by Patti Berg
His tempo was masterful, rhythmic. In and out, over and over, he moved with the grace of a cowboy who’d ridden hard and ridden long and never tired, and he seemed to know every time that he was driving her to scream because that’s when he kissed the living daylights out of her.
And just when she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, he thrust one more time, deep and hard, and the most magnificent skyrockets she’d ever been treated to exploded around them both.
He stilled. His breath was ragged and deep, but a slow smile softened the taut, determined line of his lips. “God,” he moaned, resting his head on her chest, “I’m gonna be thanking United Airlines and Mr. Antonio for the rest of my life. If they hadn’t screwed up, we wouldn’t be here right now. And let me tell you, Sam, being here with you is the best thing ever.”
She could think of a thousand things to say, but words wouldn’t come. Not now. All she could do at the moment was purr, and when he rolled over and tugged her on top of him, she ran her fingers down his chest, and did her very best to make him want her all over again.
They showered together, made love, dozed off and on, and in between lay together, sharing their love, their secrets, their hopes for the future, even the haunting moments from their pasts.
Jack held her close, drawing lazy circles on her arm, hesitantly tracing the scar on her jaw. “How’d you get this?” he asked. She didn’t want to tell him about that night six months ago, but all of it came pouring out. She couldn’t hide anything from him, not now, not ever. She told him about her mother being beaten, about needing money for better doctors, about going to Graham Welles who’d promised to help her if she was ever in need. Anger flared in Jack’s eyes, she could feel his muscles tense when she told him Graham had ripped her blouse and slapped her more than once before she’d been able to run away.
“It was so foolish, Jack,” she said, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I knew he was no better than the men in my mother’s life. I knew what he’d ask of me, and when I went to his house I had every intention of giving him what he wanted—as long as he’d give me the money to save my mother.” She looked into his eyes. “Do you hate me for that, Jack?”
“Hate you? God, no, Sam. It makes me love you even more.”
“Why?”
“Because you’d do anything for someone you love. Anything. There aren’t many people who’d do that.”
“You would.”
He laughed. “I love my sister dearly, and I’d do anything for her, but my charade wasn’t heroic.”
“I’m not talking about the charade, Jack. I’m talking about giving up Beau.”
“That wasn’t heroic, either. That was the most foolish thing I ever did.”
“But you did it for what you thought were the right reasons. I believe that. Beau believes it. It’s time you start believing it, too.”
He lifted her hand and pressed gentle kisses into her palm. “Right or wrong doesn’t matter anymore, Sam. All that matters is that I have my son again. I’ve been given a second chance, and that’s something I’ll never jeopardize.”
She kissed him softly, loving everything about him. “You know what, Jack?”
“What?”
“My mama would have loved you.”
A smile tilted his lips as he pulled her on top of him. “I’ll make sure she never stops,” he said, trailing his hands down her sides and over her bottom. “I’ll make sure you never stop—”
The loud knock startled him to silence.
“Jack? Are you in there?”
Hell! What on earth was his sister doing outside the door? “Is that you, Lauren?” he asked, rolling Sam off his chest and onto the bed.
“Oh, it’s me all right, and I want to come in.”
Hell!
“I don’t know who you’ve got in that room with you, but if you don’t open the door in thirty seconds, I’m going to find the housekeeper, have her unlock the door, and I’m coming in.”
“Hold your horses, Lauren,” he shouted, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and grabbing his jeans. “I’ll open the door in a minute.”
“I said thirty seconds, Jack. Not a minute.”
“I’m coming!”
“Do you think she found out about the charade?” Sam whispered, scooting off the bed.
“More than likely, and I’ve got the damnedest feeling she’s not happy about it.”
“Your thirty seconds are up, Jack,” Lauren said, her knuckles knocking not too lightly on the door. “Do I have to get the housekeeper?”
“No. Just let me get my pants on.”
Sam tossed aside sheets, blankets, and pillows, searching for her sweater, while Jack fumbled with his zipper.
