Here Comes the Bride (8 page)

“Why did you lie?”

“Let’s just say you jumped to conclusions and I didn’t stop you.”

“You said we used protection.”

“Okay, I lied. But never again. Nothing but the truth. Deal?”

“Sure,” she said without enthusiasm. “Nothing but the truth.”

Chapter Eleven

Dominic watched the sun make its final descent as the limousine drove through Malibu.

He looked away from the window and rested his eyes on Sam. The corners of his mouth curved upward at seeing her sprawled over the seat across from him, one arm twisted awkwardly on top of her head as the other dangled off the edge of the leather seat. Her mouth hung open and every so often, a soft snorting sound came out of her mouth.

The woman snored.

He’d somehow missed that during their past week together. Their honeymoon suite had been extraordinarily large and he’d spent every night sleeping on the couch. But not one night had gone by where he hadn’t wanted to crawl into bed with his temporary wife and make love to her. Hell, she’d wanted him, too; he’d seen it in her eyes and he felt it in every pretend kiss they shared whenever the paparazzi came around. But he’d told Sam he wouldn’t touch her and she’d have to make the first move, which meant he’d have to be patient.

He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to get a grip. And yet all he could think about was how the hell was he going to live with Sam Johnston for three months without touching her? It was a dilemma—one he’d never experienced before.

He was used to women offering their bodies and though he didn’t always take what was offered, he liked having a choice. Sex was fun and fleeting and it was also the one thing he could offer the women he dated since he wasn’t capable of giving them anything else. Love was a farce; his mom taught him that years ago when she’d left him with his dad. He was ten. How could she have left him with a drunk? He’d learned the hard way that women were temporary, and somewhere along the way, he’d grown to prefer life that way.

Exhaling, he continued to stare at Sam Johnston. The poor girl wore her emotions on her sleeves. What you saw was what you got. Most of the women he’d dated were reserved and weeks went by before he discovered any intimate details about them. But he thought when the next three months were over, he’d know Sam inside and out.

Or would he?

So many people had betrayed him in his lifetime, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was merely good at playing games.

His gaze traveled the length of her. She managed to pack a lot of shape into a very small package. She might not be voluptuous and curvy, but she was all woman. Today she wore jeans and a white cotton tee that had hiked up a bit, revealing a sliver of flawless ivory skin.

The limousine took a sharp left before pulling up the long flagstone driveway leading to his home. When the vehicle came to a stop, Dominic noticed Sam’s notebook tucked under her hip. He’d seen her writing in the thing a lot over the past few days and then again on the airplane. He reached for it.

“Touch it and you die.”

“She’s alive,” he said with a chuckle.

Sleepily, she pushed herself to an upright position, then tucked the notebook into her purse and peered out the window. Her jaw dropped. “Wow, is that your house? How could you own such a large house? I thought you lost all of your money to your uncle.”

His jaw tightened. “I owned this house years before my uncle decided to swindle me.” His gaze followed hers and he looked upon his house. He’d bought the Old World Spanish hacienda from Dustin Hoffman five years ago. The house sat amid lush tropical landscaping, which gave it more privacy than many in the area. The truth was he should have sold the house the minute he’d heard what his uncle had done, but the idea of selling because of his uncle’s actions didn’t sit well with him. “Enjoy it while you can,” he said before he climbed out of the limo.

The sun had set, but the moon was full and round, which made for a nice backdrop.

Sam followed him through an old-world gate made of thick lumber and twisted iron. The Spanish tiled entry led them past a stone fountain lit with small underwater lights. Water trickled off the stone and into the fountain.

Dominic opened the door. It was unlocked, which meant Maria was home. He still hadn’t told Sam they would be forced to share a bed for the next three months. The notion made him smile. When he turned back to face Sam, he wondered what had happened to the girl in the wedding dress, the one who had fallen on top of him and laughed after he saved her from being crushed in a human stampede, the woman in the elevator whose eyes had said kiss me, damn it, and make it good.

That particular woman had disappeared.

