The Sweet Spot

CHAPTER 18

CHASE WALKED BRISKLY in the underground parking garage with security keeping up, preoccupied and too impatient to wait for them to bring his car. The gradual buildup of tension surrounding his wedding had taken a turn toward drama, and they still had three weeks to go. It was to be a lavish winter affair, taking place in the small window of time falling between New Year’s and before they left for spring training. One for which the Coles spared no expense. Amanda insisted she not burden his only relative downtime and did her best to leave him out of the planning as much as she could. He trusted her judgment regarding cake tastings, menu planning, invitations, and flowers. He knew she could handle their wedding party getting to the size of a philharmonic orchestra with aplomb. Both Rupert and Catherine came from large families, and his mother’s invitation list was long as well. But he saw trouble on the horizon when Amanda moved back into her own place, citing some old folklore about how it would add to the proper nuptial buildup. What rubbish. It wasn’t a prizefight he had to reserve his stamina for; it was a marriage. And a month before the most important day of his life was no time for her to go all virginal on him. When she called earlier that morning to make the final decision on their honeymoon he could tell she was stressed out and scattered. But instead of being supportive, he spat back.

“I don’t really care where we go, just make sure the room is nice because by the time this shindig is over, we’re not going to leave it.”

Amanda hung up abruptly after grouching that he sounded more like a drill sergeant giving her marching orders, and she was going to go “man up.” The whole episode left him with a rotten taste in his mouth. As he picked up his pace in the cold garage, Chase considered blowing off his lunch meeting and tracking her down. But what good would that do when his only solution would be to try convincing her to sex him up until they both felt better?

Chase didn’t notice the black sedan accelerating and coming toward him until Jack and his partner started taking affirmative action and rushing in front of him. The car’s brakes squealed, a sound made louder by the echo created in the garage, and the car fishtailed, then spun halfway around before stopping a few yards away from the trio. Even with the half-empty garage, it was still a tight maneuver.

The men stared in stunned silence as Amanda jumped out of the backseat and rushed up to them, her hand secure in the pocket of her beige trench coat. She reached out with her hand firmly ensconced within the coat, the outline of her pointer finger and thumb protruding from the top and side of the coat’s pocket as if brandishing a revolver.

“Stay back and no one gets hurt,” she ordered, jerking the hand in her pocket toward the running car. “He’s coming with me.”

Upon recognizing her, the two security guards marginally stood down. Still with their hands on their own holstered weapons, they looked briefly at each other and then at their boss, who was smiling broadly.

“Better do what she says, boys. That finger looks pretty serious,” Chase said, already moving in the direction of Amanda’s getaway car.

“That was easy,” Amanda remarked, taking her hand out of her pocket and heading back to the car. She briefly turned back to the silent guards, who had broken into small grins, even Jack, who wasn’t known for smiling. She added, “I’ll have him back in three days, make sure they clear his schedule?”

Both men gave a single nod. Amanda and Chase got into the backseat of the car.

“Hey, Ricky Bobby,” Chase said good-naturedly in reprimand to the driver as he slid into his side behind the man. “That’s my fiancé you almost smashed into another car.”

“Sorry, sir,” said the driver, a man of about thirty, who grinned sheepishly after making eye contact from the rearview mirror. “She told me to make it dramatic.”

“No surprise there,” Chase drawled as Amanda closed her car door after taking her seat beside him. He took her hand. “Okay, I’ve come along quietly. What’s this all about?”

Amanda leaned over and kissed him quickly before settling back in her seat and saying victoriously, “You’ll see.”

The car sped out of the parking garage and into city traffic. With a third person in the car, Chase and Amanda refrained from further conversation. He continued his grasp of her hand, absently playing with his ring on her finger. He leaned his head back against his headrest and closed his eyes, but couldn’t stop smiling. He had given up control without having a clue where they were going, yet he couldn’t remember ever being happier. In a matter of minutes he was sleeping.

