Sun Chara

A Match Made in Heaven?


Скачать книгу

never quite made it though, did you?”

      “Guess not.” He swallowed. “Not by your standards. Not by your mother’s and not by your Michael Scott’s.”

      “I’d like a better life, Johnny. And my mother would like a better life for me.” She paused. “And he’s not my Michael Scott.”

      “No?”

      “What d’you mean?”

      “He could give you the lifestyle you want.”

      “Yes, he could.”

      A shard of ice stabbed his heart. “And so could I.” The words tumbled from his lips, but the droning of the engine made them inaudible. Not wanting to buy her affection, he didn’t repeat them.

      “Yet, you do nothing?”

      “You call working two jobs nothing?”

      “You’re not working two jobs, Johnny.” She shifted in her seat. “You’re constantly between two jobs.”

      Air blasted between his teeth. Did she think so little of him? Disappointment overlaid the resentment rising in his chest. He’d soon know Samantha’s true colors.

      Fool. He’d busted his behind working odd jobs to get a down payment to buy the kennels from his buddy, Willie. Then, unable to afford help, Johnny ’d single handedly made them pay, but knowing that wouldn’t be good enough for society girl, he risked all in expanding them to attract higher end customers. Putting him in a higher income bracket, he’d measure up and offer for her hand.

      However, his business plan got axed when Willie had shoved the Beverly Hills Weekly society page in his face, announcing her wedding to rich bankboy.

      Johnny ’d burned rubber on Interstate 15 that day. A quick pit-stop at the Lucky Loo had him tossing a vagrant at the door a handful of coins for a Big Mac at McDonald’s.

       His random act of kindness had been rewarded.

      By the time it had taken Johnny to cross the floor and back again on his way out, the man had busted the bank. Chuckling, Johnny hurried to his car but the man hobbled after him and handed him a check for five million. It had thrown Johnny in a quandary. He’d put the windfall on hold these two years, while he made sense of their life.

      Although he’d made several attempts to come clean with Sam, she’d jabbed him about his ability to provide for her that he’d clammed up. Now that the baby was due, he’d planned to surprise her with their good fortune and eliminate her doubts. But before he confessed all, the letter arrived denouncing their marriage.

      Had he lost her? Had she regretted marrying him? Was she missing the glitz and glamour of her single life? Did she regret not marrying Michael Scott? Sweat dampened his palms, and he slid his hands along the wheel for a drier spot. He tossed her a covert glance, but all he got was a view of her stiff back.

      Shoving down his disappointment, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his thoughts drifting.

      “Stop that.”

      “What?”

      “That incessant noise.”

      “What noi—”

      “You’re drumming.” Samantha reached over and stayed his fingers on the steering wheel. A jolt of energy charged into her, and she snatched her hand away. He attracted her like a magnet. Yet, she must remain resolute. Disappointment and anger sizzled inside her. How dare he think her so shallow … a ritzy lifestyle was not all she wanted. She could rebut his ridiculous statements, but that wouldn’t prove anything. Only time would show his true colors.

      He laughed. “Is that all?”

      “No, that’s not all,” she murmured, her words brittle.

      “That’s right, Missus,” he muttered, pursing his lips. “We got things to rap on.”

      “Yes, of course.” She ignored his sarcasm, her polite words more aggravating than if she’d responded in kind.

      “What d’ya know, we finally agree on something.” He pressed on the accelerator, climbed over a slight incline on the highway and onto a level stretch of seemingly endless asphalt.

      “Do we really, Johnny?”

      There was an explosion of lights in the horizon, but she barely noticed the glitter of the Las Vegas landscape.

      “I don’t know, Sam.” He drew his eyebrows over the bridge of his nose.

      “Do we?”

      An exasperated sound burst from her mouth. “Must you always answer me with a question?”

      “Huh, I’m not the one who—” He bit down on his irritable words and rephrased them. “Sure thing, Sam.”

      “Stop patronizing me.”

      “I wasn’t—”

      “If this is how our talk is going to go, it shouldn’t take long.”

      “I’ll make sure of it, then,” he retorted in a dry voice. Could she not stand a few hours of his company and was already finding excuses?

      “Why bother, then.”

      A saucy grin split his lips, and he scored his point. “Because that’s what grownups do.” The woman was provoking him, major league.

      She laughed, but it cracked like thin ice on the surface of a pond.

      Unsettling.

      He couldn’t fathom her true feelings beneath the apparent merriment.

      “And you’re suddenly behaving like a mature adult, Johnny?” The tinkle of a giggle. “I’m impressed.”

      “Now who’s patronizing whom, Sam?”

      “You started it.”

      “I did?” He rubbed a hand over his face trying to make sense of what they were saying to each other, if anything.

      “You’re on the defensive, again.”

      A guffaw pushed up from his chest but got snared in his throat. “Me, again?”

      “Seems like it.”

      The chuckle finally burst from his mouth, but it sounded galling, even to his own ears. “Whatever you say, my love.”

      “You are so maddening,” she said, her words frosty.

      “Because?”

      “Because … because …” She folded her arms across her breasts and muttered, “There’s just so much, I don’t know where to begin.”

      He clicked his tongue. She had him there.

      He drummed on the steering wheel, and then abruptly stopped, recalling her ire of moments ago. “Just blurt out what’s bugging you—”

      “Nothing is bugging me, Belen. Except—”

      “We’re almost there.” He maneuvered around a narrow curve that brought them to the last mile of their journey. “Try and control your temp--”

      “I’m not the one who has to control—”

      “It won’t take long. Another two min—”

      “You can bet on that, Belen.”

      “Fine.” And what did you get with that interchange, you pigheaded Irishman? You want to push her into that simpleton’s arms? A sigh erupted from the pit of his stomach, and he swept his hand through his hair. Could he hope to bridge this ever-widening chasm between them? He doubted it. Not when they were bickering like a couple of teenagers. Is this what love and marriage did to you?

      A moment later, he turned into a dirt road and pulled up in front of a rickety