Hasty Wedding

by Debbie Macomber

  The evening was perfect, more perfect than anything she could remember. As dinner progressed, she felt the tension slip away. By the time they feasted on a slice of wedding cake, Clare felt relaxed and uninhibited. The terrible anxiety that had been her companion most of the day had vanished, and she laughed and talked freely with her friends.

  With eyes only for each other, Gary and Erin excused themselves, leaving Clare and Reed on their own.

  “I can’t remember a wedding I’ve enjoyed more,” Clare said, looking over to Reed. Perhaps it was the simplicity, or her special relationship with the couple. Whatever the reason, their love had tugged fiercely at the strings of her heart. “I think it was the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever attended.”

  She half expected Reed to challenge her words, but he didn’t. Instead he reached for her hand, gently squeezed her fingers and said, “You’re right, it was beautiful.”

  It might have been her imagination, but Clare had the elated sensation that he was speaking about her and not the wedding ceremony. Reed made her feel beautiful. She couldn’t remember experiencing anything like this with any man. He was so different than what she expected, so gentle and concerned. With Reed she felt cherished and protected.

  “We have several hours yet—Is there anything you’d like to do?”

  Clare didn’t need to give the question thought. “I’d love to gamble.” They were, after all, in Las Vegas.

  “Have you ever been to Vegas before?”

  “Never,” she admitted. “But I can count to twenty-one and if that fails me, there’s a roll of quarters in my purse.”

  Reed chuckled. “You’re sure about this?”

  “Positive.” She beamed him a wide smile. Rarely had she felt less constrained. It was as though they’d known each other for years. She experienced none of the restraint toward him that she had earlier. Looking at him now, smiling at her, she wondered how she could have ever thought of him as aloof or reserved.

  “You’ll need a clear head if you’re going to gamble,” he said, and motioning for the waiter, he ordered two cups of coffee.

  “I only had one glass of champagne, but you’re right, I want to be levelheaded about this ten dollars burning a hole in my purse.”

  The waiter delivered two cups of steaming coffee and Clare took her first tentative sip. “How long have you and Gary been friends?”

  Reed shrugged. “A few years now. What about you and Erin?”

  “Since high school. I was the bookworm and Erin was a cheerleader. By all that was right, we shouldn’t have even been friends, but we felt drawn to each other. I guess we balance one another out. I knew she should never have married Steve—I wish now I’d said something to her, but I didn’t.”

  “I didn’t meet Gary until after his divorce, but he’s talked about his first marriage. His wife left him for another man.”

  “Steve didn’t know the meaning of the word faithful. Sometimes I think I hated him for what he did to Erin. She moved back to Tullue when they separated and she was so thin and pale I barely recognized her.” The outward changes couldn’t compare to what Steve had done to Erin’s self-esteem. Her self-confidence had been shattered. It had taken her friend years to repair the emotional damage.

  “I remember when Gary first met Erin,” Reed said thoughtfully. “He drove out to my place. I was working at the time, and he paced from one end of my shop to the other talking about Erin Davis, asking me if I knew her.”

  “Did you?”

  “No.”

  “They took their time, didn’t they?” It had been apparent to Clare from the beginning how well suited they were to each other. “Erin came to me in tears the night Gary asked her to marry him. At first I thought she was crying with joy, but I soon realized she was terrified.” An emotion akin to what she’d experienced herself the night before when she’d first danced with Reed, Clare thought. She paused and guardedly glanced in his direction, unsure what had promoted the comparison.

  “I wish I knew you better,” she found herself saying. She inhaled sharply, appalled that she’d verbalized the thought.

  “What is it you’d like to know?”

  There was so much, she didn’t know where to begin. “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-six.”

  “We were never in the same school together.” It was an unconscious statement. Naturally they wouldn’t have been since he must have attended the reservation school. “I…we wouldn’t have been in high school at the same time anyway…I’m four years younger than you.” Avoiding his gaze, she sipped her coffee. “I guess I know more about you than I realized.”

  “Oh.”

  “You enjoy reading.” She knew that by the frequency with which he visited the library, although she couldn’t recall any single category of books he checked out more than others.

  “My reading tastes are eclectic,” he said as if he’d read her thoughts.

  “How do you do that?” she asked, gesturing wildly with her arms.

  “Do what?”

  “Know what I’m thinking. I swear it’s uncanny.”

  Reed’s dark eyes danced mischievously. “It’s an old Indian trick.”

  “I’ll just bet.” She reached across the table and picked the uneaten strawberry off his plate. After popping it into her mouth, she was amazed that she would do anything so unorthodox. “Do you mind, I mean…I should have asked.”

  He studied her more closely. “Are you sure you only had one glass of champagne?”

  “Positive. Now are we going to the gaming tables or not? I feel lucky.”

  “Come on,” he said with a laugh, “I hate to think of those quarters languishing away in your purse.”

  Clare smiled and, linking her hand with his, they left the restaurant.

  Reed led her first to the blackjack tables. She was short and had trouble perching herself upon the high stool, so without warning, he gripped her waist and lifted her onto the seat.