Sam had metamorphosed back into a stiff, unbending reporter. She no longer resembled the cute little snoring nymph he’d seen five short minutes ago. When he wasn’t looking, she had used a clip to fasten her hair in a knot at the top of her head. She stood rigid before him, wearing a frown and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses.

This Sam Johnston looked nothing like the woman who had wrapped her arms around his neck and asked him to carry her over the threshold on their wedding night.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, obviously detecting his worry.

“Where did those glasses come from?”

“Why, do they bother you?”

“No, it’s just that they make you look much too serious. I don’t recall you wearing those before.”

“I’ve been wearing contacts. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so quick to marry a complete stranger. I could be hiding a whole suitcase full of deadly secrets.”

Any hint of a smile completely vanished.

“Truthfully, I wasn’t planning on being away from home this long,” she told him. “The contacts I wear are disposable and they only last a few days. I’ll need to go to my apartment tomorrow and get my—what are you doing?”

He reached behind her head and undid the clip that bound her hair. Then he slipped her glasses from her face. “There. That’s the girl I married. Just checking to make sure it’s really you.”

She reached out a hand. “Give me my glasses, please.”

He leaned close, his lips inches from hers. “There’s a guy in the tree behind me. He has a camera. I thought we’d give him a run for his money.”

“You can’t be serious.” Sam pushed him away. “Nice try,” she said before she grabbed her glasses from him, slipped them on and headed across the sloped green grass surrounding the property. Stopping at the grassy edge, she peered up into the regiment of trees and tried to make out a shape in the shadows.

A bright light flashed. Somebody was definitely out there.

“Whoever you are,” Sam shouted, “you better get out of here. You’re on private property and I’m calling the police.”

A few minutes later, Sam joined him in the kitchen. “Did you call the police?”

He shook his head and instead filled a glass with water from the filtered tap, enjoying himself as she frantically searched for the phone sitting on the built-in desk in the corner.

After she located the phone, Dominic took the receiver from her and laid it back in its cradle.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling the police won’t do any good. The guy in the tree will be gone before they get here and you’ll be stuck filling out paperwork for an hour.”

“You’re kidding?”

“I’m not.”

“This happens all the time?”

“More often than not.”

She exhaled, seemingly deep in thought as if she were truly bothered, which didn’t make sense. “Why so surprised?” he asked her. “You’re a tabloid reporter. You’re actually a part of the slimy side of glitzy media.”

“Listen to you, Mr. Celebrity/Media Whore.”

He laughed. Twice in five minutes—unprecedented.

“Truthfully, my dream career is investigative reporting, but I have to start somewhere. Otherwise, I’d have no choice but to live with my parents.”

He looked at her for a moment, wondering if she were telling the truth.

“What about you?” she asked. “Have you always wanted to be an actor?”

He leaned a hip against the granite countertop. “I got the acting bug when I was very young. I was a shy kid with little confidence, but the moment I stepped onto the stage, I became another person altogether. I’ve never looked back.”

Their gazes locked, each sizing the other up, neither trusting the other.

Sam looked toward the French doors leading to the backyard. “You didn’t tell me you lived on the beach.”

“You didn’t ask.”

She stepped outside onto a stone patio. There was a pool surrounded by beautiful sculptures. Steep wooden stairs led to the beach below.

Dominic followed her outside. Her hair remained unclipped and the ocean breeze caused flyaway strands to cling to her cheeks and chin. Sam was a natural beauty with an abundance of sex appeal and yet it was plain to see she truly had no idea.

The sound of the tide lapping against the shore calmed him as he inhaled the tangy scent of ocean air.

“Stunning,” Sam said. After a moment, she looked over her shoulder at him and sighed. “What am I doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

She held her arms toward the ocean. “Look at this place. It’s paradise.” Next she looked at the ring on her finger. “One day I’m sneaking around a church in New York looking for a story and the next thing I know I’m married to you, one of the sexiest men in America.” She shook her head. “Mind boggling.”

“Sexiest man in America, huh?”

