Have Bride, Need Groom. Maureen Child

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sharp stab of envy sliced through her as she realized that she’d never once felt that comfortable in her surroundings.

      Maybe, she told herself, she should simply give up on the wedding. At least for tonight A quick glance at her still-bleeding knees reminded her that things didn’t seem to be going her way at the moment.

      Still, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered. Would you be any safer getting into a car with a total stranger?

      Humph! Only half an hour ago, she was going to marry a total stranger. And Nick Tarantelli certainly looked more trustworthy than Jimmy the Lip Baldini!

      “Well?” he said impatiently. “Are you going to get in? Or would you prefer to ride on the hood?”

      “Shouldn’t your prisoner be in the back seat?”

      “I was here first,” Jimmy reminded her hotly.

      “Nah,” Nick said, ignoring the other man. “He’s harmless. Besides, I want him where I can reach out and grab him if he decides to make a run for it.”

      “I never run,” the prisoner snapped.

      She held on to the car door tightly. “Where are you taking me?”

      A soft glimmer in his eyes told her that he understood her hesitation.

      “Don’t worry, Jenny Blake,” he said, a smile briefly touching his face. “I’m taking you to the best volunteer nurse in Las Vegas.”

      “A nurse?”

      “Are you hungry?” he asked as Jenny slid into the back seat. “She’s a helluva cook, too.”

      

      After dropping Jenny’s erstwhile groom off at the local police station, Nick steered his car back onto the crowded “Strip.” In the bumper-to-bumper traffic, they were forced to move slowly, which gave Jenny plenty of time to take in the sights. As twilight deepened into night, the casinos lining the street seemed to leap into life. In daylight they were nothing more than ignominious buildings crouched behind busy sidewalks. But at night their neon souls exploded into the darkness, banishing shadows and lighting up the sky like some electrified rainbow.

      Jenny stared openmouthed through the car windows at the throngs of people crowding the sidewalks. As the traffic shifted and moved, she caught her breath several times as pedestrians bailed off the curb without so much as a glance at the oncoming cars. Coin cups clutched in their fingers, their gazes locked on the next casino, they crossed the street, darting between cars and trusting luck to see them safely to the other side.

      Shaking her head, Jenny tried to ignore the people and concentrate instead on the incredible casino hotels they passed. From Caesar’s Rome to a man-made volcano to a pirate ship complete with firing cannons, Las Vegas was a living, breathing amusement park for grown-ups.

      “First time in Vegas?”

      Jenny’s gaze snapped to him. “How did you know?”

      He laughed quietly. “A wild guess.”

      A few minutes later Nick turned the car off the main road onto a darker, quieter side street. Here the businesses were well lit but without all the garish displays the big casinos boasted.

      When he pulled into a driveway, Jenny stared at the huge, two-storied structure in front of them. Designed to look like an old Victorian mansion, the restaurant’s parking lot was nearly full. But it wasn’t the beauty of the place that caught her attention. It was the simple white sign hanging over the latticework archway leading to the front door. The sign read Tarantelli’s Terrace.

      She shot Nick a quick look. “Yours?”

      He shook his head. “The family’s.” Then he pulled into a parking slot near the back of the building and helped her out.

      Nick took her around to the rear entrance of the restaurant, his hand firmly clutching her elbow. Even with his assistance, Jenny had to pick her way carefully across the pebble-strewn drive. It was the last time, she promised herself, that she would wear three-and-a-half-inch heels to her wedding.

      When Nick pulled open the kitchen door, waves of delicious aromas escaped the hot room and wafted around Jenny, teasing her stomach into low rumbles of appreciation. And the moment she stepped inside Tarantelli’s Terrace, she identified the mystery scent that seemed to cling to Nick. It was the delicate blend of Italian spices that flavored the air in his family’s restaurant.

      “Just because it’s Italian doesn’t mean it has to stink of garlic!” A female voice rose above the clatter of pots and pans.

      Beside her, Jenny heard Nick chuckle.

      “I am the chef here, madam.” The imperious male voice was easy to locate. Jenny found him in seconds. A tall man with a barrel chest, a truck tire stomach and a high, white chefs hat, was waving a wooden spoon at a much shorter woman.

      “But you’re using my recipes,” the woman retorted. Her black hair, liberally streaked with gray, was pulled away from her face into a tight knot at the base of her neck. Her huge brown eyes seemed to take up most of her face and despite her battle stance, the lines etched into her features spoke more of laughter than of temper.

      What seemed like dozens of kitchen workers bustled around the two combatants, paying no attention at all to their argument. Jenny jumped out of someone’s way and slammed into Nick’s broad chest. He lifted his hands to her shoulders to steady her.

      “Hey, Ma!” he shouted above the noise. Jenny watched the woman turn away from the chef quickly. A wide, brilliant smile flashed briefly across her features.

      “Nicky!”

      Jenny slanted a quick look up at him, expecting to see a wince of embarrassment. Instead, all she saw was an answering grin. She blinked at the transformation. With that smile in place, Nick Tarantelli was handsome enough to steal a woman’s breath away.

      “No garlic,” the woman shouted at the chef, then scurried away without giving the tall man a chance to argue further. Hurrying to them, the slightly round woman clapped her hands, then reached up to cup her son’s face. “Nicky! I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

      “Hi, Ma,” he whispered, bending to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Marianna Tarantelli, this is Jenny Blake and she—”

      “Call me Mama,” Marianna interrupted with a smile. “Everybody does. What happened?” She broke away from her son and let her gaze sweep over Jenny.

      “I fell.” Jenny shrugged helplessly.

      “Oh.” Mama clucked her tongue sympathetically. “How did that happen?” A fierce look crossed her face briefly. “Somebody push you?”

      “No.” Jenny sighed. “Actually, I was chasing your son.”

      The older woman spun around and poked Nick in the chest with her forefinger. “What are you doin’, making a sweet girl like this chase you?”

      “I didn’t tell her to chase me.” Nick held both hands up in mock surrender. “Besides, how do you know she’s a sweet girl?”

      “Humph!”

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