My Lucky Groom

their working together, as politely and professionally as possible.

    Ventura and Charles sat in a swanky pizza place in Georgetown, swapping stories over mugs of beer. Charles glanced at her blouse, which was held together with a series of safety pins, then met her eyes.
    “You look great,” he told her. “Blue’s your color.”
    “Thanks.”
    “So tell me. How do you like working for the Blakes?”
    Ventura took a sip of her beer, then set it down. “I’d rather not talk shop tonight,” she said, still mentally kicking herself for that wild fantasy/dream about Richard and her in some storybook realm. What was that all about?
    “We can talk about anything you want. How about the Fourth of July?”
    She looked at him expectantly.
    “If you’ve never seen Washington on the Fourth, then it’s a must. People take picnics down to the Capitol lawn. The National Symphony plays. There are fireworks…”
    Ventura felt a grin tugging at her lips.
    “Did I say something funny?”
    “No, it’s just that you’re being so sweet. Asking me on another picnic.”
    “No fears. I won’t let you fall in the Reflecting Pool.”
    Ventura laughed happily.
    “I’ll pack our supper…” Charles tempted, his deep blue eyes sparkling. Ventura would be a fool to say no, and she knew it. Why then did she feel halfhearted in her response?
    “Sounds great. Thanks.”

    Later that night, Ventura and Charles stood saying good night outside her front door.
    “Thanks so much for everything,” she told him. “I had a really good time.”
    “So did I.” He studied her with a smile. “You’re very easy to talk to, you know.”
    “You too.”
    He stepped toward her, and Ventura subconsciously inched back.
    Then he withdrew, and she moved forward.
    They continued this chicken dance a moment before both burst out laughing. He extended his hand, and she shook it.
    “Well, good night,” she said, “and thanks again.”
    “I’ll call you about the Fourth,” he said.

    Richard returned from his gala completely worn out. He relieved the babysitter, then picked up the few odds and ends that were still scattered around downstairs. Noting a couple of children’s books lying on the living room floor, he scooped them up, recognizing them as the stories the kids had been reading with Ventura. He loosened his tie and carried the books upstairs. He’d set them on his nightstand, then shelve them properly in the kids’ rooms in the morning once Ricky and Elisa were awake.
    He sat heavily on his bed and kicked off his shoes, thinking he was growing tired of these society things. While it was important for him to attend and stay connected, he wagered he’d have a lot more fun going with someone he could actually talk to. Somebody warm and witty, who looked like a house on fire in a blue blouse pinned together with safety pins. Feeling too tired to even slip out of his clothes, Richard settled back on the bed for a moment, propping himself up with some pillows. I’ll just flip through some of these stories for a sec, he told himself. Then, I’ll get the motivation to get ready for bed.
    Two hours later, Richard awakened with a jolt, greeted by the blazing lights in his bedroom. A storybook lay splayed against his chest, and he still wore his tuxedo shirt and slacks. I must have dozed off , he thought, slapping the storybook shut. In a flash, he remembered his torrid dream. He set the book aside in shock, feeling his temperature spike. Papa Bear?

Chapter Eight

    Richard and Ventura stood in his kitchen, stuffing sandwiches into backpacks.
    “I really appreciate you working Saturday,” he said. “It’s beyond the call.”
    “Well, you certainly couldn’t handle both kids on a bike all on your own. Besides, I’m happy to support anything that gets the kids outdoors—where a team sign-up isn’t involved.”
    He smirked at her but didn’t mind the ribbing. In truth, Ventura had been a breath of fresh air for all of them. She’d convinced Richard not to renew a few of their activities so Ricky and Elisa would have more time for what she called kid stuff, like playing hide-and-seek and setting up forts using lots of linens. Richard wasn’t bothered by the mess . It made the house seem more inviting somehow. Like an honest-to-goodness family lived there.
    All week long he’d been trying to come up with an excuse to see Ventura during the weekend. He’d become used to her being around during the week, and—the truth