  The action took her by surprise, and she gasped until she realized it was him, then thanked him with a warm smile. After all her reservations, she discovered she enjoyed Reed’s company.

  “You betting, lady?” the dealer asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  “Ah…just a minute.” The table was a dollar minimum bet, and Clare exchanged a twenty-dollar bill for chips. She set out two chips and waited until the dealer had given her the necessary cards.

  “You’re not playing?” she asked, looking to Reed.

  “Not now, I will later.”

  Clare won her first five hands. “I like this game,” she told Reed. “I didn’t know I was so lucky.”

  He said nothing, but stood behind her, offering her advice when she asked for it and keeping silent when she didn’t. His hands were braced against her shoulders, and she felt comfort and contentment in his being there.

  By the end of an hour there was a large stack of chips in front of her. “I’m going to wager them all,” she said decisively, pushing the mounds of chips forward. To her way of figuring, gambling money was easy come, easy go. Her original investment had been only twenty dollars, and if she lost that, then she considered it well worth the hour’s entertainment.

  “You’re sure?” Reed whispered close to her ear.

  “Absolutely positive.” She may have sounded confident, but when the cards were dealt, her heart was trapped somewhere between her stomach and her throat. The dealer busted, and she let out a loud, triumphant shout.

  It required both hands to carry all her chips to the cashier. When the woman counted out the money, Clare had won over two hundred dollars.

  “Two hundred dollars,” she cried, and without thought, without hesitation, looped her arms around Reed’s neck and hurled herself into his arms.

  Chapter Three

  Stunned, Reed instinctively caught Clare in his arms.

  “Two hundred dollars,” she repeated. “Why, that’s ten times what I started out with.” She smiled at him with a free-flowing ha
ppiness sparkling from her beautiful brown eyes. Reed couldn’t help being affected. He smiled, too.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you, oh, thank you.”

  It wasn’t until the man behind them cleared his throat that Reed realized they were holding up the line in front of the cashier’s cage. Reluctantly he released Clare, but needing to maintain the contact with her, he reached for her hand.

  “Where to now?” he asked.

  Clare tugged her hand free from his and slipped her arm around his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder. “How about the roulette table? I’m rich, you know.”

  Reed wasn’t quite sure what to make of the woman in his arms. He had trouble believing this was the same one who sat so primly behind the front desk of the Tüllue library, handing out lectures for overdue books. Her eyes were bright and happy, and for the life of him, he couldn’t look away.

  It was doubtful Clare was drunk. She’d claimed to have had only one glass of champagne and he couldn’t recall her having more. If anyone was drunk, it was him, but not on alcohol. He was tipsy on spending this time with Clare, of touching her as though he’d been doing so for years.

  “Clare,” he asked, pulling her aside and leading her away from the milling gamblers. His eyes searched hers; he was almost afraid this couldn’t be happening.

  She smiled up at him and blinked, not understanding the question in his eyes.

  He didn’t know how to voice his concern without sounding ridiculous. It wasn’t as though he could ask her if she realized what she was doing. This wasn’t the woman he’d loved from afar all these years.

  The amusement drained from her eyes. “I’m embarrassing you, aren’t I?”

  “No,” he denied quickly.

  “I…shouldn’t have hugged you like that? It was presumptuous of me and—”

  “No.” He pressed his finger over her lips, stopping her because he couldn’t bear to hear what she was saying. He’d dreamed of her in exactly this way, gazing up at him with joy and happiness. He had yearned to hold her, kiss her, make love to her, but never thought it possible.

  She pressed her hand to her cheek. “I don’t know what came over me…I seem to be doing and saying the most nonsensical things.”

  Reed could think of no way of assuring her and so he did what came naturally. He kissed her.

  Reed had longed to do exactly this for years, and now that the dream was reality, it was as though he’d completely lost control of his senses.

  His lips didn’t court or coax or tease hers, nor was he gentle. The need in him was too great to bridle, consequently his kiss was filled with a desire so hot, so earthy he feared he’d consume her.

  Taken by surprise, Clare moaned, and the instant her lips parted to him. Dear heaven, she was even sweeter than he ever imagined. Kissing her was like sampling warm honey. She opened to him without restraint, holding nothing back. Her tongue met his, tentatively at first, as though she were unaccustomed to such passionate exchanges, then curled and shyly mated with his. Reed was convinced she hadn’t a clue as to how blatantly provocative she was.

  It cost him everything to break off the kiss. When he did, his breathing was labored and harsh.

  Clare’s eyes remained closed, and her sigh rolled softly over his face like the lazy waters of a peaceful river.

  “Is…is kissing you always this good?” she asked softly, her lashes fluttering open. She gazed up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Reed couldn’t find the words to answer.

  “The rumors must be true,” she said next, under her breath.

  “What rumors?”

  From the way her gaze widened and shot to him, it was clear she hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud.

  “Tell me,” he insisted.

  “They say…women can’t resist you.”

  Reed didn’t know whether to laugh or fume. It was equally difficult to tell if Clare meant it as a compliment or an insult. His indecision must have revealed itself, because she stood on her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss across his lips. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  Surprised, she glanced up at him. “For showing me how good kissing can be.”

