Million-Dollar Bride

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “Well, I’ll be. He must really like you.” Shaking his head, Tom got into the cab and started the engine.

  By the time Mack got Einstein’s muzzle out of his pocket, the biscuit was half eaten and they were on the road again with the wind in their hair.

  “THANKS, TOM!” Eliza slammed the pickup door enthusiastically. “’Bye, and good luck with those cows!”

  Mack climbed over the tailgate and jumped to the ground. The jolt united every muscle in his body in protest. Five hours and fifty-five minutes was too long to spend in the back of a truck bumping along at forty-plus miles an hour. Come to think of it, five minutes would have been too long. He rubbed the back of his neck and shoulders as he watched the green pickup pull out into Topeka traffic, with Einstein back inside the cab and barking a nonstop and zealous farewell.

  “’Bye!” Eliza waved cheerfully. “That worked out just great, didn’t it? I know hitchhiking isn’t a really smart thing to do and all, but Tom was very nice. And interesting, too. He raises cows and sells them to rodeos, did you know that? No, I suppose you couldn’t hear much of the conversation back there, could you?”

  “Not much, no.” Mack wasn’t sure he’d ever again hear much of anything except whistling wind in his ears and Einstein’s persistent barking. “The dog talked a lot, though, so I wasn’t lonely.”

  Eliza looked around, taking in their surroundings with a visual sweep. “Tom said he’d never seen Einstein take to anyone like he did to you.”

  “Obviously not enough people carry biscuits in their pockets.”

  She turned for a closer look at the strip mall behind them. “I don’t think there’s anyplace to get biscuits here. Are you hungry?”

  As if it mattered. “You’re the brains of this outfit. What do we do next?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  He rubbed his aching hip and watched an approaching police car. The flight-or-fight instinct kicked in and he glanced about for a place to hide…but the black-and-white vehicle cruised past without even slowing down. “Eliza, did you know that the Cortland Foundation supports a variety of law-enforcement auxiliaries and organizations?”

  She stooped down and retied one shoelace. “No, I didn’t know, but then, until I met you, I’d never even heard of the Cortland Foundation.”

  He was surprised. “But you knew who I was right away.”

  “Well, of course. I fitted you for the tux, and your name was on the ticket.”

  Mack liked the idea that she knew nothing about him except what she’d learned during their brief adventure. Adventure? He was standing at a four-way stop in Topeka, Kansas, wearing borrowed clothes, without a penny in his pockets, dodging police cars and waiting for Eliza to tell him what idiotic thing he was about to try next. Was this adventure or insanity?

  She turned to him with a purposeful smile. “Okay, Mack, this is what we’re going to do….”

  INSANITY, he decided two hours later as they climbed into the cab of a huge tractor trailer parked outside a truck stop. In his entire life, he’d never even been close to a rig this size, and now he was hitching a ride with a woman driver who didn’t look big enough to handle a go-cart.

  “I’m Ruth,” she said. “I can take you as far as Lawrence.”

  “Great.” Eliza couldn’t have looked more delighted. “I’m Eliza. He’s Mack. I had no idea these trucks would be so cozy inside.”

  “Take a look in the back,” Ruth suggested, indicating a curtained area behind the seats.

  Eliza didn’t wait for a second invitation. “You have everything in here.”

  “Except the kitchen sink…which is fine with me. I never liked to cook, anyway.” Ruth laughed, and the big engine purred. “This truck has all the comforts of home. Handsome and I travel in style.”

  “Handsome?” Mack asked.

  A cocker spaniel poked his head through the curtain, sniffed the air and promptly nuzzled his way over Mack’s shoulder and down to his pocket.

  “You must have a way with animals.” Ruth nodded her approval and drove out of the parking lot.

  “I’M BEGINNING TO THINK I was totally wrong about hitchhiking.” Eliza watched the twin exhaust pipes of the Babe Ruth Express as the semi rolled on down the highway, leaving them at an intersection anchored by a pizzeria, a submarine-sandwich shop, a Taco Casa and a coin-operated laundry. “In just two experiences I’ve met Tom and Ruth, two very nice and interesting people. And I’ve learned all about raising rodeo cows and how to drive a big rig.”

