My Lucky Groom (Summer Grooms Series) (3 page)

Suddenly, from across the room, she caught a man’s gaze on
her. He was to-die-for handsome with wavy dark hair and a
toned,
trim body packaged perfectly beneath his pressed white shirt and bow tie. Ventura
judged him to be in his early thirties, and—she couldn’t believe it—he
was smiling at
her.
Ventura blinked
hard, and the heavy mascara Mary had pasted on her lashes caused them to stick.
She gasped and pried them apart just in time to see the heartthrob approaching.

“Can I help you find something?” He spoke with no hint of an
accent, but his eyes were all dark and dreamy like he’d come from some exotic
land. “You look a little lost.”

She was lost all right. Hook, line, and sinker
sunk
in his hypnotically sexy gaze. “Huh?”

He angled his champagne flute in her direction. “Are you
meeting someone?”

“No,” she spouted quickly. “Just looking!”
Oh great, Ventura.
“Browsing!”
Worse.
“Um…” She bit into her bottom
lip, feeling her cheeks blaze. “I’m new in town.”

He chuckled good-naturedly and extended his hand. “Welcome
to our fair city. I’m Richard.”

She settled her palm in his grip, and a billion warm tingles
raced down her spine. “Ventura,” she answered weakly. Ventura pulled herself up
short, realizing she sounded like some love-struck schoolgirl. She was grateful
none of her professors had looked like
that
.
She wouldn’t have been able to get an ounce of work done.
Apart
from a little creative writing.
Yeah, she could spin herself a tale or
two involving
herself
and this unbearably hot man. The
only trouble was, given the exciting details of Ventura’s past, the story would
be rated PG. Ventura sighed as he released her hand with a worried gaze.

“Are you all right?” he queried kindly. “You look like you
should sit down.”

Ventura imagined him sweeping her into his strong arms and
carrying her across the crowded ballroom—then inwardly slapped her silly
face. “I’m fine,” she said hastily. “Just catching my breath after the long
walk here.”

“Where from?”

“Capitol Hill.”

He glanced down at her spiky high heels,
then
once more met her eyes. “I’m impressed.”

Just then, Ventura spied Mary approaching with a pert
brunette with springy curls. Of all the people she wanted to see now, her
beautiful apartment mate was at the bottom of the list. And the girl with her
was just as pretty. Mary whispered something to her friend, then caught
Ventura’s eye, beaming brightly. She carried an extra flute of champagne, which
she raised in a silent toast as she drew near.

“There you are, you devilish man!”

Ventura turned in surprise to see a trim redhead had sidled
up next to Richard and linked her arm through his. Was it Ventura’s imagination
or did he seem to stiffen at her approach? “I’ve been looking for you
everywhere
.”

He patted her arm and answered mildly, “We’re supposed to
talk with the guests. That’s what this event’s all about.” Ventura wasn’t sure
what Richard’s role was in things, but she figured him to be one of the gala’s
organizers. From what Mary had told her, a wealthy Washington benefactor had
established a fund to raise college scholarship money for students studying the
arts. Money from tickets purchased to attend this event would go toward that
cause. A number of local organizations had purchased them in bulk as a sign of
good will. Petra had been lucky enough to get three of them as gifts from her
employer without paying a cent.

“I’m Petra,” the bouncy brunette said, cozying up to the
group.

Mary handed her extra champagne flute to Ventura,
then
addressed the others. “And I’m Mary.”

Richard politely bowed his head in greeting, acknowledging
them both. “Richard.”

The redhead sighed and rolled her eyes. “Monica,” she said,
giving Richard’s arm a small tug.

Richard glanced at Monica,
then
said
apologetically, “I’m afraid duty calls.”

“Of course,” Ventura said.

“It’s been very nice meeting you.” He pleasantly surveyed
their faces,
then
settled his gaze on Ventura. “I hope
we have the pleasure again.”

Ventura’s heart skipped a beat as she felt her temperature
spike. Was Richard really focusing all his attention on
her?

 
“Me too.” She
tried to say it boldly, but her words came out as a whisper.

Then he turned and walked away, with Monica scolding him
soundly over something Ventura couldn’t quite overhear and which Richard seemed
to ignore.

