by Carol Caiton
He nodded, took the bowl from her hands, and set it aside. "Okay, then. Tell me about Michael Vassek."
She felt her eyes water up with emotion and Derek frowned.
"We only talked for two or three minutes," she said, "but I understand now why Kyle was so determined to find him."
"So what did he say that's got you all teared up?"
She swiped aside the tears that spilled over. "He said . . . if we couldn't get a flight out to Las Vegas tonight . . . to see Kyle get married . . . that he'd charter a plane for us."
Derek stared.
"We're supposed to call him back . . . to let him know either way."
Derek blinked. Then he blinked again. "Jesus, Kath."
* * *
Jessica drove directly to Hannah's apartment, her stomach completely full of the flitting butterflies now. After eating dinner with Kyle at a fast food restaurant, she'd telephoned Hannah to ask if she might come for a visit. It was the first time she'd invited herself to Hannah's home, but as her only sister, her only family she supposed, Jessica wanted to convey her news in person and ask Hannah to join them.
Hands trembling slightly, she used the car's interior light to repair her mascara. It wasn't necessary for Hannah to know about the trouble her inadequate language skills had brought on. This was a happy time.
A couple of minutes later, she stood on the landing outside Hannah's door and knocked. When it opened, she gathered her butterflies and pressed them into submission.
"Hi," her sister greeted her. "I was just finishing a late dinner. Come on in. Are you hungry?"
"No. I had a late dinner as well."
"Then come sit with me while I finish mine."
She followed Hannah to the small kitchen, setting her purse on the floor beside the second barstool before lifting up onto it beside her sister.
"I'm glad you called. I was at loose ends."
Another unknown phrase.
"You too?"
Jessica felt the warmth of embarrassment. "I don't understand the question," she admitted.
Hannah thought for a minute, then chuckled. "I guess it doesn't make any sense if you take it literally, does it? Anyway, it means . . . are you unsettled—at a loss with no particular plan in mind."
Loose ends.
"Then no. I'm not at loose ends." She tried to choose a place to begin explaining the reason for her visit and decided on the drive to Clermont. "Do you know Michael Vassek?" she asked.
Hannah looked at her with surprise. "Yes, I know Michael. But he doesn't work at RUSH now that he's married. So how do you know Michael?"
Perhaps she shouldn't have started with Michael. She didn't want to tell Hannah that she'd wanted to gather background information about Kyle.
"Simon drove me to Michael's house yesterday after work. For some business."
Hannah continued staring. "Simon drove you to Michael Vassek's house."
It wasn't a question, and because it was phrased in such a peculiar manner, Jessica repeated her explanation. "Yes. For business."
"I think," her sister said, "that Simon is seriously attracted to you, Jessica."
"No, it's not that at all."
"I think you're wrong. You told me yourself that he comes to Urns & Leaves every morning and wants you to sit with him. He's talked to you about Nina Vale, and now he's seeing you after work, taking you to meet his friends . . . . These are pretty strong signs."
"No, I'm not mistaken," Jessica assured her. "It was Kyle who asked me to marry him last night."
Hannah's glass of iced tea slipped out of her fingers, spilling over the counter and into the remainder of her dinner.
"Oh!"
Jessica bounded from her chair and went for the paper towels above the sink.
But Hannah didn't seem concerned with the mess as she used her napkin to soak up some of the spill. "Kyle Falkner asked you to marry him last night?"
Jessica tore off a couple of towels and began mopping up the floor. "Yes. —Oh, Hannah, your white American jeans are stained."
"My white Amer— Jessica!" She scooped up two ice cubes and dropped them into the empty glass. "Well, what did you say? To Kyle?"
"I cried." She looked up to find an odd expression on Hannah's face. "He warned me that I'd want his marriage proposal when he was ready to ask."
"He warned you?"
"Yes."
They stared at one another, then they both burst into laughter.
"What answer did you give him?"
"I told him yes." She smiled happily and took much pleasure in the warmth of Hannah's embrace. But the question of children still loomed in the back of her mind. She'd had her first birth control shot today, but she was determined to change Kyle's mind. Two years. She'd give herself two years to ease him toward agreeing with her.
"But what about Simon?" her sister asked, confusing her. Then the butterflies became active again as it occurred to her that she needed to contact him.
"Hannah, do you have Simon's telephone number?"
"Yes. On my phone." Then she frowned. "Jessica, are you going to tell him about your engagement to Kyle over the telephone?"
"No, he already knows." She tore off another paper towel and finished cleaning up. "No, I need to invite him to come with us. I should do that now. There isn't much time."
"But— I don't understand."
"That's why I came here," Jessica told her. "I want to ask if you'll be my maid of honor. We're flying to Las Vegas in Nevada."
"I— When?"
"Tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Yes."
"But— Why the rush? Are you packed? Jessica, there isn't much of tonight left."
Then a wonderful smile curved Hannah's mouth and she gave Jessica another hug. "I'm so happy for you. And of course I'll come."
"Do you think . . . if I called her on the telephone . . . that our mother would want to be there?"
Jessica braced herself for the answer she knew to expect, but when Hannah's smiled dimmed it still brought a measure of sadness.
"I think you should call and invite her. But if it isn't an industry function, Mom doesn't leave New York."
