My Lucky Groom

case, I was thinking we might try it again. This time, away from the water?”
    Ventura laughed lightly, thinking what a good guy he was. What harm would it be? One little date? Ventura didn’t have many friends in Washington. It never hurt to make more. “I’d like that.”
    Charles shot her a big, bold grin. “That’s great. Just great! I’ll call you.” Then he strode to the back of the line before the disgruntled older woman could shoot daggers in his back with her eyes.

Chapter Six

    The next morning, Mary opened the door to Nanette’s townhouse to find an incredibly dapper guy standing outside. His pale pink button-down was pressed, light starch, and his navy slacks were pleated to a tee. Even his boat shoes looked brand-new.
    “Um… I’m here for Ventura?”
    Mary met bright blue eyes, and her heart beat faster. Who was this fashion god, and why hadn’t he come calling sooner? Hang on! For Ventura? For a gal in constant need of a makeover, she certainly seemed to be having all the luck.
    “I’m Jason,” he said, extending a hand. “Richard’s personal assistant.” Of course he was. How else would one explain Richard’s impeccable wardrobe and the high-class way he dressed his children? He had a built-in fashion consultant.
    “Coming, Jason!” Ventura called, nearly stumbling up the basement stairs. She dropped her purse to the floor and a roll of mints spilled out, spiraling toward Jason’s shoe. He bent low to pick it up, and Mary gasped with delight. That was no fifteen-dollar haircut, she thought, studying the perfectly tapered lines of his short blond hair. This was high couture!
    Mary’s face pinched as she wiggled her nose at an itch.
    It was only then that she remembered she wore her damp hair in a towel turban-style and that she had a Salt of the Earth mud mask drying on her face! Jason stepped aside and Ventura scurried out the door, then met Mary’s gaze with a smile. “Nice meeting you…?” She blinked twice, hoping this was all some horrid dream and that it would poof away. But it didn’t. He just stood there, waiting for her to give him her name.
    “Mary,” she filled in with a squeak.

    A few seconds later, Ventura sat behind the wheel of the huge SUV. When Richard said she’d be driving the Lexus, she’d envisioned a sedan, not something this enormous.
    Jason glanced back toward the house. “Mary seems nice.”
    “She’s a great roommate,” Ventura assured him. “She’s probably really embarrassed you saw her that way.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “You don’t know, Mary. She’s always gorgeously dressed. Perfectly put together from head to toe.”
    Jason raised his brow, intrigued. “Really?”
    Ventura fumbled with the keys in the ignition.
    “Just go ahead and get it started. We’re going to run a few practice rounds before heading back to the ranch.”
    “Practice rounds?”
    “Richard thought it would be good for you to get the feel of the SUV before driving with the kids on board.”
    She nodded and cranked the engine with trembling fingers. “Where to?”
    “We can take a few spins around the block, then maybe head down to the Mall.”
    Ventura swallowed hard, knowing the area that housed the Smithsonian museums was always jam-packed with tourists. Pedestrian tourists. Especially in summertime.
    “But first,” he said with a smile, “we’re going to have to get out of this parallel parking spot.”

    Sweat beaded on Ventura’s forehead as she attempted to maneuver the beast of a vehicle for what seemed like the hundredth time. She’d inched back and forth, and back and forth…but didn’t seem be getting anywhere nearer to extracting them from this tight space between the minivan up ahead and the tiny red sports car behind them.
    Jason checked his cell for the time, comparing it to the clock on the dash. “Maybe I should do this part.”
    “Nope, I’ve got it.” Ventura sent the car’s rear tire into the curve with a lurch, then rammed the pedal. She sharply yanked the wheel to the left and they bolted forward. A taxi blew its horn, its driver yelling an insult in some foreign tongue.
    Jason drew a breath, his eyes wide. “Well, don’t stop in the middle of the street. Keep going!”
    And she did, taking off with a squeal as Jason clung to his shoulder harness.

    Later that afternoon, Ventura drove the kids to their lessons. She checked her rearview mirror, spying them nestled in matching car seats. Little Ricky held his violin