Overnight Wife

by Mollie Molay

“No, ma’am.” Not yet, anyway.

  “Have you ever done anything the authorities could want you for?”

  “No, never,” he assured her with a straight face. That wasn’t strictly true, either. It depended on which country and which authorities she was talking about.

  “I’ve never even gotten a traffic ticket,” he went on. “For that matter, I don’t even own a car. I’m on the road too much to be bothered with one.”

  “You’re positive?”

  “I’m positive. You’ll have to take me at my word,” he said solemnly. “And for your information, I’m not the guy in the wanted photograph, either.”

  “You’re willing to swear to all that?”

  “I swear,” Luke answered, raising his unencumbered right hand. “Why are you so concerned? You’ll never see me again after tomorrow.”

  “I just wanted to make sure,” Arden answered, looking down at the fake wedding ring. “After all, even though I hardly know you, I have told people I’m your wife.” She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as someone opened a service door and a blast of cold blew snow and ice inside.

  “What’s there to know?” Luke answered. If he told her the truth, he’d probably wind up alone. Gazing at her earnest expression, somehow he wasn’t ready for that to happen. Not yet. But he owed her some kind of answer. “I’m just a guy trying to earn a living.”

  “Married?” she ventured.

  “Yeah, to you,” Luke said, mentally counting to ten. Before she was through, she’d probably want to know his birthday, how much he’d weighed at birth and if he had his own teeth. “Sorry, I’m not very exciting.”

  The expression on her face and the look in her eyes told him she thought otherwise. The poor soul actually thought he was exciting.

  “Perhaps,” she answered. “But you have to admit things have been a little unusual tonight.”

  Unusual! Luke shook his head. Only someone as unsophisticated as Arden would call the night’s events “a little unusual.” A more worldly woman would have turned and run for her life by now.

  “Come on, Mrs. McCauley, let’s go and get warm. I’d offer you my coat, but I can’t get it off with this blasted thing chained to my wrist. Maybe if we stay put and mind our own business, everyone will forget we’re here.”

  No sooner were they settled between two other weary couples, than there was another interruption.

  “Sorry, folks, you’ll have to move while we clean up this section.”

  Luke snapped to attention. A burly maintenance man with a trash barrel on wheels and an industrial vacuum at his side stood contemplating them. It took a second warning before someone turned off the radio. Luke could hear disgruntled growls at the man’s announcement, even muttered threats. Considering all he’d been through tonight, he was tempted to add a few of his own.

  “What do you mean, you have to clean this section? Take a look around you. In the first place, the airport’s crowded. In the second place, it doesn’t look as if there’s any other place to go to that’s not already full of people.”

  “Sorry. Just doing my job. I always start cleaning up after the last flight’s gone. You folks can come back when I’m through if you want.”

  “The last flight hasn’t gone anywhere, or hadn’t you heard?” Luke asked, disgusted at the new turn of events. If he could have foreseen the way this last job of his was going to turn out, he might have refused it. On the other hand, it presented a one-in-a-million opportunity. He couldn’t have passed it up.

  The maintenance man crossed his arms and shrugged.

  Luke put a lid on his temper.

  “Sorry, Arden, it looks as if we have to vacate the premises for a while.”

  “You don’t suppose we could find something to eat? I’ve just realized how hungry I am.”

  “I doubt it. The food concessions are closed by now.”

  “Some of the gift shops are still open,” the maintenance man offered. “My wife always says that when there’s nothing else to do, it’s time to go shopping.”

  “We’ve already gone shopping,” Arden remarked, frowning down at her ring finger.

  “That’s okay,” Luke said hurriedly before she could add anything else. “We can do it again.”

  “A few of the portable bars are open,” the janitor said. “I heard there’s some beer left in that one over there.” He motioned to a bar about fifty feet away. “Better hurry, it can’t last much longer.”

  “Great.” Arden shuddered, remembering her first taste of beer under Margo’s tutelage. “According to my father, liquor is the first step on the road to hell.”

