Kate Hoffmann - A Fare To Remember

She was magnificent. And irresistible. “What if I want to drive a taxi?”

“Then I’ll get you fares! Publishing people need a lot of taxi rides. I will get you so much business you won’t be able to handle it all. If you leave me, you’re giving all that up!”

“What if I’m in love with you?” The words came out before he could stop them.

“That works.” Her voice softened. “Because I’m in love with you, too.”

His heart warmed with the first rays of hope. “It’s too soon.”

“Says who? Everything moves fast in New York. Everyone knows that.”

“Look, I have no problem with making a commitment, but you-you just got here.”

She stepped closer. “And I was lucky enough to meet the sexiest man in the whole city first time out of the box.”

“You have no basis of comparison.”

She made a face. “Zach, I’m offering myself to you on a silver platter. Are you going to be stupid enough to argue with me about it?”

That did it. “No.” He gathered her close. “I’m going to be smart enough to ask you to marry me, contribute to the ninety-percent ratio and get our picture taped to Mario’s dash.”

She looked into his eyes. “The blue picture.”

“Absolutely the blue picture.” Then he kissed her, taking his own sweet time. He ignored the harried pedestrians eddying around them, treating them like an obstacle in the middle of a fast-moving stream. Some things, even in New York, were too wonderful to rush.

“MARIO, YOU REMEMBER WE’RE supposed to go slow, right?” Hannah climbed into the backseat of the taxi while clutching the skirt of her floor-length dress with one hand and holding a bridal bouquet of yellow roses and daisies in the other.

Meanwhile Zach was trying to deal with the dress’s long train. “I think it’s either me or the dress,” he said. “There’s not room enough in this taxi for both of us.”

“Then maybe I should ditch the dress.” Hannah grinned at him.

“There will be no disrobing in my taxi!” Mario hollered from the driver’s seat. “Especially not when we have a man of the cloth riding shotgun.”

Hannah laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll keep my clothes on. Zach, hand me the end of the train. I’ll fold it over my lap.”

“Tell me again why we have this train.” Zach managed to find the end of it and pass it over to her. “We’re getting married in the taxi. The guests are all following in their cars. It’s not like you’ll be walking down the aisle.”

“But it will look fantastic when we make our entrance at the reception.” She accordion-folded the train as she pulled it into the taxi.

“It’s Central Park. We’ll be on grass, so you’ll get grass stains on it. Maybe you should just take it off. Mario can put it in the trunk.”

She blew out a breath. As gorgeous as he looked in his dove-gray tux, a color that matched his eyes perfectly, he was getting on her nerves. “Zach, a wedding dress train is a must-have for me. I love the idea of getting married in Mario’s taxi, but I’m not giving up the train, and that’s final.”

“But-”

“Get in, Zach. It’s time to start. Our guests are growing impatient. Everybody’s honking their horns, plus we’re causing a traffic jam.”

“Okay, but I think you’d be a lot happier without that train.” He scooted in next to her.

“That’s how much you know.” She glared at him.

He glared back for about a second. Then he started to laugh. “It’s about time!”

“For what?”

“Our first fight! Now we have to kiss and make up.” He reached for her.

“You can kiss later!” Mario put the taxi in gear. “After the minister says so!”

But it was too late. Zach had already settled his mouth over Hannah’s, and she was lost to the world. Vaguely she realized the taxi had started to move.

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today… The minister’s words spilled out of the speaker mounted on the roof of the taxi, but Hannah didn’t want to stop kissing Zach, the man she loved more than life itself. That didn’t mean she’d let him win all the arguments, but making up was turning out to be excellent.

Zach was right about the fighting. There hadn’t been any. They’d been too busy loving each other and settling into their new lives and new jobs-Hannah with her new position as assistant editor and Zach with the investment counseling business he’d started on his own.

Suddenly Mario swerved, throwing Hannah off balance and ending the kiss.

“Hey, Mario, watch it!” Zach said. “We could break a tooth!”

“Had to do something,” Mario said. “We’re getting to the part where you have to say stuff. Now, pay attention, kids. This is important.”

