Later that night, a Rolls-Royce whisked Joaquin and Zoe, who was still in her wedding gown, away from the reception to the Driskill for their wedding night.
They’d sent their luggage to the hotel ahead of their arrival, and early the next morning they would catch a flight to Paris, but right now, it was just the two of them. They had the entire glorious night ahead of them.
Giddy nervousness danced in Zoe’s stomach as Joaquin unlocked the door to the Yellow Rose Bridal Suite. He lifted her into his arms with a decisive sweep and kissed her soundly, a preview of what was to come. It was a good thing he finally carried her over the marble threshold and nudged the door shut with his hip, because for a crazy moment, Zoe’d felt the urge to have him right there in the hallway.
Well, not really, but that was how much she wanted him.
With one last kiss, he set her down, but their bodies remained flush against one other, arms entangled, as they stood in the middle of the suite’s living room. Everything about him—his touch, his taste, his scent—was so familiar tonight. It was like a touchstone anchoring her in the here and now; yet, at the same time, everything seemed brand-new. It was invigorating and it hit her soul in a way that rendered her weak in the knees.
Joaquin pulled away just enough to murmur, “Hold that thought. We need some champagne.”
Zoe quirked a brow. “There’s only one thing I want right now.” Playfully, she nipped at his bottom lip. “Maybe we should save the champagne for later. I have a feeling we’re going to be extra thirsty.”
His forehead was pressed against hers. The way he looked at her with those dark, dark eyes melted her insides. “Pace yourself, my love.” He kissed her again and the passion of it ran contrary to his suggestion to take things slowly. “In a moment I’m going to love you into incoherence. We should probably enjoy the champagne now.”
His promise had desire spiraling through her again. As she watched her handsome husband open the champagne, his strong hands gently coaxing the cork from the bottle of Krug Grande Cuvée, she couldn’t help but anticipate the feel of those hands on her body. Her skin prickled with intense longing, and heat pooled in her most intimate places.
She didn’t quite know what to do with herself. So she walked over to the bedroom to have a look. It was decorated in cream and pale yellow. Tiffany lamps graced marble-topped nightstands. But it was the romantic canopy bed in the center of the magnificent room that made Zoe sigh. Draped in yards of sheer fabric swagged and tied to the bedposts by tassels that looked as if they were made of spun gold, her wedding bed was perfect.
Almost as perfect as her husband.
Joaquin Mendoza may have been her last first kiss, her prince who never had been a frog, but he would be her one and only love. She would give herself to him right here in this bed.
This was forever.
It was worth the wait. He was worth the wait. She knew without a doubt that he felt the same way, too. He’d proved it by his actions so they could have this...this first night together—this first time together. It would be heaven. She already knew.
She’d loved him from the depths of her soul the moment she’d first seen him. He’d been so patient, waiting for her so they could have this fairy-tale night. The wedding had been a dream come true. Now it was just the two of them, alone at last. To make their wedding night as magical as possible, she’d started birth control pills a few days after Joaquin proposed. The doctor had assured her that they would be protected after the first week. She was eager to start a family with Joaquin, but they wanted some time together as a couple first.
She sensed her husband behind her and turned. He handed her a flute of champagne. They clinked glasses, but only managed a couple sips before they were in each other’s arms again.
Liquid spilled, glasses were forgotten and a moment later, they were tangled up again and he had taken possession of her body. That was good because nothing mattered but being joined together. “Make love to me, Joaquin.”
They made short work of ridding themselves of fabric barriers. Finally, nothing stood between them. He eased her onto the bed. Smoothing a lock of hair off her forehead, he searched her eyes. Radiating love, he looked so earnest as he gazed deep into her eyes, asking the unspoken question.
Yes, I’m ready.
She answered him with a kiss.
They took their time exploring each other, getting to know each other’s most intimate places. Joaquin’s deft hands touched her with such love that she wanted to cry out from the ecstasy of it. Finally, when she was ready, he claimed her with one slow, gentle push. It didn’t hurt. In fact, it was as if something that had been missing in her had finally clicked into place, making her whole for the first time in her life.
Joaquin feathered kisses over her lips and whispered gentle words of love as he slowly pulled out and tenderly thrust into her again. Instinctively, she matched his rhythm. Together, their bodies created magic. Finally, ecstasy, the likes of which she’d never dreamed possible, seized her body and rippled through her, lifting her to such an exquisite peak before they went over the edge together.
She was sure she would never be the same again.
Of course not. She was in love and forever changed in the best possible way.
As they lay there together, sweaty and spent, she relished the warmth of his solid body. He shifted to his left elbow and gazed at her with such reverence. “Zoe Mendoza, I love you.”
