Married by Mistake

by Abby Gaines

  Adam Carmichael was the kind of guy any woman would think about, she consoled herself. Those broad shoulders, those strong hands that had steadied her... At first, Casey had thought his eyes an arctic blue, but when he kissed her, they’d glinted a warmer azure color. Most of the time he’d looked tense, with a furrow in his brow that told her the tension might be habitual.

  When Casey opened her eyes, Adam stood in her line of vision, next to the camera she wasn’t supposed to be looking at. He was looking right at her, frowning again. She couldn’t see that furrow, but she knew it would be there. She guessed he might be worrying about her, and her delusions of romance.

  She mustered a reassuring smile—I’m not going to fall apart—and waggled her fingers at him. He waved back, but it was a brief, tense movement.

  A production assistant clipped a microphone to her dress, obscuring Casey’s view of Adam. When the assistant stepped aside, he was gone. A peculiar loneliness made her chest ache.

  Then someone was counting down. Sally Summers, the show’s host, looked in the mirror one last time and...they were on air. It took all Casey’s willpower not to flee the set as Sally began her introduction. The words passed Casey by, but she was jerked back to reality when Sally came over to interview Trisha from Truberg.

  “Trisha, how long have you and Martin been dating?”

  Five years, Trisha told Sally. They’d been engaged for three, and their families still couldn’t agree on a wedding date.

  After the interview, a drumroll rounded to a crescendo, then Sally called Martin Blake to the set. He emerged from backstage to the strains of “Here Comes the Bride,” and the audience applauded on cue. Martin did a double take, but to Casey’s relief—maybe this won’t be so bad—he got over his initial shock.

  Sally explained he could marry Trisha right now. The deputy clerk of Shelby County Court would issue a marriage license and a minister would perform the ceremony. Then Martin and Trisha would head off on a luxury honeymoon.

  Martin scratched his head. “Now? Tonight?”

  Sally repeated the offer, this time stressing that the honeymoon was all-expenses-paid.

  “Just think, baby,” Trisha coaxed him, “no more arguing with your mom about the wedding.” She giggled as she darted a look at the camera. “Oops, sorry, Mrs. Blake.”

  Maybe that was the clincher, because Martin said, “You’re right, hon, let’s do it.” Trisha squealed with delight. The marriage license was completed during the commercial break, and when they were back on air, the minister stepped up. Five minutes later, Trisha had her wish.

  “That went okay,” Casey murmured, as the audience clapped. Brodie-Ann didn’t reply. She appeared frozen in her seat, as if she’d only just realized what tonight was all about.

  After the next commercial break, Sally introduced Brodie-Ann to the audience and invited her to tell everyone about Steve.

  “He’s the most wonderful guy I ever met,” she said, the quaver in her voice barely discernible. “We haven’t been together long, but I adore everything about him. I know he’s the one.”

  The audience oohed appreciatively.

  Casey felt a twinge of envy. She couldn’t remember ever loving Joe like that.

  Then it was Steve’s turn to come on stage. He was a smart guy; it took him only half a second to realize what “Here Comes the Bride” and Brodie-Ann in a long white dress meant. A huge grin split his face. He stepped right up to her, went down on one knee and said, “Sweetheart, will you marry me?”

  The crowd went wild—and they did again when, at the end of the brief ceremony, Steve and Brodie-Ann shared a kiss that raised the temperature in the studio by several degrees. Then the new Mr. and Mrs. Pemberton joined Trisha and her husband on the studio couch.

  * * *

  “TELL ME THIS ISN’T CRAP,” Adam demanded of his good friend Dave Dubois, who was standing next to him at the back of the control room. As a freelance programming consultant, Dave occasionally worked with Channel Eight. He hadn’t been involved with this show. But he was keen to see it. In front of them, the show’s director focused intently on a wide, multiwindow screen. The footage currently being broadcast played out in the large center window. Smaller windows around it displayed feeds from the other cameras. Adam could see Casey, the last bride, in one of those windows.

  “It sure isn’t your normal kind of show.” Dave’s response lacked the contempt Adam would have welcomed.

