The Groom's Revenge

by Susan Crosby

  “I think there are reasons for everything. I don’t believe those reasons are written in the stars.”

  “Oh, you and your analytical mind. Gray, how else can you explain our meeting? What were the chances, really, given how different we are, how differently we live?”

  “There’s a logical explanation.”

  She angled away enough to see his serious face, then she grinned. “No way. There isn’t a reason on earth why our paths should have crossed.”

  “Of course there is. The reason that brought me into your shop in the first place.”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there are experienced and convenient party planners where your parents live. You picked me.”

  “Is that why you mamed me, Mollie? Because you believe we were fated to be together?”

  “Yes, I believe that What’s your excuse? Why did you ask me to marry you?”

  Gray could see she wasn’t going to let the issue rest until she got an answer that satisfied her need for Karma or Kismet, or whatever she thought had drawn them together in the first place.

  “See? You can’t come up with a reason, either, except what you said on the plane. ‘It feels right,’ you said. ‘Everything about it feels right.’ Not logical at all, but emotional. Fate,” she repeated with a self-assured nod, then she kissed him.

  “I don’t suppose a wedding night is the time to be debating,” he said, threading his fingers through her hair.

  “Probably not. Can you think of something else to do?”

  Pert. She was definitely being pert. “I figured we would sleep.”

  “I’m sure we will. At some point.”

  “Mollie, you can’t be ready for a second time.”

  “Actually,” she said conspiratorially, “I’m starving. For something to eat, that is.”

  “Your refrigerator never has much in it.”

  “It has Popsicles, mint-chocolate-chip ice cream and frozen burritos.”

  “Bumtos? Seriously?” He didn’t want to lose the warmth of her body pressed to his, or the scent of rainbows and clover and heather that had seeped into his skin. “In the absence of champagne, I suppose ice cream will do.”

  “Stay here. I’ll get it.”

  Ah. It was an excuse to take a few minutes for herself. Why hadn’t he considered that she would need some privacy to let the experience settle a bit?

  He watched her hurry out of the room too fast for him to enjoy looking at her body, which made him wonder if he should put his briefs back on.

  Compromising, he pulled the sheet to his waist as he sat up and rested his back against some pillows jammed against the headboard.

  After about ten minutes, she returned, wearing a long T-shirt or nightgown, one that almost reached her knees. She carried a bowl in each hand, passing him one as she sat facing him. Tucked under her arm was a piece of newsprint that she slid across the sheet toward him. “Here’s why I married you so fast.”

  Ten

  “It wasn’t fast for me,” she went on, her voice quavering the niest bit. “I started falling in love with you over a month ago when I saw this picture in the paper.”

  He remembered seeing the shot in the StarTribune the day after the charity ball. He had to look at the caption to remember the name of the woman staking claim to him, Samantha Simeon, a clingy, overperfumed woman he’d been stuck with most of the night. “I don’t understand, Mollie.”

  She took a bite of ice cream. “I was having lunch with Chloe and Amanda Fortune the day after the ball. They were reading the writeup about it, and I asked to see the picture. There you were. I felt like someone had slugged me in the stomach. I could hardly breathe.” She scooped another bit of ice cream into her mouth, her nerves evident. “I said something to Amanda about how I wished someone like you would sweep me off my feet. She ripped the picture out and gave it to me, telling me to wish on it. A month later, you walked into my shop.”

  Gray hadn’t eaten a bite. He set the bowl on the mghtstand next to her bouquet

  “I remember thinking at the time,” she went on, “that you might be interested if my last name was Fortune.”

  Stunned speechless, Gray tried to sort out her words. Technically her last name was Fortune. He shook his head. Guilt surfaced from deep inside him.

  “Oh, it’s true,” she said, misinterpreting. “Remember the first day you came into the shop, how I maneuvered you out of the workroom and into the open shop?”

  “Yes.”

  “I had to get you past the counter, because this picture was taped there where I could look at it all day and dream about meeting you. Tony recognized you from the picture! Then there’s Yarg.”

  “What about him?”

  “Yarg. Gray spelled backward.” She set her half-eaten bowl next to his and took his hands. “You saved me.”

  “From what?” He couldn’t believe any of this.

  “I had been grieving for my mother. All of sudden you were there to fill up all the sad places of my life. I hadn’t dreamed in so long, but I started dreaming again. About you. I went to the library and found every article I could about you. I’m sounding obsessive, I know.”

  She stopped talking as she seemed to realize the truth of her actions. Gray found he couldn’t speak. He never suspected—

  “I was obsessed,” she hurried on, “because for the first time in months I felt alive. I felt like I had something to keep me going. When you walked into my life, a living, breathing dream come true, I almost fainted on the spot.” Excitement filled her voice. “Tell me now that we weren’t fated to be together.”

  He’d married someone obsessed with him? Someone who believed he was her salvation or her lifeline or something equally consequential? Being responsible for safekeeping such tenderhearted and naive dreams overwhelmed him. He’d seen himself as her protector almost from the moment they’d met, after never having felt a responsibility toward anyone before. Never. He would have taken care of his mother, had she allowed it instead of marriying James, but he’d never been given that task.