“Richard Blake,” Mary said once he was out of earshot. “In
the flesh.”

Petra rapidly fanned her face with her hand. “I’d like to
see that.”

“Of course you would,” Mary told her. “You and every other
woman in Washington.” She turned to Ventura. “How did you do it?”

“What?”

“Get him to come over and talk to you?” Petra filled in.

“I just stood here,” Ventura offered, still amazed by the
turn of events
herself
. She normally wasn’t much of a
man magnet and had never attracted anyone quite as dishy as Richard. Of course,
maybe she hadn’t attracted him at all. As one of the hosts, it was his role to
work the room. “I’m sure he was just being gracious.”

Mary studied her proudly. “Must be the hair.”

Ventura self-consciously fingered her flat-ironed locks,
which made her whole head feel as if it were wearing a weighty wig.

“I like it!” Petra proclaimed. “Maybe you can do mine
sometime?”

“You’ve done good, Ventura,” Mary told her. “Schmoozing with
the District’s most eligible bachelor.”

“Every woman in the world wants to date him,” Petra added.

Ventura’s gaze followed Richard across the room as he and
his girlfriend made the rounds. “Monica seems pretty well settled in.”

“Her?” Mary asked with a laugh. “She’s just his escort.”

“What do you mean?”

“The latest in a long line of girls,” Petra explained. “He
never attends these society things alone.”

“And is never seen with a woman outside of them,” Mary
added.

Ventura took a sip of her champagne, its bubbles tickling
her tongue. “But why?”

“Might have to do with the kids,” Mary said confidentially.

Petra nodded. “Or the ex.”

“She was terrible.” Mary lowered her voice. “Walked out on
him and two babies.”

Petra whispered behind her hand, “They’re rumored to be
brats.”

“They dress well,” Mary argued defensively.

Petra shook her head. “Fashion’s not everything.”

Mary’s eyes flashed in horror. “Bite your tongue!”

Later that night, Ventura found herself in bed but totally
unable to sleep. What
was
that
thumping coming from upstairs? “What’s going on up there?” she asked as
flashing neon colors pulsed through the window.

“That’s Nanette practicing her Lambada,” Mary answered.

“Lam… What?”

“It’s some kind of crazy dance she does. She’d got a ton of
them and will try to teach you if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll take your advice and steer clear.”

“That’s another thing.” Mary sat up suddenly under the
covers and turned her dark profile to face her. “You need to be careful to
always say you have plans.”

“Plans?”

“Nanette’s the world’s worst matchmaker. And I mean
worst
in the worst possible way. If you
even hint you’re so much as free for an afternoon, she’ll set you up. And, um…
Let me put it this way. Her setups aren’t optimal.”

Ventura giggled, unable to imagine the sorts of offerings
someone like Nanette might pick out. “I’ll take your advice on that too.”

“Good.” Mary settled back down and rolled toward the wall,
wrapping her blanket around her.

Ventura hadn’t had a roommate since college, at least not in
the same room. She’d shared an apartment with another girl in graduate school,
but they’d each had their own space, and Trisha had been so quiet, Ventura had
barely ever known she was there. Mary was all the opposite: loud and blustery
and all up in Ventura’s face. Telling her how to dress and wear her hair, and
warning her off Nanette’s nutty notions. Ventura had never been close to her
big sister, Hope, and had gone through most of her life without having a best
friend. She wondered if Mary would become that, even as different from each
other as they were.

“Mary,” she said quietly before the other girl could drift
off to sleep. “Thanks for bringing me here. For letting me know about this
apartment.”

“I did it for selfish reasons,” Mary answered groggily.

“That may be, but you didn’t have to take me to the party.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

A few seconds later, she heard Mary’s voice. “I’m glad you
had fun. You looked like a million bucks.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Do you think I’ll ever see him again?”

“Who?”

“Richard.”

“Of course you will. Just pick up a paper. He’s in it all
the time.”

She hurled her pillow at Mary with a laugh. “I meant, in
person!”

Mary rolled over and clutched it. “My, my. Two days in town
and look who’s already got a crush.”

“I do not,” Ventura said, feeling her cheeks warm.