“What are you going to tell her, Jack?”
“The truth.” He grabbed Sam around the waist and kissed her hard and fast. “Wish me luck.”
Lauren waltzed into the room the moment he opened the door. Mike followed right behind, a smirk as big as Wyoming plastered on his ugly mug, a smirk Jack might have knocked right off if Mike hadn’t been fingering his cross.
“I think I’ve got some explaining to do,” Jack said, hoping his sister would listen.
Lauren spun around. She had a smile on her face. It looked a little fake, but it was definitely a smile. “You have more than explaining to do, brother dear. You and your friend—” She sauntered toward Sam, who smiled nervously as she shoved her bra into the pocket of her jeans. “Hello,” Lauren said, holding out her hand. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Lauren Remington Chasen Lancaster.” Lauren raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”
Sam cautiously shook Lauren’s hand. “Sam Jones. Samantha, actually.”
“Well, I’m glad we’ve finally got that out in the open.”
Lauren sat down on the edge of the bed and gracefully crossed her legs. She aimed a deadly gaze at Jack. “I talked with the real Arabella today. She told me to tell you that you’re a son of a bitch. Part of me tends to believe that’s true. Part of me…”
Jack watched his sister’s lips start to tremble. She’d been putting up a good front, but her defenses suddenly crumbled. He went to the bed and sat down beside her. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, and in a rush of words told her everything, about losing his tux, about hiring Sam, about begging her to come to Wyoming when Lauren needed a woman to talk to.
There were tears in her eyes when she looked from Jack to Sam and back again. “You should have told me the truth, Jack. I’m not a little girl anymore, and you can’t spend your entire life trying to protect me.”
“All I want to do is make you happy.”
“I know, and I appreciate it. But I’ve told you a hundred times before, your happiness is what matters the most to me. Hiring a fiancée for a night, even for a day or a week, won’t bring you anything but misery.”
“You’re wrong, Lauren,” Jack told her.
“Wrong?”
Sam walked toward him, and he slipped an arm around her waist. He smiled at his wife-to-be. “A month ago I hired Sam to play my fiancée. At the outset it wasn’t the proper thing to do, but looking back on it, I never did anything so right.”
“What do you mean?”
“Last night I asked her to be my wife—forever.”
Another tear slipped down Lauren’s face. “You’re not making this up, are you?”
“No,” Sam said, putting a comforting hand on Lauren’s arm. “The masquerade’s over.”
“Thank God,” Mike uttered, speaking for the first time since he and Lauren walked into the room. “I’ve been praying for this, but I was beginning to wonder if the two of you would ever see the light.”
“We saw it,” Jack said, looking at the woman he loved. “Problem is, we didn’t recognize what it was.” And he promised himself he’d never lose sight of it again.
“Well,” Lauren said, climbing up from the bed and latching on to Mike’s arm. “I’m certainly glad the two of you decided to fall in love.
I’ve got your wedding halfway planned—”
“You what?” Jack blurted out.
Sam tugged on his arm, dragging his attention from his sister and uneasy thoughts of her always grandiose schemes. “I thought Lauren needed something to take her mind off her troubles, and she came up with the wedding idea,” Sam said. “I couldn’t exactly tell her no.”
Jack plowed his fingers through his hair. “I’m not having some big fancy thing—”
Lauren smiled indulgently, knowing full well she could talk him into anything. “It’s going to be beautiful, Jack. Doves. Lovebirds. Palm Beach in the spring.”
“Doves, fine. Lovebirds”—he shook his head—“whatever! But Palm Beach—absolutely not!”
Lauren sauntered toward the door with Mike in tow. “We’ll discuss this later, Jack. Right now, Mike and I are going to visit your son. I’m sure Sam can convince you to see things my way by the time you meet us at the hospital.” As she walked out of the room, she smiled at Jack over her shoulder. “I haven’t yet forgiven you for the charade, brother dear. You should remember that when you’re deciding what kind of wedding you want.”
