My Lucky Groom

scurry away. “Catch you in a while. Ta!”
    Ventura drew a breath, attempting to steady herself. The room in front of her was abuzz with clinking champagne flutes and society chatter. Men in tuxedos walked by, chatting amiably while elegantly coiffed women followed. A waiflike blonde threw her head back in exaggerated laughter, attempting to flatter a gorgeous, dark-eyed man. There were so many conversations milling about, it was impossible to pick up more than snippets of them beneath the clickity-clack of empty drink glasses being set down on trays as waiters carted fresh libations forth.
    Suddenly, from across the room, she caught a man’s gaze on her. He was to-die-for handsome with wavy dark hair and a toned, trim body packaged perfectly beneath his pressed white shirt and bow tie. Ventura judged him to be in his early thirties, and—she couldn’t believe it—he was smiling at her. Ventura blinked hard, and the heavy mascara Mary had pasted on her lashes caused them to stick. She gasped and pried them apart just in time to see the heartthrob approaching.
    “Can I help you find something?” He spoke with no hint of an accent, but his eyes were all dark and dreamy like he’d come from some exotic land. “You look a little lost.”
    She was lost all right. Hook, line, and sinker sunk in his hypnotically sexy gaze. “Huh?”
    He angled his champagne flute in her direction. “Are you meeting someone?”
    “No,” she spouted quickly. “Just looking!” Oh great, Ventura. “Browsing!” Worse. “Um…” She bit into her bottom lip, feeling her cheeks blaze. “I’m new in town.”
    He chuckled good-naturedly and extended his hand. “Welcome to our fair city. I’m Richard.”
    She settled her palm in his grip, and a billion warm tingles raced down her spine. “Ventura,” she answered weakly. Ventura pulled herself up short, realizing she sounded like some love-struck schoolgirl. She was grateful none of her professors had looked like that . She wouldn’t have been able to get an ounce of work done. Apart from a little creative writing. Yeah, she could spin herself a tale or two involving herself and this unbearably hot man. The only trouble was, given the exciting details of Ventura’s past, the story would be rated PG. Ventura sighed as he released her hand with a worried gaze.
    “Are you all right?” he queried kindly. “You look like you should sit down.”
    Ventura imagined him sweeping her into his strong arms and carrying her across the crowded ballroom—then inwardly slapped her silly face. “I’m fine,” she said hastily. “Just catching my breath after the long walk here.”
    “Where from?”
    “Capitol Hill.”
    He glanced down at her spiky high heels, then once more met her eyes. “I’m impressed.”
    Just then, Ventura spied Mary approaching with a pert brunette with springy curls. Of all the people she wanted to see now, her beautiful apartment mate was at the bottom of the list. And the girl with her was just as pretty. Mary whispered something to her friend, then caught Ventura’s eye, beaming brightly. She carried an extra flute of champagne, which she raised in a silent toast as she drew near.
    “There you are, you devilish man!”
    Ventura turned in surprise to see a trim redhead had sidled up next to Richard and linked her arm through his. Was it Ventura’s imagination or did he seem to stiffen at her approach? “I’ve been looking for you everywhere .”
    He patted her arm and answered mildly, “We’re supposed to talk with the guests. That’s what this event’s all about.” Ventura wasn’t sure what Richard’s role was in things, but she figured him to be one of the gala’s organizers. From what Mary had told her, a wealthy Washington benefactor had established a fund to raise college scholarship money for students studying the arts. Money from tickets purchased to attend this event would go toward that cause. A number of local organizations had purchased them in bulk as a sign of good will. Petra had been lucky enough to get three of them as gifts from her employer without paying a cent.
    “I’m Petra,” the bouncy brunette said, cozying up to the group.
    Mary handed her extra champagne flute to Ventura, then addressed the others. “And I’m Mary.”
    Richard politely bowed his head in greeting, acknowledging them both. “Richard.”
    The redhead sighed and rolled her eyes. “Monica,” she said, giving Richard’s arm a small tug.
    Richard