by Leanne Banks
Ignoring Kate’s protests, Donna glanced around and crooked her finger at a man across the room. “It will make you forget what a huge mistake you’re making. Here’s number one.”
So Kate took to the dance floor and shook and shimmied to everything from disco to rap. Donna was right about one thing. The whole exercise was wonderfully mind-numbing. Around number twenty-one however, physical reality began to intrude. Pregnancy had not made her more energetic, and what Kate really wanted was a cot.
She’d successfully avoided the slow dances, but when a romantic song by Savage Garden began to play, she was tugged into a familiar pair of arms. Kate glanced up at Michael. Her heart leaped. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking out for your welfare,” Michael said in a dark voice. “Will Donna have you dancing on tabletops soon?”
“She’s trying to cheer me up.”
Michael dipped his forehead against hers and slid his hand dangerously low on her hip. “Are you saying you’re not ecstatic to be marrying me tomorrow?” he asked in a velvet voice that indicated his ego wasn’t suffering in the least.
“Your friend thinks I’m marrying you for your money,” she said, annoyed with her attraction to him. She had always been drawn to him when he looked like this, shirt collar unbuttoned, tie loosened, and hair slightly mussed. Too touchable.
“Justin,” Michael said. “He believes marriage is the giant sucking sound in many men’s bank accounts. He’ll never get married.”
“That’s what you said,” Kate reminded him.
“I had other reasons,” he said, backing her into a corner and skimming his lips over her neck. “You don’t look pregnant,” he murmured. “There’s something about me knowing it while no other man in the room has a clue that makes me want you. It’s our little secret,” he said, nudging her mouth up to his and sucking at her lips while his lower body undulated against hers.
Despite her weariness, Kate felt a shot of pure heat. The tips of her breasts grew sensitive to the brush of his chest against her. “Why are you trying to seduce me?”
“It feels a helluva lot better than that blasted wedding rehearsal did. I’m taking you out of here,” he growled and she was too tired to protest when he led her to his car. Kate waved to Donna on her way out the door.
Michael helped her into the car, then slid into the driver’s side and closed the door. He immediately backed his seat away from the steering wheel and pulled her onto his lap.
Surprised, Kate blinked at him. “What is this?”
His eyes looked dark and dangerous. He lifted his hand to her head and slipped his fingers through her hair. “I know what’s been running through your mind since the rehearsal.”
Kate fought a rush of nerves. The man could not read her mind, she told herself. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been reviewing all the reasons not to marry me.” He released her hair and slid his hand down to cup her chin and rub his finger over her mouth. “Over and over, you’ve been thinking of all the things that make you nervous about me.”
“You don’t make me nervous,” she denied, disliking him for nailing her feelings so accurately.
He leaned close enough to kiss her, close enough to rattle her nerves even further. He found her pulse in her neck with his index finger, then spoke against her lips, “You’re lying. If you keep thinking that way, there’s no way you’ll make it through the wedding tomorrow. You’ve been wallowing in all the bad stuff. Now it’s time for you to think about the good stuff.”
“What good stuff?” she asked, still peeved that he’d cornered her.
“There must be something you like about me, or you wouldn’t have continued to work as my assistant.”
“You pay well.”
He widened the gap between his legs and leaned back slightly, reminding her of his sexuality. “Correction. There must be something you like about me or you wouldn’t have made love to me like a firestorm two and a half months ago. You said you cared about me, remember?”
Weary and edgy, she looked away and remained mute. She didn’t want to contemplate the things about Michael that she found so compelling. She wanted to keep a clear head, and that wasn’t easy sitting on his lap.
“Okay,” he said, leaning his head back against the head rest. “I can wait all night.”
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “We both need to get our sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.”
“So give me your list,” he said in a patient tone that grated on her because her insides were the exact polar opposite of patience.
Kate sighed. “This is crazy.”
“Call me crazy, then tell me ten things about me that make you want me.”
“Ten!”
“Twenty,” he said, ever the negotiator.
“You haven’t given me a list of ten things you like about me. Why should I give you a list of ten things I like about you?”
“Because you have cold feet. I don’t.”
“You are a major pain.”
“That doesn’t count,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in an almost-grin that was entirely too sexy.
“Okay,” she said. “I like your eyelashes. I like it when you unbutton your shirt and loosen your tie. I like how protective you are of the company. I like it that you made a donation to the unwed teenage mother’s home even though you don’t want to admit it to me. I like it and don’t like it when you look at me like I’m the only other person in the world. You overdo it,” she warned him, “but I like it that you’re protective of Cupcake. I like it when you whisper in my ear and tell me secrets about you. I like it when you stop using your mouth to tell me about your financial statement and kiss me.”
His eyes were dark, intent and seductive. He sat there projecting cool, but his gaze was watchful. “That’s only eight.”
Kate looked into his topaz eyes and felt as if she were taking a free fall. Having Michael’s intently undivided attention for these moments was more potent than three triple margaritas.
Unable to resist a chance to get under his skin, she leaned closer to him. “Most of all though, what I really like is your great big sexy—”
Seven
Michael’s eyes watched her the same way a tiger’s would just before he pounced. “Yes?” he prompted.
