Mad Bad and Blonde

by Cathie Linz

  He’d definitely made a difference in her life. He’d opened up to her in ways she’d never expected. Not that he’d ever be the kind of guy to bare his soul, but he let her see him as he was.

  They’d spent all their spare time together, but Caine had yet to say how he felt about her. He’d shown her, though, in so many ways. She told herself to be patient, to enjoy the romantic road they were traveling together and not jump ahead to some happy ending. She needed to live in the moment.

  “When you’re in the Scouts Seating section, servers bring your drink and food to your seats, you know,” she said.

  “So now it’s all about the food? I thought it was all about the game.”

  “It is.”

  “You’re not going to order sushi, are you?”

  “No, although they do offer it here.”

  “That’s just wrong. Ballpark dogs and beer. That’s baseball food.”

  “Speaking of baseball, there have been some memorable Crosstown games over the years. In 2008 Mark Buehrle threw for seven innings and struck out five. Then there was that infamous game in 2006 when Cubs player Michael Barrett punched A. J. Pierzynski, and the White Sox won in a shutout seven to nothing.”

  Their seats were great. Faith was nearly hoarse by the time the seventh inning stretch came around with the obligatory “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” As soon as that was over, “Don’t Stop Believin’” started playing in the background.

  Caine turned to Faith and peeled off his Cubs T-shirt to reveal a White Sox one beneath. “I’m a new man because of you,” he said.

  She blinked. “You don’t have to change because of me.”

  He dropped to one knee and removed a pair of sandals from his backpack. They were identical to the pair she’d left behind in Positano.

  “You know the story of Cinderella, right? Well, think of this as a kind of reverse Cinderella, because you’re not down on your luck, and I’m no prince, but I’ve got sandals from Positano meant just for you, made for you.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. The sandals looked exactly like the ones she’d left behind, only this pair was new. Afraid she’d been hit with a foul ball and was dreaming, she looked up and saw, on the other side of the field . . . wait . . . was that them on the JumboTron? No way she’d dream that.

  Faith heard the ballpark announcers say over the loudspeaker system, “What is that guy doing? He’s got a pair of shoes in his hand.”

  “Looks like he may strike out with that offering,” the other announcer said.

  “I love you, Faith,” Caine said. Reaching into his backpack again, he removed a ring box this time. “Will you marry me?” He looked at her expectantly. “What do you say?”

  Her Dark Knight was proposing? He loved her? What would Jane Austen do? She’d say, “Yes, sir, I shall marry you,” instead of shrieking, tugging Caine to his feet, and kissing him so hard he nearly dropped the ring.

  And it was an incredible ring; she saw that now as he slid it onto her trembling finger. He’d chosen an antique Edwardian setting with intricate lacy filigree work and a beautiful diamond. Jane Austen would definitely approve. So did Faith.

  “I don’t need a prince,” she said fiercely. “I need backup. You’re my backup.”

  “And you’re mine.”

  She kissed him amid cheers and applause from the stadium crowd.

  “Wait, it looks like this guy may have hit a home run after all,” the announcer said. “And now, let’s get back to the game.”

  Faith was in a fog until the game ended with the White Sox winning by a narrow margin—five to four.

  When she and Caine reached the special exit for their section, they were greeted by Buddy and Weldon.

  “I’m trying to convert Weldon to the joys of baseball,” Buddy said before thumping Caine on the back in congratulations. “Holy cow! That was some game, huh? And did you see some crazy guy proposing? Looked a lot like you.”

  “It was me, but you knew that.” Caine grinned.

  So did Faith, who hugged both Buddy and Weldon before being engulfed in a huge hug by Megan. “That was so romantic! Jane Austen would be so proud.”

  Faith nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t know you were at the game today.”

  “I’m not the only one.” Megan stepped aside to reveal Faith’s parents standing behind her.

  Faith’s mom was crying and laughing at the same time. “I told you this was a good idea,” Faith’s dad told Caine.

