Here Comes the Bride (6 page)

“Why didn’t you at least give us a warning?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Your father is not happy about this.”

“Dad’s never happy.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t mean to make things worse. I never should have agreed to keep the wedding quiet.”

“Your niece wants to talk to you.”

Sam swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Did you really marry Dominic DeMarco?” her fourteen-year-old niece, Emma, asked excitedly.

“Yeah, I really did.”

“I thought you said he was a conceited pig.”

Sam frowned. “When did I say that?”

“Remember when we were looking at that picture of him on the cover of
People Magazine
while we were in line at the grocery store and you pointed right at his picture and said, ‘He’s a conceited pig’?”

“Oh, well, I must have been in a bad mood. He’s a great guy. I married him, didn’t I? Has that Jason boy asked you out to a movie yet?” Sam asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Nice try. I didn’t run off and marry Jason Marsal. If I had, you would have been invited.”

Touché. Her plan backfired.

“Your husband is on television all the time,” Emma said, her voice more animated than usual. “I think NBC is trying to get him to do one of those reality shows. Maybe they’ll do one about the two of you. They could call it
Newlyweds
. And maybe you can talk him into getting me an audition on
Survival of the Fittest
or that new show,
Wacky Teenagers
.”

Sam looked heavenward, although she was relieved to know that at least one family member was taking the news pretty well. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

“Sure. Tell the conceited pig ‘Hi’ for me.”

Sam heard Emma laughing as she handed the phone back to Mom.

“She’s heartbroken,” her mother sobbed.

“I can tell.”

“I can’t imagine what your brothers are going to say about this.”

“Is Dad there?” Sam asked, hoping to put an end to the deserved guilt trip her mother was laying on her.

“He took the dog for a walk. I just hope his heart doesn’t give out before he gets back.”

Sam said nothing.

“Your brothers are convinced that you are pregnant. Is that why you rushed into this so unexpectedly?”

“No, of course not. It’s complicated, Mom. I really can’t say much right now, but I swear I’ll tell you more when I see you in person.”

“Where is your husband?”

“Right now?” Sam looked around the room. She didn’t want to keep lying, but what choice did she have? “He’s in the shower.”

A knock sounded on the hotel door.

“Mom, I’ve got to go. I love you. Everything is going to be fine, I promise.” Sam hung up before her mother could go on. She went to the door and opened it. A woman dressed in a suit embroidered with the hotel’s insignia nudged her way inside and placed Sam’s luggage on a luggage rack and two shopping bags on the floor. The woman looked around as if she hoped to catch a glimpse of Dominic. She eyed the unmade bed and rumpled sheets.

Sam looked inside the shopping bags filled with thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes. “These aren’t my clothes,” Sam told the woman.

The woman smiled. “A gift from your husband.”

Sam grabbed her satchel from across the room and handed the woman a tip.

“You’re a very lucky woman,” the lady said.

“That’s me,” Sam said as she ushered the woman out the door. “Luckiest girl in the world.”

Chapter Nine

Dominic stood in the lobby of the Waldorf with its glorious mosaic floor and crystal chandeliers and signed another autograph. He motioned toward Ben and pointed at his watch—a reminder it was getting late.

“I’ll call the room,” Ben said before disappearing.

Security had done a decent job of keeping the fans to a manageable number. While Dominic listened to an elderly woman lecture him about too much sex in movies these days, he glanced toward the elevator doors in time to see Sam make an appearance. A swarm of reporters followed close at her heels, prompting passerby to gawk and point.

Narrowing his eyes, he recognized two of the men closing in on her…the same pain-in-the-ass reporters who had been following him around for years, making his life miserable.

Sam’s hair was a tumble of loose curls about her shoulders. She wore a red T-shirt that said
uncensored
on the front, pre-washed jeans, and a pair of flat ballerina shoes that made her look eighteen instead of…how old was she anyhow?

As if she sensed him watching her, she looked between the two reporters and caught his gaze.

He acknowledged her with a nod.

