Ben watched Sara roll down the window and prepare to face the inconsiderate policeman who had stopped her. She extended her license and vehicle registration in cool silence while her foot tapped impatiently against the floorboard. Before he’d stepped onto her porch, all Ben had had on his mind was a cold beer, a hot shower and a bed with clean sheets. Which only proved he’d set his expectations for the evening far too low.
He was rarely surprised, but she had rushed into his arms, knocked him off his feet and captured his curiosity with her first words to him. He’d been intrigued every moment since. In thirty-four years, he’d heard every come-on, seen every angle, gotten cornered by the best and lived to tell about it. But until today, he’d never had anyone size him up in a glance and conclude he’d do in a pinch. Sara was a new experience, and that was a novelty in itself. If Cleo hadn’t grabbed those keys, Ben knew he would have figured out some other way to get invited along on this ride.
The patrolman stepped up to the open window, took the papers dripping from Sara’s hand and studied them for several long moments, never once looking directly into the van. “Do you have any idea how fast you were driving, ma’am?”
“Seventy?”
The officer clicked his ballpoint pen and began copying information onto the citation. “I clocked you at eighty-three.”
“Really? Hmm. I wasn’t aware of going that fast. You see, I’m very late for a—”
“Nothing is important enough to risk your life, or the lives of others.”
“I know, Officer, and I promise I’ll drive the speed limit for the rest of my life.”
“Sign here.” The officer thrust the clipboard through the window, and Sara scrawled her name across the signature line.
“There.” She handed it back and tapped her fingertips on the steering wheel until he returned a copy of the citation, along with her license and registration. She jammed the papers under the sun visor, started the engine and smiled politely at the patrolman. “Please step aside. We’re a little behind schedule.” With that, she put the van in gear and zoomed forward, honking as she merged into the flow of traffic.
Ben was impressed by her ability to stay focused. “Great exit line.”
“It would have been better if it had come a little sooner.”
“Any sooner or faster and you would have torn the ticket right out of the book for him.”
“I’m in a hurry.”
The sound of a siren came faint but insistent behind them. “I think he’s aware of that.”
Sara glanced in the mirror. “What does he want now?”
“Probably wants to tear up the speeding ticket and give you a medal for bravery.”
With a frown, she pulled onto the shoulder again and stopped with a jerk. When the cruiser pulled in behind, her foot started tapping out her impatience once again. “I really don’t have time for this.”
“I don’t think I’d tell him that.”
She rolled down her window, and Ben settled back to observe round two.
“License and registration, please.” The patrolman took his time in removing the pen from his pocket and clicking the ballpoint into place.
Sara gave a frustrated sigh as she jerked them from behind the visor and handed them over. “What did you clock me at that time?”
“I’m citing you for failure to yield to oncoming traffic and not heeding a legal warning to slow your speed.”
“I was barely moving when I pulled out,” she said in a huff, then took a deep breath and changed her tune. “I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right. I will slow down and yield to traffic. And I won’t honk the horn anymore, either.” She held up her hand, palm out. “Scout’s honor. Now can I go?”
“You can go just as soon as I finish writing out this ticket.”
“Is it going to take long? I’m really late.”
The patrolman slowly pulled off his sunglasses, withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped the lens. “Where are you going in such a rush?” As he started to replace the glasses, he seemed to notice her clothing for the first time. “Are you on your way to be married?”
“I was before you stopped me, but I don’t know now. You may have ruined my life in one—make that two—attempts to meet your daily quota of traffic tickets.”
Ben rubbed his jaw, awed by her audacity, amazed that the patrolman appeared to swallow it with a smile, hook, line and sinker. He adopted a noncommittal expression when the officer pointed at him with a frown. “He doesn’t look like a bridegroom.”
“He doesn’t look like a bartender, either,” Sara said. “But that’s what he is.”
The policeman oriented himself with a glance at the highway signs, then addressed Ben. “Where are you going? The church on Mission Park Road?”
Ben shrugged. “I’m from out of town.”
“There’s a church on Mission Park Road,” Sara confirmed.
The officer turned his attention to her. “Would that be the Methodist church?”
“Maybe.” Sara’s smile was all anxiety. “I’m not thinking too clearly at the moment.”
The patrolman nodded his understanding. “Nervous, huh?”
“Getting more so by the second.”
He looked at Ben. “What about you?”