  “You said it was a brilliant idea,” Caine corrected him.

  “Yeah, well, I guess this means I should start planning another big wedding,” Faith’s dad said.

  “Actually, Caine and I were thinking of eloping,” Faith said.

  “That’s right. How does Las Vegas sound?” Caine said.

  “Today?” Megan yelped.

  “Not today,” Faith said. “But soon. And you’re all invited.”

  When Caine pulled her into his arms, Faith knew this was meant to be. No doubts, no reservations, no strikes, no outs. She’d won big time. She’d won it all.

  Turn the page for a preview of the next contemporary romance from Cathie Linz

  Luck Be a Lady

  Coming November 2010 from Berkley Sensation!

  It was the perfect day for a wedding. Thank God the groom showed up this time. Megan West couldn’t deal with a repeat of her cousin Faith’s last attempt to get married when the groom took off.

  But that was then, and this was now. A new groom made all the difference in the world. Now, former Marine Caine Hunter would be at Faith’s side. Megan was so pleased Faith had found Caine—the man of her dreams.

  “You were smart to come here to Las Vegas and have a small ceremony with only a few close friends and family,” Megan told Faith as the two of them completed their final preparations for the big event. “And having it here at the Venetian was brilliant.”

  Faith grinned. “I thought so.”

  Megan was determined that everything go right this time around. And the magical location sure helped. The instant you entered the Venetian’s lobby with its mosaic Italian marble floors and colorful fresco ceilings, you knew you were somewhere special. And that was a good thing because Megan fiercely believed that Faith deserved the best.

  Faith was like a sister to her. They’d been born two days apart and grew up two blocks apart. Even now, back in Chicago as adults, they lived within walking distance of each other in their Streeterville neighborhood. But now Faith was going to become a married woman. And Megan wasn’t.

  Megan told herself it was natural to be emotional leading up to today. Not that she gave any sign of what she considered to be her inner wimp. That wasn’t her way.

  Instead she focused her energies on making this day the best of Faith’s life. And after that . . . well, there were plenty of things for a nongambling librarian like Megan to do while here in Vegas. Plenty of things for her to do right here at the Venetian—the unique stores, the singing gondoliers, the gelato, the Hermitage art museum adjacent to the lobby. Megan would be able to check them all out later this weekend. First she had to get Faith safely married to Caine.

  “We’re actually a little ahead of schedule, if you can believe that,” Megan said as she checked her appearance in the mirror on the wall. She and Faith were waiting in a small room designated for brides just off the wedding chapel area. Like the rest of the hotel it was elaborately decorated in creams and gold.

  “The Venetian was one of my favorite places when I lived here in Vegas and worked at the library,” Faith said. “And since Caine and I met in Italy, it seemed like a nice vibe to add to the ceremony without having to return to the Amalfi Coast. Not that I wouldn’t love to go back there. But this time we’re honeymooning in New Zealand. And I’m not honeymooning alone. Not that I really was alone last time because I met Caine there, on my supposed honeymoon trip that I took on my own. I’m babbling, right? Yes, I’m incoherently babbling. I babble when I’m nervous. But I’m not really n
ervous. Should I be nervous? Are you nervous?”

  “I’m not nervous,” Megan said.

  “Because you’re not the bride and you’re the optimist in the family.”

  “No, because I know Caine would never let you down.” Megan was getting tired of being the optimist in the family but it was hard to change her image after all this time. Sure, Faith had become a blonde with an edgy look, but that wasn’t Megan’s style.

  One former beau had described Megan as the girl-next-door type with her dark brown hair, blue eyes and freckles. Megan wasn’t sure she liked being a “type.” She knew one thing for sure—her fashion style was vintage. The classic 1950s dress she was wearing as a bridesmaid was a perfect example. The pintucked black taffeta-and-velvet dress had a scooped neck and full skirt that made it both classic and elegant.