  “Not to worry,” Luke said as he put his arm around her shoulders. “If this were hell, it would be a lot warmer than this. Besides, you were the one who said you wanted a drink earlier. Why don’t you just look at it this way; you’ll be drinking to keep warm.”

  “I’m not too sure about that,” Arden said doubtfully. “Anyway, I just realized how hungry I am. I didn’t have any dinner. Maybe there’s something left over at the gift shop. Their lights are still on, and I can see some people shopping.”

  “Okay, but I can sure use a drink,” Luke answered with a wishful look as they passed the portable bar.

  “Oh, look!” She pointed to a whimsical music box that was playing “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.” A miniature Santa, his sled and the full team of reindeer revolved on the red enamel cover. Humming along with the music, she searched the counters for something edible.

  The candy counter was bare except for a few packages of gum. The usual cellophane packets of nuts and pretzels were gone, too. Throughout the shop, there were a few wrapped Christmas presents, the usual I Love New York T-shirts and caps and souvenir trinkets. Newspaper, book and magazine racks were almost bare.

  “Don’t you have any munchies left?” Arden asked the weary attendant. “I’m starved.”

  “You and about a thousand other people,” the clerk answered sympathetically. “Wait a minute,” she added as she took in Arden’s bedraggled appearance and drooping smile. She disappeared under the counter and came up with a small box of cookies. “They’re stale, but I’m afraid this is it. I was about to throw them away.”

  Gingersnaps. The last cookie Arden cared to eat unless she was starving. But these were extenuating circumstances and she was starving. She hesitated.

  Luke’s hand reached over her shoulder and handed the clerk a couple of dollar bills. “We’ll take them,” he told her. “I’m sure they’ll go great with beer. Come on, I don’t want to miss out.”

  He grabbed Arden by the arm and pulled her along after him. The briefcase swung between them, banging against her already sore back, middle and hip. If she weren’t black-and-blue on both sides of her body already, Arden was sure she was well on the way.

  “Are you sure you can’t do something about that briefcase?” she asked.

  “Not now,” he answered. “We have more important things to worry about”

  “You wouldn’t think so if you were as bruised as I am,” Arden said rubbing her hip.

  “Two beers, please,” Luke said, ignoring her comment as he elbowed his way to the bar.

  “Lucky you came along just now,” the bartender announced. “I only have a couple of beers left. To be honest with you,” he added, “they’re kind of warm. We ran out of ice hours ago.”

  “I’ll take ‘em,” Luke replied. “They can’t be that warm. Not while it’s been so cold in here.” He reached for his wallet. “Any pretzels?”

  “You’re kidding!” the jovial man laughed. “I could make a fortune if I had anything fit to eat.” He handed Luke change for his twenty and untied his short bartender’s apron. “Make yourselves comfortable,” he said, gesturing to a small plastic table and chairs alongside the bar. “Guess I can go on home now. That is, if I can make it to the subway. I’ll bet half of the city must be holed up down there trying to keep warm.”

  Arden envied the man. The thought of going home t
o a warm house and a festive Christmas Eve dinner was almost too much for her to bear thinking about, especially on an empty stomach. She eyed the open bottle of beer Luke handed her warily.

  “What’s the matter. Don’t you like beer?”

  “No,” Arden replied. “And I’m afraid it’s the only kind of liquor I’ve tasted before.”

  “Not even wine?”

  “No,” she said as she thought of her father’s lectures on the subject of alcohol. “My father didn’t believe in spirits. Not even coffee, for that matter. Of course, just like anyone else, I’ve been tempted,” she said, remembering her experiment with beer. “In fact, ginger ale with a twist and pink lemonade punch were going to be served at my wedding reception.”

  “On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t start drinking tonight, either,” Luke said reaching for the bottle.

  “No, really. I want to try it again.” She took a deep breath. “As a matter of fact, I intend to start doing a lot of new things after tonight.”

