should we be kissing?”

  Her frown was barely worthy of the name. “Anywhere but here.” She blinked, then stepped back with a shake of her head. “What am I saying? You and I should not be kissing at all.”

  “The earth didn’t move for you?”

  “Not even a tremor.”

  He tapped her chin with his fingertip. “Considering how conscious you are of being in a holy place, I’m surprised you’d tell such a whopper.”

  “Considering that I’m your employer, I’m surprised you’d call me a liar.”

  “You’re feeling better, I can tell. Amazing what being caught in a lie can do for a person. It’s as good at restoring the spirit as a dose of Vitamin C.” He winked at her and turned away. “Let’s get the rest of this paraphernalia loaded in the van. You and I have a date with destiny.”

  “You and I don’t have a destiny. Not together, anyway.” She followed him to the door, protesting, explaining. “Kissing in a church doesn’t have any special significance, you know. And if I hadn’t been feeling sort of, well, vulnerable…”

  “It would have happened regardless, Sara. Now, you know that as well as I do.” He pointed to one of the sacks full of linens. “You want to grab that? And I’ll get these other two.”

  She picked up the sack and came after him through the doorway. “You’re wrong about this, Ben.”

  “Look, if you can do a better job of packing the van, be my guest. I’m only trying to earn my keep. Frankly, I can’t figure out how you got this amount of stuff to the church in the first place.”

  “It took several trips during the week, and I have to return a lot of things that were delivered by someone else.” She handed him the sack she carried. “And that isn’t what I was talking about. I don’t want you to think we have a future together, because we don’t.”

  Ben held the sack in his arms for a moment, letting her denial wither from lack of agreement, then he shrugged complacently and turned his attention to the van.

  “It is ludicrous even to talk about it.”

  He didn’t answer, and her frustration thickened the air between them.

  “I hardly know you, for Pete’s sake.”

  “I distinctly remember hearing you say that you could tell everything you needed to know about me from a single glance. Has that famous intuition of yours suffered a breakdown since last night?” He put a hand on each of her shoulders and moved her back a step. Then, with a smile, he headed inside the church.

  She stayed right on his heels. “That was different.”

  “Was it?”

  “Don’t mess with me, Ben. You know it was.”

  “Why? Because you say so?” He picked up the last box and balanced it in his arms. “Because you didn’t plan to fall in love with me?”

  That stopped her cold. He had the box loaded and was closing the cargo doors when she came up with an answer.

  “You are delusional, Mr. Northcross.”

  He laughed, thoroughly in love with his destiny. “Probably, Ms. Gunnerson. But that doesn’t change the facts.
You and I still have a date with—”

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  “—the twinkling wedding dress—”

  “That’s not destiny.”

  “—dinner at your house—”

  “Canceled.”

  “—and an appointment to meet your new neighbor…not necessarily in that order.” If he had taken a damp towel and washed her face, he couldn’t have done better at wiping the argument from her expression.

  “The baby,” she said, as if she’d only just remembered. “I wonder if she’s had the baby.”

  Ben jerked his head toward the church. “Lock up and we’ll go to the hospital to find out. If you can tell me how to get there from here, that is.”

  “I’ll drive. You lock up.” She grabbed the keys from his hand, tossed him the church keys, and headed for the driver’s seat, confidence restored, purpose renewed, completely in charge again.

  “DEENEE? SARA.” Pressing her finger against her ear, Sara turned away from the noise around her and spoke directly into the mouthpiece of the phone. “Can you do something for me? A favor?”

  There was a slight hesitation. “Does it involve my brother?”

  “No. Well, not directly.”

  “Oh, Sara, I really don’t want to go anywhere near West. He’s still foaming at the mouth.”

  Sara sighed. “I suppose it will be awhile before he’s in the mood to forgive and forget.”

  “I’d say Christmas, the year 2001, at the earliest. West holds a grudge longer than anyone else in the world. Maybe longer. You’re not calling to ask me to play peacemaker, are you?”

  “No,” Sara said quickly. “Of course not. I just…left something at his house and I need it.”

  “And you thought you could talk me into going and getting it for you, right?”

  “I wouldn’t ask, except I have to have the wedding dress. Ben can’t leave without it.”

  “The wedding dress?” DeeNee’s voice picked up interest. “The one you had on last night?”

  “That would be the one, yes. I left it under Arthur’s bed.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “What kind of question is that? I should know where I left it.”

  “And you want me to go over there and get it?”

  “Well, yes, if you could. I can pick it up later or I’ll meet you somewhere in the morning. I just don’t know how soon I’ll be able to leave the hospital, so I can’t give you an exact time. But if you’ll do this for me, I’ll—”

  “Hospital? What are you doing at the hospital?”

  “Waiting for a baby.”

  “Last night you didn’t even want a dog.”

  “My neighbor is having the baby. I’m just here to provide moral support.”

  “Okay, I’ll wrangle the dress from Arthur and then I’ll keep it here at my house until I hear from you. Is that all right?”

  “Perfect. You don’t know how much I appreciate this, DeeNee.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I’ll do you a favor in return someday.”

  “You better believe you will.”

  “SO I LIED.” Ben placed three white paper sacks on the table in Sara’s kitchen. “I would have cooked a spectacular dinner for you if the little tadpole hadn’t waited until one o’clock in the morning to make his appearance. Marcy’s Twenty-Four Hour Chinese Take-Out is the best I could do under the circumstances.” He pulled back a chair. “Sit.”

  Sara sat.

  He put a sack in front of her. “Eat.”

  She looked up. “Would you mind if I take off my shoes first?”

