by Regina Duke
Krystal laughed.
Megan had never heard her laugh before.
Krystal stepped forward and gave Megan an impulsive hug. “We seem to have more in common than I ever guessed,” she said, returning to her reserved self. “Take a few moments to compose yourself, dear. We will not start without you.” She turned to leave, then paused. “By the way, thank you for helping Karla. She just told her father she was dressing exactly as the bride requested. I wouldn’t have missed that moment for anything.” She left, closing the door silently behind her.
Megan stood in the quiet and examined her reflection in the mirror. Not bad for a last minute bride. Not bad for a well prepared bride. Not bad, period. Her mother had swooped her hair into a French twist and left a few tendrils loose to soften the effect.
She pulled the veil down over her face. Her heart skipped a beat. She looked like a fairytale bride. Time to go downstairs.
She left the room and walked to the end of the hall. She could hear voices below, and she could hear someone playing the organ. The sound of the Wurlitzer took her back many years to Sundays before her father’s sermons when her mother would entertain the congregation with renditions of popular hymns. She listened more carefully, then smiled. It was her mother playing now, she would bet money on it! She heard her flub the same key change in “Blessed Assurance” that she had been flubbing since Megan was a child.
She headed down the stairs.
Zachary waited for her on the landing.
And so did her father.
Megan stopped cold.
Zach said softly, “We came to an agreement. One of us on each arm.”
Vernon Mully did not look pleased, but he never looked pleased, so Megan nodded. “That’s perfect.”
She continued down the stairs with her escort. At the foot of the stairs, they stopped.
The double doors to the parlor were open and the room was full of people. Some of them were familiar, but at least twenty were unknown to her. She guessed that the dozen or so children were the offspring of the ranch employees. But the six men in dark blue suits were a mystery. Three of them were huddled in a corner with Kevin. She was pleased to see Jeffrey Wong at Kevin’s elbow. The other three suits stood soldier-like behind Douglas Wake. None of them looked happy or comfortable.
Megan had no time to determine what was transpiring. Her mother glanced around when the first ooohs and aaaahs rose from the gathering. Everyone was admiring her dress, and she couldn’t blame them. As soon as Glenda Mully saw her daughter standing between her escorts, she began playing the Wedding March. A murmur of anticipation swept through the ladies in the room. Those who were standing quickly took their chairs. When they did so, a lovely tapestry was revealed. It wasn’t a red carpet, but the embroidered flowers, hearts and birds in flight depicted there provided an idyllic runway for the bride.
Kevin shoved papers at the blue suits in his corner, and strode to the front of the room where the minister awaited him. Once there, he turned and caught Megan’s eye, and they shared a private smile. Then he gave her a tiny nod of encouragement.
Megan Mully Wake began her walk down the aisle.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
“HOLD IT! HOLD EVERYTHING!” Douglas Wake, flanked by his lawyers, raised an open hand to halt the proceedings.
Krystal’s gray eyes flashed fire. “Sit down, Douglas! This day belongs to Kevin and Megan.”
Douglas turned and glared at her. “You and I both know this is about a lot more than a wedding party. I have information that will affect everything that happens here, and everything that happens afterward.”
Krystal raised herself carefully from her chair. “You are such a drama queen,” she snapped. “Let these young people have their wedding!”
Douglas held up three pages of legal-sized paper. “This wedding is a farce! I have evidence here that proves it!”
Megan’s insides ached with tension.
Kevin spread his hands. “Dad, for the love of God, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about this prenuptial agreement my people uncovered.”
Kevin bristled. “You mean, your spies. I know all about them. Jeffrey told me everything.”
Douglas dismissed Kevin’s words. “Jeffrey? That wimp? He had nothing to do with this.”
“I know,” said Kevin. “But you’ve been paying his cousin Patrick for years to spy on me through Jeff.”
Krystal’s voice cut through the room. “Silence!”
Everyone turned to look at her.
