The Fifty-Cent Groom

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “But I was there strictly in the line of duty.”

  “I thought it was because you were a coward like me.

  “That, too. You’ll vouch for me, won’t you?”

  “That would be easier if you’d put on some clothes.”

  “First you want me to take them off, then you want me to put them on. Besides, I am wearing a tie.” His fingers moved to the middle of her back. “It’s a D’Lur original, too.”

  “That will impress West. Why aren’t you wearing a shirt? And something other than those dungarees?”

  “I ripped Arthur’s shirt and he went to get another one. And the dungarees stay. Arthur and I are not the same size around the waist, in case you didn’t notice.”

  “I’ve been a little distracted this evening, and frankly, the size of your waist hasn’t been on my mind.”

  “A pity. I’ve been thinking I could just about put my hands around yours.”

  “Only if I stopped breathing. Could you hurry with those buttons?”

  “Sure thing. My fingers are getting calluses already from buttoning you out and in and out of this dress.”

  “Well, this will be the last time, believe me.”

  He worked his way to her waist. “So, what are you going to wear to this party?”

  “DeeNee’s bringing a dress for me.”

  He paused. “Do you want me to button this back up until she gets here?”

  “No. Just finish the buttons and then you can go on downstairs and get acquainted with your place behind the bar. As soon as you put on a shirt, that is.”

  “Looks like we’re in the same fix. I’m waiting for a shirt and you’re waiting for a dress.”

  “I think that’s the shirt on the bed.” She indicated a crisply starched white shirt hanging from the bedpost. “Arthur must have left it for you.”

  “Lucky me,” Ben said dryly. “Just when I was beginning to think I’d have some reward for all this unbuttoning.”

  “You will be amply rewarded. A paycheck plus tips, remember?”

  The floor in the hallway creaked, and Sara looked toward the door in a panic. “They’re coming back,” she whispered sharply as she gathered her skirts. “Get in the closet.”

  “I should be getting overtime for this.” Holding her dress together—Ben’s hands at her shoulders, hers at the waist—they shuffled sideways toward the closet. The train caught on the heel of Sara’s pump and she fell backward, knocking Ben onto the bed with a startled whumph. The unbuttoned back of the wedding gown parted as she landed on top of him, and her bare back pressed his bare chest into the mattress. She struggled to get up, but the top of the dress pinned her shoulders, the skirt bunched around her ankles, and Ben’s efforts to help her get upright all conspired to keep her flat against him. “Be still,” he whispered. “Listen.”

  She did, and heard a portentous quiet on the other side of the bedroom door. If West opened that door now and saw her half out of the wedding gown, rolling around on the bed with a half-dressed man in camouflage pants, he would not be amused. He’d be furious, especially when he found out Ben was the bartender. Her mind tossed options like a Caesar salad and blended them into crisp panic. There was no way to run, no place to hide, no—

  But West didn’t know she was wearing a wedding dress. And if he didn’t see her face…

  Impulsively, she rolled over and, grabbing the ends of the D’Lur Original, she pulled Ben on top of her.

  “Wha-”

  Before he could finish the word, she kissed him.

  Chapter Five

  The kiss got off to a rough start. Mainly because Ben was accustomed to having at least some warning that a kiss was imminent. Of course, with Sara, he was beginning to think there was never much warning. She drove too fast, talked too fast, rushed around making plans and then abruptly changing them when they went awry. Even now, her lips were in a hurry and missed a good portion of his. Once he got them aligned, however, the kiss improved considerably. He managed to slow things down, persuaded her to linger a little and taste just how pleasurable a moment could be.

  That the pleasure exceeded even his expectations fascinated him, and he became so immersed in the sensation that he barely heard the soft tapping on the door and the softer murmur of a woman’s voice in the hallway. He didn’t think Sara heard it at all, because her grip on the ends of his tie didn’t slacken. Neither did the enchanting response of her lips beneath the pressure of his.