  “It’s no one’s normal kind of show. It’s my cousin Henry’s kind of show.”

  The director said into his headset, “Ready, two, with a close-up on bride three. Standby mics and cue.” Camera two obediently zoomed in on Casey, ready for her to take center screen. Her jaw appeared to be clenched so tightly she risked breaking a tooth.

  “Look.” Dave pointed to the image feed from camera three. The studio audience was apparently enthralled by the whole tacky proceedings. To Adam’s irritation, his friend evaded the opportunity to savage Henry, settling for an ambiguous, “You’re still the boss around here, right?”

  “If you mean does my charming family still see me as the bad guy, you bet. If you mean does fear of me stop Henry creating idiotic new shows while I’m out of town...”

  “Hmm,” Dave said. “Any progress on the legal front?”

  Just what Adam wanted to think about right now. He sent his friend a withering look.

  Dave said hastily, “Y’know, this show’s not bad. And the reality market is still booming, no matter what the doomsayers predict.”

  If he’d intended to distract Adam from thoughts of the lawsuit that Henry and his mother had instigated against Adam, he’d picked the wrong topic. Adam fixed him with a black look.

  “Okay, so it’s not the last word in good taste,” Dave admitted. “But it’s got pretty women—that third bride is a real babe. It’s got romance and happy endings. Though I do think something’s missing.”

  “A dancing girl bearing Henry’s head on a platter?”

  Dave gave the suggestion due consideration. “You’re on the right track. The whole thing needs more tension. More drama.”

  * * *

  ANOTHER COMMERCIAL BREAK, then they were back on air. Casey licked her dry lips, feeling very alone at center stage. She looked around for Adam, but couldn’t find him.

  “Folks, this is Casey Greene. She’s come all the way from Parkvale for today’s show,” Sally announced.

  The crowd cheered, expecting great things from another Parkvale girl.

  “Casey is twenty-five. She’s a journalist and a psychology student, and she wants to be a novelist,” Sally continued. “What do you want to write, Casey?”

  “Books,” she answered numbly.

  “And your fiancé is Joe Elliott,” Sally added brightly. “Tell us about you and Joe.”

  “We met in high school, and we got engaged at graduation.” If she’d been any more wooden, they’d call her Pinocchio. Relax. Casey exhaled slowly through her nose.

  “How’s that, folks? High school sweethearts!” Sally tried to rally some enthusiasm from the crowd, but their applause was muted. They must have sensed this wasn’t the love story of the decade. “Casey, tell us what you love about Joe.”

  Casey’s mind went blank. “Uh, he’s, uh...”

  Sally’s smile froze.

  “He’s so honest,” Casey said at last. “So handsome.” Silence. For Pete’s sake, they wanted more? “I’ve known him forever. And...I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

  At least she couldn’t until about an hour ago, when a stranger had left the imprint of his lips on her hand. She glanced quickly down at her fingers—of course there was no sign of Adam’s kiss. “I really want to get married,” she said, and added, with an emphasis that was too loud and too late, “to Joe.”

  At last the interview was over. The strains of “Here Comes the Bride” filled the studio. Across the stage, Joe appeared. He stopped dead, looked around, saw the other two couples on the couch
, heard the audience chanting, “Joe, Joe, Joe,” and, finally, looked at Casey. A dragging inevitability slowed his progress across the stage.

  “Joe,” Sally cooed. “Welcome to Kiss the Bride, the show where you marry the woman of your dreams.” She gestured to Casey. “Doesn’t she look gorgeous?”

  Joe opened his mouth, but it took him a couple of tries to get any words out. “She does,” he managed to answer at last.

  Relief washed over Casey, restoring her heart to its normal rhythm. It’s going to be all right.

  “Joe, this is your big moment,” Sally said. “All you have to do is pop the question, and you can marry Casey right here.” Her brilliant smile encouraged him.

  Joe hesitated. Casey gave him what she intended to be a loving smile, though she feared it might have emerged as pleading. Still he hesitated.

