Strategically Wed Read online

  The only movement came from the twisting woman beneath him. He hadn’t been with a woman for almost a year, and his body responded instantly to the feel of Maggie’s silky limbs entwined with his. Gritting his teeth, he attempted to block out his own discomforts and pinpoint the exact location of where the police command had come from. The order had been muffled, most likely originating from someplace inside the church but outside the sanctuary.

  Maggie thrust her hands between their bodies and tried to push him away. “What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered furiously, her voice distorted by the veil smothering her face. She squirmed beneath him, barely missing a strategic part of his body with her lethal knees.

  He cursed and rolled away.

  Sparing her a quick glance, he saw her swatting at the veil and trying to untangle herself from the swathing of cloth that had hiked up around her hips and become partially snagged between her legs.

  Maggie yanked her dress from under his weight but not before he caught sight of her creamy thighs.

  Griff gritted his teeth and swallowed hard. He didn’t need this kind of distraction right now.

  He forced his gaze away and reached around her to pull his gun from the ledge inside the pulpit. “Can you take it from here?” he asked shortly.

  She shot him a dirty look and grabbed her own gun that had been hidden there as well. “Next time you wear the dress, and I’ll wear the pants,” she retorted.

  “I love it when you get kinky, Bennington.”

  “Put a sock in it, Murdock.”

  The spitting fury on her face told Griff it would be best to remove himself from the proximity of Maggie’s dangerous knees and deadly trigger finger. A smart man didn’t tangle with a woman holding a gun—especially one who could handle a gun better than most men he knew. There was one thing everyone agreed upon about Griff Murdock: he was a smart man.

  With another quick look over his shoulder, he sprinted over the altar and slipped into the doorway of the small room next to the sanctuary. From his vantage point, he saw the pews were now clear of all their occupants. There didn’t seem to be any immediate danger, but appearances could be deceiving.

  The pastor, who was hidden behind the choir loft with the organist, gave Griff a questioning look. Griff motioned for him to stay put and try to quiet the organist, who was obviously having trouble catching her breath.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Wylie nod to him just before the older man slipped out the back door. Several other officers, moving with stealth and caution, found their way to a side door off to his left before disappearing down the basement stairs to check out the lower floor.

  Outside, sounds of a door slamming and several shouts reverberated through the stone walls as Griff braced himself for any unexpected movements or noises. An unnatural hush reverberated through the sanctuary. There hadn’t been any shots fired, but he knew better than to relax his vigilance.

  Waiting was his least favorite part of being a cop, but at least this ritual was a more comfortable scenario than the one he’d been performing just moments earlier.

  Griff scanned the church again, his head steeped with Maggie’s seductive scent, which had teased him throughout the brief ceremony. He couldn’t remember being so distracted, and that wasn’t a good situation for a cop to be in. But lately, he’d had difficulty keeping his mind on the job. Since Maggie had returned to the police department, he’d found himself hungry for something he couldn’t name.

  Griff tried to shake off his tangled thoughts. He’d be glad when they wrapped this up and he could get out of this monkey suit.

  Scouring the big room again, the only movement Griff could detect came from the three big fans hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Their whirring efforts to cool failed to provide any relief as rivers of sweat meandered down his neck and seeped through his tuxedo.

  A funeral-like silence emanated from the people trapped under the pews. Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths except for the organist, who was crouched near the pastor and whose big bosom heaved with hysteria, vocalized by ragged whimpers. The reverend awkwardly patted her shoulder as his attempts to hush her proved fruitless.

  Griff caught Maggie’s eye. With a steady hand on her firearm, she shifted soundlessly closer to the choir loft. With her empty hand she reached out and touched the frightened woman’s arm.

  “Please stay calm, ma’am.” Maggie’s voice was low but firm. “Everything is under control. This will be all over in a minute. We’re just taking precautions.”

  Griff noticed the organist’s big heaving sobs instantly ebbed.

