As the five couples headed toward their reserved table, Marcus caught Samara’s hand and drew it to his lips. He tenderly kissed her knuckles, smiling when her lashes fluttered and her lips parted.
“I love you,” he whispered.
She almost melted on the spot.
“I love you too, Marcus,” she whispered back. “Love you so much.”
After the lavish dinner had been consumed and the humorous speeches had been made—including a gut-busting monologue by Quentin—the dance floor was opened up. Marcus and Samara joined the flow of other couples headed to the floor as the jazz band began playing Luther Vandross’s “Every Year, Every Christmas.”
Marcus pulled Samara into his arms, holding her possessively close with one palm resting flat against her bare back. Shivering under his touch, she wound her arms around his neck and smiled up at him.
His answering smile was lazy and sensual. “Having a good time?”
“I am,” she murmured contentedly. “You?”
“Always.” His eyes gleamed. “I’ll have an even better time when I get you home and out of this sexy dress.”
She let out a throaty laugh. “You’re insatiable.”
“Since when is that a bad thing?”
“It’s not,” she purred, staring into his ebony eyes as they swayed to the music. “Believe me, Mr. Wolf, I have no complaints about your insatiable appetite. In fact, I’m glad the kids are spending the night at their grandparents’ house so I can have you all to myself when we get home.”
“Yeah?” Marcus trailed a lazy finger down the smooth curve of her back, causing her to shiver against him. “And what’re you going to do to me when we get home?”
“Mmm.” Samara licked her lips seductively, smiling at him. “Guess that’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Marcus grinned, slow and wicked. He was enjoying their sexually charged repartee as much as she was. “How soon?”
“How soon what?”
He leaned down until their foreheads were touching, his mouth just inches from hers. “How soon can I find out what you’re gonna do to me?”
Samara flicked her tongue across his lower lip, too quickly for him to catch it. Smiling into his glittering eyes, she whispered, “Just two more dances and then we can sneak out.”
His arm tightened around her waist. “Promise?”
“Yes, husband,” she purred coyly, biting at his lip. “You have my word.”
6
After another decadently steamy night of lovemaking, Marcus and Samara were still smiling the next afternoon when they arrived at his father’s place, turning down a long cobblestone driveway that took them past a shimmering lake flanked by acres of manicured lawn.
Marcus drove with one hand on the wheel and the other clasping Samara’s hand, their fingers intimately twined. Every time he smiled at her sideways, her insides got all warm and tingly. They were like two teenagers in love for the very first time.
Marcus parked in front of a sprawling redbrick house with tall French windows and an upper balcony overlooking the lake.
After shutting off the engine, he leaned over and kissed Samara, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth and running his tongue over it. She purred with pleasure, her hands sliding up his leather jacket to spread across his broad shoulders.
He pulled her closer, one hand threading through her hair as he deepened the kiss, teasing her lips apart. The hot stroke of his tongue set off a reaction she felt everywhere.
By the time he drew back and gave her a wolfish grin, her belly was quivering, the flesh between her thighs was throbbing and her nipples were as hard as the diamonds encircling her ring finger.
She weakly licked her lips. “Um, maybe the kids can spend another night with their grandparents.”
Marcus laughed. “Isn’t that what I suggested last night?”
“Yes.” She grinned. “You were right.”
“Aren’t I always?” He pressed another kiss to her mouth and smiled into her eyes. “We’ll hang around for a couple hours, then slip out and conveniently leave the kids and dog behind.”
Samara burst out laughing as he climbed out of the Escalade and sauntered around to the passenger side. Under his leather jacket, he wore a ribbed gray shirt over a pair of low-slung blue jeans and black Saint Laurent boots.
Before Samara could step down from the truck, he put his hands around her waist and lifted her out. She grinned up at him as he set her down gently on her booted feet, then tweaked her nose and winked.
She winked back.
Grinning, he took her hand and led her up the walk toward the large house. The front door was made of mahogany with frosted glass on the front and matching glass side panels. It was adorned with an elegant evergreen wreath woven with silver silk ribbons.
