Here Comes the Bride Read online

  Here Comes the Bride

  by

  Theresa Ragan

  Copyright © 2013 by Theresa Ragan

  These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Theresa Ragan.

  Editor: Cathy Katz

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  Proofreader: Faith Williams

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  Cover art by LFD Designs for Authors

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  About the Author

  After reading her first romance novel in 1991, Theresa knew she wanted to be an author. She spent the next five years researching medieval times and writing Return of the Rose. She was also working full time and raising four children, but she knew she was a writer when nothing could stop her from getting the words to the page. She has garnered six Golden Heart nominations in Romance Writers of America's prestigious Golden Heart Competition for her work. After writing for twenty years, Theresa self-published in 2011 and went on to sell over 600,000 e-books in two years. She recently signed with Thomas & Mercer.

  Theresa lives with her husband and the youngest of four children in Sacramento. When she’s not writing, she likes to play the piano, travel, and hang out with her family.

  Other works by Theresa Ragan

  Taming Mad Max

  Having My Baby

  An Offer He Can’t Refuse

  Finding Kate Huntley

  A Knight in Central Park

  Return of the Rose

  Thrillers by T.R. Ragan

  Abducted

  Dead Weight

  A Dark Mind

  If you would like to know when Theresa’s next book will be released, please sign up for her mailing list at http://www.theresaragan.com/

  Theresa can also be found on Twitter and Facebook

  Thank you to my husband and best friend, Joe, for always having my back.

  I love you.

  Here Comes the Bride

  by

  Theresa Ragan

  Samantha Johnston, a reporter for the LA Beat, is determined to attend the wedding of one of America’s hottest actors in hopes of learning the identity of his mystery bride. Not only does Samantha manage to sneak into the church, she ends up saying, “I do.”

  Chapter One

  Samantha Johnston, reporter for the LA Beat, stood inside a cramped hallway with a dozen other perspiring, frustrated reporters all waiting for security to escort them to a special viewing room inside the church.

  A couple of exhausted reporters sat on the floor. One man, built like a linebacker, had positioned himself in the corner, his arms crossed and his eyes closed. An older woman with short tufts of black hair leaned against the door, steely eyes daring anyone to get in her way, determined to be the first inside.

  As Samantha glanced at her watch, an elbow stabbed into her side, making her wince. It was ten minutes to twelve—almost time for the ceremony to start. She certainly hadn’t traveled all the way from Los Angeles to New York to get locked out of the wedding of the century. Dominic DeMarco, the hottest actor in the country, was getting married, and she was determined to be the first to learn the identity of his mystery bride. It was time to show her boss, her family, and even the world that she could make something of herself. After all, she had majored in journalism and minored in communications and was more than prepared for the job. Her goal was to be one of the best investigative journalists in Los Angeles, but after graduation, the only place she could get a job was the LA Beat. Everyone had to start somewhere. Sam had worked for the paper for five years and this was her first shot at getting a story of her own. Nothing and nobody was going to get in her way.

  Tired of waiting, she pushed her way through the crowded area and headed back to the lobby. Once there, she stayed close to the wall, hidden in the shadows. Two security guards passed close by and then entered the main entrance to the church.

  After the main doors clicked shut, she took off across the lobby as fast as her heels and tight skirt would allow. Ducking behind a potted ficus, she waited a moment to make sure the coast was clear. If security spotted her, they’d throw her outside to wait with all the other thousands of people hoping to catch a glimpse of Dominic DeMarco and “the luckiest woman in the world.”

  She peeked around crisp green leaves. One long passageway circled the entire church. And like the area she’d just left, there was a door at the end of the passageway on this side of the church, too. Thank God. She rushed that way and turned the knob. Locked. Damn.

  Voices caught her attention. Frustration edged their masculine tones. She tiptoed back the way she’d come and made her way through an open door to her right.

  The room was dimly lit. An exquisite oil painting of a stormy sea decorated the wall above a rich, walnut desk. Past the desk area and through connecting double doors, she saw two impeccably dressed men in tuxedos.

  She poked her head inside and said, “Excuse me. I was accidentally locked out of the church. Would either of you happen to have a key to the back door?”

  Both men turned her way.

  Frowns of annoyance covered their faces. There was a third man, but it was impossible to see him clearly since he stood in a shadowy alcove, one shoulder leaning against the wall.

  She would guess the men to be in their early thirties. One was stylish and handsome, while the other had a cleanly shaven head and a couple of tattoos to go with an eyebrow ring. They did not look happy to see her. “How did you get in here?”

  “I was locked out of the church. If you could just point me in the right direction, I’ll—”

  “We can’t point you in the right direction, miss, because there isn’t going to be any—”

  “Ben,” the bald man said, interrupting, “don’t be rash. Julia could still be coming. There’s still time.”

  “She’s not coming,” the man in the shadows informed them.

  A shiver shot up Sam’s spine. Obviously she’d interrupted a very serious discussion. Fortunately for her, the two angry men quickly turned their focus on the man half hidden in the dark.

