by Diana Fraser
Then his face relaxed and he smiled at her, as if to reassure her. She smiled back, more relaxed now, and glanced at Kelly who squeezed her hand as they continued up the carpet.
She gained confidence with every step of her beautiful pink-soled shoes. She smiled at the cameras pointed at her. She waved toward the back, behind the rows of seats, to where a group of young people gathered who’d followed her here from Australia. They waved back excitedly. Then she looked forward once more and saw she was within a few steps of Max.
The surprised expression had given way to a more guarded one now. But it was still warm, hot even. He offered his arm. Laura let go of Kelly and slotted her hand through Max’s arm in a relaxed stance. Together they both turned and smiled at the sea of cameras before turning back to each other.
Laura raised her eyebrows and gave a brief grimace, trying to lighten the situation. He inclined his head to hers. “Are you okay? You looked a bit nervous back there.”
“I’m fine now, thanks.” And, as they turned to the marriage celebrant, she realized she was. She glanced at Kelly who nodded encouragingly.
Laura remembered their practice run and turned to face Max. They’d stepped up onto a dais with the marriage celebrant to her left, facing the crowds who spilled out from the seated area to the gardens beyond. Still more people hung out the windows, watching. Max took both her hands in his and swept his thumb over the back of hers, obviously aware of the slight tremble in her limbs.
The celebrant spoke and she recognized the words which Kelly and Chelsey had chosen. They were more romantic than Laura had imagined, but they did the job. And that, she reminded herself, was exactly what it was—a job. But a totally surreal job. She felt as if she were above it, looking down on it all. That this was happening to someone else, not her.
In order to try to stay focused, she stared fixedly at Max’s face. He had good bone structure—the clean, sharp lines of his jaw, his nose, his brow—all softened by sensuous lips. She felt a soft flutter, low in her belly, as she remembered the effect of those lips when pressed against hers. Involuntarily she licked them and was aware of the heat, building within the confines of the natural amphitheater.
Suddenly there was silence and those lips which she couldn’t take her eyes off, quirked into a smile. There was a pressure on her hands and she looked up into Max’s eyes. He nodded encouragingly. She glanced at the celebrant.
“What?” she asked.
There was a burst of laughter, and she turned and smiled as the celebrant repeated the question. “I will,” she replied.
The celebrant asked Max the same question. He didn’t hesitate. “I will.” And his eyes never left hers. Laura didn’t hear the last few words of the celebrant. But she saw their effect in Max’s face. He was smiling as he stepped toward her and pressed those magical lips to hers.
The warmth of his mouth against hers, his breath against her skin, caused that now familiar flip of the stomach. There was a pause when he was about to pull away but he hesitated and, taking advantage of his hesitation, she pulled her hands from his and threaded her fingers through his hair, keeping his face against hers. She felt the slight chuckle against her mouth but he didn’t pull away. Instead, the kiss deepened and he smoothed his hands around her waist, holding her in place, as much as she was holding him.
The laughter and cheering of the crowd receded and she was aware only of the hum of desire that filled her body, as she focused on the movement of his lips, caressing hers, and the light touch of his tongue slipping along the groove between her lips. She opened her lips to allow entrance to his tongue and groaned as it came into contact with hers. Briefly she pressed against his chest—her breasts squashed against his smooth tuxedo—before she felt a change in him. He squeezed her waist and pulled away with a smile.
“That was some kiss, Mrs. Connelly,” he murmured against her mouth.
The spell was broken and she widened her eyes at her new name. Mrs. Connelly! She hadn’t thought this far ahead; hadn’t considered how she’d feel at the loss of her own name, and the acquisition of another. A stranger’s name. Now her name.
She stepped back as if stunned. His smile faded and he caught her hand in his, threaded his fingers through hers and gripped her hand and propelled her forward. She was saved from embarrassment by the confetti which rained all around them. She spat out some that fell into her mouth and sheltered her eyes from it with her hands, laughing.
“Come on,” Max said. “Let’s get out of here.”
She took a couple of steps and then faltered on her high heels. She bent down, slipped off her shoes and, with them in her hand, walked laughing through the crowds with Max tightly holding her hand, as if making sure she was real, making sure she was going to stay by his side.
But she wasn’t. Was she?
The afternoon had been fun, reflected Laura, as she leaned against the pillar in the reception room, looking at the after-party debris. It had gone on all afternoon and into the evening. Now, most people had left. Max had gone outside to see off his friends. Only a couple of his siblings had been able to make it to the wedding at such short notice and they’d already retired for the night.
“It’s customary not to be the last guest standing at your own wedding reception.”
Laura looked around to find Kelly standing behind her, two drinks in her hand. She offered her one and Laura took a sip. “It’s customary to marry for love, or duty, or anything except a challenge. I don’t do customary.”
Max turned around, catching the tail end of their conversation. “What’s customary?”
“Not me,” said Laura, still unable to look at him without her heart quickening.