  Ben had no idea who had knocked on the door or who she had been seeking. Arthur could have a girlfriend for all he knew. At the moment, he was just glad the butler had had the foresight to lock the door when he left. Otherwise, someone would have seen more than they should: two people, a man and a woman, wrapped in a tangle of satin and dungarees, bare chest and bare back, lips that fused into a surprisingly heated kiss. Sara would deny feeling any heat, he knew, but she had gotten more out of this impulsive act than she’d bargained for and he decided to insist that she admit it.

  When she pulled away with a quickly indrawn and quivery breath, he was ready for her.

  “I hope you realize what you just did,” he said.

  Her eyes widened and lost a wisp of their dreamy darkness. “W-what?”

  “You kissed me.”

  “I know that.”

  “You used my lips for your own convenience.”

  “I didn’t want West to see—”

  “That is immaterial. You kissed me, Ms. Gunnerson, for your own purpose and without regard for my feelings.”

  “Your feelings and your lips didn’t seem to mind a moment ago.”

  “I’m a male. It takes a few minutes for my lips to figure out what emotion I’m feeling.”

  Her lips pursed. “And now that they have figured it out, they’re outraged?”

  “Let’s just say you may have done irreparable harm to my self-esteem.”

  “It was only a kiss.”

  “Uh-huh.” He nodded, leading her further along the path to reprisal. “And what if I had been the one to initiate it? Would it have been only a kiss, then?”

  “If you thought you were about to be discovered in a compromising situation by the person you intended to marry, I think I could be understanding about it, yes.”

  “So if I ever find myself in bed with you and in danger of being caught by my future wife, I have your consent to hide behind your lips?”

  “That isn’t what I said.” But she sounded unsure. “I said I could be understanding.”

  “Oh. So you would understand if I kissed you.”

  “That isn’t what I said, either.”

  The breathless quality in her voice pleased him altogether too much. “Hmm. Let me get this clear. I can kiss you—but only if I need to.”

  “No—er, yes. But only if it’s necessary.”

  Cornered. He smiled. “Oh, believe me, it is absolutely necessary.”

  She looked at him, all eyes and emotion and curiosity. That was one characteristic he had already come to love about Sara. No matter how much she knew what she wanted and what she didn’t want, she was curious about what she might miss.

  So Ben made sure she saw his intent, forced her eyes to do battle with his and concede his point that it hadn’t been just a kiss at all. Lowering his head, he let his intention kindle her anticipation, heighten her awareness and allow her plenty of time to realize she could protest, that she had the power to stop this encounter in its tracks.

  She didn’t, and when his mouth closed over hers, there was a soft sigh of discovery, the sensual mingling of lips and breath and unbidden desires. She deserved this, he thought. If only because she had taken one look at him and blithely pegged him as a nice guy who represented no danger to her.

  Well, her intuition wasn’t worth a wooden nickel to her at the moment. And just to emphasize his point, he increased the intensity of the caress, insisting that she respond simply because it suited him to prove that he could. He feathered tiny kisses all along the line of he
r lips, finding unexpected delight in the pliable curve at the corner of her mouth. His lips just fit there, as if that single spot had been dimpled just for him.

  He kissed her with all the expertise at his command, and just as he decided to leave her wanting more, she flattened both palms against his chest and shoved him over. If he’d been expecting the move, of course, she couldn’t have done it, but she surprised him, and the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back with an acre of wedding gown billowing around him and an irate woman sitting on his chest.

  “All right, Casanova, let that be a lesson to you. When it comes to kissing, a woman can be just as insincere as a man. And the next time you try to prove some macho point to me, you’d better think twice.”

  Ben was enchanted. “Punk.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Punk,” he repeated. “Your threat needed a punch line. Something to give it a little more oomph. Punk seemed appropriate. You know…” He did a fair imitation of Clint Eastwood. “You’d better think twice…punk.”

  With her reluctant smile, the anger—although Ben preferred to think of it as passion—vanished. “All right, Mr. Macho. I concede this round to you. But only because I don’t have time to debate.”

  “It’s a good thing.”

  “Afraid you’d lose?”