As she reached up and brushed a wayward lock of dark hair off his forehead, a deep peace filled her entire being. “I love you, too.”
In that perfect moment, she gave silent thanks to the heavens for leading her to her very own handsome prince.
* * * * *
Look for the final installment in the FORTUNES OF TEXAS: ALL FORTUNE’S CHILDREN continuity, WED BY FORTUNE by USA TODAY bestselling author Judy Duarte.
Available soon wherever Harlequin books and ebooks are sold.
Keep reading for an excerpt from JAMES BRAVO’S SHOTGUN BRIDE by Christine Rimmer.
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James Bravo's Shotgun Bride
by Christine Rimmer
Chapter One
Wakin
g up tied to a chair is bad.
But waking up tied to a chair staring down the deadly single barrel of old Levi Kenwright’s pump-action shotgun?
So. Much. Worse.
James Bravo stifled a groan. Not only did it appear he was about to eat serious lead, but he had the mother of all headaches. Surely Levi didn’t really intend to shoot him. James shook his head, hoping to clear it.
Still a little fuzzy. And still hurt, too. And Levi still had that shotgun trained right on him.
The old man wasn’t at his best. His wiry white hair looked as if he’d combed it with a cattle prod and his craggy face seemed kind of pale—except for two spots of color, burning red, cresting his cheekbones. Sweat shone on his wrinkled throat and darkened the underarms of his worn checked shirt.
His aim, however?
Way too steady. Levi grunted as he sighted down the barrel. “Good. You’re awake. I was beginnin’ to worry I’d hit you a mite hard.”
James winced, blinked in another failed attempt to ease his pounding head and cast a careful glance around him. Judging by the lack of windows, the knotty pine paneling, the faint smell of cool earth and the stairs leading upward along the far wall, Levi had brought him to a basement. Was it the basement of the house at Red Hill Ranch, where Levi lived with his way too damn attractive granddaughter Addie?
Probably.
On the battered pasteboard side table a few feet away, James spotted his phone, his wallet and his keys. So even if he managed to get his hand into his pocket, there was no phone in there to use to call for help.
And just how in hell had all of this happened?
James remembered standing on the porch of his nearly finished new house ten miles outside his hometown of Justice Creek, Colorado. It was a cool and sunny March afternoon. He’d been gazing off toward the big weathered barn at Red Hill, hoping that Addie would soon ride by on one of those horses she boarded and trained.
The crazy old coot must have come up on him from behind.
Cautiously, James inquired, “Er, Mr. Kenwright?”
“No need for formalities, son,” Levi replied downright pleasantly as he continued to point the shotgun at James. “We’re gonna be family. I want you to call me Levi.”
Had the old man just said they were going to be...family? James’s head hurt too much for him to even try to get a handle on that one. “Levi it is, then.”
A wry little chortle escaped the wild-haired old man. “That’s better.”
Better? Better would be if Levi put down the gun and untied him immediately. But James didn’t say that. For the time being, he would say nothing that might rile his captor. A riled Levi could suddenly decide to fire that shotgun. That would be good and bad. Good, because James would no longer have a headache. Bad, because he wouldn’t have a head, either.
“Levi, do you mind if I ask you something?”
“You go right ahead, son.”
“Why am I tied to a chair in the basement of your house?”
Another chortle. And then, very slowly, Levi lowered the shotgun. James drew a cautious breath of relief as Levi replied, “Good question. And one I am sure you will know the answer to if you just give it a little more thought.”
James closed his eyes. He thought. But thinking gave him nothing, except to make his head pound harder. “Sorry, but I honestly have no idea why you’re doing this to me.”
“Well, then.” Levi backed three steps, sank into the battered leather easy chair behind him and laid the shotgun across his knees. “Allow me to explain.”
“Wonderful. Thank you.”
“Think nothin’ of it—I know you know my granddaughter Addison.”
“Of course I know Addie.” Was she somehow involved in this? Why? He’d done nothing to cause her to make her grandfather hit him on the head, drag him to Red Hill and tie him to a chair.
Had he?
“Means everything to me, that girl,” Levi said. “She and her big sister, Carmen, are what I got that matters in this world—well, them and my great-grandkids, Tammy and Ian, and their dad, Devin. A fine lad, Devin. Like you, he needed a little convincing. But once he understood the situation, he stepped right up. Same as you’re gonna do—and where was I?”
“Uh, Addie and the rest of your family mean everything to you?”
“Right. Family, son. Family is everything. So you can imagine my concern when I recently discovered that Addie’s in the family way.” Addie pregnant? Could that be true? Levi went right on. “Naturally, I want my new great-grandbaby to have two parents. That’s the old-fashioned way, which is to say, it is God’s way. And that means it’s the best way. And of course, I know very well that you are my new great-grandbaby’s daddy. So I’m just helping things along a little here, just nudging you down the path known as doing the right thing.”
