An Unexpected Bride

by Shadonna Richards

  After consulting with her travel checklist—something she swears by since she’d been known to leave things behind before—she fluffed up her pillow and slinked back under the duvet covers to finish, or begin might have been a more apt word choice, her few hours of sound sleep. She was determined to partake of a restful slumber. She was going to make this work, even if it killed her.

  The following morning, Emma woke up bright and early. The birds were chirping on the balcony. She could hear them outside her window. She jumped up when the alarm sounded, grateful to at least have managed four hours of solid sleep.

  She hopped into the shower and got ready for the day. She pulled on a light green cardigan and matching t-shirt underneath and completed the outfit with a beaded necklace and earrings. Comfortable black bootleg pants with a bit of lycra for comfort which hugged her hips and soft leather shoes for her travel were the final touches. Her hair was pinned up above her head and flowed softly onto her shoulders and highlighted her high cheek bones. She grabbed her keys, purse, and luggage and headed for the door to go down to the lobby. She had pre-booked a cab for this morning to take her to the office where she’d meet up with Evan.

  When she arrived at the office, she couldn’t believe the sight of Evan talking to Lucinda at the reception desk. He turned around when she walked up to them with her black hand luggage on wheels as she tugged it behind her on the hardwood floor.

  Evan could have stopped her heart cold with his gorgeous looks.

  He often worked out early in the morning. So dedicated to physical fitness. She noticed his naturally wavy, black hair was slicked back. Wet. Sexy. He probably just had a shower after his workout.

  She got near enough to him to catch a sensual whiff of his spicy aftershave. The scent tantalised her nostrils. He stood erect, ripping muscles and dark, caramel skin tone, so smooth she was tempted to run her fingers up and down his arms. He wore a t-shirt that showcased his muscular biceps.

  The man was ripped, no doubt about that.

  She tried to dart her eyes away towards the view out of the glass windows as the sun shined through the reception area. He certainly was blessed with not just his sweet southern charm and talent, but a good physique as well.

  She was sure her mouth had fallen open and immediately snapped it shut. She must have appeared to be salivating. Lucinda was shuffling papers in the background at the reception desk while she glanced her way in a discreet way.

  Evan paused momentarily when he saw Emma walking through the glass double door of Fletcher Advertising.

  She looked stunning.

  So simple, yet elegant.

  Beautiful.

  He still couldn’t get those nipples he eyed yesterday out of his mind. But he had to. He must! It was a professional thing to do. Her black pants looked casual, yet elegant, and really showed off her curvaceous form. She had curves in all the right places. She was a perfect figure eight. Heavy on top. Nice rounded thighs and a tiny waist. He didn’t know how he was going to keep his mind on business during the next two days—in the Big Apple of all places. The city that never sleeps. He didn’t think he would be sleeping much either.

  “So, you have everything?” He approached her to help with her luggage.

  “Yep, all set.”

  The sweet, distinctive scent of her perfume drove his testosterone levels up higher than he cared for right now. He had to divert his thoughts onto something else. Other than the stunning, intellectual, kind-hearted beauty before him.

  He noticed in his peripheral vision that Lucinda at reception was gawking at them. He hoped whatever he was feeling inside would not be revealed in his expression. He hated that he blushed. Sometimes, he felt hot inside, though the loft was quite cool and comfortable.

  He clapped his hands together. “Good, let’s get going. My things are in the car.”

  “The car?” Emma repeated bewildered.

  “Yes, I’ll be driving and parking at the airport. I think it would be easier, we’re just going for two days.”

  Emma swallowed. She smiled sheepishly. They’d be alone without a driver or third person as they drove half hour to the city airport. Okay, she could do this. Was that a good time to spring the news on him about really getting married? She’d have to play it by ear.

  9

  “You really love her, don’t you?” The hospital chaplain sat on a chair at the bedside of Mr. Wiggins. She smiled as she tilted her head. She leaned forward and held his hand as he sat up in the bed.

  “Yes. Yes, I really do. She’s such a sweetheart. She's a good girl, you know. She really takes care of me.” Mr Wiggins smiled as he looked down with mist in his eyes. He fiddled with the bed linen then looked away to stare out the window. The sky was blue. There was nothing but greenery on the hospital grounds outside. His window faced a scenic area of the hospital at the long-term and palliative care wing. His lips began to quiver.

  “Is everything alright?” The chaplain, a woman in her mid-fifties with blond, straight hair and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, squeezed his hand tighter with concern. “You seem upset.”

  "Oh, it's nothing. I get like this sometimes, you know. I really will miss her. You know, when I'm gone."

  "I think she'll miss you, too. Probably more. Life is always hardest for those left behind." The chaplain's voice was low, calming, and soothing. Mr. Wiggins appreciated her nonjudgmental demeanour, especially when he goofed up and said silly things. Of course, Emma would be the one to miss him. What would he know? He'd be dead and gone.