  “Afraid I’d have to teach you the difference between insincere and honest, and that could take so long, I might not clear a hundred bucks tonight.”

  There was a flicker of challenge in her eyes, followed quickly by a gleam of bravado. “Plus tips.”

  He nodded. “Plus tips.”

  She moved off him, her satin-wrapped thighs brushing across his bare skin with unintentional but irresistible impact. “Go downstairs, Ben, before you become any more delusional. And for heaven’s sake, put on that shirt.”

  “What are you going to put on?”

  “DeeNee will be here any minute with something.”

  “What if she isn’t?”

  Sara displayed the full weight of a frown as she sat on the side of the bed and looked at him. “She will be, don’t worry. Just get behind the bar and act like you know what you’re doing.”

  “If I leave you alone and she doesn’t show, you’ll be stuck in Arthur’s room wearing a partially unbuttoned dress.”

  “One way or another, I’ll be at the party, Ben. And I won’t be wearing this dress, buttoned or unbuttoned.”

  “Okay.” He got to his feet and pulled on his second crisp white shirt of the evening. It fit much better this time. “See you below.” He made certain the door locked behind him. Then he trotted down the kitchen stairs, fastening his shirt and knotting his D’Lur original as he went.

  SARA LEANED out the window and searched the dusk for signs of rescue. If DeeNee didn’t get here soon with that change of clothes, she might as well throw herself off the ledge. Of course, she was only on the second floor, and the lawn below was so lush, the only injuries she was likely to sustain were scraped knees and unsightly grass stains. However, jumping would be something of a symbolic gesture. A cathartic means of demonstrating her opinion of the evening thus far.

  With a frown, she turned her back to the window and began working with the buttons that ran from elbow to wrist on the lace sleeves. She had sent Ben off to tend bar without a second thought, never considering she would have any trouble with the rest of the buttons or be unable to get out of the wedding dress on her own. How she had ever gotten herself fastened in the gown, she’d never know, because the buttons seemed to require two hands and total concentration. She hadn’t freed herself by so much as a quarter inch since he left, and if DeeNee didn’t show up soon…

  A flicker of light darted across the room and, like a lightning bug on a June night, twinkled for an instant and was gone.

  Looking up, Sara caught sight of herself in the mirror. Like a toddler delighted by her own reflection, she began to smile. Really, the dress was lovely and she was lovely in it. Why hadn’t she wanted West to see her wearing it? She moved toward the dresser, wishing the mirror was larger so she could see exactly how the train draped behind her. And whatever had made her leave the veil on her bed at home? The wedding gown wasn’t complete without it. How could Ben know she was… No, not Ben. How could West fall under her spell if… No, not West.

  She tried to frown, but the smile on her lips seemed to be as much a part of her as the dimple at the corner of her mouth. A giddy laugh lurked just behind her eyes, and happiness nestled inside her like a present, all wrapped and waiting to be opened. It was an extraordinary feeling, and she wanted to share it with someone, anyone—Ben. And just like that, he was there. Standing beside her, wearing the same smile, looking roguishly handsome in his tuxedo…

  Tuxedo?

  “Sara?” The sound of her name was accompanied by a soft rapping noise, and with a blink she turned to look at the closed door. “Sara?” The voice and the noise came a second time before she could get her feet in motion and move away from the mirror. Feeling slightly disoriented, she turned the knob and opened the door.

  “Sara! Have you been in here all this time? I knocked and knocked, but—” DeeNee Ridgeman stopped talking and stared at her for a moment, and then her irrepressible laughter bubbled all over the room. “I thought you were joking, but you really are wearing a wedding gown.”

  Sara’s spirits took a flying leap off cloud nine and landed in a mess of reality. “I cannot believe it,” she said, realizing what she had done while standing in front of the mirror. “I have buttoned myself back in this dress.” Grabbing DeeNee by the arm, she pulled her into Arthur’s room and closed the door. “Unbutton me, and no matter what happens, do not let me look in that mirror.”