When she woke him, the car was on a tarmac at what he assumed was Teterboro Airport. A short distance away, a Learjet was awaiting their arrival. The driver popped the trunk of the car and handed over an overstuffed backpack to Amanda before leaving.

“I do have my own plane, you know,” he told her, intercepting and taking the heavy backpack from the driver as they made their way to the stairs of the open hatchway to board.

“What kind of kidnapper would I be if I used your own stuff to kidnap you?” she asked.

They took their seats and were given glasses of champagne while the flight crew began preparing for takeoff.

“At least tell me what’s in the backpack?” he requested.

“My wedding dress,” she replied.

Chase’s eyebrows rose in response. He stared at the bulging bag that was full of satin and crinoline that the flight attendant was storing in a nearby compartment across from them. “Your Vera Wang original is in that thing?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Don’t laugh. I’ve got one your tuxes crammed in there, too. Lena handed it over to me while you were in the shower. Don’t be mad at her, I held her at finger-point, too,” Amanda fibbed. Chase’s loyal housekeeper was the only other person she’d told of her intentions. Because Lena possessed a romantic heart and had noticed the gradual buildup of agitation taking place in her boss’s demeanor, she was more than willing to help.

A picture came together in his mind of Amanda’s plan, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He didn’t care about their destination, he certainly didn’t give a tinker’s damn about his wedding, and at least this time she wasn’t running away without him, but concern started overshadowing his face.

“Baby,” he said quietly, “you’re not losing it on me, are you?”

“Of course not,” Amanda reassured him. “I can’t remember ever feeling saner.”

“I think maybe it’s time you explain to me what’s going on,” he said with all the benevolent authority she had come to love.

Amanda took a deep breath, could feel herself relax in response to it. They were minutes away from being in the air. The most difficult phase of her mission was already accomplished. She had him all to herself, at least for the next three days.

“I don’t know,” she began on a sigh. “Suddenly it just all seemed so ludicrous. I think it may have started around the time World War Three broke out over the bridesmaids’ dresses. Just because Nicki thinks she looks good in everything doesn’t mean the rest of the girls do. Off-the-shoulder, sleeves or no sleeves, gowns versus short dresses—do you know how hard it is to get six women to agree on a dress? Just thinking about picking out shoes gave me a headache.”

Chase grinned, more in amusement than actual sympathy. “I can imagine.”

“Then the photographer, who I know doubled his price because it’s you, called to pitch a hissy fit because there may be other photographers there.”

“Who knew a guy could be such a diva?” he asked in commiseration, his smile widening.

“I’m opening responses to our wedding invitation from people I’ve never even heard of!” she exclaimed.

“I hear you there,” he readily agreed.

“I hate my condo now,” she continued miserably. “I only went back there because my mother sort of pressured me into it. Every night she’s calling me with some sort of lame excuse, like I don’t know she’s really doing a bed check. I think marrying off her only child is secretly making her crazy.”

Chase could see her eyes begin to well up and her voice shake. “And while I’m glad I’m making it easier on her, I don’t quite know how to tell her that waking up without you is starting every day off gloomy and depressing, no matter how wonderful the end result is supposed to be.”

Chase could feel his insides turning to mush. He was so focused on his own stranded libido, he’d never taken into account that his bride might be feeling the same way. He squeezed her hand in unspoken apology.

“Our cranky conversation this morning was the capper. I went for what felt like the umpteenth fitting of my dress. I thought it looked fine. But when the seamstress began clucking about how I’m going to need at least one more fitting because ‘most brides want to shed those extra fifteen pounds,’ something in me snapped. I couldn’t take any more.”

Chase said nothing, just slightly nodded his head and listened, waiting for her to succumb to a full crying jag. Yet he wasn’t surprised when Amanda instead straightened in her seat and shrugged. “I just thought, if I have to deny myself a decent meal for the next three weeks to fit into a dress my husband can’t wait to tear off, I’m going to blow a gasket. I told her to give me my dress right now, walked out, and, well, you know the rest.”