  “Bulls.” Mack looked around for a taxi. At this point—a mile or so inside the city limits of Lawrence—he figured they were close enough to Kansas City to hire a cab and pay the fare once they reached home.

  “I beg your pardon,” Eliza said with an offended sniff. “Just because I didn’t actually drive the truck doesn’t mean I didn’t learn something about how to drive it. If I had to, you know. I mean, in an emergency or something, I think I could—”

  “I didn’t say bull, as in ‘I doubt it.’ I said bulls, as in he raises bulls, not cows.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “Well, you can’t have bulls without cows, so Tom must raise them, too.”

  “Knowing how fond you are of cows, I’m surprised you didn’t make a date to visit his ranch.”

  “I don’t have to see the ranch to be interested in it.” She looked across the street. “I bet they have good pizza there.”

  He followed her gaze to the pizzeria, and his stomach gave a long, low grumble. “Don’t think about food. Think about how we’re going to get home from here.”

  She sighed. “Find a semi and I’ll drive us right out of here.”

  “Too bad we don’t have a CB radio so you could just call up one of your new buddies. You were quite a hit on the trucker channel. How many marriage proposals did you get?”

  Her lips tightened. “You know as well as I do that they were just joking around. I’ll bet every one of those guys is married.”

  “I’ll bet you are, too.”

  Her eyes widened. “I forgot. I am married. I guess I just don’t feel married.”

  A car sped past, whipping up a dust devil around his ankles. “How does being married feel?”

  Shifting her weight from one saddle oxford to the other, she leaned out and looked down the street, presumably searching for another semi. “Now how would I know?”

  He wanted to kiss her right there, right then, and make her so weak with desire she’d know what it meant to be married to him, whether she felt that way or not. But it was a street corner and he was a Cortland. “Just think, if you hadn’t already married me, you could be watching the sunset from the cab of an eighteen-wheeler, snuggled next to Mighty Moose or Alabama Jimmy.”

  “It was Mighty Mike,” she said in a snippy voice. “And if he’d had a pizza, I’d have gone with him anywhere.”

  “Yes, well, so would I.” Mack manfully ignored the smells wafting his way and looked for a sign indicating a public telephone. “I’m going to call a cab.”

  “But we don’t have any money.”

  “We’ll pay when we get home.”

  “Can we do that?” She frowned as she lifted the hem of her skirt and absently scratched her thigh. “Won’t they ask for a deposit or credit or some kind of collateral?”

  “We’ll tell the truth and-”

  Her skeptical look silenced him, and into the momentary lull, four cars zoomed to a standstill in front of them. “Hey!” someone yelled. “Going our way?”

  “SO, DOES THIS Carter Foundation give very good scholarships? Because if it’s less than a thousand, I just don’t think it’s worth filling out all that paperwork and stuff, you know? I mean, if it takes up too much of my time and all, then it’s like it’s just not cost effective, you know?”

  Between Dave, a psychology major at KU, and Dan, whose career field was as yet undecided, Mack was scrunched in the front seat of a modestly souped-up Dodge. In the back seat were, respectively, Wes, Sean and Brian. They w
ere all brothers in the same fraternity and on their way to Kansas City to participate in a male-bonding experience known as summer rush. Up ahead, darting in and out of traffic like a firefly, was a brilliant green Camaro, the leader of the fraternal caravan and the vehicle in which Eliza had chosen to ride. Mack could only hope she was wearing a seat belt.

  “So, you know, like what kind of application do you have to fill out? For that Carter Foundation place you work at?” Brian, whose major had mercifully slipped Mack’s mind, persisted. “And how long does it take to get the money?”

  “It’s the Cortland Foundation and it doesn’t grant scholarships.” He wiggled his shoulders and tried not to notice that the Camaro was pulling some distance ahead of the other cars in the caravan. “There’d be no point in your filling out an application.”

  “You mean you don’t help people go to college and better themselves and get ahead in the world?”

  Mack had never been more thankful for the foundation’s guidelines. “That’s right. Sorry.”