  But this revelation from Mollie? Was it some eerie cosmic connection, as she insisted? Was there more to this relationship than met the eye?

  “Say something, Gray.”

  Guilt piled upon guilt. “I don’t think I have the right words.”

  She squeezed his hands. “Just tell me it doesn’t make a difference in how you feel about marrying me. I’m not a starker or anything.”

  “Sunshine...” He stopped to gather his thoughts.

  A watery sheen made her eyes glitter. She crawled closer and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek to bis. “You don’t hate me.”

  He encircled her with his arms. “I don’t know what I feel, but it’s not hate or dislike or revulsion or any other word that means anything similar. I’m a little flattered, a little in awe, and feeling an enormous responsibility never to disappoint you.”

  “You’ve been making my wishes come true, one by one.” She angled back a little. “Or did you peek into my birthday-wish box?”

  “Is that what that is? I was tempted, but the right to privacy is a big issue with me.” He tucked her head under his chin. The flicker of the candles soothed him. “It’s been a long, busy day. We should get some sleep.”

  “I have to rinse out the bowls.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Mollie had forgotten he was naked. How could she have forgotten that not-so-minor detail? She sneaked a peek at him as he picked up the bowls, then strode out of the room, her gaze following magnetically, attracted to his strong, muscular body. She’d never seen a naked man, live and in person, but she believed he was a prime specimen of the species. With a sigh, she snuggled into the pillow again, awaiting his return. He padded into the room, blew out all but one candle, then crouched beside the bed. She had squeezed her eyes shut.

  “It’s okay to look,” he said, humor lacing the words. “We’re fully sanctioned.” />
  She barely opened her eyes. “You’re just so beautiful. I didn’t expect you to be beautiful.”

  “And you’re perfect.” He dragged the sheet from her, caught he hem of her nightshirt and tugged. “This goes and never comes back.”

  She sat up as he peeled it off her, her instinct to cover herself overruled by the excitement of his admiring gaze. “Exercising your husbandly rights?”

  “Are you objecting?”

  “Not me.”

  He blew out the last candle, then climbed in bed behind her, spooning their bodies, his arm wrapped around her waist, his ingertips grazing the underside of her breast. Unable to stop herself, she wriggled her rear against him and felt him grow hard. An unfamiliar rush of power filled her.

  “I’m in control,” he said close to her ear. “I know you’re not ready.”

  “I’m throbby, but I could—”

  “Not tonight, Sunshine.”

  The day finally caught up with her. She yawned, closed her eyes and relaxed against him, loving the feel of his body molded to hers, not feeling stifled by it, even though she couldn’t move in inch. She drifted for a while, recalling the quiet, lovely wedding in the pretty chapel. For as fast as the event had been put together, it had been truly beautiful and memorable. They even had a videotape of the ceremony tucked away in his briefcase. He’d looked so handsome in his black suit, pristine white shirt and the new gray, black and peach tie she’d purchased to coordinate with her bouquet and his peach rose boutonniere.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice sleepy.

  “The wedding. It was perfect. I felt my mom there with—Oh, no! We didn’t call your parents. What if they read about it n the newspaper first?”

  “I’ll break the news in the morning. The chapel director said we probably had a day’s leeway. It’s not worth losing sleep over, anyway.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not the daughter-in-law.” She closed her eyes again. “We need to invite them here to visit.”

  “They won’t come to Minneapolis. Don’t take it personally, Sunshine, but they won’t ever return. We’ll have to be the ones to make the effort.”

  “I won’t give up. They’re my family now. It’s important tha they accept me. Like me.”

  “Turn around.”

  She did, then found herself kissed long and hard and well until her mind emptied of worry. She arched to connect with him, grateful when he lifted her leg over his, bringing them in closer contact. “I’m experiencing a different kind of throb,” she murmured, seductively, she hoped. “Now try telling me you can wait until morning.”

  “Stubborn and persistent,” he muttered right before he swep his tongue around her nipple, making it ache.

  “In love,” she sighed, clamping her hands on his head, en couraging him to linger, making a sound of pleasure when hi: whole mouth got involved. “And needing to show you how much. Would you mind if I’m on top this time?”

  He laughed, low and harsh, like exasperation and surprise mixed together. “Turn on the bedside light and you’ve got a deal.”

  “Oh, right. Like you’d really turn me down if I didn’t tun on the light.” But she leaned across the bed and flipped the switch, then made herself kneel beside him as he studied her Her heart thumped against her sternum.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, pressing a kiss into her pain then laying her hand against his face.

  “Compared to others—”

  He interrupted her with a shake of his head. “You’re the only one, Mollie McGuire. And you’ll always be safe with me.”

  What an odd thing to say, Mollie thought. Safe? From what’ But he stopped her thoughts by pulling her down to him, and by the time they fell panting against each other later, she barely remembered the question.

  “That’s very...nice,” Mollie said, trying to muster some en thusiasm for the arrangement her third and final potential em ployee had put together. Three applicants, three uninspired mixed-bouquet arrangements, three absolute impossibilities Added to the fact she kept reliving the past twenty-four hours and therefore couldn’t concentrate on working, the day amounted to a washout. “I’ll call you with my decision,” she roused herself to say.