His laughter filled the plane’s cabin. In less than four hours, she had managed to raid his closet, charter a jet, kidnap him, and who knew what else. He pulled her in for a sound kiss, the only thing he could remedy on the spot. “That’s my girl.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re headed,” he said after their lips finally unlocked.

“Vegas, baby,” she proclaimed.

AMANDA HAD THOUGHT OF EVERYTHING. A stretch limousine was waiting their arrival when they landed and would be at their disposal for the duration of their stay. She secured the penthouse suite at the Bellagio, with a magnificent view of the legendary fountain below. She’d instructed the hotel’s concierge to obtain all the toiletries they would need, including his favorite cologne, her perfume, and lingerie. She saw to it that their clothes were made wrinkle-free after being intricately and strategically folded into the backpack, a feat he considered amazing in and of itself.

If anyone else had told him he was about to be married by Elvis, Chase might have been skeptical.

Instead Chase found himself standing in front of the gold-lamé-suited, pompadour-sporting, hip-swinging impersonator. Next to him was James Dean, his impersonating and impromptu best man, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt, and worn leather jacket with its collar up. Apparently, his appointed groomsman had no interest in baseball or seemed to fully embrace his rebel role. He was only slightly more enthusiastic than the real James Dean, which meant he basically acted as lively as a corpse.

The same could not be said for the maid of honor, Marilyn Monroe. She couldn’t stop giggling and sashaying in her form-fitting black dress or batting her false eyelashes. In his mind, it wouldn’t have mattered if she was the real Marilyn; there was only one woman on the planet that would ever captivate him again. And while Chase indulged her in one of his rakish smiles, as soon as he caught that first glimpse of white strapless gown at the back of the small chapel waiting for “Love Me Tender” to start playing, the blond bombshell became invisible.

He wasn’t interested in making small talk, even though both Elvis and Marilyn had tried to engage him in their shtick. All he saw was his bride. Her makeup was minimal, her ebony hair cascading in its natural state of unblown waves, just like that fateful night when he’d met her, only now it rested on her bare shoulders. After all this time, she still took his breath away.

Amanda couldn’t recall a time Chase ever looked more handsome, although she’d seen him in a tux a hundred times before. His eyes were iridescent, his smile so dazzling, it was like a magnetic force field pulling at her from where she stood. The recorded music started playing, the Elvis started singing, and she began the short walk to join the man who was minutes away from becoming her husband.

And per her explicit instruction, there wasn’t a photographer in sight. However, there was a single unmanned stationary video camera set up in the back. Thanks to a written and signed confidentiality agreement, it would have its content turned over to Amanda in exchange for a hefty sum. The next fifteen minutes she intended to selfishly keep for them alone.

Amanda stepped down the small aisle, past the several rows of empty chairs, forcing herself to keep from racing, her gaze locked on Chase. When she reached, then joined him, they still were made to wait. Elvis had a chorus to go, despite the fact there were only two anxious people the performance was for. Apparently, they were going to get the full treatment. Marilyn swayed and James Dean jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and slightly bobbed his head to the music.

“When does he stop?” Chase whispered in her ear as Elvis continued gyrating all around his stagelike platform.

“I guess when he’s good and ready,” Amanda whispered back and they both tried not to laugh.

The song finally ended and Amanda handed her small bouquet over to Marilyn. At Elvis’s request, Chase took Amanda’s hands in his.

“Uh, we are gathered here, before God and,” Elvis began, addressing all the empty chairs, “and these two witnesses to celebrate the love this man and this very handsome woman have for each other.”

Amanda could feel her palms getting sweaty. This was it, she was about to marry the man of her dreams, breaking millions of girls’ hearts in the process. She blinked up into Chase’s loving gaze. He winked and gave her hands a reassuring squeeze before leaning over to Elvis and politely interrupting him. Elvis stopped his speech and drew his head closer to Chase. They shared a brief, private exchange in which both pulled away smiling after Elvis gave an affirmative “Uh-huh-huh.”