  Faith looked beautiful in her wedding gown, a simple strapless design. She’d chosen a black-and-white theme with red rose accents for her evening ceremony.

  Staring at their side-by-side reflection in the mirror, Faith said, “When we were growing up on the South Side of Chicago did you ever think we’d end up here with me getting married at the Venetian in Las Vegas?”

  Megan grinned. “Sure. Didn’t you?”

  “I knew we’d both be librarians when we grew up.” Faith grabbed Megan’s hand before turning to face her. “You know you’re more like my sister than my cousin, right?”

  Megan blinked away the tears. “Yeah, I know. Now don’t make me cry.” She waved her free hand in front of her face. “My mascara will run.”

  “Oh, no. What would Jane Austen say?” Faith teased her.

  “Funny how you ended up going back to Jane Austen after trying to come up with some other incarnation,” Megan said.

  “Funny how you didn’t have a similar identity crisis.”

  Megan had learned early in life that a crisis was not a good thing. Just one of the ways that she and Faith were different. Faith had grown up with both parents. Megan hadn’t. Sure, her dad had done his best to be there for her, but he couldn’t replace a mother. Faith’s mom had done her best too, and Megan loved her to bits for trying. But it wasn’t the same.

  As if on cue, Faith’s mom entered the room. “How are things going in here? Everything under control?”

  “Absolutely.” Today Megan was all about control. The music, the flowers, the seating arrangement for the ceremony, the meal afterward. She’d checked and double-checked it all.

  “You two.” Faith’s mom blinked back tears, unable to continue, and instead simply cupped their cheeks.

  Megan was well aware that the number two was a recurring theme in her life. She and Faith were born two days apart and lived two blocks apart. Megan’s dad was two years younger than Faith’s dad and two inches shorter. Megan’s mom had died when she was two. Megan had only had sex with two men in her life.

  Okay, she was so not going there today. This was all about Faith, not her. The only setback in the wedding plans had occurred when Caine’s best man had to have emergency surgery two days ago and hadn’t been able to make the trip. Again with the number two. Megan and Faith’s paternal grandmother was dating crusty private investigator and retired cop Buddy Doyle, who’d stepped in as a last-minute replacement. Otherwise, everything was going smoothly.

  Which was the way Megan liked it. Maybe it was the librarian in her wanting to keep things orderly. She didn’t subscribe to the chaos theory in life. To her way of thinking, things were always better when they were organized and categorized. Like this wedding . . .

  “Are you ready?” Megan asked.

  Faith nodded.

  “Okay then.” Megan handed her the colorful Romanza bouquet of fresh, red-tipped roses and greenery. “Let’s go.”

  Faith’s dad met them right outside the Venetian’s wedding chapel. This was no Elvis impersonator drive-through wedding location. This was the elegant side of Las Vegas.

  Megan walked toward the front of the room to the accompaniment of Pachelbel’s Canon. There were about a dozen guests present.

  Megan’s eyes teared up again when she saw the look of love on Caine’s face as he got his first view of his bride-to-be. The two of them were meant for each other.

  The ceremony was simple but moving. The minister said, “I now pronounce you—”

  The doors at the back of the chapel flew open and a man ran into the room to bark out an order. “Stop the wedding!”

  Logan Doyle hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours. He’d just worked a double shift before hopping a plane to Vegas at his family’s insistence. Did they care that he was sleep-deprived? No. He had a job to do and they expected him to do it.

  Logan stared at the people gathered at the front of the room. Two women, two men and a minister. The brunette in a black dress was the first to react. She marched up to him while the others momentarily stood in stunned silence.

  “I don’t know who you are and I don’t care. You are not ruining my cousin’s wedding. She’s been through enough shinola. Leave right now.”

  Shinola? Logan frowned. Who said shinola anymore? No one outside his grandfather’s age group.

  “Gramps, you can’t do this,” Logan called out.

  “Who are you calling Gramps?” the groom growled.