  He appreciated the chaplain visiting him every now and again. She often made her rounds to the patients or long-term care residents. He was especially fretting that Emma was heading for New York for a couple of days. Something he knew she hesitated to do knowing full well that his condition—which flipped back and forth on a regular basis—could turn suddenly.

  Still, he encouraged Emma to go to New York. He assured her he'd hold on till she got back, he teased her earlier. He understood that she would not be able to see him early this morning as she often did before work since she had to meet her boss—her fiancé—at the office before heading to the airport. He was glad at least the chaplain visited him this morning. He missed not having a whole pack of grandkids like some of his other friends. His son died. He only had one granddaughter. That was it. And he had secretly or not-so-secretly feared that would be the end of the Wiggins bloodline.

  When Emma told him she was engaged, he jumped at his opportunity when the chaplain came to visit him later that day. He mentioned to her about how excited he was that she was getting married and wished, since the doctors told him he was doing a little better, that he could just see her get married. Just like Mr. H's daughter got married in the hospital room. It was his dream. His deep desire. He longed for the opportunity to see his granddaughter, his only living flesh, move forward with her life in a holy union.

  He chuckled sheepishly at his earlier gaffe.

  "So, tell me more about this wedding. You must be so excited," the chaplain continued.

  "Oh, well, you know, Emma has been quite hush-hush about all the details. I mean, I didn’t even know she was serious about this fellow until she told me this week, after Mr. H's daughter got married." He shook his head as he picked up a child-size carton of juice from his breakfast tray.

  The chaplain smiled and helped him to peel back the foil on top so he could poke the straw through. She was glad he was feeling more strong today. That he wanted to touch anything from his meal tray, unlike some of the other mornings she had visited him. She told him earlier that she noticed how much he had perked up since news of the wedding. Her smile was wide and sincere.

  "But she told me he's such a nice fellow, that chap. I just hope he treats my little Emma good. The way she deserves to be treated. You know? She’s a good girl, she is. She’s all I’ve got." He leaned his head back and took a sip of the apple juice from the carton forgoing the straw. He had yanked it out earlier. For some reason, he just
found it awkward to slurp through it. He was never much of a straw man he would say.

  "Aw. I’m sure he will, Mr. Wiggins." The chaplain smiled wide again. Mr. Wiggins noticed how pearly white her teeth were. Sparkling. He remembered how his own teeth were when he had them. He remembered quite a lot these days.

  He spent so much time on his own between Emma’s visits that he had a whole lot of time to ponder stuff.

  "So, she's off to New York this morning, you mentioned."

  "Yes. Yes." He paused for a moment to give it thought. His eyes were suddenly downcast. "I will miss her. Not sure if she left yet or not. Hold on a minute." Mr. Wiggins reached over to the side table and picked up a piece of paper from the counter top. "She gave me her work number to call if anything came up. I think she said she and her fiancé will be leaving from there."

  The chaplain adjusted herself in her seat. She noticed Mr. Wiggins had a bit of difficulty reading the numbers on the keypad to dial. His fingers were slightly shaky.

  "Would you like me to help?" she offered gently, trying hard not to impose on his independence. She understood how important it was for him. She knew enough from her earlier visits and from what she read about him in his patient chart how much it meant to him and how he would get anxious if he felt anyone was trying to downplay his abilities. Dignity. That’s all he wanted.

  "Sure. Why not?" He hesitated first, before agreeing.

  The chaplain carefully dialled the numbers based on what was scribbled down on the note. She keyed the numbers in 555-1200.

  "Good morning, Fletcher Advertising," Lucinda's cheery voice came through the phone.

  The chaplain introduced herself and told her that Mr. Wiggins was on the phone. She handed the phone to him and then he took over.

  "Yes, good morning. Is Emma there, please?"

  "Oh, I’m sorry, you've just missed them. She left already with-" Lucinda stopped herself. Though it was Emma’s grandfather and she knew a little about his situation, she had to respect company privacy policy. She was about to divulge too much information for a receptionist.

  Mr. Wiggins sounded disappointed then shifted his tone of voice. "Well, I'll speak to her when she gets back from New York with her fiancé then."

  "Excuse me?" Lucinda sounded shocked. Puzzled. Perhaps she hadn't heard Mr. Wiggins correctly. He must learn to speak up when talking on the phone, he thought to himself.

  "Her fiancé. Evan." He emphasized and enunciated with more clarity, his voice volume cranked up a notch. "She's with Evan, right?"

  "Yes," Lucinda responded slowly with an air of what sounded like shock to Mr. Wiggins. He fobbed it off.

  "When Emma gets back from New York with her fiancé Evan, please tell her I'll call her." He exhaled sharply.

  When Mr. Wiggins hung up the phone, he shook his head, grinned at the chaplain, and tsked. “These people. Hard of hearing. Too much loud music probably.”