  “Joe, aren’t you going to ask Casey to marry you?” Sally sounded like a mother addressing a recalcitrant child.

  Joe spoke, loud and clear this time.

  “No, I’m not.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “YES!” Dave Dubois punched the air with his fist. “You did it, buddy. This is much better than Henry’s head on a plate.”

  Adam cursed as the center screen flipped from one camera feed to the next as the director searched for something other than frozen expressions and hanging jaws. So much for convincing New Visage Cosmetics that Channel Eight could mount a professional, sophisticated production.

  With Dave on his heels, he rushed out of the control room and into the studio, where stunned silence had given way to a hubbub of excited chatter.

  On the set, Sally Summers’s famous smile had evaporated. Joe stepped toward Casey, and the microphone clipped to his shirt picked up what he said, despite his low voice.

  “I’m sorry, Casey, but I don’t want to marry you—I don’t love you that way anymore. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings....” He stopped, perhaps aware his words were being broadcast around Tennessee.

  Make that the entire U.S.A.

  As Adam headed to the front of the studio he noticed Channel Eight’s PR manager had pulled out her cell phone and was talking in urgent tones. She’d be instructing her assistants to get this story on the late news. By tomorrow, she’d have sold the program nationwide. Casey’s disaster was great TV.

  Joe said again, “I’m sorry.” Then he turned and—as if he hadn’t done enough damage—all but ran offstage. Sally patted Casey’s hand in what might have been intended as a gesture of comfort, but looked perfunctory.

  Adam headed for his cousin Henry, next to camera three. To reach him, he had to pass the New Visage executives, huddled in anxious consultation in their front-row seats.

  “Adam.” Henry’s round face was flushed with panic. He grabbed Adam’s arm. “I had no idea this would happen, I swear.”

  Damn, that meant there was no contingency plan.

  Henry jerked his head toward the stage. “Do you think she’s going to faint?”

  Adam looked up at Casey, swaying on her stool, blinking rapidly.

  Behind him, the chatter of the studio audience swelled to an unruly level. He shut out the sound, focused on what needed to be done. One, restore order to the studio. Two, salvage the show so New Visage doesn’t pull the plug. Three, get Casey out of here before she decides to sue Carmichael Broadcasting for public humiliation.

  “Tell the crew to follow my lead on this,” he told Henry. His cousin began issuing hurried instructions to the floor director, who was in radio contact with the director in the control room. To Dave, Adam said, “How good an actor are you?”

  “I played a tree in The Wizard of Oz in fifth grade.”

  “I hope you were a damn good one,” Adam said. “Wait here until I tell you to come up on stage. Then do as I say.”

  The security people let Adam through and he stepped up onto the stage. Sally became aware of his presence. She turned and took a few hesitant steps in his direction.

  “Mr. Carmichael,” she said, then remembered to flash her dazzling smile. “Welcome to Kiss the Bride, the show where—”

  He stalked up to her and motioned to her to mute her mic. When he was sure no one would hear him, he said, “We need to fix this—now.”

  “How do you propose we do that?” she hissed.

  “That bride—” he nodded toward Casey “—is going to have a wedding.” He added grimly, “Even if I have to marry her myself.”

  “You can’t do—”

  “You’re going to help.”

  Sally flicked a yearning glance over his shoulder at her teleprompter. When no script appeared, she started to shake her head.

  “Right now, Sally.” Adam dropped his voice to a menacing murmur. “Your contract negotiations are due at the end of the quarter.”

  Sally Summers was nothing if not pragmatic. Adam could almost see the dollar signs in her eyes as she turned to the audience wearing a wide smile that only the two of them knew was false. She switched her mic back on and stepped forward.

  “Well, folks, the course of true love never runs smooth, and who knows that better than Casey? But tonight, one man’s loss might be another man’s gain. It turns out Casey has another admirer here in the studio, a man waiting in the wings—literally—for his chance at love.”

  Adam winced at the stream of clichés. But Sally was headed in the right direction, however painful the route she took to get there.

  “Folks—” she was warming to her task and by now had some real enthusiasm in her voice “—meet Adam Carmichael, Memphis’s most eligible bachelor. And, if she’ll have him, Casey Greene’s bridegroom!”