  Maggie had a natural way of dealing with people, something that Griff could appreciate since he didn’t have the patience to baby-sit. His superiors claimed he was too abrupt, repeatedly lecturing him to be more politically correct—whatever the hell that meant. He frankly didn’t care. He refused to reason with the unreasonable while a ticked-off husband emptied his shotgun into someone’s back. From Griff’s point of view, that’s how too many people ended up dead.

  Still in this dicey situation, he appreciated Maggie’s rapport with the organist. She had just the right touch as well as a delectable body. The lower part of his anatomy still hummed with the memory of her seductive squirming. His wayward thoughts instantly formed pictures of illicit, steamy wedding night images.

  Cool it, Murdock. The last thing he could afford to do right now was forget the task at hand and obsess over Maggie’s desirability as a woman. He had to keep his mind alert and focused.

  A shout outside forced his thoughts back to the matter at hand. He exerted his iron control in reclaiming his wayward thoughts as the moments stretched and lapsed.

  After what seemed to be a lifetime that taxed all Griff’s reserves, Wylie’s face appeared in the doorway. “Okay, folks. You can get up now.”

  A gust of sighs resounded as people emerged from their crouched positions and began to talk. Wylie had to raise his voice to be heard. “I want everyone to walk single file through the doors and down the basement. Please show the officers in the back some identification with your name and address.”

  Maggie stood up, staggering slightly as her heel caught on the edge of the dress. Ugh! She couldn’t wait to escape this shroud and the stuffy confines of the church.

  “Mrs. Murdock, is everyone okay?” Reverend Foxworth asked her as he helped the quaking organist to her feet.

  Maggie chose to ignore the Mrs. Murdock salutation for now. There wasn’t time for explanations at this point. “Everyone seems to be fine, Reverend.”

  The pastor turned away.

  Hitching up the hem of her dress so she wouldn’t trip over it again, Maggie slipped as quickly as she could through the crowd before arriving at Wylie’s side. “Everything go down okay?”

  “Like clockwork.” His earlier affability had completely disappeared. In its place he’d donned the unemotional professionalism that had earned him the respect of every officer in his department. “The sting went exactly the way we planned it. We nabbed two of them.”

  Some of Maggie’s tension eased. She reached back and worked the tight muscles at the base of her neck, trying to loosen the stress. “Who did you collar?”

  “A woman and a man who was dressed like a woman. They don’t appear to be anybody local. Both have those weird Eastern accents.”

  “Anyone else?” Griff asked, appearing behind them, looking too calm for Maggie’s taste and making her feel even more rumpled than she already was.

  Wylie frowned, keeping a close eye on the people standing together in groups. “We’re looking at some suspicious footprints under an open window in the back. But some kid who wanted to check out the scene might have made them. The video equipment McDuff rigged up outside the church should be able to tell us if there was anyone else working this job. McDuff swore we’d get anything that moved, even squirrels scavenging nuts for the winter. But just to be on the safe side, we need to check out the guests in case they had someone pla
nted inside.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Maggie asked.

  “Station yourselves at the end of these aisles. Make a note of anyone you don’t recognize.”

  As Wylie walked away, Griff turned and looked at her. “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I’d love to escape this dress.”

  “You don’t have to keep wearing it on my account,” he drawled, his gaze sweeping her body from head to toe.

  Maggie couldn’t stop the blush surging past her neckline. “You’re dreamin’,” she said coolly.

  Griff chuckled, surprising her by catching her chin with his index finger. “You make a beautiful bride. I wish BJ could have been here to see you.”

  Without waiting to hear her response, he gave her a wink and left.

  His comment sucked the wind from Maggie’s lungs. His little zingers throughout the brief service had been familiar and safe.

  But this had been personal.

  What had Griff meant by his comment? Over the past two months of their whirlwind engagement, they’d skillfully steered clear of BJ’s name. Why had he brought up her father now?

  Maggie’s gaze followed Griff’s long powerful strides down the aisle. He’d already resurrected his professional façade. He did it so masterfully.