“I was just saying,” said Kelly firmly. “That it’s customary not to be the last guest standing at your own wedding reception.”
“True.” Max grinned at Laura. “It’s also customary to look as if you’re about to enjoy your honeymoon, not that it’s something to feared and endured.”
Laura snorted with derision and looked away, not wanting him to see the accuracy of his comment. She hadn’t looked further than the wedding ceremony. What came next? Would Max expect to go to bed with her? Laura could have kicked herself. For all the preparatory talks about marketing, about promoting their challenge, they’d never once discussed the personal. It had all been about business.
Kelly and Max exchanged glances.
“Take her away, Max,” said Kelly.
Laura shot Kelly a dirty look.
“What?” asked Kelly. “You’ve a full day tomorrow. You need to get your beauty sleep.”
Was that all Kelly had meant? Laura looked at Max who was watching her with an inscrutable look on his face. She had no idea what he was thinking or what he anticipated doing. She just hoped it didn’t include kissing because she didn’t think her defenses could withstand any more. Just the thought of his kisses made her go weak at the knees.
“Sure.” She narrowed her eyes. “So…” She hesitated, unwilling to reveal just how little she knew about what lay in store for her. “Where am I sleeping? Back in my own room?”
“Hardly,” said Kelly. “Babe, you’re sleeping with Max. Otherwise, it’s hardly a challenge completed, is it?”
Laura’s face must have betrayed her concern because Max looked uncomfortable while Kelly approached her with a sympathetic look on her face.
“Don’t look like that!” said Kelly. “It’s just a formality. The room has two double beds in it.”
Max put his head to one side and thrust his hands in his pockets. “We’re only sharing a room, Laura, that’s all.”
She picked up her shoes and flicked hair off her face with a look of what she hoped was confidence. “Of course. I didn’t think you meant anything different.” She walked past him and paused at the door. “Night then, Kelly.”
“Night, Laura.”
Laura didn’t look around, but opened the door. There were a few die-hard photographers sitting around who immediately
jumped up and snapped a few photos.
“The two of you together, Laura!” shouted one of them.
“Sure.” She looked at Max who put his arm around her and they smiled for the camera.
“Thanks, and goodnight,” said Max firmly, as he led Laura away down a passageway to the outside. He opened the back door and they stepped out into the cool of the night. The stars were bright, the air crisp and all around was silent. Laura took a deep breath of air and sighed heavily.
“That was some day.”
“Yeah. It’s not every day you get married.” He took her hand. “This way.” He took her around the rear of the building to avoid any more photographers. “I don’t know how you cope with this sort of attention all the time.”
“I hardly notice it now.” They stopped outside their room and she looked up at the dark night, the stars vivid above them. “In fact, I don’t think I can live without it. It always seems so… quiet, so lonely, really, when everyone’s gone and I’m alone again.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, but when she felt the touch of his finger against her cheek she looked around, compelled by the blast of lust his touch ignited inside her. “Well, you’re not alone tonight.” He pressed his finger to her lips. “And before you say anything, we can be very chaste… if you want to be.”
“I do,” she said, even as she reached up on tiptoe, unable to deny the lure of his mouth, the idea of his lips on hers, unable to prevent herself from kissing him.
His hand thrust through her hair as the kiss deepened momentarily before they pulled apart, their breathing coming faster now. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the room. He closed the door behind them and put his arms around her and kissed her senseless once more. He cupped her face in his hands. “You, Laura, are one gorgeous woman.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe we’re married.” He huffed a brief laugh.
But Laura didn’t laugh. It was as if someone had poured icy cold water over her, effectively extinguishing the heat of her arousal. She gave a small gasp and he dropped his hands. She stepped away and turned to look at the room. “It’s a beautiful room,” she said, too brightly, walking over to the beds, both covered in matching luxurious pale mohair throws. Everything was pale—white on pale gold, on pewter, on grey. The stone floor was heated and the rugs completed the understated luxury.
“It should be. It’s the honeymoon suite.”
If she’d needed any more bringing back to reality, this did it. She walked over to the chair by the window, wanting to put distance between them. She flicked the blinds open until she could see the stars. “I could look at these forever.” She grimaced to herself, listening to hear what he’d do.
He kicked off his shoes and jumped on the bed. Her heart sank and butterflies danced in her stomach.
“Come to bed,” said Max.
Laura turned to see him stretched out on the bed, still dressed, but with his bow tie unraveled and his white shirt open.
“I’m not tired,” said Laura between gritted teeth, as she continued to peep through the blinds.
“What are you looking at, Mrs. Connelly?”
She glared at him. “Mrs. Connelly indeed! I didn’t imagine for one minute that I wouldn’t come out of this thing as Ms. McKinney.”
“Don’t look at me. I left it in the hands of Chelsey.”
“And I left it in the hands of Kelly. I thought she’d have known better.”
He shook his head. “Come here…Laura.”
