On Best Behavior (C3) (48 page)

“Why do ex-wives make great parole officers?”

“I have no idea.”

“Because they never let anyone finish a sentence!” Roger chortled, and Ana cackled.

Sophie smiled. “Good one, Rog.”

“Tell ’em the other one,” Ana urged.

Grant grimaced.
There’s more?
He shoveled a bite of pasta into his mouth and discovered Kirsten had excellent taste.

“Why do divorces cost so much?” When nobody answered, he yelled, “’Cause they’re worth it!”

Ana’s laugh was high-pitched. And loud.

“What a great joke to tell at a wedding,” Jerry growled. He stood and told Marilyn, “I’m getting us more wine.”

Sophie giggled.

Grant nudged her. “Do you want more champagne?”

“I’m good for now.”

“No, Roger!” Ana smacked his hand, and he set down the forkful of pasta that had headed toward his mouth. Ana offered him a carrot stick dipped in salsa instead.

“Just one bite?” Roger pleaded. “You know we’ll be dancing all night.”

“One bite, you little bastard.”

Marilyn leaned closer to Grant. “I hear they found quite a stash in the Russian house. Including the location of the submarine in Baja.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. “And the FBI took care of the Russians’ girlfriends. They’re safe now.”

“You did good.” She smiled at them. “You too, Sophie.”

Jerry set a glass of red wine in front of her and sat back down.

“Is that dance music I hear,
mamacita?”
Roger asked Ana.

“Sí.”
She nodded. “Time for the samba,
papacito
.”

As Roger stood, his head tilted toward the table where Hunter and Bradley sat. “Those two are as gay as a three dollar bill.”

“I thought it was a two dollar bill?” Grant said.

“Inflation.” Roger slapped his shoulder and headed upstairs with his girlfriend.

Marilyn shook her head as a pleasing silence drifted over the table.

“Imagine working for him for a whole summer,” Sophie said.

Jerry narrowed his eyes. “Surely that had to be worse than hawking hotdogs at the Cubs games, Taylor.”

She stroked her chin. “It’s a tough call. What do you think, Grant?”

“Your buns
are
pretty warm,” he said with a straight face.

She smiled. “Don’t you forget it.”

Ben approached the table with two flutes of champagne. “What’re you doing serving alcohol?” Grant demanded.

He shrugged as he handed a glass to him and set one down in front of Sophie. “Uncle Joe sent me over here—ask him. I didn’t drink any, I promise.”

“Thank you, Ben.” She took a sip.

He swept down in a bow, and when he straightened again he was grinning. “May I get anything else for the lovely couple?”

“How gracious, Benjamin.” Her hand fluttered to her chest. “No, thank you. I want you to enjoy your time with Lindsay and your friends. Are you having fun?”

He nodded. “This wedding
rocks!”

Grant smiled. “Have you gotten a new dog yet?”

“Did your dog
die?”
Marilyn asked as her hand covered her mouth.

“Nope.” Ben hung his head and kicked his foot on the deck. He explained how Mullens had stolen Dot, and when Ben had returned her to her owners, they’d paid him one hundred dollars as a reward. His mom had promised to get him a new dog.

Sophie chuckled as he dashed off to the table filled with teenagers.

“Why did he invite so many friends?” asked Jerry.

“We wanted to have a few people on
my
side of the church,” Grant said.

“Hey—my side was mostly my father’s business associates,” Sophie countered. “You had a fair number of guests. If all the women from Capone’s knew you were getting married, the church would’ve been packed.”

Grant shook his head as he lifted his champagne glass. “Now I only have my nephew buying me drinks.” He watched Ben laugh at something Lindsay said and could tell he was smitten. “Sophie, I thought you told me Lindsay wouldn’t date Ben. Why’d she change her mind?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Ben wouldn’t tell me.”

Jerry cleared his throat, and Grant looked up to see him nudge Marilyn. “What is it?” he asked.

“Lindsay’s father works for the CPD,” Marilyn said. “I
may
have said something to him about Ben being a good guy.”

Sophie smiled. “Thank you, Marilyn.”

“Thank you for sticking up for Ben, ma’am.” Grant kissed the detective’s hand.

She fanned herself. “I think I’m going to swoon. Do you have the smelling salts, Jer?”

“Back off my woman, Madsen.”

He grinned. “Yes, sir.”

“So, we have a gift for you two,” Marilyn said. She reached into the pocket of her black suit-jacket and placed a small wrapped box on the table.

The detective seemed strangely embarrassed. “Want to put that on the gift table?” Grant asked.

“Um…no.”

“We want to make sure you have it…tonight,” Jerry added.

“What is it?” Sophie wondered.

“Go ahead and open it,” Jerry said.

“Wait!” Marilyn sprang to her feet, and Grant stood as well. “Not while we’re here. C’mon, let’s go for a spin on the dance floor.”

“I
hate
dancing, Mar.”

“Then let’s check out the architecture.”

Jerry rolled his eyes. “Fine.” Before he followed, he lowered his voice and said, “We have a pair of these ourselves. We thought you’d enjoy them.”

Grant sat down and felt as confused as Sophie looked.

“That was weird.” She shrugged, then scooped up the present and tore off the paper. “Oh, my God.”

“What is it?” He tried to see, but she’d hidden the box under the table. She passed the box to him, and when he looked inside, he laughed.

Handcuffs
.

“Who knew how kinky law enforcement types could be,” she marveled.