“Your great big sexy brain,” she told him boldly.
His lips twitched. “I wasn’t expecting that,” he said.
“I’m sure you weren’t,” she said wryly. “Even though I don’t agree with all your thoughts,” she quickly added, lest his head grow too large to fit in the car, “I have always been fascinated by the way you think.”
He rubbed his index finger over her ring finger, over the ring he’d bought her, then twined his fingers through hers. The gesture was oddly sensual and made her feel warm all over.
“And number ten?” he prompted.
Kate thought about the other big reason that made her want Michael and decided to keep that stored in her heart. “Number ten is a secret.”
He pulled her mouth to his and took her lips in a kiss that knocked the breath out of her. “That’s not satisfactory.”
She shook her head to clear it. “Sorry, Mr. Boss, you have a bunch of secrets. Number ten is my little secret.”
“I’m going to know all your secrets, Kate,” he told her pressing his mouth to her throat. “But tomorrow when you’re walking down the aisle, and you’re starting to wonder and doubt, think about reason number nine. Think about reason number ten.”
She shuddered at the sensation he aroused in her. He slid one of his hands above her knee and traced the skin of her thigh with his fingers.
“I’ll know what makes you so hot you burn,” he said, kissing her jaw while his hand drew dangerously close to the tops of her thighs. “Do you have any idea what it does to me to watch you dance?” he asked. “To have you on my lap and feel your skin?”
“What?” she asked, needing to know that she affected him at least half as much as
he affected her.
But Michael didn’t use words. He used his mouth on hers. Taking her lips in a sensual, yet carnal kiss, he sent a thousand yearnings through her body. He made love to her mouth with his, tasting her, taking her. She could feel his heat, his rising excitement, and an edgy wanting clamored inside her.
He skimmed his hand beneath her blouse to the outer edge of her breast, tempting, but not taking. His thumb glanced near her nipple. His other hand edged beneath the silk of her panties. His fingers stroked her where she was swollen for him.
He swore under his breath. “I want you,” he said. “I want to take you right now in the car.”
The urgency in his voice sent an echo of need slamming through her bloodstream. “If you weren’t pregnant, I would,” he told her, and took her mouth again.
He stroked her femininity as if it were the petals of a rose, and Kate had the wicked urge to strip off her clothes and do her own share of taking. But Michael was turning her to pure liquid beneath his hands and mouth. It was as if since he couldn’t take her one way, he would claim her in another. Gently, he slid his finger inside her.
Kate moaned, feeling the urgency inside her turn into a coil of frenzy.
“Tomorrow will be different,” he promised. “Tomorrow I will touch and taste every part of you. Tomorrow,” he said, his voice dark with desire and something more, “you won’t wonder anymore.”
Kate felt the ripple of release rip through her, leaving her breathless.
Michael swore under his breath. “You have no idea how sexy you are, no idea how much I want you. And tomorrow,” he promised, his eyes shining with topaz determination, “you’ll be mine.”
In a small room off to the side of the chapel’s sanctuary, Michael adjusted his tie. The dark wooden room held a wall of reference books, a small table and chairs, a kneeling bench and a window. The kneeling bench was obviously for people who prayed, and Michael hadn’t ever been big on praying. Instead, he stared out at the late spring morning. Although he was calm, he felt the faintest edge of discomfort. It wasn’t nerves, more a feeling a claustrophobia. Accustomed to being alone, he took his privacy for granted, but lately his solitude had been breached. Between Kate’s well-intentioned but ever-present parents, her cat, her friends and calls from ex-boyfriends, his privacy had been invaded.
In an odd way, his aloneness had grown reassuring to Michael. It meant he could make it alone, that he didn’t need anyone else to survive. That was vital to him. He wasn’t sure how he would keep himself centered in his solitude once he married Kate, but it was a requirement.
The door behind him opened.
“Michael…?”
Michael turned to face his prospective father-in-law, also dressed in a black tux. Tom Adams was a big, barrel-chested man with an affable air and shrewd eyes. “If this is about the bar bill from last night, I’ve already covered it and don’t want to be reimbursed.”
Tom chuckled and shook his head. “No.” He gave Michael a measuring glance and his expression sobered. “There are some things a father discusses with his son on his wedding day. Since your father isn’t around, I thought I’d step in.”
A tinge of the bitterness he’d avoided his entire life sneaked through his blood. “I’ve done fine without my father’s presence in my life.”
Tom raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly as if he knew some secret that Michael didn’t. “Maybe,” he said. “But you’re taking a big step today, and you’re taking it with my daughter. If you mistreat her, I don’t care how many millions you have, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“I won’t mistreat Kate. I’ll take care of her.”
Tom shot him a wry look. “Good luck. She’s got an independent streak a mile wide. But that’s another subject. What I want to tell you is something very basic. The common belief about marriage is that it’s a fifty-fifty proposition. I’m here to tell you that’s a myth. If you go into this with the idea that you’ll give fifty percent and Kate will give fifty percent, you’ll fall far short of one hundred. I’ve been married for a lot of years to a fine woman, but I’m telling you, Michael, when it comes to giving in a marriage, it takes one hundred and ten percent.”