“I’m nervous, too.”
“The way she drives, you’d be a fool not to be. You may be getting a lot more than you bargained for.”
“Yes,” Ben said with a smile. “That thought has occurred to me.”
The patrolman tore the ticket out and handed it to Sara. “You can tear that up. My wedding gift to you. But you’ve got to slow down. And the speeding ticket stands.”
“Thank you, Officer,” she said. “That’s very kind, and I hope you’ll understand when I say that the next time I’m in a hurry, I hope you’re off duty.”
She rolled up the window and put the car in gear, but she did wait until the patrolman had turned his back and was walking toward his vehicle before she peeled out. “Honestly, don’t the police have better things to do? I mean, it isn’t like I was shooting at motorists or anything.”
“True.”
“And I always use signal lights when I change lanes.”
“I noticed.”
“He should be out catching real criminals, not stopping law-abiding…What is he doing now?” She frowned at the mirror, then turned her head to look at Ben. “Can you believe it? He’s going to pull me over again.”
Ben bent to look in the side mirror. “I think he’s going to escort us to the church on Mission Park Road.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Probably because you told him you were getting married there and that you were late.”
“I didn’t tell him that. I said I was late, which is true. And I said I’m on my way to be married, which is true when you consider the overall scheme of my life. I’m just not on my way to be married tonight.”
“You should have given him directions to the West Ridgeman house. Then he could have escorted you somewhere you actually want to go.” Ben paused. “I’m not sure, but I think I saw the dress twinkle at him.”
“That isn’t funny,” she snapped.
The patrol car pulled around them in a flash of lights and the siren came on with an intrusive congratulations. Ben crossed his arms and settled back in the seat. “I love the VIP treatment.”
“Don’t get too comfortable with it. I’m going to lose him at the next exit ramp.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Because I don’t want to detour by the Methodist church.”
“Are you always this spontaneous?”
“No.” She switched lanes, following the speeding black and white. “I like to know exactly where I’m going and exactly how much time I need to get there. And until today, that has not been a problem.”
“What happened today?” He couldn’t resist humming a couple of bars of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
“Would you forget about that?” Her sidelong and unamused glance delighted him. “I only imagined that. It didn’t really happen. And I am not going to slip and say it again.”
“I thought it was charming.”
“Uh-huh. Now, check for traffic on your side, because I’m taking the next exit.”
“What about our escort?”
“With any luck, he won’t look in his rearview mirror for the next mile or so.”
“I doubt that reaching the church and discovering we’re not behind him will make him happy.”
“Another delay will not make me happy. So there you have it.”
Ben looked over his right shoulder to check for cars in the inside lane. “You’re clear.”
She shot across both lanes of traffic and down the exit ramp, turning left on a yellow light, passing under the viaduct and taking the entrance ramp onto the expressway heading in the opposite direction. “We’ll get off at the next exit, and by the time he realizes we’re not behind him, we’ll be out of sight.”
“Have you considered stunt work as a career?”
She rolled her eyes. “What kind of idiot risks life and limb for the sake of someone else’s entertainment?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You’re risking your life and limbs—and mine, too, incidentally—just to get to a party.”
“It isn’t just any party.”
“I certainly hope not, considering the amount of frenetic energy you’ve invested in eluding the police, not to mention the monetary contribution you’ll be making to the city coffers if that officer ever catches up with you.”
“What’s he going to do? Write another ticket? Even if he tracks me down, after tonight I’ll be able to afford it.”
“Really? Why? Is West going to announce your engagement and his intention of paying all your traffic tickets?”
“I told you, West doesn’t know he’s going to marry me. At least, he didn’t the last time we were together. But he might make a special announcement tonight that could put my balance sheet over the top.”
“And that is…?”
“I can’t tell you, but it’s important.”
“He’s going to run for president and you’re in charge of the coffers.”
She shook her head. “Politics is not on his agenda. Or mine. Right now, the only thing I’m worried about is making the right impression on his friends and associates.”
“Why would you worry about that?”
“Because my future depends on it. If I make a good impression, not only will I get new clients, affluent clients, but West will begin to see me as a part of his social group and less as strictly a business associate.” She glanced at him. “I’m sure it sounds ridiculous to you, but for a girl who was born on the wrong side of the tracks, this is the light at the end of the tunnel. I’m not going to blow it.”
