Here Comes the Bride (2 page)

Ben looked at Dominic and said, “She sort of looks like Julia, doesn’t she?”

Dominic stepped closer—close enough for her to get a whiff of his expensive cologne. She refused to let him intimidate her. Looking into vast blue eyes, she stared him down.

“She’s shorter than Julia,” Dominic said. And then his gaze fell to her breasts, prompting him to shake his head and shrug. “No, she doesn’t look anything like Julia.”

Sam held in a growl. “I don’t think I like where this conversation is headed.”

Ben smiled. “I think this might work.”

Chapter Two

Were they all deaf?
Sam wondered.

“The solution to our problem could very well be standing right in front of us,” Tom agreed, his cheery voice grating on her nerves.

“Whatever it is you men are talking about,” she said as she headed for the door, “I don’t want to know. I’m outta here.”

Ben took a shortcut around the sofa and rushed toward the exit, blocking her way. He glanced at the press pass hanging around her neck. “Samantha Johnston,” he read. “You’re a reporter, right?”

“What about it?”

He lifted her left hand and examined her ring finger. “You’re not married.”

She pulled her hand from his grasp. “No. And I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“All you have to do is marry Dominic,” Ben said, “something most women would give their left arm to do.”

“I happen to be attached to my left arm,” Sam said with a snort, “and besides, you’re all nuts. There’s no way I’m going to marry this man. No offense, DeMarco, but I’m not into the whole celebrity scene.”

“No offense taken. I feel the same way about reporters.”

She chose to ignore that statement.

“We’ll pay you one hundred thousand dollars,” the other man blurted, as if money solved all problems.

She laughed and leaned her chin into her chest, talking loud enough so the recorder would get it all. “Let me get this straight. You’re making millions of dollars off a billion-dollar company and you’re offering me a measly hundred thousand dollars to marry a womanizing, reporter-loathing George Clooney wannabe?”

Ben seemed to ponder her words before he said, “You’re right. Make it two hundred fifty thousand. No more. No less.”

“Hey, I take exception to that,” Dominic said. “And for the record,” he added, looking at Sam, “I don’t loathe reporters, I just don’t trust them.”

“Obviously I’m not making myself clear,” she said. “I’m not in the mood to get married today, so forget it.”

“The only way to make a reporter do what you want,” Dominic muttered, “is to give them a story.”

Tom nodded in agreement.

Ben’s eyes lit up. “That’s it! We’ll give her an exclusive. After the marriage is over, she can write her own life story about what it’s like being married to a celebrity,” he said, pointing at Dominic. “Imagine, Samantha. A huge…spread in every popular magazine…but nothing goes into print until the marriage has been dissolved.”

Sam straightened. “You’re all insane.”

“I actually agree with her,” Dominic said, sounding less like a surly, spoiled man who had everything and more like a normal guy in a desperate situation. “Get out of her way, Ben. Let her go.”

“Just hear me out, will you?” Ben asked Sam. “Nobody knows who DeMarco is going to marry. That’s part of the big ruckus and one of the reasons why World Studios is willing to shell out big bucks to be a part of the big day. This wedding is not just a wedding anymore…this thing is bigger than all of us.”

“And since nobody knows who he’s going to marry,” Tom added, “nobody will care who he walks down the aisle with today.”

“What about the reception?” Dominic asked.

Sam feigned disinterest although she, too, was curious to know how they planned to pull off such a ridiculous stunt.

“What about it?” Ben asked. “All the two of you need to do is live it up and party. The congregation is made up of a few big names, but mostly fans—one of the reasons we brought the wedding to New York. Nobody will blink an eye when they see an unfamiliar face at your side.”

Dominic loosened his bow tie.

“You pretend to be someone you’re not for a living,” Ben said. “And she makes up stories for a living. You’re perfect for each other.”

“I don’t make up stories,” Sam said. “I write what I see. I tell the truth.”

All three men laughed at the same time.

She rolled her eyes. “What about after the reception?” she found herself asking out of what she considered morbid curiosity.

Ben stepped between her and Dominic and slapped a hand against Dominic’s back. “You’ll do what all newlyweds do—you’ll go on a honeymoon.”