  “Take off anything you like.” He sat across from her and opened one of the sacks. He removed a carton imprinted with Chinese lettering, then two sets of chopsticks. He put one to Sara’s right on the table.

  She slipped off her shoes and rubbed the back of her calf with the other foot as she picked up the chopsticks and opened her sack. Her stomach cramped with anticipation at the mouthwatering smells emanating from inside.

  “Mmm.” She uttered a contented murmur half a carton later.

  “Mmm.” Ben answered with the same appreciation.

  They reached for the same egg roll at the same moment, and her fingertips slid across the back of his hand, encountering a texture as tantalizing as the downy feel of the blanket wrapped around Gypsy’s baby. Ben’s gaze held hers for a breathless moment as his words echoed in her memory. Didn’t plan to fall in love…didn’t plan didn’t plan…

  “You take it.” She drew back her hand. “I think there’s one in this other sack.” Concentrating on finding another egg roll, she pretended it was just the same to be alone in her kitchen with Ben, sharing cartons of Chinese food, as it would have been with Jason or Gypsy or practically anyone else. As long as she didn’t notice the seductive slant of his smile, the unabashed desire in his eyes, it was exactly the same. Comfortable, companionable, congenial. All she had to do was keep her hands off his egg roll.

  “Have you ever held a newborn before?” she asked as if she’d been thinking about the baby all along. “I had no idea what to do with him.”

  “Gypsy and Kevin seem to have gotten the hang of it rather quickly.”

  “I don’t suppose they have a choice.”

  “When my niece was born, I was the first one, other than her mother, to hold her. I remember thinking if I didn’t hold her tightly I would drop her, but if I held her too tightly I would suffocate her. It was the most responsibility I’ve ever held in my hands.”

  Sara agreed with a nod as she wiped each finger in turn. “And then, on top of having to learn what to do with the baby, you have to come up with a name for it. And whatever you choose, the kid is stuck with it for the rest of his life.”

  “You can stop worrying about that. Gypsy is not going to name her baby Tadpole.”

  “She says she is.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, my intuition tells me he’ll have a nice, conventional name like his father. He may even be Kevin, Jr.”

  “Not in a million years.”

  “Want to wager on the possibility?” He glanced at the sacks, cartons, napkins, rice and scattered drops of soy sauce on the table. “Whoever wins has to clean up.”

  “Since they haven’t decided on a name, this table might not get cleaned for days. Besides, I know I’m right, and much as I’d like to take advantage of you, it wouldn’t be fair.”

  He leaned toward her, his dark green eyes involving hers in a seductive gaze. “Take advantage of me,” he said. “I dare you.”

  Exactly what he was daring her to do, she couldn’t be sure. But there was no doubt what tempting images cavorted through her thoughts—erotic vignettes of Ben sweeping her off her feet and into his arms, carrying her to her bedroom, removing her dress one sensual inch at a time, leaving the imprint of his lips wherever the dress had touched. Sara stood so fast her chair rocked backward and nearly fell. “I’ll clean up,” she said quickly. “You take Cleo out.”

  “She’s already been out.” Ben stood, too, and the room suddenly seemed to contract into a much smaller space, as if his size, his presence, his sheer masculinity couldn’t be contained in this one place. Or maybe the kitchen just wasn’t big enough for the two of them and her runaway imagination.

  “I’ll take her out again.” Sara headed for the living room, escape from her totally unsuitable fantasies uppermost on her agenda.

  Cleo was snoozing, draped like a rag doll in the arms of the overstuffed chair.

  “Cleo.” Sara clapped her hands. “Want to go for a walk?”

  The Lab opened one eye and promptly closed it again.

  “Come on, girl. Don’t you need to stretch your legs?”

  This time, she yawned and tucked her nose in the crevice between the chair’s upholstered arm and the seat cushion.

  Feeling a little desperate, Sara tried shaking the dog awake. “Cleo, wake up. Let’s go outside.” And received a leave-me-be growl for her effort.

  “I don’t th
ink she’s in the mood,” Ben said from the doorway.

  “Nonsense. Dogs love the outdoors.”

  “She loves that chair at the moment.” The corners of his mouth tipped with a wry smile as he leaned—quite attractively—against the door frame. “If you want to take a walk, though, go ahead. You don’t need to use Cleo as an excuse.”

  “I just thought she would want—”

  “You just thought that taking her out would be a way to save face and escape temptation at the same time.”

  Sara widened her eyes in an attempt to look indignant. “Is that your intuition at work again, Ben? Because, frankly, I had nothing more on my mind than the dog’s comfort.”

  He looked at Cleo, sprawled unladylike across the armchair. “If she gets any more comfortable, she’ll become a permanent part of that chair.” He turned his gaze to Sara. “And even my intuition is no match for you when it comes to what you do or don’t have on your mind.”

  Breathing was becoming a struggle, because even if he truly had no idea what was on her mind, she had no such luxury. Her imagination, aided by very real bits of memory, invoked visions of long, wet kisses and slow, sensual touches, Ben without a shirt and her without…

  “Look, Ben, I’m going to bed.”

  His lazy smile ambled into place. “Either you’re inviting me to join you or you’re issuing a hell of a challenge.”

  “Is everything a contest to you? I made a simple statement. I’m going to bed. I didn’t say will you join me. And I certainly didn’t say don’t try to stop me. There. Now is my intention clear?”

  The smile developed a roguish slant. “As clear as if I could read your mind.” He straightened and walked toward her. “But Sara…”

  It took all her willpower not to retreat before his advance.

  “Maybe it’s time I made my intentions clear to you.” He stopped in front of her and gathered one of her hands in each of his.