  Yarg shrieked his greeting as the woman got to the door. She jumped aside, then glared at Mollie. “This creature has to go, of course.” She exited, indignant

  “He’s my good-luck charm,” Mollie murmured.

  “I think he’s delightful,” a woman said, coming up to the counter. She’d been walking around the store for the past fifteen minutes, openly listening to Mollie’s conversation with the leprechaun-hating job applicant, sending Mollie humorously sympathetic looks. She held out her hand. Bracelets jangled, earrings tinkled, a mop of golden curls bobbed. “Tasha Gillette.”

  “Mollie McGuire.” She loved saying her name. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I think we can help each other.” She pointed to the arrangement “You’re not going to try to sell that perfectly bland thing, are you?”

  “I’m going to take it apart and redo it,” Mollie said, not hiding her grin. She liked this woman already.

  “Move aside, then, and let’s see what I can do.” She set her backpack under the worktable, grabbed a squattier vase and some hardwood myrtle. “I gather you’re looking to hire someone.”

  Mollie leaned her elbows on the counter and watched Tasha’s hands fly as she transferred the Gerbera daisies, alstroemeria, freesia and snapdragons from one vase to the other. “Are you looking for a job?”

  “I wasn’t. But I just decided that it’s exactly what I need.” She glanced at Mollie. “You want to hear my life story or just what’s pertinent to your thinking about hiring me?”

  “Whatever you want to tell me.” Mollie already knew she would hire the woman with the wild hair, unsubtle jewelry and peacock-colored jumpsuit.

  “I hit the big four-oh last week, and my life is a total cliché. My husband, my ex-husband, decided last year to trade me in on a newer, younger model. Enter trophy wife, Angelique, with boobs out to there, a haven’t-given-birth-yet tummy and an adoring-glances-are-my-specialty personality. My ex is a cardiac surgeon. Classic wife-put-him-through-med-school scenario.” She spun the vase, stuck in another daisy. “We have twin teenage boys, so baby-sitting’s not a problem. I can work weekends. because the boys are enamored of their new stepmommy, whc loves to lounge around the pool all day in her bikini, so they spend every weekend there. I’m letting them discover for themselves what a brainless twit she is. I don’t have a boyfriend. ] don’t have to work, because I made sure I got a good lawyer and a great settlement, but I’d like to work here. Are you looking for part-time or full-time help?”

  “I was thinking part-time, just to give me a break now and then. I’ve been running this place by myself since my mother died last December.”

  “Oh, you poor thing!” She hurried around the counter to give Mollie a hug, and Molhe’s eyes filled instantly with tears at the heartfelt show of sympathy. She wallowed in the comporting embrace for a minute.

  Tasha released her, but kept her hands on Mollie’s shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “Tough to be without a mom huh?”

  “Yeah. Never had a dad, either, so there’s no history any. more. But I’ve got Every Bloomin’ Thing, and as much as I want to hold on to it, I know I can’t do it by myself anymore If I can find some open space, I’d like to start drying flowers and doing more with them. My baskets are selling really well I’ve got to compete with other markets now—even the grocery stores are carrying bouquets. It’s so easy to grab a bunch of flowers along with the groceries.” She straightened the gift cards on the rack next to the cash register. “Plus, my life has changed a little in the past few days and I want some more time.”

  “Fell in love, did you?” Tasha returned to her task. “Jus don’t give up everything for him, okay? Keep something for yourself.”

  “I am. This place.”

>   “Good. To answer your original question, part-time is okay for now. If I help you grow your business enough, would you consider taking me on full-time?”

  “Absolutely. I’d like to build up the wedding-planning end of the business, as well, but it takes time to go after it. I haven’t had the time.”

  Tasha-wrinkled her nose. “I’m probably not your gal, then. I’d decorate the church in black crepe and constantly be asking the bride if she was sure she knew what she was doing.”

  Mollie laughed. “I won’t ask you to sit in on the planning sessions with the brides.”

  “Does that mean I have the job? I don’t have a resume of professional, paid experience, so there’s no one to recommend me, but I’ve served on charity boards and country club committees forever, it seems. Of course, the divorce changed all that.”

  “That’s terrible! How can they kick you out because—”

  “Honey, that’s not the way at all. I dumped them. I needed a break from that life, plus I kept running into Angelique. I chaired my last event last month. My friends are envious.” She lifted the vase, eyed it from all angles, then plunked it on the table. “I’d charge thirty-two fifty.”

  Mollie blinked. Not only had Tasha created a spectacularly original arrangement, she’d nailed the price exactly.

  Tasha chuckled. “I know. I’m good.”

  “When can you start?”

  “How much are you paying?” She cupped her breasts, hefted them a little. “I’m thinking about getting myself a boob job. They’ve lost their perkiness. That’ll cost a little.”

  “Don’t mess with Mother Nature, Tasha,” a male voice said.

  Mollie spun around upon hearing Gray’s voice. He smiled at her, then at Tasha.

  “Gray McGuire, as I live and breathe,” Tasha said. She came around the counter and hugged him.