James cleared his throat. Carefully. “Hold on a minute...”
“Yeah?”
James had a strong suspicion that there was a lump on the back of his head where Levi had hit him. The lump throbbed. It felt like a big lump, a lump that was growing bigger as he tried to make sense of what Addie’s crazy grandpa said to him. “Did you just say that Addie’s having my baby?”
Holding the shotgun between his two gnarled fists, looking weary as a traveler at the end of a very long road, Levi rose to his feet again. “Your baby needs a daddy, son. And my Addie needs a husband.” He raised the gun and aimed the damn thing at James’s aching head once more. “So tell me, is the path becoming clearer now?”
James had never had sex with Addie. Never kissed her, never done more than brush a touch against her hand. True, he would very much have liked to do any number of things to Addie. But he hadn’t. So if Addie had a little one on the way, he wasn’t the man responsible.
And that he wasn’t really pissed him off.
But James’s jealousy of some mystery man who got a whole lot luckier than he ever had was not the issue here.
The issue was that Levi had kidnapped the wrong guy.
Not that James had any intention of setting the old codger straight. Not at the moment, anyway. James had more sense than to argue with a man who’d already coldcocked him, abducted him and tied him to a chair.
Yeah. Levi meant business, all right. And it was looking more and more likely that the old guy had a screw loose. James was a lawyer by profession. He’d dealt with more than one screwball client in his career. Arguing with a nutcase had never gotten him anywhere.
So instead of insisting he’d never laid a hand on Addie, James announced with all the sincerity he could muster, “Levi, the right thing is exactly what I want to do.”
“Glad to hear it, son.”
“Great, then. If you’ll just untie—”
“Not. Quite. Yet.” Levi shook his head, but at least he lowered the gun again.
Keeping it cool, James breathed slowly and carefully. “All righty, Levi. When, exactly, do you plan to untie me?”
“Soon as I’m absolutely certain you’re not gonna pull any tricks on me. Soon as I know I can count on you to...” Levi’s sentence died unfinished as a door slammed shut upstairs. The old man gasped. His rheumy eyes widened as footsteps echoed from above.
Addie. James’s heart leaped as his head pounded harder. Had to be Addie.
And it was. “PawPaw!” she hollered, the sound far away, muffled, not coming from whatever room was directly overhead. “Where are you?”
James and Levi both stared at the ceiling, tracking the path of her quick, firm footsteps on the floor above as those footsteps came closer.
And closer...
They passed right overhead.
The basement door squeaked as it opened. James couldn’t see that door, not from where he was tied in the middle of the basement floor. But he heard Addie crystal clea
r now as she called down the stairs, “PawPaw?”
“Don’t you come down here!” Levi glared at James and waved the shotgun threateningly for silence. “I’ll be up in a minute!”
The door only creaked wider, followed by more creaking: footsteps on the stairs. A pair of tan boots appeared, descending, bringing with them shapely legs in a snug pair of faded jeans. “What are you up to down here?” The curvy top half of Addie came into view, including those beautiful breasts of hers in a tight T-shirt and all that softly curling ginger hair. About then, she turned and caught sight of James. Big golden-brown eyes went wide in surprise. “What the...?” She stumbled. A frantic screech escaped her as her booted feet flew out. She windmilled her arms.
“Addie!” James and Levi shouted their useless warnings simultaneously.
But then, with another cry, she grabbed the iron stair rail and righted herself just in time to keep from tumbling the rest of the way to the concrete floor.
“Get hold of yourself, girl,” old Levi grumbled as she made it down the last step and sagged against the railing. “A woman in your condition has got to be careful.”
Those baby-doll lips of hers flattened in a scowl and two bright spots of color flared high on her round cheeks as she put a hand to her stomach and tried to catch her breath. “PawPaw, you’re scaring me to death. Put down that gun and untie James immediately.”
Levi lowered the gun, but he didn’t put it down. “Now, Addie honey.” His tone had turned coaxing. “I can’t untie him right yet. First, James and I need to come to a clear understanding.”
“An understanding of what?” Addie drew herself up, stuck out her pretty, round chin and glared daggers at Levi, who stared back at her sheepishly but didn’t answer. He must have known she would figure it out—and she did. Her eyes went wide again as she put it together. “Have you lost your mind? I told you. James is not the guy.”
Levi granted her a patient, disbelieving look—and explained to James, “Morning sickness. That’s how I knew. Just like her grandma, her mom and her big sister, too. Morning sickness early and often. Then I found that little stick she used to take the test. I put it all together, yes, I did. Levi Kenwright is no fool.”
Fortune's Prince Charming Page 18