  The audience broke into a cheer, which Adam suspected was more out of confusion than celebration. He strode over to where Casey clung dazedly to her stool, and took both her hands in his. She clutched them as if he’d thrown her a lifeline.

  “Casey—” he spoke loudly so his words would carry to the audience without a mic “—will you marry me?”

  He heard a shriek from someone in the crowd. Casey stared at him. He leaned forward, and his lips skimmed the soft skin of her cheek as he whispered in her ear, “We’re going to fake a wedding.”

  He stepped back and said again, for the benefit of the crowd, “Casey, will you marry me? Please?”

  He wondered if she’d understood, she sat there, unresponsive, for so long. Then she expelled a slow breath and smiled radiantly, her gray-green eyes full of trust. “Yes, Adam, I will.”

  For a second, he felt a tightness in his chest, as if he’d just seriously proposed marriage to the woman he loved. Whatever that might feel like. A din exploded around them, the audience cheering, Sally yelling to make herself heard. Someone called for a commercial break.

  Five minutes later, the clerk had issued a marriage license. Under Tennessee law there was no waiting period, no blood test. Adam announced he would use his own marriage celebrant, and beckoned to Dave. His friend looked around, then twigged that Adam meant him. He bounded forward, and by the time he reached the set his face was a study in solemnity. If you discounted the gleam in his eyes.

  Dave patted his pockets, then turned to the ousted minister. “I seem to have forgotten my vows. Could I borrow yours?”

  Just as they went back on air he clipped on a microphone. He began laboring through the “wedding.”

  “Adam James Carmichael, do you take—” He slanted Casey a questioning look.

  “Casey Eleanor Greene,” she supplied.

  “Casey Eleanor Greene to be your wife? To have and to hold, for—”

  “I do,” Adam said.

  “Right.” Dave moved down the page. “Casey Eleanor Greene, do you—”

  “I do,” Casey said.

  “—take Adam James Carmichael to be your husband?”

  “She said she does,” Adam snapped.

  At the same moment, Casey repeated desperately, “I do!”

  Dave got the message and started to wrap things up. “Then, uh—” he lost h
is place and improvised “—it’s a deal. You’re married, husband and wife. You may—”

  “Kiss the bride!” the audience yelled on cue.

  Why not? They’d gone through all the other motions of a wedding. Adam turned to Casey and found she’d lifted her face expectantly.

  One kiss and this nightmare would be over, Casey told herself. She could escape the scene of her utter humiliation, and barricade herself in the house in Parkvale for the next hundred years.

  Going after your dreams was vastly overrated.

  She leaned toward Adam, went up on tiptoe to make it easier for him to seal this sham. Just kiss the guy and we can all go home.

  She wasn’t prepared for the same current of electricity that had left her fingers tingling earlier to multiply tenfold as their mouths met.

  Shaken, she grasped his upper arms to steady herself, and encountered the steel of masculine strength through the fine wool of his jacket. His hands went to her waist and he pulled her closer. The shock of awareness that somewhere deep within her a flame of desire had been kindled snapped Casey’s eyes open. She met Adam’s gaze full on, saw mirrored in it her own realization that this was about to get embarrassing. Even more embarrassing.

  Slowly, he pulled back.

  The audience hooted in appreciation. Casey blushed.

  “Folks, none of us expected this when we came on stage an hour ago, but there you have it. Casey Greene married Adam Carmichael, right here on Kiss the Bride.” Sally ad-libbed with ease, now that time was almost up. “These three lovely couples will head off on their honeymoons, courtesy of Channel Eight. Don’t miss next week’s show—anything can happen on Kiss the Bride!”

  Casey and Adam didn’t wait around for the inevitable interrogation. By unspoken agreement, they headed offstage and back to the boardroom where they’d met—could it really have been just two hours ago?

  Casey sank onto the leather couch, trying to control the shaking that had set in now she was out of the public eye.

  Her savior scrutinized her as if she might be dangerous. “Are you okay?”