Krystal straightened her spine. “Douglas, this is not the time or place for one of your theatrical tantrums. Kevin and Megan are not the first young couple to sign a prenup.”
Douglas’s complexion reddened with anger. “This prenup spells out that this whole thing is a marriage of convenience!” He pointed his empty hand at Megan. “That money-grubbing gold digger spelled out exactly how Kevin is to pay off her medical bills.”
Vernon Mully needed only three long strides to reach Douglas and one short, sharp jab to break his nose.
Blood spurted down the front of Douglas’s white shirt.
“What the hell?! You son of a bitch!” Douglas pulled his arm back, telegraphing his intentions to the whole room.
Kevin had plenty of time to step between them and grab his father’s arm before he could retaliate.
“Stop it!” warned Kevin quietly.
“I’ll sue that man!”
Glenda Mully gasped and moved to stand beside her husband.
Krystal’s tone cut like a knife. “No one is being sued. You’re making a fool of yourself, Douglas. Do you think you’re the only one with a team of lawyers?” She glanced about and caught the eye of one of the three suits who had been huddling with Kevin in the corner. “Mr. Ratigan? Will you please put an end to this display so these young people can get on with their wedding?”
The eldest of the group of lawyers stepped forward and cleared his throat.
“I am not quite sure which point of the situation you wish me to comment upon, Mrs. Wake.”
“Oh, cut the lawyer crap and tell them what you told me this morning,” said Krystal.
Ratigan’s brows shot up. “Very well, then. For the benefit of Mr. Wake the younger and his bride, let me say first that Mr. Douglas Wake is objecting to today’s nuptials based on the existence of a prenuptial agreement that spells out certain financial arrangements and obligations that both signees agreed to prior to their marriage. Such agreements are not uncommon, and in fact in most cases I wholeheartedly advocate—”
“Dennis! Spit it out,” said Krystal.
“Yes, yes, of course. To the crux of the matter. Mr. Wake the elder is objecting because he believes the existence of said prenup violates the requirement of the Fineman family trust.”
Douglas was pressing a blood-soaked handkerchief to his nose. His voice was muffled. “Of course it does! The trust demands a legitimate marriage prior to the heir’s twenty-fifth birthday. The prenup proves they didn’t love each other. They entered into this arrangement for the sole purpose of acquiring possession of the trust.”
Dennis Ratigan’s narrow mouth twitched in a small smile of triumph. “Considering the admirable team of legal advisors you have assembled, I find it hard to believe that they have not explained this situation to you in very clear terms.”
Megan moved forward to stand by Krystal.
“Mrs. Wake, please sit down,” she said softly. “I’ll stand for both of us.”
Krystal balanced herself on Megan’s arm and sat gratefully.
Megan continued, “Mr. Ratigan, for those of us who do not have a team of lawyers, please explain what you’re talking about.”
Ratigan cleared his throat again. “Very well. The requirements of this trust were established long ago. At that time, it was common for—”
Kevin and Krystal chorused, “Get to the point!”
Ratigan looked miffed, but he complied. “Th
ere is no requirement that the bride and groom be in love. Merely that they be married.”
Douglas dabbed at his nose. The bleeding had stopped. He sounded like a man with a bad cold. “Well, they aren’t going to make that deadline either. By marrying today, a Friday, that license won’t be filed until Monday. Am I right?” He looked to his legal trio for support.
“Wrong,” said Kevin. He pulled a folded paper out of his inside coat pocket and held it in the air. “You were betting against me, dad. You wanted me to fail. You were counting on my dislike of your business practices and our personal differences to keep me from taking action. Well, I’m not eighteen anymore. And I’m not single anymore either. Megan and I were married in Nevada four days ago.”
Glenda Mully cried out in surprise and clapped her hands.
Krystal allowed herself a satisfied twinge of a smile.
Zach stepped forward and shook Kevin’s hand. “Congratulations four days late.”
Kevin grinned.