  “YOU’RE RELIEVED.”

  Ben looked over his shoulder at a solemn-faced Arthur. “I didn’t know I was worried.”

  “I have been sent to replace you,” Arthur stated formally.

  “Can’t be done. I’m the only one of my kind.”

  The butler might have frowned, but it was hard to tell. “Ms. Gunnerson requests your presence in my bedroom immediately. I have been asked to tend to the dispersement of beverages in your absence. Do you have any questions?”

  Dropping the bar towel on the bar, Ben admired Arthur’s poker-straight properness. “How would you like to come to work for me, Art?”

  “I wouldn’t think you had any need for a butler…sir.”

  The way he was able to say sir and make it sound like it had a nasty smell was masterful.

  “I haven’t up until now, but your charm is winning me over. What do you say, Artie?”

  Arthur picked up the towel and folded it into a precise, three-crease fold with ends that lined up perfectly. “I dislike to belabor the obvious, but you cannot afford my services.”

  “Hmm.” Ben considered that with a frown. “How do you know I’m not Howard Hughes’s nephew?”

  “He was an only child,” Arthur replied without missing a beat. “You are expected upstairs, and I believe Ms. Gunnerson does not like to be kept waiting.”

  “You got that right. Patience is definitely not her strong suit.” Ben turned on his heel and headed for the kitchen.

  “WHY IN THE HELL did you do this?” He stared in astonishment at the row of buttons, all neatly secured in their corresponding loops, which ran from Sara’s neckline to the middle of her butt “When I left, all but the bottom third of these were undone. You could have slipped the dress over your head and been out of it.”

  “I realize that,” Sara said tightly. “Will you please just unbutton me?”

  “I’m getting blisters on my fingers from getting you in and out of this dress. If I have to file for workers’ comp, you won’t have a leg to stand on.”

  “How many times have you done this?” DeeNee Ridgeman sat cross-legged on Arthur’s bed, watching the activity with interest.

  Sara had provided brusque introductions between jerking Ben inside the room and telling him to unbutton
her again. Impatience should have been her middle name.

  “I have to tell you,” DeeNee continued. “I tried everything to get the dress undone. I even tried to cut the loops with a butcher knife.”

  Ben winced at the thought of the million-dollar dress after such surgery. Thank goodness he wouldn’t have to explain that to Pop. “I don’t know why it’s so difficult. All you have to do is gently slip the loop over the button, like this.” He demonstrated, and DeeNee leaned forward to watch.

  “I tried that,” she said. “Didn’t work.”

  “Here, I’ll show you again.” He grasped Sara by the shoulders. “Turn this way.”

  “Not that way,” DeeNee and Sara said in tandem.

  “Away from the mirror.” DeeNee sat back on the bed. “She can’t bear to look at herself. Don’t ask me why. I think the dress is wildly flattering.”

  “I agree. She looks great in it.”

  “Will you stop admiring this voodoo dress and get me out of it?”

  “Voodoo?” DeeNee repeated.

  “She means magic.” Ben worked another button free of its loop. “The dress twink—Ow!”

  Sara stepped off his instep, and he bent to rub it. “Would you get on with it?” she asked. “I am not going to miss any more of this party because of some meaningless chitchat.”

  Ben looked at DeeNee and shrugged. “This gown has a strange affect on her manners.”

  “Wedding gowns have a strange affect on women, in general,” DeeNee said. “Put stars in their eyes.”

  Leaning around Sara, Ben checked her vision. She glared at him. “Not a solitary twinkle.” He straightened and returned his attention to the thousand and one buttons. “I hope you brought her something to wear that will put a smile on her lips. She’s becoming a trifle surly.”

  “As a matter of fact…”

  DeeNee’s voice trailed into a sheepish silence and Ben felt Sara stiffen as she turned her head to look at the other woman. “You did bring a dress for me.” She tried to make it a confident statement, but her tone ended with a slightly shaky question mark. “I noticed you didn’t bring it in with you, but I thought you’d left it in your car. You did, didn’t you?”