Michael often thought in terms of negotiation, so he balked at the idea of giving up that much of anything right off the bat. “I don’t doubt your experience, Mr. Adams, but if you add fifty and fifty, you get one hundred. That would seem more than enough for me.”
Mr. Adams gave him a pitying glance. “It’s a strange rule, son, but anything under a hundred will get you in the doghouse. You give a hundred and ten and your return will double.”
A knock sounded on the door and Justin Langdon rushed in pulling at his collar. “The preacher said it’s about time to roll.” He nodded toward Kate’s father. “Mr. Adams.”
Tom gave Michael one last hard look. “Remember what I said.”
“One hundred and ten percent,” Michael said, out of respect.
Tom shook his head. “No, remember…there’ll be hell to pay,” he said and left the room.
Justin glanced at Michael. “Daddy didn’t look happy. Does he know you knocked up his little girl?”
“No,” Michael said, “and he’s not going to know either because that would be unconfirmed information. Right, Justin?”
Justin sighed. “Yeah. You sure you don’t want to back out? There’s still time.”
“I’m not backing out.”
“Nagging wife, screaming kid,” Justin said.
“Regular sex and saving a kid from my childhood.”
Justin grew thoughtful. “Okay, but you did get her to sign a pre-nup, didn’t you?”
Silence followed. Alarm crossed Justin’s face. “Man, tell me you got her to sign a pre-nup.”
“Justin, I’m going into this with my head and instincts, and both of those have served me well.”
Justin made a moaning sound as the minister poked his head in the door. “Would you join me for a word of prayer before the ceremony?”
“Better make that prayer without ceasing,” Justin whispered. “You’re gonna need it. You might as well be playing the Super Bowl without a cup.”
“I don’t know how much more of your support I can stand,” Michael muttered, and shook hands with the minister.
In a room behind the foyer of the chapel, Betty Adams adjusted Kate’s veil for the sixth time. “Mom,” Kate said, fighting her own nerves, “the veil is fine.”
Betty dabbed at her nose with her tissue. “Oh, you’re just so beautiful. I’ve been planning this day since you were born.”
Not exactly this way, Kate thought, but smiled instead. “You’ve done a terrific job in such a short time. Thank you, Mom.”
Betty, dressed in a filmy aqua mother-of-the-bride dress, waved the praise aside. “It was nothing, but there is something else I must tell you.”
Kate felt the knot in her stomach tighten. She hoped her mother couldn’t tell that Michael didn’t love her.
Her mother patted her hand. “Now I know you’re all grown up, but I’ve been married to your father a very long time. Katie, when it comes to marriage, giving anything less than one hundred and ten percent just won’t do. If you want to have a happy marriage, you can’t hold back. You have to give it your all. Remember that because I want you to be happy.” Betty sniffed, then her eyes gleamed. “And if Michael Hawkins ever hurts you or mistreats you, he will have to answer to me.”
Kate glanced down at her five-foot mother and felt a combination of amusement and tenderness. She smiled. “I’m sure he’d rather face down a lion.”
“Darn straight.”
A knock sounded at the door and Donna peeked inside. “Show time,” she said.
Kate felt a riot of butterflies in her stomach. Betty gave her a hug, then quickly scooted away.
“You can still back out,” Donna told her.
“I’m not going to back out. I’m getting married.”
“I know that’s what’s on the schedu
le, but I just want to remind you that you can still change things. Nothing’s irrevocable right now.”
Kate slid her hand over her abdomen. “That’s not quite true.”
“Point taken, but I still think Paris is a terrific alternative.”
“Donna,” Kate said as she moved toward the door.
“What?”
“Shut up and hold my bouquet.” Kate watched her father walk toward her and she felt a jolt of terror. She lifted her lips in what she hoped was a smile. “Hi Daddy.”
“Hi darlin’. Here’s your big moment,” he said in a choked-up voice, and Kate felt like a fraud. She thought of her parents’ loving marriage. In comparison, this was a sham. Her stomach turned. She was doing this for Cupcake, she reminded herself, and slid her hand through the crook of her father’s arm.
As she walked through the entryway of the chapel, she immediately saw Michael. He looked sure, but distant, she thought and felt another tremor of nerves. What if this didn’t work? What if she ended up loving him and he never loved her? Kate’s heart wrenched. “Number ten,” she said to herself. “Cookies,” she said, remembering the generosity of the boy Michael had once been.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” her father whispered.
Kate nodded. Cookies.
She finally reached Michael’s side and her father placed her hand in Michael’s. After that, the ceremony turned surreal. The minister spoke briefly, she and Michael repeated their vows, and suddenly the minister announced, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
Michael kissed her long enough for her to feel the impact of him, then said in a tone intended for her ears only, “It’s almost over.”
Hugs and best wishes from family and friends followed at the reception. Kate felt like a windup doll that was running down. Michael must have sensed when her composure began to fray. Under the guise of an eager groom, he whisked her away from the reception to their hotel suite.
As soon as he shut the door, she began to tremble from the events of the day. Embarrassed, she sank down on a chair before her knees gave out. She alternated between the overwhelming urge to cry and numbness.