Here Comes the Bride

Here Comes the Bride

by

Theresa Ragan

Copyright © 2013 by Theresa Ragan

These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Theresa Ragan.

Editor: Cathy Katz

Formatting by LK E-Book Formatting Service

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Proofreaders: Karen Lawson and Janet Hitchcock

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Proofreader: Faith Williams

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Cover art by LFD Designs for Authors

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About the Author

After reading her first romance novel in 1991, Theresa knew she wanted to be an author. She spent the next five years researching medieval times and writing
Return of the Rose
. She was also working full time and raising four children, but she knew she was a writer when nothing could stop her from getting the words to the page. She has garnered six Golden Heart nominations in Romance Writers of America's prestigious Golden Heart Competition for her work. After writing for twenty years, Theresa self-published in 2011 and went on to sell over 600,000 e-books in two years. She recently signed with Thomas & Mercer.

Theresa lives with her husband and the youngest of four children in Sacramento. When she’s not writing, she likes to play the piano, travel, and hang out with her family.

Other works by Theresa Ragan

Taming Mad Max

Having My Baby

An Offer He Can’t Refuse

Finding Kate Huntley

A Knight in Central Park

Return of the Rose

Thrillers by T.R. Ragan

Abducted

Dead Weight

A Dark Mind

If you would like to know when Theresa’s next book will be released, please sign up for her mailing list at
http://www.theresaragan.com/

Theresa can also be found on
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and
Facebook

Thank you to my husband and best friend, Joe, for always having my back.

I love you.

Here Comes the Bride

by

Theresa Ragan

Samantha Johnston, a reporter for the LA Beat, is determined to attend the wedding of one of America’s hottest actors in hopes of learning the identity of his mystery bride. Not only does Samantha manage to sneak into the church, she ends up saying, “I do.”

Chapter One

Samantha Johnston, reporter for the
LA Beat
, stood inside a cramped hallway with a dozen other perspiring, frustrated reporters all waiting for security to escort them to a special viewing room inside the church.

A couple of exhausted reporters sat on the floor. One man, built like a linebacker, had positioned himself in the corner, his arms crossed and his eyes closed. An older woman with short tufts of black hair leaned against the door, steely eyes daring anyone to get in her way, determined to be the first inside.

As Samantha glanced at her watch, an elbow stabbed into her side, making her wince. It was ten minutes to twelve—almost time for the ceremony to start. She certainly hadn’t traveled all the way from Los Angeles to New York to get locked out of the wedding of the century. Dominic DeMarco, the hottest actor in the country, was getting married, and she was determined to be the first to learn the identity of his mystery bride. It was time to show her boss, her family, and even the world that she could make something of herself. After all, she had majored in journalism and minored in communications and was more than prepared for the job. Her goal was to be one of the best investigative journalists in Los Angeles, but after graduation, the only place she could get a job was the
LA Beat
. Everyone had to start somewhere. Sam had worked for the paper for five years and this was her first shot at getting a story of her own. Nothing and nobody was going to get in her way.

Tired of waiting, she pushed her way through the crowded area and headed back to the lobby. Once there, she stayed close to the wall, hidden in the shadows. Two security guards passed close by and then entered the main entrance to the church.

After the main doors clicked shut, she took off across the lobby as fast as her heels and tight skirt would allow. Ducking behind a potted ficus, she waited a moment to make sure the coast was clear. If security spotted her, they’d throw her outside to wait with all the other thousands of people hoping to catch a glimpse of Dominic DeMarco and “the luckiest woman in the world.”

She peeked around crisp green leaves. One long passageway circled the entire church. And like the area she’d just left, there was a door at the end of the passageway on this side of the church, too. Thank God. She rushed that way and turned the knob. Locked. Damn.

Voices caught her attention. Frustration edged their masculine tones. She tiptoed back the way she’d come and made her way through an open door to her right.

The room was dimly lit. An exquisite oil painting of a stormy sea decorated the wall above a rich, walnut desk. Past the desk area and through connecting double doors, she saw two impeccably dressed men in tuxedos.

She poked her head inside and said, “Excuse me. I was accidentally locked out of the church. Would either of you happen to have a key to the back door?”

Both men turned her way.

Frowns of annoyance covered their faces. There was a third man, but it was impossible to see him clearly since he stood in a shadowy alcove, one shoulder leaning against the wall.

She would guess the men to be in their early thirties. One was stylish and handsome, while the other had a cleanly shaven head and a couple of tattoos to go with an eyebrow ring. They did not look happy to see her. “How did you get in here?”

“I was locked out of the church. If you could just point me in the right direction, I’ll—”

“We can’t point you in the right direction, miss, because there isn’t going to be any—”

“Ben,” the bald man said, interrupting, “don’t be rash. Julia could still be coming. There’s still time.”

“She’s not coming,” the man in the shadows informed them.