  No wonder Arden was set on finding excitement, Luke thought as he studied her flushed face. With an upbringing like hers, she was bound to break loose sooner or later. Luckily it was tonight, when he was there to keep an eye out for her.

  “Drinking on an empty stomach is the last thing anyone ought to do,” he remarked. “Sure you don’t want to have a cookie with that?”

  Arden gazed down at the warm bottle of beer. Liquor hadn’t been on her “wanted” list. Her intentions had been better than that.

  Except that her father had always told her the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

  Arden raised the tepid bottle to her lips and took an exploratory swallow. She’d had her fill of wise sayings. Enough was enough.

  “Ugh!”

  Luke offered her a cookie. “Here, eat this. It’ll improve the taste.”

  She bit into the stale gingersnap, wiped crumbs off her chin and shuddered again. “I’m beginning to think maybe my father was right about drinking.”

  “Maybe so,” Luke answered. “But for all the wrong reasons. Here,” he added hurriedly when she made another face, “let me take that before you make yourself sick. I can see you’re definitely not a beer person.”

  “How about the champagne?” Arden questioned wistfully.

  “Champagne?” Luke glanced at the unopened bottle Arden was still carrying with her. “You heard the guard. The only liquor you can consume on public property is at a bar.”

  “Then it’s okay. This is a bar!”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Luke answered. With all the other things he had to worry about, the last thing he needed was an inebriated Arden.

  “Isn’t champagne usually served at wedding receptions?”

  “Right,” Luke agreed reluctantly.

  “And weren’t we supposed to have been married this afternoon?”

  “Sort of, if you want to look at it that way. Here, have some more cookies while I get the bottle opened.” Luke was resigned to his fate. Arden’s logic was more right than wrong. “After all, what’s a proper wedding celebration without champagne?” he muttered. He went behind the bar and came back with a bottle opener and two plastic glasses.

  “You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked as he removed the cork, and champagne spurted from the bottle. “Drinking on an empty stomach isn’t the brightest idea.”

  Arden waved her hand airily. “I’ll just have one small glass to celebrate the occasion. That can’t be enough to make me sick.”

  “I hope not,” Luke prayed under his breath. But it would be just his luck.

  “Here.” He handed her a glass with an inch of champagne it in. “Go slowly. And if anyone asks you where you got the champagne, I’m going to deny everything.”

  “I’ll drink the evidence,” she giggled as the champagne bubbles tickled her nose. “Say, that feels good. How about some more?”

  “Sorry,” Luke said. “Time to quit while you’re ahead of the game.”

  “Listen,” Arden said softly. “It’s really Christmas!”

  The Honeymoon Express passengers had drifted to an area across from the bar where Arden and Luke were sitting. Accompanied by the guitarist and a CD player, the honeymoon couples had gathered in circles and had formed a choir. Christmas carols filled the air.

  “Yes, it is,” Luke answered as he glanced at his wristwatch, grateful, for the moment anyway, there was peace on earth.

  If the freak storm hadn’t hit the east coast, the tour group would have been gathered under a fake Christmas tree in a tropical setting provided by the tour company. What was a Christmas without snow?

  Half an hour later, to the sound of “Silent Night,” everyone settled down to sleep on benches and on the floor against the wall. The vacuum cleaner hummed in the background.

  Champagne bottle in hand, Luke led Arden to a vacant spot in the corner.

  “You know, I have to admit this is the strangest Christmas I’ve ever spent,” Luke remarked when they were settled and he wrapped his overcoat around them. “How about you?”

  “One of the best!”

  “The best?” Luke looked around at the mass of sleeping people and hundreds more milling in the terminal. “How could this holiday possibly be one of the best?”

  “Well,” she answered with a shy smile, “I met you.”

  Luke’s heart slipped another notch. Rapidly regretting the impulsive invitation that had brought them together, he was afraid Arden was getting the wrong kind of message. If she thought this arrangement was going to be permanent, she was all wrong.