  The chaplain smiled.

  When Lucinda got off the phone with Emma’s grandfather, she’d thought that was the strangest call she’d ever received.

  Emma?

  Evan?

  Fiancé?

  What the hell did I miss?

  Her eyes narrowed as she gaped at the vacant double door leading to reception—where Emma and Evan just walked through to head to the airport. Together. The wheels in her head spun madly.

  Just what the hell is going on?

  She glanced at the Rolodex on her desk and immediately started to flip through it for a phone number.

  10

  "So. You had breakfast?" Evan glanced at Emma as they made their way through the airport terminal. They had already checked in and were through airport security.

  "Actually, I didn't have time this morning."

  “Good. Let’s go grab something to eat over here.” He still looked appealing, Emma thought, even though he had his bag slung over his shoulder with his laptop in it. He had on his shades which made him look, oh, so hot!

  They made their way over to a café near their boarding gate and sat down after Evan eyed a nice spot by the window looking into the terminal. It had a comfy booth. Private. They had at least forty minutes prior to boarding the plane. They had arrived extra early and the flight was already delayed.

  "So, what are you two having today?" the cheerful young waitress asked as she approached them. It was certainly a fancier-than-most café in the airport. One glance at the menu and Emma was sure it was one of the more upscale cafés for sure. The prices were through the roof. Still, the cosy environment and dim lit lights made the atmosphere more than comfortable.

  They ordered a full breakfast with two coffees, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and hotcakes on the side with Canadian maple syrup. Emma thought of her mother at that instant for some reason.

  Her mouth watered. Her stomach grumbled. She hoped Evan could not hear it through her belly. But with all the noise in the restaurant, the clanking of dishes in adjacent eateries, and the constant overhead paging, she’d think not.

  "All set for your first big client trip?" Evan turned his attention to her. His eyes were sparkling, dark, sexy. She really needed to stop conjuring visions of him.

  Naked.

  In her bed.

  Beside her.

  No, the seductive ambiance of the café didn’t help much. She had to remember to keep at the forefront of her mind, he's my boss. My boss. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  "Oh, definitely. I’m really looking forward to the challenge. I think it would be fabulous to get the campaign going this month. Being spring and everything and ahead of the busy June month of weddings."

  Evan nodded in agreement.

  They began talking about the shoot, what to expect, the client, and their trip to New York.

  Emma secretly hoped they would be able to get in a little bit of sightseeing before they departed the Big Apple. She just couldn’t go all that way and not get a little tour of the landmarks, the hotspots. She hadn’t been to New York since she was nine-years-old and didn't even remember what it was like. She’d visited a cousin in the early days and only had memories of their sweeping estate in Long Island.

  She just had to go to Times Square. She’d noticed that the headquarters of Weddings R Us was not that far from Times Square in lower Manhattan—New York’s famous island.

  She was excited, giddy almost, just thinking about her business trip. Of all the places, of all the clients, she’d really lucked out by having her new client's head office in the heart of New York.

  The meal had finally arrived. Talk about fast, attentive service.

  After offering a quick, whispered grace, Emma dug in to her tray.

  "You know, that's what I love about you." Evan sat grinning at her as she took a mouthful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. She couldn’t swallow.

  "Excuse me?" she responded, puzzled.

  The word "love" came out of his beautiful curved lips followed by the word "you." Was she hearing things all of a sudden? Could there be a more perfect combination of words?

  "I notice that you always say your grace before you eat. Even in a fast food joint. You're not afraid to show your gratitude. Remarkable. Just so you know, many people don’t do that. Not these days." His voice was deep and low. Seductive. Very relaxed. She didn’t think she could help herself now. She really wanted to reach over and hug and squeeze him. She noticed lovers over by the next booth and wished to goodness they were not travelling on business but as lovers going to the Big Apple for some fun. Passion.

  She didn’t know how to respond. She felt self-conscious more than anything. She really needed to work on accepting compliments more readily. Wait a minute, had he been watching her during their business lunches together, even when they were in a group? God, he was observant. She tried to be discreet about saying grace in public. Not that she was hiding it, of course. Just not to be so obvious about it.

  "Thanks,” she uttered and blushed. She really didn’t know how she would finish her breakf
ast. She was glad he suggested having a full breakfast at the café, since most domestic flights, especially on short trips, didn’t serve meals. Not even snacks these days.

  Evan shovelled in a mouthful of his eggs and sausage as he listened for their boarding call. His eyes glanced around. There were others eating quickly and laughing, talking. When his eyes travelled to the far window where he could see the airplanes lined up, he was thankful the sky was clear, blue, and bright. He loved travelling when the weather was stable. Not that a little turbulence turned him off flying. He merely hated long delays, landing in strange cities until the weather or storm cleared up in the destination where he would be close to landing.