She nodded.

“I promise not to get a big head.”

“Too late for that,” she teased.

“And I’m married to the sexiest woman in the world,” he said. “You’re right. It does sort of boggle the mind.”

She laughed. “Don’t even go there. I’m too tired to deal with you tonight. Please show me to my room.”

“About that…there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Chapter Twelve

“Mr. Dominic,” a female voice called from inside the house. “You’re back!”

A tiny dark-haired woman rushed outside to greet him. Dominic opened his arms wide and after a quick embrace, said, “Maria, I’d like you to meet my wife, Samantha.”

The woman’s warm brown eyes brightened as she came forward, taking both of Sam’s hands in hers. “So nice to meet you, Mrs. Dominic. I am in charge of keeping this house nice for you and your husband. Let me know if you need anything at all.” She squeezed Sam’s hand and added, “I sleep upstairs so there is no need for you to worry about privacy.” Then she stepped back and took a good long look at Sam before she looked back at Dominic. “You did well, Mr. Dominic. You did very well, indeed.”

Dominic smiled, but this smile was different from all the others Sam had witnessed over the past week. This smile rose all the way to his eyes. The respect and admiration he had for the woman was written all over his face.

“It’s late,” Maria said. “I am off to bed. There is lasagna and chicken and Mr. Dominic’s favorite homemade tamales in the refrigerator.”

“Very nice meeting you,” Sam said. After Maria disappeared, Sam narrowed her eyes and plunked a hand on her hip.

“What?”

“You didn’t tell me you had a live-in housekeeper.”

“You didn’t ask. Come on,” he said, ushering her into the house. “Let me show you where you’ll be spending the next three months.”

They walked side by side down one hall and then another. The house was enormous, with ridiculously high ceilings and wide, never-ending passageways. A person could easily get lost in a house this large. Mossy green drapes and plush carpet contrasted nicely with cream-colored walls. Rich, colorful oil paintings adorned those same walls, lending the house some warmth, although a pervasive stillness made her question how one man and his housekeeper could live in such a massive space.

The house was big, she decided, but not nearly as big as DeMarco’s swelled head. Every time she felt her resolve melting away, she thought about all of the stories she’d read about him. He’d been engaged more than once, only to back out at the last moment. He’d impregnated so many women she’d lost count years ago. One story was that his mother had tried on many occasions to get to know him, but he refused to have anything to do with her. The stories were numerous.

Somehow she was going to have to find a way to live with the man without being seduced by his charms. It wasn’t going to be easy. Every time she looked into his eyes, she could feel the sexual energy radiating between them.

They passed the wide circular stairway with custom iron railings that made a grand entrance and then continued along another long passageway until they finally reached their destination. His bedroom was larger than her entire apartment, with enough room for a king-sized bed, a fireplace, and a walk-in closet the size of a two-car garage.

“And where will you sleep?” she asked.

“Right here with you.”

“I am not sleeping in the same room with you for the next three months. I need my own space.”

“You’re forgetting our agreement. If Maria or Nester—”

“Who’s Nester?”

“The landscaper. He’s here a few times a week. Then there’s the pool guy and sometimes Maria brings in help. If they see you sleeping in another room, there will be lots of talk and speculation.”

“You slept on the couch in Hawaii. Why would you share the same bed with me now?”

His eyes sharpened. “There isn’t a couch in here, and besides, I wanted to give you time to get to know me. I’m tired of playing games. We made a deal. We’re married and we’re sharing this bedroom and this bed.”

“It would have been nice if you had bothered to warn me of the situation prior to this moment.”

“And ruin the surprise? Don’t worry,” he went on, “there’s plenty of room in the bed for both of us, although I do believe it would be to both our benefit if we consummated the marriage right now. We could be done with all this foolishness once and for all.”

She laughed.

“Fine,” he said. “Play hard to get, but I’m not going to make this easy on you, Johnston.”

“Meaning?”

“For starters,” he said, his lips much too close to hers, “I sometimes walk around in the nude. Consider that a warning.”