  “Well, so, maybe you ought to change that. I mean, college students have a tough time paying for their education, you know.”

  The Camaro slowed down and the Dodge moved closer again. “What’s Boomer doing up there?” Dan, the driver of the Dodge, said to no one in particular. “He’s practically backing up.”

  Dave, the psych major, leaned across Mack to speak to Dan. “I think he wants to talk to us. Roll down your window.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Mack tried to suggest that conversation between two moving vehicles was not an effective or safe means of communication. “Why don’t we just pull over?”

  Dan, impervious to subtlety, rolled down the window as the Dodge pulled up beside the Camaro.

  “Mack!” Eliza cupped her hands around her mouth and leaned across a husky, good-looking young man. “Boomer invited me to the hot-wheels party!” She pointed at the laughing young man behind the steering wheel. “Everyone has to wear a car accessory! Isn’t that cute?”

  He couldn’t believe she was yelling at him from the next lane of traffic.

  Sean leaned forward. “What are you gonna wear, Eliza?” he hollered, nearly deafening Mack in one ear. “I’ll be the one with the antenna!”

  She laughed, said something to the young men in the Camaro, and they laughed, too. “Mack!” She cupped her hands around her happy grin. “We can go as matching seat covers!”

  Dan shook his head and sped up to keep even with the Camaro. “He’s not invited!”

  “Yeah,” Brian yelled from the back seat. “He’s not invited!” He poked Mack on the shoulder. “You really ought to change your mind and give out a few scholarships. Then you might get into some really cool parties.”

  “Mack!” Eliza yelled again. “Look! Chee-tos!” She held up a crumpled bag of snacks. “Catch!”

  Before he guessed her intention, she threw the bag through the window. Dan stretched out his hand to catch it, but they escaped in a flurry of bright orange curls and scattered down the highway.

  “Sorry…!” Eliza called as the Camaro zoomed on ahead in a streak of brilliant green.

  Mack eyed the lone Chee-to that had blown onto the dashboard, but before he could grab it, Dan picked it up and ate it.

  “I saw how they make Chee-tos once,” Wes said from the back. “It was way cool how they finally come out on this little track thing, all puffed up and cheesy and hot. I ever tell you guys I saw that?”

  “Only a million times.”

  “You told us.”

  “I hope she comes to the party.”

  Dave looked longingly after the Camaro’s green blur. “I wish she was riding with us.”

  It was the first statement in over an hour with which Mack wholeheartedly agreed.

  “THIS HAS BEEN a great day.” Eliza pushed the re-cliner into the full-stretch position and put her hands behind her head. “But I have never been so glad to be home.”

  Home was a small, squat, but charming older house in Kansas City, to which they’d been delivered some time ago by the testosterone-driven Camaro and the nerdy brown Dodge. Mack finished his sandwich and settled back with his cup of coffee. With the edge off his hunger and a comfortable chair to sit in, he relaxed enough to appreciate the place Eliza called home. It looked like her, he thought. All mismatched colors and a collage of styles that somehow blended into an aesthetic whole. Nothing fit, but nothing seemed out of place, either. “I like what you’ve done with the house,” he said.

  “Thanks, I like the way it’s developing, myself. My friends thought I was crazy to move out of my apartment and into this place. It’s one of those lease-purchase deals, and I can fix up the place in exchange for paying lower rent. My home-improvement budget is pretty skimpy, since I’m trying to save money to open my own bridal shop, but I manage to do a little something every month. Anyway, the price was right and Auntie Gem thought it was a good idea. She’s always telling me it will be hard to follow my heart if I can’t balance my checkbook.”

  “Very profound. I’d like to meet your Auntie Gem.”

  “I have a feeling the two of you would like each other. I have to warn you, though, she doesn’t make any better sense in person.”

  “I like her already.” He propped his feet on the hassock. “And she made perfect sense if she guided you to buy this house. It suits you.”

  “Maybe. I prefer to believe I suit the house. I think sometimes people spend so much time trying to find what suits them, they miss out on the chance to discover they actually suit what has found them.”