What he wanted was something peaceful and quiet, a small affair with ten or fifteen guests at the most. Hell, going to Las Vegas for a quickie wedding in a brightly lit neon chapel with an Elvis impersonator singing the “Hawaiian Wedding Song” sounded better than a Palm Beach gala. All he wanted to do was get himself firmly hitched to Sam and stay that way for the rest of his life.
Sam smoothed a hand over his back, her soft touch calming him. “I don’t mind a Palm Beach wedding,” she said softly.
Turning around, he leaned against the door and pulled her against his chest, loving the way she fit perfectly in his arms. “You don’t?”
She shook her head. “When I was little I wanted to go to the ball. I wanted to be like Cinderella and get all dressed up and have everyone watching me as I walked into the room.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You still want that?”
“I want you, Jack. I honestly don’t care where we get married, but…” She sighed. “Palm Beach is lovely in the spring and that’s where we first met and—”
He kissed her lightly, stifling her words. “If you want to get married in Palm Beach, that’s where we’ll get married. If you want to spend the winters in Florida, we’ll spend the winters in Florida.”
“I only want to get married there, Jack. It’s pretty and Lauren’s home is gorgeous and we’ll both be making her happy. But the ranch is my home now. Even though I’ve been there just a couple of days, I feel like I belong.”
“Where you belong is with me,” he told her, cupping her face, gazing into warm, fathomless brown eyes. “It doesn’t matter if we’re at the ranch or in Palm Beach. What matters is that we’re together, and I plan on keeping you by my side forever.”
She kissed him softly. “Is that a promise?”
“It’s a promise, even if I have to lasso you to keep you close.”
A gentle smile touched her lips. “You’ve already done that, Jack. You might not be able to see it, but that rope’s good and tight, and it’s never going to let go.”
epilogue
For the fourth time in five minutes, Lauren adjusted the circles of baby’s breath and white rosebuds atop Sam’s head. “This isn’t right, Sam. I told the florist I wanted miniature white rosebuds, not regular rosebuds. These are too large and…and…oh, dead, I wanted everything to be perfect.”
Sam smiled, stretching her arms around the woman who’d be her sister-in-law in just a few more minutes. “Everything’s beautiful, Lauren, in spite of the rosebuds.”
“But it’s not, Sam. The ribbons and bows lining the aisles were supposed to be shell pink but they’re peach instead. The caterer made crab puffs with imitation crab instead of making crab quiche with the real thing.” She sighed. “I don’t understand how so many things could go wrong, especially in Palm Beach.”
Sam kissed Lauren’s cheek. “Wrong would have been no wedding at all.”
“That’s true.”
“Wrong would have been red ribbons and bows lining the aisles, carnations in my hair, and pigs-in-a-blanket for hors d’oeuvres.”
“Who would ever plan something like that?”
“Me, more than likely.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“I would. Never in a million years would I have thought about releasing butterflies at the end of the ceremony, and you know I would have picked a white miniskirt from How Tacky instead of flying to Paris to have a gorgeous gown like this custom made.”
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It’s all beautiful, but I’m afraid I’m going to ruin everything when I pass out halfway down the stairs.”
Lauren adjusted the wreath about Sam’s head one more time. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, Samantha. Trust me. I’ve been through this twice and I’ve never passed out.” She put her fingers to her lips, deep in thought. “I’ll tell you what. If you think you are going to faint, give me a sign, like…oh…fanning your face, and I’ll make sure Jack rushes up the stairs to catch you. That would make everything perfect—and oh-so-romantic.”
Suddenly the music started. The time had come. After two months of preparation, two months of falling ever more deeply in love, she was finally going to be Mrs. Jack Remington.