Sam opened her mouth to protest, but Ben stopped her with a raised hand. “Hear me out,” he said. “We made a deal with World Studios, the leader in the entertainment industry. You’ll go to Hawaii for your honeymoon. It’s a huge suite…plenty of room. You don’t have to share a bed unless you want to,” he added with a wink.

Sam gritted her teeth at the prospect.

Dominic merely shrugged.

“My bags are back at my hotel,” she said as if she might actually go through with this madness.

Would she? Could she? Exclusive story of a lifetime? Not to mention two hundred fifty thousand dollars.

She could see the headlines now: “Small-Time Journalist Marries Ultra-Handsome, Ultra-Rich Celebrity Actor.”

“Just tell me your name and the hotel where you’re staying,” Tom said, “and I’ll send someone to retrieve your bags and settle the bill at your hotel. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“I don’t know—”

“You’ve got two seconds to make up your mind,” Ben said.

“Samantha Sue Johnston,” she blurted. “Just call me Sam.”

“Samantha Sue,” Dominic repeated under his breath.

“Is that a problem?” she asked her husband-to-be.

“Nope.”

“Great,” Ben said as his arm curled around her shoulder. “I’ll draw up a quick agreement and all you have to do is sign on the dotted line. You’ll be set for life.”

Sam removed his arm as if it were a poisonous snake and looked Ben in the eyes, searching for the courage to just say no. But she couldn’t do it. He was right. This was her big chance, the sort of opportunity that only came around once every million years.

Ben reminded her of one of those flashy, fast-talking car salesmen but, despite her reluctance, she nodded.

Ben gave her a suffocating hug. “See,” he said to Dominic, “she’s spunky
and
beautiful.”

Now she knew Ben was full of it. With her dirty-blonde hair plastered against her face after being stuck in the corridor for hours and her clothes wrinkled and clinging to her skin, she looked far from beautiful.

“After the honeymoon, you two will fly back to Los Angeles, where I will have everything you need ready and waiting at your Malibu estate,” Ben said.

“What do you mean when we get back to Los Angeles?” Sam asked. “After the honeymoon, we can call it quits, right?”

Ben shook his head. “You two must be married for a minimum of three months, which means you’re going to have to live together, you know, do all the normal things newlyweds do. Otherwise the contract between Dominic and World Studios is void."

Sam frowned. “So, you really are doing this for money?”

Dominic loosened his tie a little more.

“Yeah,” Ben said, “but that's neither here nor there. As you can see, this wedding has grown into a nationwide story. It’s not just about money anymore. It’s bigger than all of us.”

“You already said that, and what does that mean, anyhow? Bigger than all of us,” she muttered. “What else does he have to do? Consummate the marriage? Have two point five kids and name one after the son of the World Studio’s CEO?”

Dominic chuckled.

“This isn’t funny,” she said.

“No, it’s not,” Dominic agreed. “But if we’re going to go through with this, sweetheart, you’ve got to lighten up.”

She turned to Tom. She didn’t trust Ben and she didn’t like Dominic. Tom appeared to be the only normal guy in the room. “Is that all of it?” she asked. “Anything else I should know?”

“That’s it,” Tom said. “Three months of marriage, a few miscellaneous engagements, and the money will be yours to keep.”

“And the exclusive?” she asked.

“And the exclusive.”

Her stomach gurgled. “I’m not dressed for a wedding,” she pointed out, “and since I don’t make it a habit of packing an emergency wedding gown—”

“It’ll be fine,” Ben assured her. “You’re not as tall, but you’re about the same size as Julia. Close enough. Her dress is in the other room, ready to go. We’ve got hair and makeup people waiting. I’ll be close by the entire time. I’ll take care of everything. Like I said before, all you need to do is sign a few documents agreeing to keep everything we’ve talked about in this room today confidential.”

“How am I going to write an exclusive if I can’t be truthful about what went on today?”

Ben sighed. “In three months, when this is all over, everyone is going to want to know what it was like to be married to the sexiest actor in America. They’re going to want
your
story, Samantha. They don’t need to know
why
you walked down the aisle today.”