  “Another Auntie Gem-ism? Or is that strictly Eliza?”

  “A little of both, I’m afraid. Occasionally, even I’m not sure what I’m saying.” She yawned and stretched before folding her hands in her lap. “Feel free to make more coffee if you want,” she offered, snuggling deeper into the recliner. “Or another sandwich.”

  “I’ll just sit here, thanks. It’s been a long day.”

  “A great day.” Her voice was soft and sleepy.

  He noticed the droop of her eyelids, the slow, steady rise and fall of her breasts. The moment they’d hit the door, she’d directed him to the kitchen, while she headed for the bathroom and a shower. Now her hair was wet and clingy, her face scrubbed as clean as a daisy, her body damp and tempting beneath a loose T-shirt and jumper. A sigh slipped past her lips and her head lolled to the side.

  Feeling comfortable and contented, Mack sipped his coffee and watched her sleep…and knew for the first time in his life that he suited what had found him.

  “ELIZA?” Mack stooped beside the recliner and stroked the soft inner skin of her arm. “Eliza, wake up. You’re going to have an awful crick in your neck if you don’t get out of this chair.”

  The recliner snapped upright and she sat up abruptly, startled and wide-eyed. “What? Is he here?”

  “Who?”

  Turning her head, she looked at him and blinked. “Mack?”

  He smiled. “At least you didn’t scream this time.”

  “I don’t scream…do I?”

  “Yes, you do, and I have the scars to prove it.”

  “Did you make me scream?”

  “Not yet, but I’m thinking about it.”

  His meaning seemed to slip into the fog of her sleepy brain and get lost there, because her gaze moved from him to the familiar furnishings. “Oh, we’re home. Is it morning already? I’ve got to get up and call the limousine service. We have to find out if Chuck brought the limo back here or drove it to California or did something else with—”

  “It’s barely past ten.” He reached up and smoothed the furrows from her brow. “You fell asleep in the chair, and I thought you’d be more comfortable in bed, that’s all.”

  She pushed a distracted hand through her hair. “It’s not time to go after the dress?”

  He shook his head. “It’s time to go to bed.”

  “Bed,” she repeated with a yawn. “Oh, you should have just wandered into one of th
e bedrooms and gone on to bed. I can sleep anywhere. Sometimes I go days at a time without getting into a bed.”

  “Well, tonight isn’t one of those days. It hurts my neck just to watch you.” He pushed himself to his feet, reached for her hand and tugged. “Come on.”

  Eliza resisted, feeling rested and anxious and confused all at the same time. “Wait a minute. You woke me up to tell me to go to bed?”

  “You’ve been asleep in that chair for over an hour.”

  “This isn’t going to turn into another I-slept-more-than-you-slept argument, is it?”

  “If you’ll recall, that argument had very little to do with sleep.”

  A sudden, prickly awareness assailed her. “Oh. Right. It was about cold showers, wasn’t it?”

  “Not exactly.” He gave her hand another, more-forceful tug. “And I’m not sure you want this discussion to go any further.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I have lots of cold water.”

  He regarded her for a moment, then cupped her chin in the palm of his hand and gently compelled her to stand. “That’s good, because you may very well need it.”

  Her heart barely stammered out a two-step beat of anticipation and protest before he claimed her in a long, wet, thorough kiss. Then, before she could catch her breath, he did it again. Her lips couldn’t help but respond to his persuasion as a sweet weakness permeated her body and she was forced to put her arms around him for balance. His form pressed hard and purposefully against hers, providing a devastating blow to her resolve. Mack wanted her. She wanted him. Wasn’t that all that mattered?

  “Mack.” She slipped her hands between them and pressed on his chest. “I can’t sleep with you. You don’t belong to me.”

  “I do tonight.” He lifted her in his arms. “Which door leads to the bedroom?”

  “That one.” She pointed and told herself she had every right to spend the night with him. One night out of all the rest of the nights in his life. One night to claim him as her husband, as her lover. But when he laid her down on the bed and stopped to take off his boots, she knew she had to be honest with herself…even if she would regret it every minute of every night for the rest of her life.