He waggled his eyebrows. “I like it.”

After they cut the cake and fed each other a few bites, they headed up to the converted dance floor on the deck. A fast pop song played, and Sophie’s stylish moves got Grant in the spirit. They joined Kirsten, Tanya, and Anita, and soon Bounter and Agent Thompson moved into their circle. Grant wondered if “YMCA” was next.

“And now it’s time to slow it down,” the DJ announced. “Couples, please come to the dance floor. We have a special song for Grant and Sophie.”

Sophie’s head cocked to one side, listening to the song, as she stepped into his waiting arms. He didn’t recognize the opening piano melody, but she groaned. “Bless the Broken Road,” she told him. “A required song for anyone getting married over the age of thirty.”

His hand caressed the small of her back, and his other hand clasped her fingers. She swayed in his arms while he listened to the lyrics. “But this song is particularly true for us.” He twirled her, and she came right back to him. “Our road’s been destroyed, smashed to pieces…but still, it led to you. I’m blessed.” He felt no pain as he nuzzled her nose before planting a kiss on her waiting mouth. She tasted of champagne and sweet icing—of dreams and possibilities.

The ship was now out on Lake Michigan, cruising past the majestic Chicago skyline. He drew his bride closer as he checked out the other couples on the dance floor. She kissed his neck. Her soft lips brushed his Adam’s apple, and her warm breath lingered on his skin as he inhaled the soft notes of her perfume. He closed his eyes, hoping he’d remember this moment the rest of his life.

He felt Cheri by his side, and he snuck the microphone from her grasp. He looked up at the DJ who gave him the thumbs up before fading the volume of the current song.

“Thank you for being here, everyone,” he said into the microphone.

Sophie stepped back and stared at him with surprise.

“You thought I wouldn’t sing to you tonight?” he teased. “I was just waiting for the right time.” He scanned the deck and found all eyes on him as the ship approached Navy Pier. He backed up to the railing for support and locked eyes with his bride. “So, Sophie and I met at our parole officer’s door. Isn’t that right, Officer Stone?”

From the stern, Jerry raised his bottle of beer above his head.

“He doesn’t look like a matchmaker, does he?”

Laughter drifted through the night air.

Grant looked back at Sophie. “I was in a hopeless place…until I found you, Sophie Taylor. You’ve filled my world with hope.”

She pressed her forearms against her chest, her folded hands under her chin. Her eyes glittered with tears.

“So I wrote you this song to thank you for that hope. It’s titled ‘Con Me.’” He closed his eyes to collect himself, worried he’d start crying too. After a deep breath he connected with her again. His wife. His Bonnie.

We both knew a man—dark, beaten, and blue
But I never imagined he’d lead me to you.

If I could conjure a woman so warm, smart, and kind,
God would grant me a Sophie, at Jerry’s to find.

I held a conference between my heart and my mind.
I confess both chose you for the ties that bind.

Confirm me, convince me, conspire to own me.
Conceivably you’re first to confront me and know me.
Can you con me all over again?

You said unconditional love was hard to find.
I hadn’t known such connection until you were mine.

I concede that you knew me all of the time.
I concur that time spent with you is sublime.

Confirm me, convince me, conspire to own me.
Conceivably you’re first to confront me and know me.
Can you con me all over again?

I’ll write my prose and cons, concert of my heart.
You’re conduction, you’re confection, you’re breathtaking art.

And so to conclude, but never to end,
This contract that we so eagerly begin…

Congratulations to my lovely and stunning new wife,
For the conjugals that start our beautiful life.

Confirm me, convince me, conspire to own me.
Conceivably you’re first to confront me and know me.
Can you con me all over again?

As he finished, Sophie’s tears ran tracks down her cheeks. Amidst applause, she skipped into his arms, and he breathed in her intoxicating scent as he held her tight. She snuggled into his chest. “I’ll con you every day, McSailor.”

“Good.”

There was a loud pop seconds before the dark sky filled with brilliant white and purple fireworks. A cheer went up from guests all over the boat, but Grant and Sophie heard nothing, saw nothing, but each other.

Acknowledgments

I’m so grateful to the fine women of Omnific Publishing for making The
Con
duct Series a reality! Their best behavior supported, encouraged, and improved my writing. My thanks to:

Jessica Royer Ocken: You are an extraordinary editor! I’ve learned so much from you about writing, and you’re a fun, kind person too.

Cindy Campbell and CJ Creel: What would I have done without your literary and legal knowledge? Sophie and Grant may have landed back in prison.

Elizabeth Harper: You’re a “psycho publisher” who’s got chutzpah for starting your own publishing company, featuring Romance Without Rules.

Coreen Montagna: You beautify my books and play a mean game of Words With Friends.

Micha Stone and Traci Olsen: Thank you for spreading the word about Bonnie and McSailor.

I’m also grateful to my pub sisters Nicki Elson, Lisa Sanchez, Carol Oates, Trisha Wolfe, Debra Anastasia, Cherie Colyer, and Jennifer DeLucy. Thanks for being such wonderful listeners on this journey!

And big smooches to supportive readers like Gwynn, Mitsy, Djeni, Roche (Uncle Joe lover), Cécile, Janine, Smash, Syrah, Darcia, Nora, Nancy, Amy, Lorne, Ina, Christy, Laurie, Victoria, Ana, Christina, Babs, Annette, and Sophia.

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