Sun Chara - A Match Made in Heaven?

“Good thing the floor’s carpeted.” Johnny rubbed the back of his head, his eyes fixed on her. He inhaled, and the air blasted from his mouth in frustration. Her heat hinting of roses had his temperature rising and his belly tensing. He was tempted to grab her by the boot and topple her onto his lap. His groin tightened, and his jaw did the same. He wanted to touch, taste … feel … If he had to marry her prematurely to nix that bozo’s attempt to get her in the sack, so be it.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position and stroked his chin with the back of his hand. Whether he could keep her without exposing his secret was another matter altogether.

“Red here picked me up in a limo …” The jilted groom loomed above him and shoving a finger in his face, distracted his thoughts. “… and dumped me off at the dog pound.”

Sam swiveled around, her brows shooting upward.

“A slight detour.” Johnny bounced back up and a burnished lock flopped over his brow.

“I could have you arrested.” Michael wiped dirt off his chin with his torn sleeve, and an Irish setter pawed his chest. “Down, boy, down,” he strained a croon.

A rotund man elbowed his way through the crowd and confronted Johnny. “You are finished at Global Bank, young man.” He puffed out his chest and grabbed his wife by the arm. “Gertrude, Michael, let’s go.”

“Yes, dad.” Michael tripped after him, trying to extricate himself from the beasts, and shot Johnny a lethal look. “Coming.”

Johnny glanced at Sam smoothing her gown; glad she missed Michael’s hostile darts. Her head snapped up, and she pinned him with her sharp gaze. His heart sank. She must’ve caught on, and the game was up.

“What did you say?” She took a step, then another.

Air whistled from his mouth, and he backtracked.

She advanced.

He leaned back against the church organ, and the keys sounded off cue but nobody noticed.

“When?” He bolted up and averting his eyes, straightened his shirt cuffs. “Did I say what?”

“A couple of minutes ago.”

“You mean when you landed a right hook on my mug?”

“Yeah.”

He feigned a cough; relieved she wasn’t referring to the exiting buffoon. A grin curved his mouth. “I would’ve preferred you hadn’t changed.”

“No.” She shook her head, veils flapping like wings on either side of her shoulders. “Before that.”

“I said that I … uh … love you.”

“You do?”

“The woman still questions my word.” He slapped a hand to his forehead and rolled his eyes heavenward. “If she but knew what I went through to get here—” He blinked, once, twice. Nah, he must be seeing things.

Angels didn’t flitter about the church ceiling chewing bubblegum and dressed in fatigues—hey, did she just wink at him? Must be the stress of the scene, but he could’ve sworn … Chuckling, he shook his head and dismissed the illusion. Just as quickly, a sobering thought flashed through his mind. There must’ve been one tapping on his shoulder earlier, when he made that pit stop at Lucky Lou’s on the Nevada state line.

“You do.” Samantha flung herself into his arms.

“Mmm.” He rained kisses all over her face, hoping he wouldn’t regret the tough decision he made to keep his finances under wraps, for the time being. “Yum, this goop’s candy flavored.”

“Belgian chocolate, lite … low carbs.”

“Could get used to the taste … you.”

“I love you, Johnny Belen.”

The priest coughed. “Is there a wedding to be had?”

“Just a minute.” Sam twisted aside and popped the red lenses from her eyes. After tossing them behind her, she turned to him and looked every inch the radiant bride. Johnny gulped, and hauled her back into his embrace.

“Did you really drop Michael off at the pound?” She muffled a giggle with her veils.

Michael was pressed flat against the back wall and inching his way to the door. A Doberman Pinscher pawed his chest and slurped his face.

“Willie’s Doggie Salon, sweetheart.” Johnny caught sight of his buddy scrambling to round up the animals, and his mouth twitched at the corners. “Start up in Goodsprings, Nevada.”

“Never heard of it—”

“Well, that’s because it’s—”

“Johnny, you trekked across the desert to find me,” she whispered, delighted.

“I did,” he murmured. “The Mojave Desert no less.”

She laughed, the sound ringing off stained glass windows like the bells of St. Mary’s. “Funny man.”

“Yeah.” He swallowed the lump in his throat before it exploded into a confession he might later regret.

“Do you want a wedding or not?” the priest asked in exasperation, but his mouth twitched a smile.

“I do,” she said.

“I do,” he said.

“I pronounce you man and wife.” The priest breathed a sigh of relief and blotted his moist brow with the back of his hand. “You may kiss the bride.”

A sliver of doubt pricked his heart, but when she threw her arms around his neck and smiled, it dissipated. Amidst shrieks and snarling dogs, the sweetest serenade he ever heard, Johnny kissed his Sam.

************

“Honey …” Samantha stood at the kitchen counter mixing pancake batter in a plastic bowl.

“Mmm.” Johnny wrapped his arms around her protruding belly and pushed aside the collar of her sweatshirt, nuzzling her neck.

“Someone’s at the door.” She leaned back against his chest, breath checking in her throat. “Uh … will you get it?”

“No.” He nibbled at her earlobe.

“Jo— ”

He nipped the tip of her ear. “If I must.”

Smiling, she watched him stride from the tiny kitchen. She pressed one hand to the small of her back and rubbed her swelling abdomen with the other. A sigh of contentment slipped from her mouth. The baby was due in three months.

Johnny walked back, pulling the letter from the envelope.

She plopped the spoon in the batter. “What is it?”

He remained silent, perusing the page.

“Johnny?”

“Special delivery.”

“What’s it say?”

He glanced up, not quite meeting her eyes, a wry twist on his mouth. “You don’t want to know.”

Samantha leaned over his shoulder, and the words hit her like a sledgehammer. “Not married!” She snatched the paper from his hand, her gaze riveted on the black bold-faced type. “Not legally married.”She raised her eyes and collided with his look of consternation.

“Is this possible, Johnny?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Dunno.”

Laughter bubbled from her, first softly, then growing louder. She swallowed the hysteria and her shoulders drooped, her face crumbling.

“Sam?”

“We-we’re not married.” She swiped her damp cheeks with the back of her hand, sure her mascara, her one luxury, and pancake batter blended on her face. “A-nd I’m six months pregnant.”

Johnny reached for her, and then let his hand drop by his side. “We can clear this up … sure it’s some kind of mistake.”

She groaned. “Mamma’ll have a royal fit.”

He scowled. “More like she’ll boogie woogie.”

“Wish you two would get alo—” She bit off the words that’d trigger an argument between them and spread her hand across her big belly.

“You okay?” He stepped closer.

“No.”

“Is it the baby?” he asked, his voice uneasy.

“Yes … no … what I mean is … yes, baby’s okay.”

A whistle of relief sounded from his mouth, but got snuffed by her next words.

“But I’m not okay with this bombshell you’ve dropped.” She lifted the spoon from the bowl. “What am I going to do?”