A Match Made in Heaven?

“I do.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“You have something more to tell me, Johnny?”

He fisted his fingers over the wheel and kept his eye on the line on the road snaking ahead of them. “I wanted to give you the best, Sam.”

“You 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.”