“Amanda, your hunka hunka burnin’ groom thinks it might be best if you went first, so you won’t feel so nervous,” Elvis continued in full act. “So I . . . I . . . I want you to repeat after me. I, Amanda, take you, Chase, to be my wedded husband.”

“I, Amanda, take you, Chase, to be my wedded husband,” she repeated through the tears of joy starting to brim in her eyes. It was happy-ending time. Her fairy tale was about to come true.

“I promise never to leave you at the Heartbreak Hotel or step on your blue suede shoes,” Elvis preached loudly.

Way to lighten up the moment, Amanda thought as she repeated it, giggling.

“I promise to love, cherish, honor, and obey. . . .”

“I promise to love, cherish, honor, and . . . ” Amanda halted before saying waspishly, “Beg your pardon?”

“You heard him.” Chase grinned and pointedly said, “Obey.”

Amanda took a quick look around at the other three people in the room and pursed her lips together. “They don’t say that anymore.”

“But you will,” Chase stated boldly, his grin getting wider.

Amanda pulled her hands out of his and took a step back, landing them on her hips. “I’m not saying that,” she said sharply. She heard Marilyn’s small gasp of either shock or hopefulness followed by a carnal breathy “Oh” and Amanda jerked her chin at the maid of honor in warning. James Dean began to look interested.

“Come on now, little sister, don’t be cruel” could be heard coming from the platform.

Amanda snapped her head in its direction. “Pipe down, Elvis, this doesn’t concern you!”

Elvis took a big step back with another “uh-huh-huh” and started pulling at his collar in a way that was more similar to Rodney Dangerfield getting ready to plead for some respect.

All the while, Chase remained in his spot and watched, unconcerned and thoroughly amused, waiting to see what his bride would do next.

Amanda rounded back on Chase, itching to slap the smile off his face, one that only moments ago she adored and which now infuriated her.

“Why on earth would you choose to act like a wise guy on our wedding day?” she hissed at him.

“I can’t let you have all the surprises, can I?” he calmly asked, his eyes bright and laughing.

She swallowed her anger and took a step closer to him, lowering her voice. “I realize our life is an open book on this sort of thing, but you’re embarrassing me.”

“Not my intention,” Chase continued mildly. “Frankly, you looked so nervous, I wasn’t even sure you would notice.”

“Well, I did,” she huffed. “Now, can we stop this madness and get back to our wedding?”

“Certainly, just as soon as you say it.”

“I’m not saying it,” she repeated through teeth clenched in frustration.

“Then I guess we’re at an impasse,” Chase said seriously. “I’m not going to be the only one to do it.”

Amanda could feel herself blushing even before hearing Marilyn’s sensual sigh and Elvis’s relieved one. Chase had successfully gotten her to set herself up. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or kick him in his shin. She already knew life with this man was never going to be dull.

“You’re saying it, too?”

He smiled tenderly, offering his hands to her. “Of course, even though it’s really just a formality. I’d never expect you to abide by it. Old-fashioned, remember?”

She placed her hands back into his and leaned closer into him. “Please tell me you would never have done this at a church full of our friends and family?”

“Are you kidding?” He bent down to murmur into her ear, remembering he wasn’t supposed to kiss her until he got the final go-ahead. “I wouldn’t have done it here if it wasn’t for that confidentiality agreement they all signed. I have to snag these opportunities when I can get them.” Chase snuck in a quick kiss to her temple before adding impishly, “Wait till you see how angry you got.”

Amanda could feel his fingers, webbed within hers, tightening ever so slightly, probably as a precaution in case she tried to slug him.

“I really like this better when I’m the one making you mad,” she pouted.

“Then let’s wrap this thing up so you can get back to it,” he told her before straightening to his full height and ordering, “Hit it, Elvis.”

The original “King” resumed his official duties, and both Amanda and Chase promised to love, honor, cherish, and obey, forsaking all others until their dying day. James Dean produced the two plain gold bands from his pocket, purchased spur-of-the-moment to replace the carefully designed rings that were still waiting for them back home, and they slipped them on each other’s finger. And as soon as he heard the word pronounce, Chase pulled Amanda in close. With one powerful hand securely on the small of her back, he wove his other hand deep into her hair. Then he sealed it all with a kiss.

