Suiteheart Of A Deal: Suiteheart Of A Deal / My Place Or Yours?. Wendy Etherington

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      6

      “WHO HAS THE RINGS?”

      The marriage of Rainey Ann Miller, only child of Laura and Jonathan Miller of Toronto, to Beckett Lee Mahoney, youngest child of Martha and Earl Mahoney of Edmonton, took place at 4:00 p.m. on the third Saturday in September, in Rainey’s apartment. The bride wore beige silk. The groom wore gray flannel. There were no flowers and no bridesmaids. There would be no babies, and definitely no minivan.

      Charles T. Longhorn, chief commissioner of the town of Bragg Creek, officiated. Freda Norman and Hollis Harriman, also of Bragg Creek, served as witnesses. When Mr. Longhorn asked if anyone present could say why this young couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, Rainey and Beck simultaneously spun around and glared at the witnesses.

      Withering under their collective heat, Mrs. Norman and her twitching sidekick struggled to maintain straight faces. Hollis quickly lost the battle and collapsed into a fit of giggles. Scowling, Mrs. Norman jabbed him in the ribs. “Get a grip there, Holly!” As he doubled over in pain, a little smile tugged at the corner of her own lips.

      “Who has the rings?” Mr. Longhorn asked again. Beck fished in his pocket for the plain gold bands they had hastily purchased that morning at the local jewelry shop. Fumbling slightly, they managed to get them on.

      When Mr. Longhorn announced, “You may now kiss the bride,” Rainey turned nervously toward Beck. Make it good, her eyes told him. People are watching. In truth, she didn’t care who was present. If ever she had an excuse to kiss Beck, this was definitely it.

      All too happy to oblige, he put his arms around her and drew her close. She followed suit. While the others smiled benevolently, they joined lips, gently at first, then insistently. Beck’s right hand came up to cup the back of her head, and his tongue snaked into her mouth. Rainey moaned softly. Oblivious of their bug-eyed audience, they let the kiss go on for a very long time.

      At one point, Beck actually pulled back for air, then, moaning and whispering gibberish, kissed her again, even more deeply than the first time.

      Out of patience, the commissioner cleared his throat and solemnly intoned, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

      The bride and groom ignored him. They were drowning in the depths of something so strong, so powerful, that when they finally did pull away, it left them both panting and trembling.

      “Wow!” Beck exclaimed. “Maybe we should get married again tomorrow!”

      In the front of her mind, Rainey thought, Hmm, now that’s a kiss. In the back, she thought: Take that, Trevor! You rat!

      After the ceremony, Mr. Longhorn offered best wishes for a long and happy life together, which prompted another round of giggles, then showed himself out. Mrs. Norman and a still-twittering Hollis went back to work. Alone with Beck, Rainey suddenly grew self-conscious.

      “Well,” she stammered, avoiding his eyes, “I guess it’s time to clear out of here.” She walked into the bedroom and began to gather her loose things. As she was dropping them into the biggest of her two suitcases, Beck leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms.

      “So,” he said, utterly, predictably, true to form, “we’re on our honeymoon.”

      Rainey looked up sharply. She had been expecting this little scene—though not quite this soon. “Oh, no, we’re not, Beck Mahoney. This is strictly a business arrangement. You know that.”

      “Hmmm.” He went on watching her, his eyes sliding provocatively over every inch of her. Rainey could feel them undressing her, even from across the room. Goose bumps formed on her skin.

      “You know, I’m not opposed to mixing business with pleasure,” he said quietly.

      Okay, that was enough. “Look Beck, we made a deal. Separate bedrooms. You agreed.”

      He snorted. “Well, I don’t know, Rainey. I mean, agreed is a pretty strong word. I went along with it. I’ll give you that.”

      “Uh-huh, and you’re going to continue to go along with it.”

      “Tell me you’re not attracted to me,” he teased.

      With an exasperated sigh, Rainey closed the suitcase, picked it up and walked toward him. “Beck, there isn’t a woman alive who isn’t attracted to you.”

      He wagged a finger at her. “That’s not an answer.” He took the suitcase from her and set it down behind him, barricading both of them into the room.

      Hands on hips, she stared him down. “Okay, then, I’m not attracted to you.”

      “Liar.” He grinned.

      “I am not lying!” Actually, as much as Rainey resisted the idea, she was attracted to him. Hopelessly. But so were nine-tenths of the women around here. And, attraction could be a deadly thing. Nobody knew that better than she did.

      He nodded toward the living room. “We generated a little heat in there, Rainey. You felt it, too. I know you did.”

      Oh, for heaven’s sake. Was there no limit to his arrogance? Maybe they shouldn’t have just plunged into this thing. Maybe, in addition to the prenuptial agreement Nate Frome had drafted, they should have drawn up another contract. One that spelled out the guidelines. Defined the parameters. Laid down the rules. Of course, how could they? As far as Nate and everyone else was concerned, there were no rules.

      More importantly, hadn’t she asked Beck to play easy with her heart?

      Fighting tears, she said, “I’m lonely, Beck. I’m in a new town and I don’t have any friends here. I’ve got a new job, and I don’t even know if I can do it. And I got married today, to a man I hardly know.”

      “Hey,” he said softly, his arms reaching out for her. Anguish clouded his handsome features. “I’m sorry, Rainey. I didn’t mean to rush you like that.”

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