Douglas’s color now matched his nose. He looked ready to pop. At last he blustered, “I need a doctor! You three, come with me!” He ushered his legal team toward the door, but one of them turned long enough to address Ratigan.
“Just so you know, we’ve been telling him all along that he didn’t have a leg to stand on.”
Douglas’s voice boomed, “You’re fired!”
The guests were buzzing.
Krystal tugged at Megan’s arm.
“Yes, Mrs. Wake?”
“My dear, I think it’s time for you to marry your true love.”
Megan beamed. “I agree.” She held her elbows akimbo. “Dad? Zach? Are you ready to walk me down the aisle?”
Glenda returned to the Wurlitzer with an, “Oh, goody!” She began playing the “Wedding March” again.
Kevin put the marriage certificate back in his pocket and took his place before the minister. Jeffrey stood nearby as his best man.
Kevin’s mouth dropped open and he slapped his forehead.
“Rings!” he cried. “I never had time to buy the rings!”
Keegan appeared with a black velvet box.
“They’re right here,” he said. “Zach gave’em to me.”
Kevin turned a questioning glance toward Zach, who raised his eyes to the ceiling and said nothing.
Krystal smiled softly. “I wondered for years if you’d taken them back for a refund.”
“No, ma’am,” said Zach. “I figured if I waited long enough, they would come in handy.”
The ceremony was brief, but Megan was sure there was no one in the room who would ever forget her wedding day.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
TWO MONTHS LATER, Kevin hung up the phone. Megan waited at the kitchen table to hear the news. Cookie tried to pretend she wasn’t listening.
“The check cleared the bank,” he said. “Your medical bills are history!”
“Yay!” Megan threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much,” she whispered.
Karla and Keegan tramped into the room, followed by Chunky and Creamy, who were nearly twice as large at five months as they’d been at three.
Karla said, “Ew, get a room.” She was wearing black shorts and a black tank top, but her face, arms and legs were showing a very unvampirelike tan.
Keegan had sun streaks in his brown hair, and he was growing almost as fast as the pups. His second grade jeans were now two inches above his ankles.
“Mom says we have to go shopping for school clothes today,” he said. “But we can get ice cream when we’re done!”
Kevin and Megan looked at Karla. She shrugged. “Vampires have to eat.”
Kevin grinned. “I take it you’re okay with the idea of going to school in Colorado?”
Karla tried to look glum. “I’ll have to spread the vampire message to my new classmates, but I guess it’ll be okay. Mom says I should go incognito, you know, dress like my prey for the first few weeks. Sounds like a good plan.”
Krystal called from the parlor. “Kids! Come on, Glenda’s ready to go!”
“It’s so nice of your mother to help Krystal like this,” said Kevin.
“Are you kidding? She’s thrilled! Mom said she could never repay your family for steering dad to his own little church in Eagle’s Toe.”
“Did the board really limit him to one hellfire sermon a month?”
Megan nodded. “And they decided at last night’s board meeting that they’re going to invite motivational speakers at least once a month. So dad can be semi-retired, and mom can stay close by. And that is really perfect.”
Kevin smiled. “I know you missed her terribly while they were in Guatemala. I’m so busy with ranch business now, I’m glad you have company during the day.”
“And it will come in very handy around April Fool’s Day, as well.”
“April Fool’s Day?” Kevin looked puzzled.
Cookie quizzically looked over her shoulder. Then her eyes got big and she started counting on her fingers. With a whoop, she gave Megan a big hug.
“What?” asked Kevin. “What?!”
“How about a wager?” asked Cookie, grabbing her hot pad and taking a cookie sheet out of the oven. “I’ll bet you an oven full of chocolate chip cookies that he doesn’t figure it out before the nine months are up. Megan? Megan?”
She turned around, cookies in hand, but Megan couldn’t answer.
Kevin had wrapped her up in a celebratory kiss.