Something in her voice and in the set of her chin told Ben more than he wanted to know about Sara Gunnerson, and some lingering trace of sensitivity in his calloused heart went out to her. “So this is a career milestone and a personal step up the social ladder.”
“I wouldn’t put it exactly like that. For me, being invited to attend this party as a guest means my plans are becoming reality. It marks the beginning of achieving the goals I’ve set for myself.” The van sailed down the next exit ramp and made a left, merging into the Friday evening rush hour. “Providing, of course, that I can get out of this wedding gown before West sees me.”
“The twinkling wedding gown.” He teased her gently, hoping to see her smile.
To his surprise, she laughed instead. A throaty, heart-stopping, womanly amusement made all the more charming because she was laughing at herself. “A twinkling wedding gown. Isn’t that the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard?”
“In the last hour? No, I think that would have to be when you said that dress wasn’t your style. You must know you look enchanting in it.”
Her glance was skeptical. “Flattery will get you only as far as the driver’s seat.”
“I get to drive the A Vice van?”
“Since this model didn’t come equipped with autopilot, you’ll have to take over while I change. Unless you want Cleo to drive.”
“She has so many vices her license was suspended.”
“Then that makes you the designated driver, providing that your license hasn’t been suspended, too.”
“I’m legal.”
“Then I’m not making any great leap of faith, am I?”
“I’d say the leap of faith came when you offered me a job.”
“Oh, that was a little unorthodox, maybe, but hardly any great risk. I wouldn’t worry too much about tonight. West is quite a connoisseur of wine, and the most exotic drink you’ll have to mix will probably be a gin and tonic.” She leaned down and released a lever. The seat slid back as she scooted to the edge in order to keep her foot on the pedal. “Now, slip in behind me and take the steering wheel.”
“Now?”
She frowned at him. “Yes, now.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to pull over and stop the vehicle before trading places?”
“Are you always so careful? Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. I’ve already stopped twice, and I don’t have time to do it again. My entire future hinges on what happens tonight, and I am not going to arrive any later than I already am.” She wiggled closer to the edge of the seat. “Now, there’s plenty of room, so just put your leg over, straddle the seat and ease your way down.”
He looked through the windshield at the moderately heavy traffic. They were careening down a busy street like a duck doing the backstroke, and she wanted to switch drivers. He couldn’t believe she thought stunt work posed any great risk. Maybe he ought to offer her a job. “You’re the boss.” He released the seat restraint, levered up and over, and in two moves and a quick slide, he was cupping her body in the curve of his…and thinking that in this instance, the reward definitely outweighed the risk. He enjoyed the feel of her nestled between his thighs and admired the warm ivory of her back contrasted against the pattern of ivory lace that covered it. Nerves of steel and skin like silk. Now that was an interesting combination.
“What are you waiting for?” Her voice vibrated with urgency. “Unbutton me.”
“Shouldn’t we kiss first?”
“In your wildest dreams.” She wiggled her shoulders as if that alone would motivate him.
“You could be missing an earth-shattering experience.”
“I’ll live with the regret.”
He touched his fingertip to the only uncovered swatch of creamy skin and stroked across it, wanting her to experience some discomfort, if not some second thoughts about picking up strangers. “What if I can’t?” he said provocatively. “What if I don’t want to?”
Her laugh evolved slowly, percolating in her throat before bubbling over and sending the husky notes streaming over him in a warm, pleasurable rush. “Aren’t you the least bit leery of hitting on a woman in a wedding gown? This dress has commitment written all over it, and I’d bet the ranch that you’re the kind of guy who starts singing, ‘Don’t Fence Me In’ after the second date.” She shook her head, and her hair brushed her shoulders in a silky, dark wave. “You don’t scare me, Ben. I had you pegged long before I invited you to climb into this van with me. Now, be the nice guy you really are and unbutton the dress.”
So much for teaching her a lesson. He dropped his hands to the buttons. “You’re far too trusting, Sara. You might have pegged me wrong.”
“But I didn’t,” she said with aggravating confidence. “I’m probably the least trusting person you will ever encounter, but I do trust my own judgment, and my intuition almost never steers me wrong.”
“There’s always a first time.”