  “Him.” Logan pointed to Buddy. “My grandfather, Buddy Doyle. I’m Logan. Logan Doyle.”

  All eyes turned to Buddy, whose face was flushed. “You’re ruining my surprise.”

  “What surprise?” Megan demanded. She was not having another wedding go down the drain. Her cousin deserved better.

  “Ingrid has agreed to marry me,” Buddy said defiantly. “And we thought since we’re here in Las Vegas we’d tie the knot.”

  “Wait your turn,” Megan growled. “This is Faith’s wedding. Faith and Caine’s. No one else’s.” She turned to the bemused minister. “Finish what you started.”

  “I now pronounce you man and wife,” he said hastily. “You may kiss the bride.”

  Everyone applauded while Caine took his time kissing his new bride.

  “You two . . .” Megan grabbed Buddy’s arm with one hand and Logan’s with the other. “Come with me.”

  She marched them both outside onto the nearby terrace with its soothing fountain. “Talk about stealing the limelight, Buddy. What were you thinking?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer before turning her wrath on Logan. “And you. What were you thinking barging in the middle of a wedding and trying to stop it? What have you got against your grandfather getting married?”

  “Who are you?” Logan said.

  “I’m the woman who is going to make your life miserable if you don’t answer me.”

  Logan was impressed by her cleavage and her long legs, but mostly by her moxie. She was tall but still a good five or six inches shorter than his six-foot-two frame, yet she stood toe-to-toe with him, refusing to back down despite his cop look, the one that got criminals to nervously back up.

  “She’s Ingrid’s granddaughter, Megan,” Buddy said.

  Logan frowned. “I thought the bride was the granddaughter.”

  “Ingrid has two beautiful granddaughters,” Buddy said. “This is Megan. I’ve been trying to get you two to meet for months but you’re both stubborn people.”

  “He may be stubborn,” Megan said. “I’ve been busy.” She pinned her disapproving gaze on Logan. “You’re a cop, so maybe you’re used to intimidating people and ordering them around. But you have no authority here.”

  So the brunette with the great breasts had a thing against cops, Logan noted. Interesting. She was practically bristling with indignation, which automatically made him calmer. Appearing detached no matter the circumstances, no matter what he was feeling inside, was a critical requirement of a police officer, and one that Logan had long ago perfected. “I have the authority to make sure Buddy doesn’t make a big mistake.”

  “Marrying my grandmother is a not a mistake. If anything, she’s too good for him. No disrespect
, Buddy.” She paused to give him a hug.

  “None taken. I totally agree.”

  “Well, his family doesn’t,” Logan said.

  “What possible reason could they have to disapprove?”

  “The fact that he’s still married.”

  “His first wife passed away. That’s what you said, right, Buddy?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m not talking about his first wife,” Logan said. “I’m talking about his second wife.”

  Megan blinked. “Second wife?”

  “That doesn’t count,” Buddy said. “It only lasted forty-eight hours before I annulled it.”

  “See, here’s the thing,” Logan said. “She didn’t annul it.”

  “She signed the papers.”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  Buddy tugged on his tie. “I thought she did.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Logan nodded.

  “Well, shit.”

  Megan stared at Buddy in stunned surprise. First off, why hadn’t he ever mentioned being married a second time? And second, he’d made a big deal out of giving up cursing forever yet he’d just slipped up for the first time since Megan had met him.

  “You can’t be engaged to one woman and still married to another,” she said.

  “I know that.”

  “And you certainly can’t commit bigamy,” Logan said.

  “I know that too,” Buddy growled.

  Megan stared at Logan as if searching for answers. He didn’t appear to have any, but he did have the kind of dark good looks that no doubt had women swarming over him at cop bars all over the city. Black Irish some called it, with black hair and moody blue eyes. It didn’t matter. She was immune.

  Megan was the first to admit that she had a chip on her shoulder where cops were concerned. She had good reason, not that it was any business of Logan’s.