  “What do you mean Julia’s not coming?” the man named Ben asked. “What haven’t you told us, Dominic?”

  Sam’s heart raced.

  Dominic? Dominic DeMarco? It couldn’t be. This was too good to be true. Her go-get-’em approach might have actually worked this time. She stepped quietly inside the room and stood on her tiptoes as she tried to get a better look at the man in the shadows, but the two men hovered around him now, making it impossible for her to get a good look.

  “Julia decided she couldn’t go through with it,” Dominic told the two men.

  Sam couldn’t tell if DeMarco sounded sad or just disappointed. Julia had to be the mystery bride—but who was she really? An actor? A new lover?

  Sam and her co-workers, along with everyone else in the country, had been speculating on the identity of the mystery bride for weeks but the name Julia had never come up.

  “Why did Julia change her mind?” Ben asked, his voice lined with frustration.

  “She wouldn’t say. She was upset. I think she was crying.”

  “What the hell was she crying for? We’re the ones who should be c
rying.”

  “Knock it off, Ben,” the other man cut in. “When she arrives at the church, we’ll talk to her. She’s probably experiencing a bit of cold feet.”

  DeMarco spoke as he maneuvered his way around the two men. “Read my lips. She’s not coming. In fact, she’s on her way to Europe. Since she wanted to make sure the paparazzi couldn’t get to her in case her identity was leaked.”

  The tiny hairs on the back of Sam’s neck stood on end. No wonder they hadn’t let the reporters inside the church yet. There was no bride. Reaching inside her purse, she clicked on the tape recorder hidden within her bag.

  Now that DeMarco was no longer hidden in the shadows, she took note of how much taller he appeared in person. Dominic DeMarco’s incredibly handsome face and legendary dimples kept him on the cover of every magazine in every town across America. Millions of women swooned over his tall, athletic build and twinkling blue eyes. Truth be told, she too had once joined the ranks of millions and fallen in love with DeMarco, but that was years ago. Who wouldn’t fall for a handsome little boy playing the role of a poor orphan? She had bought his poster and every day before heading off to school, she would kiss his sweet paper lips.

  But then the boy turned into a man, and it wasn’t long before he was just like all the other celebrities who made it big—an egotistical womanizer.

  No thank-you.

  Julia, whoever she was, should be thankful to have come to her senses in time. What sort of life would it be for a woman to be chained to a man like DeMarco?

  Ben placed a hand on DeMarco’s shoulder. “I guess this is it. I don’t know what else to do.”

  As Ben headed across the room toward the bar in the corner of the room, Sam stood still, praying they’d all forgotten she was still there. Her gaze locked on DeMarco’s perfect chin with the Kirk Douglas divot. He was looking downward and his frown made her wonder if he might have actually had feelings for the bride-to-be, or in this case, bride-to-have-been.

  Ben looked at the bald man. “Tom, you better go out there and tell everyone the wedding is off.”

  Tom frowned. “We can’t give up yet. The public is mesmerized by DeMarco. Since the announcement of his impending marriage, his approval ratings have soared and movie deals are pouring in. And let’s not forget that World Studios is sponsoring the wedding today. But no wedding means no millions. We’ve got to think.”

  Sam hid her surprise beneath a clenched jaw. A million questions begged to spew forth, but she knew she had to refrain from speaking or risk being thrown out. Weeks ago, when DeMarco had made an official statement to the press about his intention to marry, Sam had speculated with the rest of the world why he would suddenly do such a thing. DeMarco wasn’t the marrying type and everybody knew it. Some guessed he’d knocked up one of his girlfriends, but she couldn’t imagine a guy like DeMarco marrying out of honor. Marrying for money made more sense. Greed fit right in with the rest of DeMarco’s less than complimentary characteristics.

  She patted her purse. Wait until the world hears about this.

  Tom jangled the change in his pocket. “There’s got to be a way out of this mess.”

  Ben shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not unless you can find a bride in the next two minutes—”

  Not likely, Sam thought as she gazed downward into the depths of her purse and prayed her recorder was getting it all. When she looked up, she saw three men staring at her as if she’d just waved a big red flag in their direction. Until that moment, she was pretty sure Dominic DeMarco hadn’t realized she was in the room. But he knew it now, and as he stepped closer, his gaze roamed up and down her body, his eyes sucking her in like one of those new Oreck XL Deluxe vacuum cleaners. The cad.

  “Is there something we can do for you?” Dominic asked in what sounded to her like a ridiculous, albeit well-practiced, drawl.

  “Umm…no—no, thank you. I was here for the wedding—” She took a step back toward the door. “Since there isn’t going to be one, I’ll be on my way.”

  She turned to leave.

  “Stop right there,” one of the men called out.

  She turned around, pointed to her chest.

  “Yes, you,” Ben said. “Come here.”

  He knew about her tape recorder. Crap. She stood frozen in place, praying he wouldn’t ask to look inside her purse.

  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 b
igger 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.