  That realization made her stiffen her backbone. She gathered the long skirt of her gown and moved toward the other corner of the sanctuary. She didn’t have time to worry about Griff’s cryptic comments now.

  Fortunately, everyone cooperated. Maggie didn’t spot any mysterious strangers among the people parading slowly by her. Since most of the guests were cops, she easily identified their names or faces. She exchanged greetings with a few.

  By the time she was finished, her back and feet ached in too many places to count. With the setting sun gleaming through the colorful windows and casting a golden reflection on the cherrywood pews, she searched the empty sanctuary and realized she was the only person left in the large, hollow-sounding room.

  Griff had disappeared, too.

  For a brief second she allowed herself the luxury of contemplating the relief of getting out of this perspiration-laden dress and escaping into a tub of bubbles. But she knew she’d have to postpone her indulgence just a little while longer. Wylie and Griff would be waiting for her final report. Then she could leave.

  Slipping off her shoes, Maggie followed the sound of voices and descended the basement steps. Pushing open the door she found the rest of the department and guests. Reception food had been spread out on the tables, and the people milling around were eating or chatting. The earlier tension had evaporated. Any person wandering in off the street would never have believed anything out of the ordinary had taken place earlier. To all intents and purposes, everyone looked like they were celebrating the aftermath of a wedding.

  Before she could cross the room to Wylie, Aunt Jessica, all decked out in a new rose-covered dress and clutching her handkerchief to her bosom, emerged from a cluster of people.

  “Maggie, I don’t understand any of this,” Jessica wailed in typical Jessica-fashion, latching on to Maggie’s arm. “Why did they ruin your wedding with this police nonsense?”

  Maggie placed an arm around her aunt’s shoulders and gave her a gentle hug. “This wasn’t a real wedding, Aunt Jessica. It was a sting operation. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth.”

  It pained her to see her aunt’s expression go from a state of confusion to disbelief. “You mean someone planned to use your wedding to play cops and robbers?”

  Maggie had been dreading this confrontation ever since her aunt, who was now a full-time resident in a Florida retirement village, had arrived on Maggie’s doorstep a week ago.

  Eyeing her aunt’s set expression, Maggie knew explaining the real intent and purpose of the wedding wasn’t going to sit well with a woman who delivered a Valentine to her dead husband’s grave every February. Still, her aunt knew what it meant to have a cop in the family. BJ, Jessica’s brother and Maggie’s father, had always put the job first.

  Maggie pulled out a chair for her aunt. “Why don’t you sit down while I explain.”

  Her aunt folded her arms stubbornly. “I’d prefer to stand.”

  Maggie noticed Griff move a chair next to her aunt and nudge the older woman gently into the seat. Jessica didn’t protest. She turned and grabbed his hand. “BJ always wanted you to marry Maggie, you know.”

  Griff hunched down next to her. “I know, but BJ would have wanted us to put these guys out of business first.”

  “What guys?”

  Maggie pulled a chair forward and faced her agitated relative. “Aunt Jessica, do you remember when the state senator’s daughter was robbed at her wedding four months ago? That robbery was one of fifteen heists pulled off during the past eighteen months in a three state area. The thieves had a pretty lucrative thing going. They’d simply walk into the church while the wedding was going on, rifle through the wedding party’s personal belongings and filch whatever cash and credit cards they found. They also looted the wedding gifts. We set up this sting to put these guys out of business.”

  The older woman’s disbelieving gaze slipped to Griff and then back to Maggie. She shook her head vehemently. “But you both had blood tests taken.”

  “We had to. We didn’t know how the thieves picked their victims. They might have been checking applications for wedding licenses or perhaps they were checking bridal registries at the major department stores. Every part of the wedding had to look real.”

  Her aunt lifted her double chin to a level that made it seem she was looking down at them. “You recited your vows in front of a man of God and in a church.”