Ben squeezed his way back to Dominic’s side and gestured toward Sam. “I thought you bought her some decent clothes.”

“I did. I sent up three new outfits for her to choose from, but she obviously has her own idea of what sort of impression she’d like to make as my wife.”

Ben frowned. “I think you’re going to have your hands full.”

“I think you might be right. I never should have let you and Tom talk me into going along with this crazy idea.”

Ben remained silent.

“How old is she, anyhow?” Dominic asked low enough so only Ben could hear him before he blindly signed a glossy eight-by-ten picture of himself and handed it back to the young woman staring at him.

“Hell, I don’t know,” Ben said after the woman walked off. “I guess you two didn’t do much talking last night, did you?”

Dominic kept a straight face, refusing to give anything away. Besides, what he and Sam shared last night was a make-out session—a heated make-out session—nothing more. Once they were in the room, their first kiss had been like a cool breeze, light, almost imperceptible. The cool breeze erupted into a frenzied storm and within minutes they had ripped each other’s clothes off. But Dominic knew she’d had too much to drink, and contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t the horny beast the tabloids made him out to be. Yes, he’d wanted Sam last night, more than he’d wanted any woman in a very long time. But he had principles, and he knew, despite the passion in her kisses, Sam Johnston was drunk. She’d made it clear in the limo ride that she had no desire to be a notch on his imaginary headboard. But after she’d flipped out this morning, he’d decided to let her imagination get the best of her. Clearly, she thought he was a good-for-nothing loser who would take advantage of an inebriated woman he’d only just met. So what was the point in trying to prove otherwise? Besides, maybe she was right about him, because after she’d asked him to kiss her and he’d obliged, she’d driven him crazy with her deep kisses and passionate hands and he’d needed every bit of willpower he possessed not to take advantage of the situation. Truthfully, he now regretted his restraint. She was his wife and she obviously needed a good toss in the sheets to get some of the kinks out of her armor.

The woman next in line for his autograph lifted her shirt, revealing a leopard push-up bra. Apparently, she wanted him to autograph her breasts.

“Ben,” he said, “take care of this one, will you?” Excusing himself from the line of people waiting to meet him, Dominic headed toward Sam and her entourage. More than a few businessmen staying at the hotel had joined her little party by the time he reached her, leaving him no choice but to squeeze his way through the pack.

At closer view, he noticed that Sam Johnston, the uptight reporter, had suddenly transformed into the life of the party, laughing and chattering up a storm, telling complete strangers things they had no business knowing. One of the reporters had the audacity to put his arm around her waist and give her a squeeze, his hand lingering.

It was downright disrespectful. “Get your hands off my wife,” Dominic snarled.

Everybody looked his way.

The reporter took his time removing his hand. The guy then had the nerve to retrieve a microphone from his pocket and hold it toward Dominic as if he hadn’t just been groping his wife. “Tell us, DeMarco. How was the wedding night?” The reporter’s eyes lit up. “Out of all those babes you have to pick from and you pick this one. She must be a scorcher in bed, if you know what I mean.”

Dominic grabbed a fistful of the man’s shirt, eliciting a round of gasps as he pushed the guy against a wall of polished wood paneling.

“Dominic,” Sam said. “It’s okay. Let’s go.”

Taking his hand in hers, she pulled him through the lobby. The doorman held the door open. Cameras flashed as they exited the Waldorf and climbed into the limousine waiting outside. Ben hopped in front with the driver and within moments they were headed for JFK.

Dominic turned to Sam. “Mind telling me what that was all about?”

Her eyes widened before she burst out laughing.

A small indentation set in his jaw. “You really do have a sick sense of humor, Johnston, you know that?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but what were you thinking? The guy was harmless. I was perfectly capable of taking care of the situation myself.”

She was right. What was he thinking? She wasn’t his wife in the true sense of the word. What the hell was wrong with him? Even now, angry and confused, he couldn’t get last night out of his mind: the feel of her smooth skin beneath his fingers, her heavenly scent, the way she fit perfectly into his arms. She had driven him wild with a few kisses. He could only imagine what would happen if they ever took it one step further.