But instead of vacating the building, which would have been their plan, Chase and Amanda were obliged into celebrating with their first dance to a very long-winded rendition of “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” So long, in fact, that James Dean proffered his hand to Marilyn and they joined the bride and groom while Elvis worked himself up into a sweat of passionate crooning.

“Next time, let’s get married by Earth, Wind and Fire,” Amanda sighed into his chest.

“Anything you say, Mrs. Walker,” Chase replied, right before lifting her off the ground to bring her face-to-face and kissing her again. He set her back on the ground and resumed their dance, singing into her ear. “Got to get cha into my life.”

EVENTUALLY THEY WERE ALLOWED TO leave. The DVD and a flash drive, the only tangible pieces of evidence that a wedding had occurred, were secure within their possession. Chase and Amanda got back into their waiting limousine to head back to their hotel, while Marilyn and Elvis threw confetti at them from the entrance to the chapel and James Dean smoked a cigarette. They accepted the driver’s congratulations and engaged in few minutes of well-mannered conversation. Sitting on opposite ends of the big backseat, each took a moment to privately appreciate the enormity of what had just taken place. Amanda stared out her darkened window at the passing scenery, where desert met debauchery, overwhelmed with bliss. Her life would never be the same. With Chase by her side, there was nothing she couldn’t accomplish. When she gave herself over to him, he only made her stronger. She knew she would never be loved so completely again. And slouched from his side, as she watched the bustling activity on the Las Vegas strip whizzing by, Chase watched her. The most beautiful, maddening angel come to earth was his in every sense of the word. He really was a man who had it all.

“You know, there are a whole bunch of people back home who still think there’s going to be a wedding,” he mentioned casually as his finger depressed a button near where he was sitting. “People who went to a lot of trouble.”

“They’ll get over it,” she said vapidly, her gaze still out the window, but catching the partition separating driver from passengers start to rise from the corner of her eye.

“That’s not very nice,” he continued sternly once the divider was fully in place, ensuring their privacy. “And your behavior in that chapel was deplorable. Borderline to a tantrum, I dare say.”

She turned her gaze from the window to fleetingly double-check the partition before settling it on her husband. Chase did his best to appear as the strict disciplinarian. Amanda gave a halfhearted attempt at looking contrite. Both were completely bogus.

“I’m not sure what came over me,” she said, more pleased than sorry.

“You know what has to happen here,” he said with all the disapproval he could muster, which still made for a good show. He sat up and shifted to the middle of the long bench seat, extending his hand in her direction.

Boy, do I! Amanda thought with glee as she took his hand and he pulled her gently across his knees. He began to lift her dress as he said unconvincingly, “I hate to have to do this.”

“I’ll bet,” she sassed from beneath yards of material now over her head. She felt strong fingers hooking into both sides of her panties followed by the familiar cool rush of air on her skin while he peeled them down. She held her breath in anticipation as his hand began the sensual tracing and dancing before coming to rest on his favorite place, right where her bottom ended and her thighs began. Her sweet spot.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, young lady?” A rhetorical question answered only by Amanda wriggling against his muscled thighs in erotic delight.

Chase righted her seconds before the Bellagio’s valet opened the door on his side of the car, scooping her panties off the limousine floor and stuffing them in his pocket. He helped his flushed new wife out of the limo, taking her hand and walking with purposeful strides directly to the hotel elevator. He deliberately and uncharacteristically ignored anyone who recognized them.

Nobody saw them for two days. When they returned to New York they still had the party, but they left their fancy duds in the closet, and everyone was encouraged to wear what made them comfortable. A light snow began to fall on their way home, and it gave Amanda the idea of a fairy-tale whim. They put their wedding clothes on, her white flowing gown and his black tie. Chase drew her into his steely arms and she delicately placed her hand in his before he rested them both over his heart. And they danced alone together in the ballroom of their recently completed castle.