  She didn’t know? That seemed utterly impossible. His mind was reeling with a long series of questions he longed to ask, but before a single one had taken shape on his lips, Clare was moving away from him, passing through the crowd and heading for the roulette wheel.

  Reed found the noise and the cigarette smoke in the casino irritating. He wasn’t overly fond of crowds, either, but he gladly endured it all for the opportunity to be with Clare.

  By the time he reached her, she was sitting at the table and had plunked down two twenty-five-dollar chips, betting on the red.

  When she won, she whirled around to be sure he was there. Reed grinned and, collecting her winnings, Clare dutifully stuffed the chips into her purse.

  “What else is there?” she said, looking around. “I feel so lucky.”

  “Craps,” he suggested, although he wasn’t certain he could explain the various rules of the game to her within a short amount of time.

  It was a complicated but fun game. Clare was much too impatient to be delayed with anything as mundane as instructions on how to play.

  There was plenty of room at the dice table, so Reed decided to play himself, thinking that would be the best way to help Clare learn.

  It took a few moments for them to exchange their cash for chips, and Reed noticed how Clare’s eyes gleamed with excitement. If she continued to look at him like that, he’d have trouble keeping his mind on the action. Unfortunately craps was one game that required he keep his wits about him.

  He placed his bet and Clare followed his lead. They managed to stay about even, until it became Clare’s turn to roll the dice. She hesitated when she noticed Reed had placed a large wager.

  “I thought you said you felt lucky,” he reminded her.

  “I know, but…”

  “Just throw the dice, lady,” said an elderly gentleman holding a bottle of imported beer. “He looks like he knows what he’s doing.”

  “He might, but I don’t,” she muttered, and threw the dice with enough force for them to bounce against the far end of the table.

  “Ten, the hard way,” the attendant shouted.

  Players gathered around the table and the money was flowing fast and furiously. Reed could see that Clare was having trouble keeping tabs on what was happening. She amazed him. She hadn’t a clue of what she was doing, yet she ladled out her chips without a qualm, betting freely as though she were sitting on a fat bank account. He would never have guessed that she could be so carefree and unbridled by convention.

  As he suspected, Clare was a natural, and within the next several rolls, she had every number covered. Soon the entire table was raking in the chips. The shouts and cheers caught the attention of the other gamblers, and shortly afterward there wasn’t a single inch of available space around the table.

  “How much longer?” Clare asked, looking anxious.

  “As long as you can keep from rolling a seven,” Reed told her. He didn’t know how much money they’d won, but he ventured a guess that it was well into the hundreds.

  “Don’t even say it,” the same older man who’d been drinking a beer chastised him. “She’s making us money hand over fist.”

  “You mean everyone is winning?” Clare said, looking down the table. It seemed everyone was staring at her, waiting expectantly.

  “Everyone,” Reed concurred.

  “All right.” She tossed the dice and let out a triumphant cry when she made her point. Chips were issued by the attendants, and Clare wiped her hands against her hips before reaching for the dice again.

  “I like this game.”

  “We love you, sweetheart,” someone shouted from the other end of the table.

  Clare hesitated, then blew her admirer a kiss before rolling the dice once more. Even before Reed could see what she’d tossed
, there was a chorus of happy shouts.

  “I can smell money,” a man said, squeezing his way into the table, tossing down five one-hundred-dollar bills.

  A cocktail waitress came by, taking orders, but everyone seemed so caught up in the action that no one seemed to notice. There was apparently some hullabaloo going on with the pit boss. Clare had held the dice for nearly thirty minutes and it went without saying that the casino was losing a lot of money.

  “How am I doing?” she asked, looking to him, her eyes bright and clear. “Oh, heavens, I’m thirsty. Could I get something to drink…something diet.”

  Reed got the cocktail waitress’s attention and ordered a soft drink for himself while he was at it.

  On Clare’s next roll she hit a seven. After a low murmur of regret she was given a round of hearty applause. Grinning, she curtsied and with her drink in her hand turned away from the table.

  “Clare,” Reed called after her.

  She turned at the sound of his voice. “You forgot your chips.”

  Since he’d been collecting them for her, it wasn’t unreasonable for her to think she’d won for everyone else and not herself. The attendant had colored up the chips for them both and Reed handed her nine black chips.

  “I only made nine chips?” she asked, bewildered.

  “The black chips are worth a hundred dollars.”

  For a moment, her mouth opened and closed as though she’d lost the ability to speak. “They’re a hundred dollars each?”

  Reed didn’t know it was possible for a woman’s eyes to grow so wide. He nodded.

  “In other words, I just made nine hundred dollars?”

  Reed smiled and nodded again. He’d won considerably more, and there were others at the table who’d walked away with several thousand dollars.

  “Nine hundred dollars,” she repeated slowly, pressing her one hand over her heart and fanning her face with the other. “I need to sit down. Oh, my goodness…all that money.”

  Reed slipped his arm around her waist and, realizing she was trembling, steered her toward the coffee shop.

  “Nine hundred dollars,” she continued repeating. “That’s almost a thousand dollars. I made almost a thousand dollars throwing dice.”