Marcus unlocked the door with his key and gestured Samara inside. The warmth of the house enveloped her like an embrace. The air smelled of fresh pine and cinnamon and apples. The railings of the butterfly staircases were draped with garland, festive topiaries flanked the bottom of the stairs, and silver bowls filled with pinecones and sprigs of holly decorated the glossy mahogany sideboard tables.
A burst of laughter from down the hall had Marcus and Samara grinning at each other. When they reached the entrance to the high-ceilinged living room, their grins widened at the sight that greeted them.
Sterling Wolf was stretched out on the floor playing Monopoly with Matthew and Malcolm. They were laughing and joking boisterously as they added houses and hotels to the board, trying to bankrupt one another. Matthew was wearing Sterling’s lucky porkpie hat slanted crookedly across his small face as he waved a wad of multicolored cash at his opponents, gleefully taunting them.
Across the room, Asha sat in a richly upholstered chair with her sleeping granddaughter cradled in her arms beneath a quilted blanket. She was smiling serenely, enjoying the antics of her husband and grandsons while Shadow dozed nearby with his head resting on his paws.
With lights shining on the tall Christmas tree and a cozy fire glowing in the fireplace, the whole scene was like a Norman Rockwell painting.
Matthew was the first to spot his parents entering the room. “Mom! Dad!” he called out excitedly. “Look, I’m beating Malcolm and Grandpa!”
Marcus and Samara chuckled. “You are?”
“Yeah!” he boasted. “I have the most money and the best properties!”
Everyone laughed.
Everyone but Malcolm. He hated losing to his twin brother, who was far from a gracious winner.
“I think this boy might have a future in real estate development,” Sterling predicted, tweaking Matthew’s nose.
“Do real estate people make a lot of money?” Matthew asked curiously.
“The successful ones do.”
“Cool,” Matthew exclaimed, fanning out the colorful bills in his hand. “I’m gonna be rich like my daddy!”
This set off more laughter and amused head shaking. Even Malcolm grinned this time.
After greeting Sterling and the boys with hugs and kisses, Samara made her way over to the armchair where her mother sat holding Milan.
“Hello, darling,” Asha greeted her warmly.
“Hey, Mom.” Samara kissed Asha’s cheek and then squatted beside the chair to kiss her daughter’s forehead, smiling tenderly at her sweetly angelic face. “She’s out like a light.”
“Umm-hmm,” Asha murmured, gazing down at the sleeping toddler. “After lunch we all went outside and had a big leaf fight. Milan wore herself out.”
“I bet she did. She and the boys love playing in the leaves.” Samara smiled at her mother. “Thank you for keeping them overnight.”
Asha waved off her gratitude. “You know Sterling and I love keeping our grandbabies. We were both sad when Michael and Reese picked up Savannah and MJ last night after the party. We were hoping you and Marcus would let the kids stay another night. I’m taking the day off tomorrow, but my driver can drop the boys off at scho
ol in the morning.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Marcus drawled, joining them. He bent to kiss Asha’s cheek and then grinned at her. “They’re all yours, Mama.”
Asha and Samara laughed.
As Marcus gently rubbed Milan’s back, Malcolm called across the room, “Hey, Dad, do you wanna play Monopoly with us? We can start the game over.”
“No way!” Matthew protested. “I’m winning!”
“Only because Grandpa is letting you,” Malcolm shot back. “If Dad was playing—”
“Actually,” Marcus intervened, “I’d rather shoot some hoops. That is, if your grandpa’s up for it,” he added teasingly.
“Boy, please,” Sterling guffawed. “I’m always up for hoops.”
No one doubted the assertion. In his early seventies, Sterling Wolf was the picture of robust health and vigor. Tall, dark and ruggedly handsome, he had a head full of salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders and an imposing physique.
Samara often found herself marveling at how much Marcus and his brother resembled their father. It was uncanny. But then again, all of the Wolf males, from the oldest to the youngest, looked like clones of one another.
