“Lu, like you said, you know me. I’m not planning to hurt anyone.”
“No, I’m sure you’re not, but you be careful anyway, ’cause now that I think about it, the only one gettin’ hurt around here might be you.”
“Ready?” asked the angel in white.
“Yeah, I’m—” Finn looked up, only to have his heart lurch at the sight of her. He’d always fancied himself as preferring redheads, but this blond-haired beauty had brushed her curls into an adorable halo that looped and swirled about the heart-shaped contours of her face. She’d applied a light coat of lipstick that accentuated the faint swelling caused by his kiss. Whew, Mitch sure had improved his taste in women! “I’m ready,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to get the car.”
“That’s okay. Once you get the keys out, probably with what you’ve had to drink, it’s better that I drive. We wouldn’t want anything to further delay our trip to the chapel, would we?”
No. Hell no.
To Lu, his angel said, “Ma’am, it was sure nice meeting you, and thank you for—” she held up a wadded pink tissue “—for helping me see that Dallas is the only man for me.”
Upon hearing another man’s name in association with Finn, Lu’s eyebrows shot up like a pair of jack-rabbits scared out of their holes. She looked to him, then the woman in white. “You’re welcome, child. And the only thanks I need is the promise you two will share a lifetime worth of happiness.”
That did it.
His bride’s waterworks started all over again, but this time, she turned to Finn for her hugs. Never had he felt more masculine than holding this petite thing in his arms. Never had he felt more in control. This gal was a mighty fine actress, but no one fooled Finn Reilly. He could smell one of Mitch’s tricks from a mile away.
Once she broke her hug, Finn slipped his arm around her slight waist and led her out of the bar as fast as his black dress boots could scoot.
Outside, feet firmly planted on the pea gravel driveway, his gaze aimed at the stars, Finn gulped gallons of the crisp fall air. Had there ever been a luckier man than he? Yep, having Mitch arrange for this fallen angel to enter his life was just about the best damned shot of blind luck he’d ever had. Winning this bet was not only going to be easy, but a ton of fun.
Confirming that thought, his bride snuggled close, resting her head on his chest. Her soft curls tickled the bottom of his chin. He’d always liked it when a woman fit him—even a woman he was only pretending to like.
He and Vivian had stood eye to eye. She’d been a bad fit.
“Dallas?” Lilly said.
“Yeah?”
“I just want you to know, before tomorrow, that I really appreciate you doing this for me. And…and one day, I hope we’ll not just share a marriage license, but maybe even a special friendship.”
A special friendship? Ugh.
Time to raise the stakes.
“Dallas?”
Not thinking, just doing, Finn cinched her closer, planting his lips atop hers for a powerful kiss.
“Mmm, Dallas,” she said on a sigh that was more of a purr.
She started kissing him back, but the voltage of their second embrace caught Finn off guard and he pulled away.
Nope.
No way had he enjoyed that marathon smooch to the degree his racing heart implied.
To prove he was still in complete control of not only the situation, but his feelings, he kissed his bride-to-be all over again. When she mewed her pleasure, he fought to hold back a moan. Lord, they were good together.
Had he and Vivian ever been like this? Maybe once, or maybe he’d only wished they could be. Damn, what was happening to him? He knew better than to be sucked into the spell of another conniving woman.
“Mmm, Dallas.” She pulled away with a whispery sigh. “I didn’t know that outside of the movies a kiss could be that good.”
They usually weren’t. “Yeah…well, what can I say?”
She smiled and the heartbreaking beauty of it nearly stole the breath from his lungs. “I know what I’d like you to say.”
“What’s that?”
“Ask me to marry you. I’ve read it in your letters, but I’ve never heard you say it. Say it, Dallas. Please.” As strong as Lilly had felt only moments earlier, Dallas’s kiss had left her that weak. Her knees felt rubbery and her chest strangely tight with anticipation and tingling warmth. Was a marriage of convenience supposed to be this much fun?
“How can I ask you to marry me when I don’t know your name?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, your, ah, full name.”
Thank goodness. Her full name. Of course. She’d almost been back to her original worry that maybe this man wasn’t Dallas after all. “My given name is Lillian Diane Churchill. But, please, feel free to keep on calling me Lilly. There’s no need for you to get formal on me now.”
“Okay, Lilly…” He paused after drawling the l’s. Never before had just hearing her name brought such heady pleasure. “Will you marry me?”
Would she marry him? She’d follow him to the end of the earth and back—that is, assuming he never lied to her. Elliot had lied, and look what she’d gotten from him. That’s why she knew things were going to work out great with Dallas. Their relationship was based upon total honesty.
She licked her lips, took a deep breath and committed every second of this moment to memory. She’d remember the way Dallas smelled, like…well, a little like beer and cigarette smoke, but beneath all that, she detected citrus aftershave and a distinctly delicious scent that was all him—and soon to be all hers! “Yes, Dallas. Of course, I’ll marry you.”
“Good. Then how about you and me getting this show on the road?”
“Mr. Lebeaux, it would be my pleasure.”
“Who’s Mr. Lebeaux?”
“Oh, Dallas,” she said, her giddy laugh carrying across the still night air. “You’re so funny.”
Not so funny, though, was when, a few minutes later, Dallas calmly opened her car’s passenger door to reach for her keys. How could she have been so scatterbrained as to not even check the other door to see if it was unlocked?
“This is embarrassing,” she mumbled. She would have added that since finding out about the baby, she hadn’t been feeling herself, but the problem was that incidents like this were exactly herself. Good grief, she was soon going to be a mother. She had to start being more responsible.
“There you go,” Finn said. Wearing a bemused grin, he handed her a wad of interconnected souvenir key chains. “Guess we’ll chalk this incident up to bridal jitters.”
“I’m afraid it’s more than that,” she said, placing her hand protectively over her tummy.
“Oh? Confession time?”
“Only on the matter that you’re about to wed a misfit. I thought our marriage would instantly transform me, but so far, I guess it hasn’t worked.”
“We’re not hitched yet,” he pointed out. “Maybe saying those all-important vows