Sally Carleen - A Gift For The Groom

She gave him her dazzling smile just as he charged across the room and snatched the cards out of her fingers, sending the rest of the deck and her ill-gotten pennies flying. It also sent him tumbling into her lap.

How was it possible, in a moment of crisis, that he still noticed she smelled like honeysuckle on a warm summer evening and her skin was as soft and velvety as the petals of a magnolia blossom?

He pushed himself up, endeavouring to get his face out of her midriff and his hands off her thighs, even though his body would have loved to stay right there.

As he struggled to his feet, his gaze met her startled green eyes. Startles, but not horrified, some alien creature in the back of his brain exulted. Startled and maybe just a tittle bit...excited?

“Hold it right there, mister!”

Nick whirled around to see the officer standing with his weapon drawn.

Great. He was going to end up in jail with Analise, both of them growing old and fat together, eating fried eggs and bologna for breakfast every morning. And the way things were going, she’d be in a cell close enough for him to hear her talk all day long but not close enough to touch.

“It’s okay, Joe,” Analise reassured the officer. “This is Nick Claiborne, the man whose car I borrowed. Tell him I didn’t steal it, Nick.”

Joe reholstered his gun but didn’t relax. “Car’s not registered to Nick Claiborne.”

“I told you—” Analise began impatiently, but Joe cut her off.

“You got any proof you rented it from Fred Smith?” He sneered at Nick.

“Have you got any proof I didn’t?” Nick withdrew his wallet, opened it to his private investigator’s license and slammed it onto the desk. “I’m working on a case. Ms. Brewster is my client. I rented the car, and she took it to use this morning.”

“With your permission?”

Nick gritted his teeth but made himself lie. “Yes.”

“Then how come she had to hot-wire it?”

There was a limit to how big a lie he could tell. He avoided the question instead. “What are the charges against Ms. Brewster?”

Joe stood straighter. “Speeding, failure to signal before changing lanes, failure to wear a seat belt and possibly driving a stolen vehicle.”

“Has the car been reported stolen?”

Joe slumped back into his chair. “No,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Then write her tickets for the rest and let her go.”

Joe waved one hand negligibly. “Aw, we’ll just forget about the tickets. Analise explained why she was speeding, there wasn’t anybody around to signal to anyway and the seat belt was broken.”

“Thanks, Joe!” Analise beamed at the officer then bent and started retrieving her pennies.

Nick grabbed her arm and dragged her from the station.

“What on earth is the matter with you?” she demanded, jerking away from his grasp as soon as they were outside.

“Bad enough you were cheating at cards with a police officer, I wasn’t about to let you take your winnings with you.

She fisted her hands on her curved, purple-silk-clad hips. “I wasn’t cheating! How could you possibly think I would cheat?”

“You’re the one who told me your friend taught you to deal off the bottom of the deck!”

“I assume you know how to shoot a gun, too, but you don’t go around doing it for fun!”

Nick threw his arms into the air. “I learned how to shoot a gun when I went through the police academy. The purpose was to save my life. I haven’t shot one since I left the force. Do you want to explain to me how that relates to cheating at cards?”

“I...was...not...cheating!” She bent forward at the waist and ground out each word from between clenched teeth. “And you never know when being able to deal from the bottom of the deck could save your life.”

“How?”

“Well...” Her voice trailed off and she moved around him toward the car, then stopped and faced him again. “You never know until the situation arises. It’s always best to be prepared.”

He unlocked the car door and opened it. “Get in.”

“Not until you apologize for accusing me of cheating.”

“If you weren’t cheating, how did you win all those pennies?”

She shrugged, the movement shifting the brightly colored fabric that covered her rounded breasts in a tantalizing manner. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Beginner’s luck? What about the story of your boyfriend teaching you to play poker?”

“Well, sure, he taught me, but we never really played, just practiced. When I saw a deck of cards on the desk in there, I figured I might as well give it a shot. What did I have to lose? If you hadn’t charged in like some maniac, I was getting ready to offer him double or nothing to drop the charges against me. I had a royal fiush. Joe dealt me the ace, queen, jack and ten of hearts and then I drew the king.”

With a final glare, she turned and slid into the car then closed the door.

Now, how the hell had she managed to make him feel guilty, when she’d stolen his car, gotten herself thrown in jail and he’d rescued her? At least Kay had been grateful when he’d gotten her out of her scrapes.

He strode around to the driver’s side, resisting an impulse to smack the hood as he passed. The car might fall completely apart.

Damn it, she’d hired him to do a job, to vindicate her fiancé’s father and find the guilty party. Nothing in that job description required him to look out for her when she got herself in a mess. He solved other people’s problems from a safe distance. He didn’t get involved, not with the problem or the client. That’s what he liked about this job. No emotions. No ups, no downs, no worries, no losses.

He got in the car and slammed the door...hard The vehicle quivered and rattled but remained in one piece.

“I don’t care what it takes,” he said, “even if it costs me a day’s investigation, even if you decide to fire me, you are, as of this minute, on your way back to Texas.”

Distress clouded Analise’s features. “I can’t do that. Bob—Reverend Sampson—told me that June Martin—that’s the name he knew her by—that her daughter, Sara, not only had red hair like me but also green eyes and she even spelled her name the way I spelled my doll’s name when I was a little girl. With no ‘h’ on the end.” She lifted both hands as if to forestall his protest. “I know, I know. Could be coincidences, but I believe I have a connection with Sara. I believe fate brought me here so I could intervene in her life and help her get over the cruel things her mother did to her. I have to be there when you find her. It’s my destiny. I have wonderful parents, a stable home life, terrific friends, all the material things I could possibly want—I’ve always had life handed to me on a silver platter and now it’s my turn to pass along some of the good stuff.”

There was no mistaking the sincerity, the concern, in her voice and in her eyes. At the same time as a part of Nick raged in protest, another part melted at her misplaced desire to help someone less fortunate.

Her long, golden legs, generous lips and rounded breasts that moved those improbable flowers on her blouse up and down and all around with every breath undoubtedly had something to do with his meltdown, but he couldn’t think about that.

If they did make it to church, he’d most certainly pray that they found June and Sara Martin before nightfall and Analise would be out of his life forever.

“Bob told me that June and Sara moved away right after Sara started school,” Analise informed him, as if her sole purpose in life was to complicate his.

The fact that some rebellious, not-very-bright part of him gave a tiny, embarrassed cheer at the thought of Analise not disappearing from his life forever only proved how desperately he needed to get away from her.