The fellas headed outside to the backyard, Shadow bounding after them.
Sighing, Samara made herself comfortable on the floor at her mother’s feet, leaning against the chair with her legs curled beneath her.
“How are you feeling?” Asha asked, gently stroking her hair.
Samara smiled. “I feel good. A little tired, but nothing to complain about.”
“No morning sickness?”
“Nope. None whatsoever.” Samara rested her head on her mother’s knee. “Remember how sick I was with the boys and Milan?”
“I remember, poor baby. Hopefully this pregnancy will be different.”
“So far so good.” Samara sighed contentedly, warmed by the sedate fire and her mother’s soothing touch.
Observing the mountain of gifts under the huge tree, she asked humorously, “Did the boys try to sweet-talk you and Sterling into letting them open one present?”
Asha laughed. “They didn’t, actually. Sterling and I were surprised. We figured you and Marcus must have said something to them.”
Samara smiled. “Marcus gave them a little talk yesterday.”
“About what?”
“Not taking their blessings for granted.”
“Ah, I see.” Asha sounded amused. “Believe me, darling, you needn’t worry about your children becoming spoiled and entitled monsters. Not with parents like you and Marcus. You two are the most grounded, conscientious people I know. Marcus has never forgotten where he came from. Why, he’s such a crusader for social justice that he insisted on naming one of his sons after Malcolm X, and he’s personally given the boys a thorough education in black history.”
“That’s true.” Samara grinned. “He enjoys randomly quizzing them. We can be having breakfast or just driving down the street, and Marcus will be like, ‘Which female African-American NASA data analyst invented the illusion transmitter?’” She chuckled. “He really keeps them on their toes. He’s even started quizzing Milan now.”
Asha laughed. “He’s turned your children into walking encyclopedias.”
“He really has.”
Asha smiled. “And what can I say about you, chére? You’ve always been generous, charitable and compassionate. And you don’t have a materialistic bone in your body. As we both know,” she said wryly, “your frugality has driven me absolutely mad at times. Remember our power struggles over your salary and your corner office and your clothing allowance? Mon Dieu. You opposed me at every turn.”
Samara laughed. “I’m already earning way more than my executive counterparts at other major companies. The clothing allowance seemed like overkill, an unnecessary extravagance.”
“Nonsense,” Asha scoffed mildly. “You’re my daughter and my vice president of marketing. As the face of House of Dubois, you represent my brand and my legacy everywhere you go. I can’t have you parading around in bargain-basement clothes.”
Samara gave a mock shudder. “The horror.”
“Mock all you want, but you know I’m right. Appearance is everything in our business, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Asha chuckled softly. “Anyway, darling, the point I was trying to make is that you and Marcus are instilling character in your children and raising them to be responsible, productive adults who will understand the value of hard work and discipline. So let them be kids. Let them enjoy all the Christmas presents provided by their tremendously accomplished parents. Greed may be a sin, but success is a virtue. Never apologize for being able to give your children the very best in life.”
Samara let out a deep sigh and nodded. “I hear you.”
“I hope you do.” Asha smiled down at her. “So how was the holiday party?”
“It was great. Everyone had a wonderful time.”
“That’s good.”
Samara smiled warmly. “Derek and Hayden are engaged.”
“Really?”
“Yup. He proposed to her yesterday before the party.”
“How lovely,” Asha said, sounding pleased. “It’s about time.”
“What do you mean? They’ve only been dating for three years.”
“And I guarantee you those three years felt like an eternity to Hayden,” Asha asserted. “Marcus proposed just two weeks after he met you. It was three weeks for Michael and Reese.”
Samara grinned. “Those were exceptions, not the norm.”
“Perhaps,” Asha conceded humorously. “But Michael’s college friends aren’t getting any younger. Goodness, they’ll be old and gray before they’re all married off.”
Samara laughed. “A few of them have already gone gray. As for them eventually settling down, better late than never, right?”
