Blind Luck Bride. Laura Altom Marie
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his pocket, but they wouldn’t fit. Her massive key chain was loaded down with a pink rabbit’s foot and mini snow-globes from every cheesy destination in the West. “Can you please put this in your purse?”
“Sure,” she said, pausing to grab the wad of fuzz and plastic from him, then slip it into her white bag. She glanced at her slim gold watch. “We’d better hurry. We’re almost late. Do you have the license?”
“Yeah.” Only it doesn’t quite read the way you think it does. How would she take the news when she learned he’d been on to her scam from the start?
“Hello? Dallas?”
“Huh? Oh—right. I’m ready and rarin’ to go.”
“No, not yet.” She approached him, then, standing on her tiptoes, buttoned his collar and retied his bow tie. The warm brush of her fingers against his throat startled him. Her act was intimate—the kind of thing a wife does for her husband before they attend their daughter’s wedding. Again Finn’s conscience reminded him of how badly he yearned for that kind of lifelong bliss, and of just how far this sham marriage was from the real thing.
“There,” Lilly said with a misty smile. “That’s better. Come on, let’s get married.”
On her way inside, for the umpteenth time Lilly wondered if she was doing the right thing. After all, she was still kind of on the rebound from Elliot, and maybe a month wasn’t long enough to know someone before she married him.
Yeah, but on the flip side, she’d known Elliot Dinsmoore all her life. Could she help it if, during the brief time they’d both moved away from their hometown, the charming traveling insurance salesman had gotten married—and conveniently forgot to tell her during their whirlwind romance that he still was married?
Shameful heat crept up her cheeks at the memory of the horrific day he’d told her his news. The day she’d given him not only her virginity, but her heart. Even now, almost two months after the fact, she knew that if her perfect family, none of whom had ever done a bad, stupid or reckless thing in their lives, found out she was pregnant with a married man’s baby, they’d never forgive her.
Well, she thought, throwing her shoulders back at the same time she opened the mirrored-glass chapel door, this was one time she was doing exactly the right thing. After being dumped by Elliot, she feared she’d never find a father for her baby, but after only a few weeks of online chatting with Dallas, she’d known everything would work out fine.
From her first sight of his out of focus—yet still cute in a blurry way—online picture, to the way he promised to be a good dad if she promised to be a good hostess, she’d known theirs would be a lasting relationship. A relationship no one ever need know wasn’t based on love.
All her adult life, her family had urged her to go to college, to find a real job, yet all she could ever remember wanting to do was raise a big brood of kids—just like her own mom. Lilly dreamed of ruling a rambling Victorian home alongside a loving husband, raising not award-winning kids, but rambunctious kids who got into as many jams as she had growing up.
And just think, finally, within a matter of mere minutes, all those dreams would be well on their way to coming true—well, all of them except for the Victorian house and loving husband, but then Lilly glanced over her shoulder just as Dallas stumbled across the threshold from concrete to red-hot-red shag carpet. Even tripping over his own feet, the man was criminally handsome—maybe even more so now that she’d seen he wasn’t perfect, either!
He flashed her a smile of strong white teeth, making her tummy flip-flop. Wow. There may never be love in their future, but if he kept that up, at least on her part there was starting to be a disconcerting amount of attraction.
“Hey,” he said. “Great taste in chapels.”
“You like it?”
“What’s not to like?”
Wayne Newton’s voice crooned through hidden speakers and pictures of Wayne coated every available inch of wall. A mannequin resplendently dressed in what a plaque at the bottom claimed was a genuine Wayne-worn suit spun in a slow circle. Everything about the place spoke of fun. Las Vegas-style fun. So why did she feel like bursting into tears?
“Hey?” he asked, cupping her face with his big, work-roughened hands. When had Dallas—an accomplished corporate attorney—ever done a lick of manual labor? “You look like you’re about to spout another eye gusher. Come on, Lil, don’t cry.”
His mentioning the word cry brought on her waterworks. “It’s j-just that I…” She gestured to their surroundings, to the dyed blonde, approaching at eleven o’clock who was dressed in head-to-toe black sequins. “Oh, Dallas…” Lilly threw herself at her groom. “I know I told you this was okay, but I always w-wanted to get married in a ch-church.” Wishing she wasn’t such an emotional basket case, she flashed him an apologetic look, then hefted her skirts in a mad dash for the door marked Powder Room.
“Are we having a problem?” their hostess asked.
Finn shook his head and whispered, “She’ll be fine.”
“I hope so, because…” Finn followed her gaze to a mirrored grandfather clock that was on chime number four of ten.
“We’ve got a big group coming in at ten-thirty. Either you two get the show on the road, or I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule you for—”
“No,” Finn said, heading for the bathroom door. “No need to reschedule.” At least he hoped not! Not only were Lilly’s amazingly accurate fake tears tugging at his freshly broken heart, but visions of Mitch driving his truck screamed at his pride. The more Lilly stalled, the more Finn knew Mulligan was paying her to be with him. All this wailing had to be another part of the plan designed to yank his chain. Mitch must have told her to keep an eye on him while letting the bet deadline run out. That way, by the time Finn caught on to the scam, it would be too late to find another—less calculating—bride.
After a few minutes, Finn heard sniffles, then the door creaked open. His adorable, pink-cheeked bride peeked out. “A-after all my b-blubbering,” she managed to say, “y-you probably don’t want to marry me, do you?” A single tear glistening on her left cheek pierced his conscience.
Good grief, how had this all gotten so complicated?
Suddenly his scheme to win a thousand bucks and make Mitch look bad had somehow taken a back seat to his desire to once again make Lilly smile. “Of course, I want to marry you, sweetheart.” Sweetheart? “And listen, I was thinking that with this being Sunday morning and all, we could find a church and do this thing right. I mean, our family and friends won’t be there, but…”
“Oh, Dallas!” Although her sobs started anew, he spied a smile mixed in with the tears. His feeling of manly pride almost swelled right out of his chest.
Damn, she was good.
While their hostess gaped, Finn figured he might as well prove to her, too, that he was a grade A, genuine, manly M-A-N, so he swooped his bride into his arms. Though he could barely see past the tufts of flowery-smelling lace tickling his nose, he ushered Lilly out of the chapel and into brilliant sun.
Chapter Three
An hour later, Lilly beamed when Dallas had not only found her a lofty Methodist church to marry in, but an elderly minister with a few minutes to spare between his first and second services.
Standing in sunbeams shafting through decades-old stained glass, never had Lilly felt more sure about one of her decisions. Rich scents of pale pink cabbage roses and fragile lily of the valley wreathed her senses, bringing her to the conclusion that Dallas Lebeaux was a hero among men.
Not only had he found this church, but at a grocery store he had bought her a glorious new bouquet because he had noticed her old one drooping. Then he’d taken it upon himself to make every moment of their revised ceremony complete, all the way