The glance she attempted to throw over her shoulder fell short, so she gave her hair a provocative toss. “All right, I can see that you’re not convinced, so try this on for size. You’re honest and intelligent—that I can tell from your eyes. I can tell by your appearance you’re down on your luck and by the set of your jaw that you’re not desperate. I can tell by the way you look at me that you have a basic respect for women. And I can tell by your tone of voice that you expect to be respected, as well. The way you hold your shoulders tells me you have too much pride, and your not-quite-macho walk tells me you are confident and secure with your masculinity. I can tell by the touch of your hands that you’re not accustomed to taking no for an answer, but there’s a certain restraint that tells me you’re not afraid to be gentle. How am I doing so far?”
“Did you get my bank balance, too? Or should I tear a few more holes in my vest?”
She honked at a slow-moving car in front of them and swung the van onto a side street. “Your bank balance is of no importance to me, Ben. I just need your body for a few hours. The rest is incidental.”
He couldn’t recall ever being dismissed so easily or with such blunt conceit. The fact that she did, in many ways, have him pegged was doubly irritating. “You’re amazingly arrogant…even for a redhead.”
“I hate that. Women don’t refer to men as a hair color. I would never call you a blackhead.”
“My hair isn’t black.” He couldn’t quite keep the insult from echoing in his voice.
“Okay, so what color is your hair?”
“It’s dark brown.” He was beginning to wish he’d opted for the beer, bath and bed. “I’m surprised you couldn’t tell that by the way I bend my knees.”
Her laugh came again, another low, husky tremor in her throat. “I’m sorry if I offended your vanity, but you did ask for it.”
He didn’t believe he’d asked for any such thing. “Let me get this straight. If I refer to you as a redhead, I’m being sexist. But you can size me up in a matter of minutes based on my appearance, and you’re just being intuitive?”
“That’s right.”
“Ah, I see. This is the old double standard at play.”
“No. This is twenty-eight years of observation and experience at work. The old live-and-learn axiom.”
“And you’re never wrong.”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just not wrong about you.” She was so sure of herself, so naively certain.
“How do you know?”
She lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug. “There’s no need to feel threatened. I’m not psychic. I can’t read your mind.”
Ben closed his eyes for a moment. She was incredible.
“This isn’t some special gift. I had to look out for myself and my younger brother when I was growing up, and that meant learning how to size up the danger in situations and in people.”
“And I pose no danger.” He allowed his fingers to graze her skin and felt her quicksilver response.
“No,” she said with a touch of bravado. “Although if you don’t hurry, I could be in danger of arriving very overdressed for this reception.”
“You can borrow my vest if you want. That would add a casual touch.”
“I brought something else to wear. Something much more suitable for this evening and far more becoming.”
“That’s hard to imagine.” Ben worked at the tiny buttons, opening an ever-widening V of smooth, soft skin. “Frankly, I think you’re missing a golden opportunity with West by not making certain he gets to see you in this. He could start hearing wedding bells after just one twinkle.”
Her shoulders stiffened suddenly, as if a hidden straight pin had jabbed her. “He would think it was a practical joke…and not a good one, either.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I know his tastes, and he would never want his bride to wear anything so unfashionable.” Her hips moved within the curvature of his thighs as she applied the brakes, then again when she accelerated, and his body tightened in response. He diverted his attention to the next button, and the next.
“I’m curious, Sara. Did you peg West by the way he parts his hair or was it something more complicated, like the shine on his shoes?”
“That really bothers you, doesn’t it? The fact that I could know so much about you just through observation.”
“What bothers me is your safety, not the idea that you made a few guesses that happened to be fairly accurate. Jumping to conclusions like that could one day get you in more trouble than you can handle.”
Her laughter was a slight movement beneath his fingers, a soft echo of her amusement. “It works both ways, you know. I could be planning to drive you outside of town and rob you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, for one thing I have Cleo to protect me. And for another, you’ve already decided that I have nothing worth stealing.”
“I wouldn’t want to upset Cleo. It’s obvious she holds you in the highest regard.”
“It’s mutual, believe me.”
“What do the two of you have in common, other than the call of the wild?”
“We both loved the same woman.”
“Loved? In the past tense?”
“Definitely past.”
“What happened to her?”
“She left us behind when she accepted a better job in another city and a no-pets-allowed apartment. I’m not sure either one of us actually missed her all that much once she was gone, but it became something of a grudge match to see who possessed the greater tolerance and which one would leave first. So far, it’s a stalemate.”
“Interesting. Any chance of a cessation of hostilities?”