  Maggie was starting to feel the full weight of their deception.

  Griff came to her rescue. “During the last wedding the thieves hit, they assaulted and robbed a guest who slipped into a rest room during the service. The woman nearly died.”

  Jessica paled. “And what if someone had gotten hurt here?”

  “Reverend Foxworth, the organist and you were the only civilians,” Maggie said, as gently as she could. “We secured the sanctuary so none of you were in danger.”

  Reverend Foxworth suddenly appeared at Jessica’s elbow and the older woman glared at him. “How could you agree to this charade?”

  He shook his head. “This is the House of God. God has never taken kindly to money changers or looters invading His domain. I figure He had a hand in nailing these sinners.”

  Before anyone could comment, a twinkle entered his eye, and he added, “Of course, He probably would be all in favor of these two fine people formalizing their union. All we need are their signatures on the dotted line of the marriage certificate. I’ve officiated less promising unions.”

  Maggie attempted to control a grimace. “Reverend, we appreciate all your help, but your job is over as far as I’m concerned.”

  For a moment her aunt didn’t comment, using the silence to impose her will.

  When it became evident she couldn’t change the inevitable, Jessica released a sigh of futility and turned her back on the pastor. She eyed Maggie wistfully. “You’ve been alone all your life, my dear. I only wanted for you to have what my Harold and I had.”

  “I know,” Maggie said softly.

  Maggie’s own mother had died within days of Maggie’s birth. Jessica was the closest person Maggie had to a mother.

  Maggie would never intentionally hurt or mislead her aunt. Unfortunately, one of Aunt Jessica’s friends had gotten wind of the wedding and had alerted her aunt.

  Aunt Jessica’s surprise arrival nearly destroyed the entire plan. Telling her aunt the truth had been out of the question because everyone knew Jessica couldn’t keep a secret. More than once Maggie considered calling a halt to the whole thing. She had only agreed to continue with the wedding charade after Griff and Wylie arranged to have someone whisk her aunt out of the sanctuary and into a side room as soon as the robbery went down.


  Jessica’s chin quivered. “You really aren’t getting married?”

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Jessica,” Maggie said.

  She couldn’t blame her aunt for being disappointed. But Maggie didn’t really believe in happily-ever-after—not with a cop. And especially not with Griff.

  Disappointment filled Jessica’s faded blue eyes as she clutched a fist to her well-endowed bosom. “Your father will be so disappointed.”

  Maggie placed a comforting arm around her aunt’s soft shoulders. “Daddy’s been dead for a year.”

  “He’s up there watching over you.” Jessica reached into her white Sunday purse, pulling out a fresh lacy handkerchief to dab her eyes. “I know your father was just plain tickled you were marrying Griff. He loved you both so much.”

  Maggie didn’t want to think about her father and any personal feeling he might have had about such a union. “If anyone would have understood a police sting operation, it was BJ Bennington.”

  Wylie joined their small circle. “The department will reimburse you for your plane expenses, Jessica,” he said, seemingly unaware that he had just dealt a deathblow to Jessica’s dreams.

  She rose to her feet, wrath sparking fury in her gaze. “Your precious department can keep its blood money, Sergeant.” Maggie’s aunt pointed an accusing, quivering finger at him. “Do you think money will make up for the fact that this wedding was a fake? That you tampered with something sacred and made it into a farce? Or that my Maggie and Griff won’t make babies that I can spoil? I’m not getting any younger. I deserve to have a grandbaby to spoil just like everyone else.”

  Maggie had to bite her tongue. She wasn’t going to get into a verbal duel and declare that Griff Murdock was the last person in the world she’d make a baby with.

  From the corner of her eye, she could see Griff struggling to contain his amusement. She ignored him. “Do you want me to have someone take you home, Aunt Jess?”

  Her relative lifted her stout chin and gathered herself together. “I’ll have Christine take me over to Selma Ritter’s. Selma invited me to a bridge game tonight. I need to take my mind off this.”