“Remember, Sam,” Lauren instructed. “Walk slowly, and don’t go until you’re sure I’m at the end of the aisle. This is your wedding, and I don’t want anyone looking at me when they should be looking at you. And one last thing. When you meet my mother after the ceremony, don’t feel intimidated and whatever you do—don’t call her Lady. She’s a little upset with the Lord right now and doesn’t want anyone reminding her that she married the little twit. As for my dad, he brought two big-chested blondes with him because he couldn’t decide who he could be without for a few days.”
Sam caught Lauren’s fingers and squeezed them. “There’s one more thing, Lauren.”
“Oh, no. Did I forget something?”
“No, I just want to say I love you.”
Tears glistened in Lauren’s eyes. “Me too.”
Without another word, Lauren swirled her gown around her, positioned her bouquet at exactly the proper angle, and transformed from wedding planner to elegant matron of honor, gracefully walking down a pink-marble staircase. Sam studied every move she made, until she caught sight of Beau, leaning on crutches, proudly watching his dad.
Jack stood out in the crowd, tall, handsome, and beaming like he’d never been happier. His gaze traveled from his son, to his sister, to the top of the stairs. Sam stood in a shadowy alcove, but he found her. She watched his chest rise and fall as he smiled, and she blew him a kiss as the “Wedding March” began.
Taking a deep breath, she clutched the bouquet of white rosebuds in front of her. “Break a leg,” she whispered, and stepped into the light.
The guests rose from their chairs and turned. All eyes, all smiles were on her.
She belonged here, and she felt wonderful.
Most of the faces she passed were nothing but a blur of strangers, and then she saw Tyrone, giving her two thumbs-up. Maryanne clutched the arm of the man next to her and pointed excitedly at the diamond ring on her finger. Fay and John Atkinson had flown from their ranch to Palm Beach for the occasion, and both of them were in tears. Finally, she saw Crosby. He stood in the very front row, looking curmudgeonly dapper in a tux. When she smiled at him, he pulled a red-and-white bandanna from his pants pocket and put it to his eyes.
No one could have asked for a more perfect wedding.
The most perfect part came when Jack stepped forward and tucked her hand around his arm. His smile warmed her heart, and calmed all her fears. “I love you,” he whispered, and when they knelt in front of Mike, who stood just beyond an archway of ivy and white roses, Jack pressed something cool into her hand.
With Mike looking down at them, with a room full o
f people hushed and waiting for the ceremony to begin, she opened her palm and found a sparkling crystal star. There were tears in her eyes when she looked at Jack, and he caressed one away from her cheek. “You told me once you wanted to touch the stars,” he whispered. “I’m going to give them to you every day of your life.”
Her lips trembled. “I love you.”
He kissed her, long before he was supposed to. “Forever.”
Mike grinned, opened his Bible, and began. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered today, in the sight of God…”
Through the haze of words, laughter, and tears, the only things clear to Sam were the smile in Jack’s eyes, the touch of their hands as they exchanged simple gold bands, and the sweetness of Jack’s lips when he lifted her from the floor and kissed her, giving her a memory she would never forget as long as she lived.
The applause rang out all around them as Mike introduced them as husband and wife. And when the butterflies fluttered about, Sam turned to the opened doors that looked toward the ocean and the cloudless sky. There were millions of stars out, but one seemed to shine brighter than all the rest.
Sam couldn’t help but smile. Oh, Mama, I can just imagine what you would say right now.
About the Author
Always a romantic, PATTI BERG spent her childhood dreaming about whisked away by a knight in shining armor, a devil-may-care swashbuckler, a sheik on a shiny black stallion, or a broad-shouldered cowboy with a Stetson tilted low on his brow. Now she spends her days making up stories where her heroes do whatever she wants them to. It’s almost as good as a dream coming true, she confesses.
Currently working on her next book for Avon, Patti hopes she’ll have a long career sharing her dreams and fantasies with others.
Patti lives in Northern California with her husband, Bob. She enjoys hearing from readers who may write her at: P.O. Box 42, Rescue, CA 95672 e-mail: [email protected]