*Thank you for taking the time to read The Wedding Wager. If you enjoyed this novel, please take a moment to leave a review at Amazon. Contact the author at www.ReginaDuke.com.
Please turn the page for an excerpt from Crazy For You by Sandra Edwards.*
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CRAZY FOR YOU
by
Sandra Edwards
PROLOGUE
1988
New York City
THE INTERVIEW WASN’T GOING WELL. Not from Roxanne’s point of view. She knew Lauren Weber’s reputation as a talk show host. In a word, barracuda said it all. This came as no surprise to Roxanne and now she wondered how she’d ever been talked into this.
If Lauren’s guest had anything to hide, she had a way of tempting those skeletons out of the closet. And Roxanne had plenty to hide. Plenty that could tarnish her public image of sweet and innocent.
This is all Walt’s fault. Roxanne’s publicist had convinced her it would be good publicity for the new movie. Initially, his argument had been a good one: Lauren Weber was the most popular talk show host around, and this would be a nice plug for the new movie since millions of people would see the clips.
Walt had been adamant, so reluctantly, and against her better judgment, she’d agreed to let America’s favorite talk show host interview the renowned authoress-actress Roxanne Simon.
“What can you tell us about Garrett-Hollander?” Lauren’s questioning voice brought Roxanne back to reality.
She didn’t falter at the mention of the ever-popular rock band. “Well…” Roxanne said, “I don’t know what I could tell you that you don’t already know.”
“Isn’t it true that you and your sister Candy knew them when they were nobody?”
“I’ve never thought of Frank or Rich as nobody.”
“Isn’t Frank Garrett the father of your son?”
The audience reacted with a mixture of gasps and whispers.
Roxanne laughed skeptically. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Well, his name is Frankie.”
“Frank is my father’s name,” Roxanne said, with all the repose expected from someone with two Best Actress Oscars under her belt.
Lauren took on one of those looks that said she knew she was getting nowhere. But Roxanne wasn’t falling for that. Lauren Weber was regrouping. And Roxanne Simon would be
ready.
“Your latest movie,” Lauren said, changing the subject, “Bad Company was released last week and it’s doing well at the box office.” She paused briefly, allowing the audience time for applause. “And rumor has it that it’ll be nominated for multiple Academy Awards.”
“Well…I think it’s a little early to be supposing about the Oscars,” Roxanne declared.
“You’re no stranger to the Oscars,” Lauren said. “You’ve won awards before. Aren’t you getting used to collecting them by now?”
“I’ll never get so used to it that I’ll take something like that for granted,” Roxanne said meekly of the Oscars. “I’m always grateful for any recognition of my work.”
Roxanne was surprised at how cool she’d managed to remain. Lauren had invaded territory that was better left alone. Territory known for bringing out Roxanne’s weaknesses.
“What’s next?” Lauren’s voice remained casual.
“A vacation,” Roxanne said, and dropped it at that. The time had not come for the public to know she’d started work on her autobiography.
“Devoting some time to your son?”
“Yes.”
“Is he here with you?”
Apprehension bundled up inside Roxanne, but she wouldn’t lie. In the past, her lies had a way of biting her on the butt. “Yes, he is.”
“Could we bring him out?”
Shit. Through the years, Roxanne had successfully protected Frankie from the press. Not one photograph of him had ever been published in any newspaper or magazine. But America was going to get a look at him now.
If Roxanne refused to let him come out, the audience would know she had something to hide. That news could get back to Frank. On the other hand, if she did let him come out, then Frank might see him. Yet there was no real choice in the matter. Refusing to bring him out would cause a much bigger fuss.
“If he wants to come out,” Roxanne said. “But Ms. Weber…please understand—” Her tone issued an unmistakable warning. “I wouldn’t want his head filled with any foolish ideas.”
That probably wouldn’t stop Lauren, but hopefully a sense of decency would. Lauren didn’t have to tell Frankie she thought Frank Garrett was his father to get her point across. The implication would be more than enough.