Blind Luck Bride. Laura Marie Altom

      Chapter Three

      An hour later, Lilly beamed when Dallas had not only found her a lofty Methodist church to marry in, but an elderly minister with a few minutes to spare between his first and second services.

      Standing in sunbeams shafting through decades-old stained glass, never had Lilly felt more sure about one of her decisions. Rich scents of pale pink cabbage roses and fragile lily of the valley wreathed her senses, bringing her to the conclusion that Dallas Lebeaux was a hero among men.

      Not only had he found this church, but at a grocery store he had bought her a glorious new bouquet because he had noticed her old one drooping. Then he’d taken it upon himself to make every moment of their revised ceremony complete, all the way down to wonderfully gaudy, gum-ball machine rings. His TLC calmed her bridal jitters, and for the first time since sealing their arrangement, she didn’t feel the slightest bit apprehensive. If anything, she felt oddly excited about the years—and especially, hours—to come.

      “Do you, Lillian, take thee Dallas as your lawfully wedded husband?” The minister’s solemn voice echoed in the lofty space.

      “I do,” she answered strong and clear.

      He turned to Dallas. “Do you, Dallas, take thee Lillian to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

      “Yeah…I, ah, do.”

      “Then by the power vested in me, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. Dallas, you may kiss your radiant bride.”

      As he did just that, Lilly thought she’d melt with bone-deep satisfaction. Her family would be so proud of the way she’d mended the broken pieces of her life—that is, they’d be proud if they knew what kind of mess she’d gotten into. Thankfully, now, they need never know. Her pregnancy cover-up was a fait accompli.

      TWENTY-MINUTES LATER, Finn sat behind the wheel of his wife’s car, driving down a main drag, wondering if taking his marriage vows under another man’s name had broken any laws of man, or just God? Telling the kindly, rushed for time, elderly minister he’d left their marriage license all the way back in the car probably hadn’t been good, either. But hey, if the minister had noticed the discrepancy in names, Lilly would have been clued in on the fact that her groom was onto her scheme. Finn’s stomach churned, but one glance at Lilly did the work of a hundred Rolaids.

      Lord, she was a sight to behold.

      What was he worried about? He’d already won the bet. Now all he had to do was gloat to Mitch.

      Sneaking another peek at his temporary bride, Finn noticed how her golden curls perfectly matched a magnolia smooth complexion that seemed more suited to Mississippi than the dried-up West. “Have you always lived in Utah?” he asked, stopping the car at a red light.

      She eyed him funny. “Are you feeling okay?”

      “Sure.”

      “Then why would you ask me something like that? You know all about my childhood, goofy.”

      “Right. How could I forget?” Thankfully, the light changed so he could pretend to focus on driving. “Ready to head back to Greenleaf?”

      She shot him a look of horror. “Don’t you remember?”

      “What?”

      “Dallas?” Sounding hurt, she said, “I made reservations at the Bridal Fair Theme Motel and Casino. Remember how you said your mother had always wanted to stay there, but hadn’t had the money?”

      He shook his head. “Aren’t you sweet? Here, we’ve only been married a few minutes and look, already you’re taking care of me to the extent that you’re worried about my mother.” God rest her soul.

      That brought the roses back to Lilly’s cheeks.

      Aha! Again, his earlier assumptions had been right. Her wanting them to stay in Vegas was definitely another facet of Mitch’s plan. A form of insurance.

      Since Lilly thought he had married her under an assumed name, she still believed she’d won the bet for the enemy camp. The only way she wouldn’t win was if Finn realized that although he had lost the bet on a technicality, he still had time to find another bride. In short, Lilly had been told to keep her eye on him while letting the clock run down.

      Fortunately, Finn was still about twelve steps ahead of her. And given that he’d always loved Vegas and a good party, he figured why not combine those two loves to not only celebrate his victory, but call Lilly’s bluff to see just how far she was willing to go for her boss.

      “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “How about since my mother isn’t here, we stay at one of the big boys? You know, like Luxor or Bally’s? Even better, The Venetian—I’ve heard it’s very romantic.”

      She dropped her gaze. Her bottom lip started to quiver. “Y-you said you preferred intimacy over crowds. I mean, though we discussed taking you know—things—slow, I even booked the Mount Vesuvius Suite.”

      Mmm, smooth move. Looked like she was definitely willing to go all the way, but playing coy.

      Eyeing her lips, he remembered how soft they were. Soft and warm and moist and—

      “Look out!”

      Finn slammed on the breaks, narrowly avoiding a nasty run-in with a diesel-belching city bus.

      Instinctively he shot his arm out to brace Lilly should they crash, but with the danger long gone, he gave himself a pat on the back. Way to go, man—not for saving the car, but for accidentally landing a direct hit atop her left breast. Beneath his palm, her nipple swelled and hardened, returning him to high school to watch one of those slow-motion science films on budding flowers. Right before his eyes, or rather his touch, this flower was blooming, and the sight of her flustered smile filled him with awe.

      Whew, he thought, taking his sweet time removing his hand. Good thing he had a handle on this situation or he might have mistaken all this lust for genuine attraction.

      “Do you need me to drive?” she asked.

      “Nope. I’ve got everything under control.” Except for that nagging issue of forgetting he was parked in the middle of a bustling six-lane road.

      FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER in a dark, dank-smelling alcove leading to the bathrooms of Elvis’s Hunk o’ Good Cookin’ Café where they’d stopped for brunch, Finn had a hard time transferring the numbers from his calling card to a pay phone. He wasn’t trembling, was he? The slight shake to his hands must have been from hunger, because he certainly wasn’t that upset about his bothersome fascination with his wife.

      Three tries later, the other line rang.

      “Yeah?” a groggy Matt finally answered.

      “You gotta help me, bud. I’m scared.”

      “Finn? That you?”

      “Yep, and I’m treadin’ some pretty deep water.”

      “What’s up?”

      “You know that bet I had with Mitch?”

      “Uh-huh…”

      “Well, to make a long story short, I found a bride and this morning…I married her in Vegas.”

      “You what?” Instantly Matt’s voice went from sleepin’-it-off mode to high-noon alert. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

      “Sorry.”

      “Oh, man. What’re you gonna do? Who is she? Where’d you meet?”

      Finn gazed at Lilly, at the way sun filtered through the café’s tinted front windows, bathing her in lavender. Lord, she was beautiful. Lord, he wanted to fulfill his husbandly duty. But no matter how much he wanted to take Lilly into his arms, there was that matter of her having been hired by Mitch to consider. Not to mention his vow to never, ever, get mixed up with another conniving