And so they did pay attention. Holding hands, they repeated the vows into the microphone the minister handed back to them, vows that floated out over the streets of New York. Traffic was light this early on a Sunday morning, but the few drivers and pedestrians they encountered shouted and whistled their approval of the ceremony.

You may kiss the bride, the minister said into the microphone. Again.

As horns blared from the procession of cars following the taxi, Zach gazed into Hannah’s eyes. “I love you so much.”

Her throat felt tight as her heart filled with enough joy to make her cry. “I love you, too.”

As they kissed, Mario pulled over to the curb beside the grassy area set up for the reception. Zach and Hannah seemed in no hurry to stop kissing, but Mario didn’t mind. He had a little chore to take care of before he locked up the cab, anyway.

He turned to the minister. “Could you open the glove compartment for me? I need to get something out of there.”

“Sure.” The minister popped it open.

“If you’ll hand me that picture right on top and the tape next to it, I’d be much obliged.”

“Ah.” The minister looked at the picture. “It’s them. The picture’s really blue, though.”

“I thought so, too, but this is the one they want, so I’m going with it.” Mario pulled off some tape and positioned the picture in a prime location on his dash.

“So you brought all these couples together?” the minister asked.

“Yep.” Mario finished taping Zach and Hannah to the dash. “And I’m proud to say that my percentage just went up!”

ORDINARILY, RACHEL MARLOWE wouldn’t have minded a little vibrating action while naked in her bed, luxuriating beneath her silk sheets, sated from the second explosive orgasm of the night. Ordinarily, she would have snuggled deeper beneath her comforter and allowed sweet exhaustion to lure her into dreamless sleep.

Ordinarily.

But damn it, over the past four months, making love to Roman Brach had elevated her ordinary, everyday, work-for-a-living existence into an intriguing, captivating adventure. To achieve this level of excitement, she usually had to stuff her duffel with a week’s worth of whatever and catch the next cheap flight to another continent. Her whirlwind, spontaneous one-woman excursions had, not too long ago, been her only means of finding balance in her life-excitement to offset the boring; magnificence to alleviate the mundane.

Until Roman, who thanks to his vibrating pager, was now rolling out of bed. He opened his mouth to speak, but Rachel silenced him with a soft palm over his generous lips.

“If you say ‘duty calls’ I might have to kill you,” she jokingly warned.

His grin, warm beneath her touch, pooled her insides into melted goo. She yanked her hand away. Despite her threat, the only lethal one in the room was Roman.

“If you kill me,” he warned, “I won’t be able to return to you tonight.”

She rolled her eyes, determined not to show her emotional hand. What fun would that be? “I’ll live.”

“Yes,” he agreed, running a strong, callused finger from her lips, down her neck, to the slightly moist crevice between her breasts. “But without me, what quality of life would you enjoy?”

Despite her ire, she laughed at his unstoppable ego and swatted his hand away. He chuckled and started rummaging through the clothes scattered about the room for his pants, shirt, tie and jacket. He’d find them all. And they’d be impeccably unwrinkled when he did. She wasn’t sure how he managed that feat, but it annoyed the hell out of her.

Lots of stuff about Roman annoyed the hell out of her, even while concurrently thrilling her right down to her curled toes. With his choice television-consulting job that took him to the four corners of the world on a regular rotation, Rachel never knew when he’d show up on her doorstep, his blue eyes rich with desire, the hard muscles in his arms and chest tense with need, his perfect Armani suit and custom-made Dege & Skinner shirts practically begging to be ripped free from his body. That’s how he’d shown up tonight just after midnight-and similarly every night this week. Such regularity was downright weird, but who was she to complain? The sex was great. The conversation witty and quick. Yet now, at nearly five o’clock on a Thursday morning, she found herself once again in the unenviable position of either pretending his inevitable departure didn’t bother her in the least…or confessing that she wished he’d stay and risk looking needy and clingy.

She frowned. She’d keep her mouth shut. As always. God forbid that she exhibit vulnerability. She’d learned long ago that putting her heart on the line might make her feel empowered in the short run, but in the long run, she’d end up just like all the women in her life-her mother, her sisters, her roommate, Jeannette…hell, all the chicks she knew from the gym and the various offices she worked in-lonely and bitching about all the men who’d broken their hearts.