He had a point. She didn’t have to lie. She just wouldn’t tell everything right from the beginning. She could write a book, beginning with their first day as husband and wife:
Ninety Days as Mrs. Dominic DeMarco or My Life as an Arrogant Actor’s Wife
.

There wasn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t want to know what Dominic DeMarco looked like in the morning, what he wore to bed, whether or not he had any distinguishing birthmarks…

Her cheeks heated at the thought.

It could be worse, she told herself. When it came to looks, DeMarco had it all: thick dark hair, blue eyes, strong firm jaw, dimples, and a great body.

Dominic fidgeted with his collar for the umpteenth time. His face had grown pinched, his jaw tight. He was nervous. Ben must have noticed DeMarco’s reaction because Ben pulled Dominic aside and said in an undertone, “Take a deep breath. You’ll walk down the aisle, say a couple of words, and that’s all there is to it.”

Ben looked over his shoulder at Sam, obviously worried he might lose them both. “Don’t forget, Samantha, you’ll have the story of a lifetime. Newspapers and television shows around the country will be vying for your attention before and after the marriage ends.”

She hated to admit it, but the whole idea had a certain crazy, disgusting appeal to it. Both her brothers were successful. She was the black sheep of the family. She had been working long hours with little sleep for years—always hoping to catch a break. She couldn’t walk away from the deal of a lifetime. She always said she needed a little adventure in her life. What harm could it do? For a few short months, she would be Mrs. Dominic DeMarco. Not only would she prove to her family she was a success in her own right, she would walk away with enough money to put a down payment on a house. Hell, she could buy a house for that amount. And the cherry on top would be telling the world the truth about the man—every sordid detail.

A tall man with a shaved head and a face red from lack of oxygen poked his head into the room, and said with a flustered voice, “There are hundreds of fidgety people waiting for the ceremony to begin, not to mention thousands of fans waiting outside in the heat, hoping to get a glimpse of the bride and groom. What’s going on?”

“Tell the guests they’ll be there soon,” Tom said as he ushered the man out of the room.

When they could no longer hear departing footsteps, Ben looked at Sam. “So, what’s it going to be? Are you in?”

Her stomach knotted. “Under one condition. After the three months are over, I might want to write a book, too.”

“As long as you leave out the reasons why Dominic married you in the first place,” Ben said. “World Studios would not be happy to discover they were duped.”

“They’ll never know. I’ll market it as fiction. Maybe even a romance. Depends on how I decide to end the story.”

“Definitely not a romance then,” Dominic added. “Because all romances have a happy ending and there’s no way this is going to end on a happy note.”

She smiled. “Sounds like someone reads romance.”

Ben looked at Dominic and raised a curious brow.

DeMarco didn’t bother denying or confirming the accusation; he just looked at Sam with those arctic blue eyes of his and said, “Could you go put on the wedding dress? I’d like to get this over with.”

Chapter Three

Thirty minutes later, Sam stood with her hand tucked into the crook of Ben’s arm, staring at the closed mahogany doors of the church. She could hear the swell of the music, Pachelbel’s Canon in D, and smell the fragrant white roses in the two massive arrangements flanking the double doors.

I’m going to be sick.
One minute she was sneaking through the church looking for a story and in the next minute she
was
the story.

To make matters worse, Ben had just reminded her that the wedding would be televised. She could only pray her mother wasn’t watching. Mom would faint dead away. And what about Dad? Although she hadn’t felt close to her dad in years, she wished him no ill will, and he had a weak heart. How selfish could she be?

“I can’t do this,” she told Ben.

An attendant opened the church doors.

“Sure you can,” Ben said, pulling her hand through the crook of his arm. He stepped forward, urging her onward.

A congregation of about five hundred turned their gazes in her direction.

Her left eye twitched.

With a rustle of movement, the congregation stood.

A trickle of sweat made its way down the left side of her Spanx. Brides didn’t sweat, she was sure of it. But she wasn’t like most brides, was she? She was a fake bride.

The music changed to Mendelssohn’s Wedding March. Every eye riveted on her.

DeMarco stood at the other side of the church, looking tall, dark, and temporary, which was a good thing. She certainly didn’t want anything permanent with a guy like him.