“That’s okay. I’ll keep your little secret.” Mary tossed the
pillow back at her. “Let’s get some shut-eye. I’ve got work in the morning, and
tomorrow you’re cold-calling.”

“Right.” Ventura snatched back her pillow and pulled it over
her head as floorboards moaned above. What an exhausting couple of days she’d
had. Once she finally nodded off, she’d no doubt sleep like the dead.

Chapter Three

Richard’s personal assistant, Jason, burst
through his home office door.
As managing editor of his own magazine, Richard
had been able to work out a flexible schedule where he telecommuted part of the
time from his stylish townhouse in Old Town Alexandria. This helped a great
deal when it came to raising the twins. None of the nannies he’d hired to date
had been able to function without the highest level of oversight. Jason’s face
was pink from the neck up as he clutched his tablet to his teal polo shirt.
“I’ve got to talk to you about Helena.”

Helena was the latest in a string of caretakers he’d hired
to look after Ricky and Elisa. “What’s going on?”

“I’m afraid we’ve had another auto disaster.”

Richard spun his chair toward the window framing the street.
His new BMW sat there with a bashed-in front hood and sagging bumper. “Not
again.”

“And the worst part is, she’s blaming the—”

“I quit!” Helena said, barreling through the door with her
hand-scrawled letter of resignation. She pressed it to Richard’s desk and met
his gaze with a hostile glare. “Find someone else to look after your little
monsters.”

Richard bristled and sat up straighter. “Watch yourself.”

Jason blinked at Helena,
then
shared a placating smile. “You
do
want a positive recommendation?”

“Recommendation? Ha!” She huffed and glanced briefly at them
both. “Are you kidding? This has been the job from Hades. I’m not even listing
it on my résumé.” She strode out the door with a cry that made her sound like a
wild banshee. They heard a jingle of metal as she grabbed her purse and keys
from the hall table; then the front door slammed shut.

Richard sat back in his chair and sighed. He ran a hand
through his hair and met Jason’s gaze with weary eyes. “What do we do now?”

Jason sat in a chair opposite Richard’s desk and began
furiously tapping at his tablet. After a few beats, he looked up, fully
composed. This was why Richard relied on him. Jason always kept his cool, even
under the
most dire
circumstances. “Advertise.”

Ventura woke with a jolt as her pillow was yanked out from
under her. “Wake up, sleepyhead! You finally have an interview!”

Ventura squinted up at Mary, who was dressed in a
cream-colored skirt and kiwi silk blouse with dangling matching earrings.
Ventura hadn’t dreamed it. Fashionista Mary had nabbed Ventura’s dream job and
was working at the
Daily Globe
. She
started today. Ventura sat up.

“What time is it?”

“Nearly eight o’clock; I have to get going. So do you. Isn’t
your appointment at nine?”

“And all the way across town,” Ventura wailed. “How could
you let me hit snooze?”

Mary set a hand on her hip. “Who I am?
Your
mother?
Besides…” She puckered her lips and put on a dab of Perfectly
Plum
lipstick. “I was getting ready.”
She did a little pirouette in her light-colored skirt and matching heels. “What
do you think?”

“Like you look too nice to be serving coffee.”

“I’ll work my way up. You’ll see.”

Ventura was sure that she would. Mary was pretty and bright
and incredibly determined. She’d never even known she’d wanted to work in
journalism until she’d considered the fashion angle. There was a whole
section
dedicated to that.
Thanks to Ventura’s forays into journalism job-hunting
,
Mary had become greatly inspired
. What a wonderful way to
influence the world for the better. Just imagine! Mary might someday craft
articles that inspired Washingtonians to dress better! It made her tingle all
over—just at the thought.

“Have a great first day!” Ventura called as Mary raced up
the stairs.

“Thanks!” she shouted back. “Break a leg at the interview!”

Thirty minutes later, Ventura scurried down the front steps and
lost a heel.
Great
, she thought,
racing back up the stairs to grab it,
I’ll
never make the Metro on time.
She stepped back into her shoe and her too-tight
blouse popped open. Ventura quickly scanned the street for passersby and
rebuttoned it with a shake of her head. She should have known better than to
borrow this from Mary, but right now it was the most upscale-looking thing she
had.