  “Yeah, we met.” Luke glanced down at the mop of golden curls nestled under his chin. Her left hand rested on his knee; the bubble-gum-machine wedding ring shone on her finger. She looked like a wife, she acted like a wife.

  And he was beginning to feel like a husband.

  In spite of all the strange things that had happened to him throughout his years of travel, tonight was fast becoming the most unusual experience of his life.

  “You’re right,” he agreed. “Tonight has been quite an experience, for both of us. Even if we both lost everything we had in the process.” Except for the damn briefcase.

  “Not really,” Arden replied with a sleepy sigh. “Those were only material things. Things that money can replace. I don’t miss them one bit. What’s more important is that I’ve found I could make it on my own in spite of my father’s predictions.”

  On her own? Taken aback by her comment, Luke looked down at Arden. She may have discovered an inner strength that would carry her through tonight’s adventures, but what did she think he’d been doing for her all along?

  Chapter Six

  She could make it on her own?

  Luke smiled to himself, settled back against the wall and looked down at Arden’s unruly mop of golden hair resting against his chest. Hair that reminded him of a summer sunset in a tropical sky just before it sank below the horizon in a blaze of color.

  He wasn’t normally a big believer in fate. Maybe it was the season’s air of goodwill that was making him emotional tonight. A feeling he’d taken great care to avoid in his line of business. He’d learned early on never to get too close to anyone. But it was creeping up on him tonight in spite of his good intentions.

  Maybe it was because of the way she’d declared her independence to her father on the telephone, or the way she’d jumped to his defense when he was in danger of being arrested that caused him to think of her differently. What was obvious was she was stronger than he’d thought when he’d first laid eyes on her. Considering her background, it took a lot of courage to walk out of her wedding and to confront the law.

  Whatever fate had brought them out of a storm and put them here together on Christmas Eve, he was beginning to realize there was more to the woeful bride than met the eye. If nothing else, she was definitely a lot more intriguing now than she’d been at first glance. And that was saying a lot!

  A new and unwelcome emotion st
irred in his chest as he realized he’d begun to think about Arden Crandall in a new and disturbing manner.

  But as for Arden being able to take care of herself in the world outside of the airport terminal, that was a whole different story. He knew from long experience there were predators out there waiting to eat her innocence alive.

  He had only to remember the way she’d taken him at his word that he was an honest man to know she was too trusting to be left on her own for the rest of the night. He was honest, he told himself. At least he had been until now. But who knew what kind of con artist might find her later?

  Which brought him to the thought that had begun to trouble him: maybe their paths had crossed for a reason. Maybe some unknown fate meant him to watch over her.

  It was pretty clear to him, if not to Arden, that she needed someone to be her tour guide to the real world. It was also beginning to look as if he was going to have to be that guide. For now, at least

  He gently brushed his fingers across the soft skin on her cheek. As much to reassure her as to satisfy a growing desire to at least touch her skin to see if it was as soft and silky as he thought it was. Her long lashes fluttered as she settled back into her dreams.

  Not that she wasn’t entitled to her dreams. Heck, he had his own dreams, too. And just as she was set on pursuing hers, he intended to take care of his own— as soon as he delivered her to Cancún.

  A man couldn’t live on dreams, but, after all, if you didn’t have a dream, as the song said, how were you going to make a dream come true? After listening to Arden, maybe it was the same for women.

  Thinking about the two of them as a team was probably a losing proposition, anyway, he thought as she stirred against him and murmured in her sleep. Falling for her would be falling for trouble. Especially since she still had her dreams ahead of her. Dreams that would take her down paths he’d already trodden and that he wasn’t particularly interested in revisiting.

  He gently shifted Arden’s head to a more comfortable position on his shoulder and smiled into her hair, when he heard her sleepy murmur of protest.

  “Luke?”

  “Go back to sleep. Everything’s okay,” he whispered in her ear. She nodded and drifted back to sleep.