“Although I shouldn’t admit it,” she said, cutting into the silence, “I sort of like the idea of having a protector. I’ve never had a man fight over me before.”

“Well, now you have,” he said, annoyed with himself.

She rested her hand on his forearm. “Is something wrong? I thought this was what you wanted.”

He leaned forward and shut the panels to hide the glass partition between them and the two men upfront. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” he said, looking at her slender fingers still on his arm. “Every time you so much as touch me, you make me a little harder until I can’t think straight.”

Her chin came up a notch, her lips parted just so, prompting him to lean closer. “You said you wanted to pretend last night never happened. Is that what you really want?”

She didn’t answer.

He kissed her ear before dragging his mouth downward over her neck. Her breaths came out in uneven puffs. “I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you,” he whispered, wishing it weren’t the truth.

Her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling with each breath, but she pushed him away.

He wanted her. And if she’d given him the slightest hint that she wanted him, too, he would have taken her right here, right now.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I—I can’t.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m just not used to having a woman play games with me.”

“Play games with you?”

He let out a caustic laugh. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you? The whole innocent act, you know, dangling a carrot in front of the silly rabbit? Flirting with other men to make the guy you’re with jealous.”

“Ridiculous,” she said. “If you’re saying I’m a tease, you’ve got me all wrong. That reporter back there wanted a reaction from you and you gave him exactly what he wanted. He wasn’t interested in flirting with me.”

He watched her closely, saw nothing but stubborn pride in her expression and in the way she held herself. It was difficult not to believe her. She hadn’t dressed to impress. She wasn’t telling him what she thought she wanted him to hear. Another man might find her stubbornness annoying, but not him. He was tired of women who bent over backward to do his bidding, women who only laughed when he laughed, talked only when talked to. Sam Johnston was like thunder on a clear day and she aroused him like no other.

And yet, if there was one thing he’d learned from his mother, it was that females were never what they seemed. Sam might seem genuine and real, but that wouldn’t last long. Her true colors would shine through soon enough. It was true, he lusted after her, but after his hunger was sated, he’d be ready to move on. A three-month relationship was practically a lifetime in his book.

She exhaled, breaking into his thoughts. “Last night was special,” she said, obviously mistaking his silence as hurt feelings again, another amusing trait of hers.

He remained quiet, his desire for her still palpable.

“But what happened between us,” she added, “can never happen again. We may be married in the eyes of the church, but we’re not married in here,” she said, laying a hand over her heart, “where it counts.”

“I’m all for honesty, sweetheart, but the truth is I want you. And you want me. I can see it in your eyes.” His gaze didn’t waver. “For some reason, Johnston, you do crazy things to my insides. You fascinate me.” He raised his hand to her face and swept the pad of his thumb over her cheek. “I won’t kiss you again unless you ask me to. But if you so much as lay a finger on me, one little finger, I’m not telling you, I’m warning you, you’re playing with fire.”

Chapter Ten

Their honeymoon had been pre-arranged. They were staying at the Princeville Resort set on twenty-three acres along Pu’u Poa Ridge, terraced on the bluff facing Hanalei Bay. Nothing but the best for Dominic DeMarco and his new wife.

To anyone on the outside looking in, everything probably looked darn near perfect. But as far as Sam was concerned, nothing could be further from the truth. They had arrived on the island of Kauai three days ago. According to Ben, she and Dominic were to spend most of their time inside the suite, since he wanted the world to think they were too hot and bothered to come out for air.

She stood on the balcony of their ridiculously large suite, watching the afternoon sun melt into the Pacific as the crystal blue water rolled gently onto the shore. Dominic had made his escape about an hour ago, telling her he needed to talk to the concierge.

Since arriving, she and Dominic had hardly said two words to each other. Ever since she’d pushed him away in the limousine, he’d been distant, avoiding her like the plague.

Their suite was large, but not large enough to stop her from hearing every move he made. In fact, he’d been spending much of his time reading scripts. Apparently movie deals were pouring in and he needed to make some important decisions.