A shiver shot up Sam’s spine. Obviously she’d interrupted a very serious discussion. Fortunately for her, the two angry men quickly turned their focus on the man half hidden in the dark.

“What do you mean Julia’s not coming?” the man named Ben asked. “What haven’t you told us, Dominic?”

Sam’s heart raced.

Dominic? Dominic DeMarco?
It couldn’t be. This was too good to be true. Her go-get-’em approach might have actually worked this time. She stepped quietly inside the room and stood on her tiptoes as she tried to get a better look at the man in the shadows, but the two men hovered around him now, making it impossible for her to get a good look.

“Julia decided she couldn’t go through with it,” Dominic told the two men.

Sam couldn’t tell if DeMarco sounded sad or just disappointed. Julia had to be the mystery bride—but who was she really? An actor? A new lover?

Sam and her co-workers, along with everyone else in the country, had been speculating on the identity of the mystery bride for weeks but the name Julia had never come up.

“Why did Julia change her mind?” Ben asked, his voice lined with frustration.

“She wouldn’t say. She was upset. I think she was crying.”

“What the hell was she crying for? We’re the ones who should be crying.”

“Knock it off, Ben,” the other man cut in. “When she arrives at the church, we’ll talk to her. She’s probably experiencing a bit of cold feet.”

DeMarco spoke as he maneuvered his way around the two men. “Read my lips. She’s
not
coming. In fact, she’s on her way to Europe. Since she wanted to make sure the paparazzi couldn’t get to her in case her identity was leaked.”

The tiny hairs on the back of Sam’s neck stood on end. No wonder they hadn’t let the reporters inside the church yet. There was no bride. Reaching inside her purse, she clicked on the tape recorder hidden within her bag.

Now that DeMarco was no longer hidden in the shadows, she took note of how much taller he appeared in person. Dominic DeMarco’s incredibly handsome face and legendary dimples kept him on the cover of every magazine in every town across America. Millions of women swooned over his tall, athletic build and twinkling blue eyes. Truth be told, she too had once joined the ranks of millions and fallen in love with DeMarco, but that was years ago. Who wouldn’t fall for a handsome little boy playing the role of a poor orphan? She had bought his poster and every day before heading off to school, she would kiss his sweet paper lips.

But then the boy turned into a man, and it wasn’t long before he was just like all the other celebrities who made it big—an egotistical womanizer.

No thank-you.

Julia, whoever she was, should be thankful to have come to her senses in time. What sort of life would it be for a woman to be chained to a man like DeMarco?

Ben placed a hand on DeMarco’s shoulder. “I guess this is it. I don’t know what else to do.”

As Ben headed across the room toward the bar in the corner of the room, Sam stood still, praying they’d all forgotten she was still there. Her gaze locked on DeMarco’s perfect chin with the Kirk Douglas divot. He was looking downward and his frown made her wonder if he might have actually had feelings for the bride-to-be, or in this case, bride-to-have-been.

Ben looked at the bald man. “Tom, you better go out there and tell everyone the wedding is off.”

Tom frowned. “We can’t give up yet. The public is mesmerized by DeMarco. Since the announcement of his impending marriage, his approval ratings have soared and movie deals are pouring in. And let’s not forget that World Studios is sponsoring the wedding today. But no wedding means no millions. We’ve got to think.”

Sam hid her surprise beneath a clenched jaw. A million questions begged to spew forth, but she knew she had to refrain from speaking or risk being thrown out. Weeks ago, when DeMarco had made an official statement to the press about his intention to marry, Sam had speculated with the rest of the world why he would suddenly do such a thing. DeMarco wasn’t the marrying type and everybody knew it. Some guessed he’d knocked up one of his girlfriends, but she couldn’t imagine a guy like DeMarco marrying out of honor. Marrying for money made more sense. Greed fit right in with the rest of DeMarco’s less than complimentary characteristics.

She patted her purse. Wait until the world hears about this.

Tom jangled the change in his pocket. “There’s got to be a way out of this mess.”

Ben shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not unless you can find a bride in the next two minutes—”

Not likely, Sam thought as she gazed downward into the depths of her purse and prayed her recorder was getting it all. When she looked up, she saw three men staring at her as if she’d just waved a big red flag in their direction. Until that moment, she was pretty sure Dominic DeMarco hadn’t realized she was in the room. But he knew it now, and as he stepped closer, his gaze roamed up and down her body, his eyes sucking her in like one of those new Oreck XL Deluxe vacuum cleaners.
The cad.

“Is there something we can do for you?” Dominic asked in what sounded to her like a ridiculous, albeit well-practiced, drawl.

“Umm…no—no, thank you. I was here for the wedding—” She took a step back toward the door. “Since there isn’t going to be one, I’ll be on my way.”

She turned to leave.

“Stop right there,” one of the men called out.

She turned around, pointed to her chest.

“Yes, you,” Ben said. “Come here.”

He knew about her tape recorder.
Crap.
She stood frozen in place, praying he wouldn’t ask to look inside her purse.