“Not likely.” The last button eased from the loop, and the dress parted to reveal the long, smooth slope of her back. Ben thought seriously about running his palm across it, slipping his hand beneath the lace and satin, reaching around to cup her breast and expose her intuition for the foolishness it was. Maybe if he’d been in a better position to control the van, he might have taken on the task of demonstrating the danger in making presumptions. “You’re unbuttoned,” he said, reaching around her to grasp the steering wheel with his left hand and her elbow with his right. “Now, take your foot off that accelerator and let me drive.”
“Thanks. I will be so glad to get into my own clothes.” She pushed against him with a wiry strength as she levered up and off, balancing with one foot in the other seat while she gathered up the bulky satin skirt and squeezed between the seats into the back of the van. “I owe you for this.”
“A hundred bucks.” He settled behind the wheel and slowed the van to an acceptable speed.
“Plus tips. Of course, you never know how those will run, especially at a private party.”
“Isn’t it slightly inhospitable to expect guests to tip the bartender?”
“West doesn’t expect the guests to tip. Some of them just do, that’s all.”
Ben considered the defensive note in her voice. The rustle of satin whisked behind him, and he looked in the rearview mirror just in time to see the wedding gown part in a deep V, revealing her back all the way down to the elastic band of her brief bikini panties. There were no bra straps to mar the view, and he admired her ivory skin until a car horn brought him back from the edge of fantasy. But his gaze strayed to the rearview mirror again at the first opportunity.
“You’ll need to watch for Mayflower Road,” she said matter-of-factly, and he ripped his gaze from the mirror to check the nearest street sign.
“Nice neighborhood,” he commented, noting the widening of the streets and the increasing number of stately homes behind wrought-iron gates.
“I know. I’m planning to live here.”
“With West.”
“That’s the plan. Oh, no! Give me that! Let go! I said, let go!”
Cleo’s playful growl preceded the sound of an ominous rip. Ben glanced back to see Sara struggling to pull something away from the dog. “What was that?”
“My dress.” Even at a distance, it was clear the words were delivered through clenched teeth.
“She tore the wedding dress?” A car pulled in front of him, and he couldn’t spare another glance. “How bad is it?” he asked with genuine concern. “Did she ruin it?”
“Oh, yes. It’s ruined, all right.”
He looked over his shoulder. Sara was turned toward him, the ivory dress drooping in an uneven line around her shoulders, a soggy strip of black in each hand. Cleo sat at her feet, looking pleased by her part in this latest game. “What’s that?”
“My black silk dress.”
Relief washed over him with the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to explain how his dog managed to destroy a million-dollar gown. “She didn’t tear the wedding dress?”
“No such luck. She had to mangle the only thing I ever paid full retail for…and I never even got to wear it.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll pay to replace it.”
“You can’t afford to do that, Ben. I spent far too much money on it to begin with…but thanks. It was a nice gesture.”
He heard the rich rustle of the satin and looked in the rearview mirror to see her holding the bodice of the wedding gown in place as she frowned at the scraps of black silk on the van floor. She looked up, caught his gaze and sighed. “I hate it when a plan falls apart.”
Ben wanted badly to cheer her up. “I may be over-rating my intuitive abilities here, but I can tell by the arch of your eyebrows that you’re already formulating a new plan.”
She adjusted the ivory lace covering her arms and sagging on her shoulders. “Considering the extent of my wardrobe at the moment, the only plan I have is to have you button up the back of this dress again.”
“I could turn this jalopy around. We’d be back at your house in twenty minutes or less.”
“Only if we collected another speeding ticket on the way. At best, it would take an hour to get there and back. And that doesn’t include time for any unscheduled stops or wild-key chases.”
“So do we proceed on to the West Ridgeman home?”
“We’re almost there, and one way or another, I’m going to be at this party.”
“A woman after my own heart,” he said and was surprised to realize he meant it.
“The next intersection will be Mayflower. Turn left.” She walked to the front, holding the gown in place with one hand and placing the other on the back of his seat for balance. After he completed the turn, she pointed at a pair of large, elaborate, open gates at the end of the block. “That’s the house. Follow the drive all the way around. We’ll park in back. Just wave at the valet as we pass. He’ll recognize the van.”
“Any idea what we’ll do when we get there?”
“Not yet.” Sara stooped, propping her arms on the seat backs as the Ridgeman estate came into view. “But I’ll think of something.”