“I suppose.” Asha was smiling as she stroked Samara’s hair. “I predict that Liam will come back with a Kenyan bride, Jagger’s going to marry one of those exotic Chinese models he’s been over there dating. And Percy’s coming back with some Silicon Valley blonde.”
Samara chuckled. “Your predictions always come true—”
“I know. It’s a gift.”
“—but he’d better not marry some blonde.”
“Who? Percy?”
“Yes. He’ll break Lexi’s heart if he marries anyone other than her sister.”
“But isn’t Summer the one who accepted a promotion at Sotheby’s and moved to London?” Asha challenged, sounding amused. “She wasn’t willing to leave New York and return home to Atlanta to be with Percy, but she jumped at the chance to go to London. I certainly don’t blame her, of course. She’s young and beautiful and ambitious, and it was an opportunity of a lifetime. There’s no law stating that women always have to uproot their lives for marriage the way you, Reese and Taylor did. Summer obviously weighed her options and decided that her career was more important than exploring a relationship with Percy, and that’s perfectly okay.”
“I totally agree,” Samara said, “but I think it was more complicated than that. Lexi thinks something happened between them during the weekend they spent together. She tried to pry it out of Summer, but all she would say was that Percy was a great guy who simply wasn’t built for monogamy.”
“Hmm,” Asha murmured thoughtfully. “Interesting.”
Samara sighed. “And now Summer’s dating that gorgeous Egyptian tycoon who showed up at an auction one day and bid, like, a gazillion dollars on a rare blue diamond that belonged to some Egyptian queen.”
“Ah, yes,” Asha mused, smiling. “The dark, dashing billionaire with royal blood. How’s that relationship going? Has he bought her an island yet?”
“Not yet,” Samara said with a chuckle, “but Lexi says Summer seems really happy with the guy. Not only does he wine and dine her and whisk her off for romantic getaways around the world. He also makes her laugh, gives her the emotional support she needs and apparently rocks her world i
n the bedroom.” Samara grinned. “She says he’s passionate and intense and overprotective to the point of being chauvinistic. And she loves that about him, thinks it’s sexy and exciting. Lexi expects to answer her phone any day now and hear Summer squealing that she just got engaged.”
“Good for her,” Asha said warmly. “I know Lexi is disappointed that things didn’t work out between her sister and Percy, but I’ve always believed that everything happens for a reason. As your beloved grandmother was fond of saying: When one door closes—”
“—another door opens.” Samara smiled poignantly. “I was just saying that to the girls last night at the party. It made me think of Grandma Dubois. I miss her.”
“So do I, ma chérie,” Asha admitted. “Your grandmother and I had our differences, but now that I’m older and wiser, I realize that she only wanted what was best for me. She made so many sacrifices for me, and you were the apple of her eye. She would have been so proud of the women we’ve become. And it would have brought her to tears to see me sitting here like this with my beautiful daughter and granddaughter.” Asha gave a soft, shaky laugh. “Goodness, I’m getting a little teary-eyed myself.”
Samara lifted her head from her mother’s knee to smile up at her. “Have I told you lately how grateful I am to have you in my life?”
Asha’s expression softened. She reached down and gently cupped Samara’s cheek in her palm. “Thank you for giving me a second chance to be the mother you’ve always deserved.”
Now it was Samara’s turn to get misty-eyed. She turned her face into her mother’s palm and kissed it, then smiled at her.
Asha smiled back tenderly.
The sentimental bonding moment was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
Asha beamed. “That must be Stan and Prissy. We invited them over for a potluck dinner.”
Samara lifted a brow. “Potluck? But Frizell has the day off, so does that mean you cooked?”
Asha laughed. “Heavens, no. I’m not that domesticated. Prissy’s bringing the food. You know how much she enjoys feeding us.” Asha rose from the chair, shifting her sleeping granddaughter to her shoulder. “Why don’t you answer the door while I take Milan upstairs and make myself presentable.”
Oh Baby: A Holiday Novella (Wolf Pack Book 9) Page 5