She looked at him and frowned. She didn’t want to get close to him; she didn’t want him to see how weirdly upset she felt.
He cocked his head to one side and sighed. “Okay.” He got off the bed and went to the smaller bed. “This is where I’ll sleep. Now will you go to bed?”
She rubbed her chilled arms. “It’s cold at night, now, isn’t it?”
His eyes softened and he walked up to her. “Only if you stand in front of an open window at three in the morning.”
He reached out and she held her breath as she though he was reaching for her. Part of her—a larger part than she’d imagined—felt a thrill run through her at the thought he might touch her, might kiss her like he had before. That part was disappointed when he reached around her and closed the window.
“Now, Laura, don’t be startled, but I’m going to give you a hug.”
She stepped away. “I don’t need a hug.”
“I think you do. You look like someone who’s about to step up to their execution. Anyone would think you’d never been alone in a man’s bedroom before.”
She tried to prevent the heat creeping up to her cheeks. She looked away and walked toward the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t see her embarrassment, hoping he wouldn’t continue with that conversation, hoping he would stop trying to understand her. She didn’t want to be understood, least of all by a man she was completely alone with. Least of all by a man who threatened to penetrate the defenses she’d spent the last seven years very successfully erecting. They’d been strong, withholding numerous assaults—until now.
She shut the door and fell back against it, closing her burning eyes.
* * *
Max didn’t bother undressing. He turned out all the lights, leaving only a dim light beside the bed and lay on his bed and listened to Laura turn on the shower. She was an enigma. He’d thought her so easy and simple when he’d first met her. It turned out she was anything but.
When she opened the door, a waft of fragrant steam emerged from the bathroom and for a moment she was framed by light—her hair wet from the shower, all traces of the ‘hairdo’ gone. She was wearing a robe which was tightly sashed around her waist. She walked over to the bed, climbed in and turned out the dim sidelight.
He waited for a few moments to see if she’d say anything. But she didn’t. There wasn’t even any sound of activity from the lodge, nor any nocturnal animals, or people, to alleviate the heavy, pregnant silence. Seemed everyone and everything was dead to the world after the long day. Everyone, except them. He let his heart beat once, twice, three times, before he spoke.
“How come you’ve never slept with anyone, Laura?”
He heard her shift suddenly in the bed.
“How did you know? I thought…” He could almost hear her bite her lip, not wanting to continue.
“You thought that your secret was hidden under your flirtatious ways. You thought that all the while you dressed the total opposite of a Puritan, people wouldn’t discover your secret.”
She didn’t say anything and he wondered if he’d pushed her too far. But there was no going back now.
“It’s not a hanging offense, you know. Being…inexperienced,” Max continued.
“Of course it’s not. I know that.” He heard her toss the covers to one side and sit on the edge of the bed. “It’s simply because I don’t want to be discussed like that. So it seemed easier to appear… one way… the experienced way, so I didn’t have to talk about it, defend it, promote it. Anything it. It’s just me. It’s who I am.”
“Fair enough. It’s your personal life. Not for them, or me, to talk about.”
“Yes, but I don’t have a personal life, do I?” She sounded closer now. She must have turned to face him. Not that he could see her in the heavy darkness.
“And isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t that something you’ve been running from?” He paused but she made no answer. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe there’s some other reason you’re inexperienced.”
“I’m a virgin, Max. Not simply inexperienced. I have zero experience with men, despite how it seems, despite how I come across.”
“Why? Sorry, but I’m curious.”
He could picture her shrugging. “It wasn’t something I ever wanted to do.”
“Why not? From the way you kiss, I know you’re warm and into men. But no sex? You’re what, twenty-four, you said?”
She gave a small grunt of assent. Then she cleared her throat. “Contrary to the way men thin
k, women don’t all want to jump into bed with them. My mom always said I’d know when the time was right. And it hasn’t been right… yet.”
He lay on the bed, his hands behind his head and considered her reply. “Fair enough. For anyone else. But you?” He shifted on his side so he could face her in the darkness. “You push yourself constantly beyond your comfort zone. You do this on every point except this one thing?”
“That’s different. That’s emotional. That’s inside me. I can’t risk that.”
Her voice had changed, had become quieter, more vulnerable. It got to him. He could never bear seeing anything or anyone hurting without trying to help them.
“Laura.”
“Yes.” Her voice was husky as if she was trying to stop herself from crying.
“I have a really big bed. And if you came over here, I’d put out my arm and you could lie down beside me.”
He heard a short intake of breath. “What then?”
“You could put your head on my chest, and I could stroke your hair.”
“Really? Is that all?”
“Sure.”
“But why would you want to do that?”
“Because you’re scared and I hate seeing anybody or anything scared. Because I want to comfort you, to quiet your fears and make you feel better.”
The silence of the night seemed to thicken. He felt rather than heard her stand and walk to his bed. He was still lying on top of the bed and she sat down, swung her legs onto the bed and laid her head on his chest.