Jessica nodded. It had been foolish to hope, she knew. She hadn't seen or heard from her mother since she was eleven years old.
But she had Hannah, and Hannah was becoming the wonderful friend she'd hoped for.
CHAPTER 25
He should be sweating bullets, Kyle thought as he collected both Hannah's and Jessica's luggage from the baggage conveyer. Why wasn't he sweating bullets?
He'd searched the Internet for wedding chapels, checked out the jewelry store in the hotel where'd he'd made reservations, then paid a tidy sum to ensure he'd be a married man before the sun rose again, no matter what time he and Jessica arrived at the quaint little chapel he'd found. It was a good thing he'd done that too, because Hannah pulled him aside on the plane and told him, "Don't even think about marrying my sister in some roadside back room with an Elvis impersonator for a preacher."
"Okay," Michael said, snapping his phone closed. He looked at Kyle. "Rachel and I are gonna take Hannah with us and meet you two at the hotel."
Kyle almost made the mistake of saying it was unfortunate Simon hadn't been able to make it and even out the numbers. But he caught himself. Not only would Hannah have felt like a fifth wheel, but he was pretty sure she'd rather be a fifth wheel than find herself paired up with Simon Yetzer. It didn't matter if Kyle was starting to think the guy had some redeeming qualities.
Hannah held out her hand for her suitcase. "Don't let the grass grow, Kyle. Rachel and I still need to take Jessica out to find a dress."
"We'll be right behind you."
She winked at him and smiled. "See you there."
Silently, Kyle grunted. No way in hell were he and Michael going to let these three women out on the streets of Las Vegas alone. He looked over at Michael, shared a 'yeah, right' stare, and they grinned at one another. Yes indeed, genetical
ly synchronized.
He stowed his carry-on along with Jessica's suitcase in their rental car. Unlocking the passenger door he paused, braced himself, and said, "Jess?"
She looked up.
"This is the last chance we'll have to be alone together for a while and . . . ." He was starting to think there wouldn't be much he'd ever deny her. "I was wondering . . . ." Lifting a hand, he tucked her hair behind her ear. "How many kids do you think you're going to want to have?"
If the sun shone at night, she would have been its source. She stared into his eyes and the smile that parted her lips made him feel as though he'd given her Christmas.
"You are the most wonderful man I know."
Reaching her arms up around his neck, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him softly on the lips.
"Do you want an answer right now?" She kissed him again. "Or would you like to wait a year, or maybe two years, and talk about it then?"
He crushed her against him. A year was great. Two was even better. "Thank you, Jess."
* * *
He had the rings and Michael had picked up their tuxes. He'd bought a bouquet of roses—red to tell her he loved her, and white to honor her innocence. What he didn't think to do was arrange for a photographer. And looking at her now, in the chapel's outer vestibule, he regretted that oversight.
Her blonde hair was casually swept up and he ran his eyes down the simple sophistication of the dress she'd chosen. White and sleeveless so that her shoulders and arms were bare, it looked like soft silk, snug across her breasts, then falling gracefully to her ankles. She looked up at him and he wanted to capture that image of her in his mind. Then a flash went off and Rachel smiled as she lowered her camera and searched for another shot. He'd have that image to look at whenever he wanted after all.
Everyone else faded to the periphery. He walked forward, raised his fingers to smooth along her jaw, and told her with his eyes what she meant to him.
"You're beautiful," he whispered.
"And you," she said.
He smiled. Only she would say something like that to him. "Let's go get married."
"Yes."
She slipped her hand into his and he walked her into the chapel.
The ceremony took less than ten minutes. It was surprising how quickly two people could get married here. And he hadn't had to worry about a photographer after all since one was standing in the nave, prepared to take as many pictures as Kyle wanted, for another tidy sum.
He slid a band of diamonds onto her left ring finger and felt immense satisfaction when she slid a plain gold one onto his. They were pronounced man and wife and this time, when he bent his head to kiss her, full with the knowledge that she was finally his, the earth settled on its axis. At last he'd won.
But when he turned with her under his arm and lifted his eyes, the earth that had just settled into place trembled.
He froze for a minute, blinked, and stared into the faces of two people he'd walked away from nearly a year ago, people he kept trying to separate himself from because it was easier to be the one leaving instead of facing the soul-destroying pain of being left behind, people who had taken in a nasty, bad-ass jerk of a kid and had fought for him, supported him, then taught him to see the world through better eyes, people who had forged him into the man he was today.
Kathy had tears in her eyes. Derek wore his cop face. And damn, it was good to see them.
He looked over at Michael who stared back at him unsmiling. Waiting. Then the barest hint of a smile pulled at his mouth.
Kyle was finished with trying to figure out why he and Michael lived and breathed on the same page. It just was. From one successful heist after another when they were kids, to guarding their women, and now this.
He turned back to Kathy who gave him a watery smile. Then he drew Jessica forward and said, "Michael, come on over here. I want you to meet my parents."
Kathy gave a hiccupped cry and sure enough, the tears overflowed.
* * *
He didn't know what sort of living accommodations her father had provided on the other side of the globe, but Kyle was pretty sure it was on the deluxe end of the scale. Now, however, he would be her provider and he wanted to give her everything she was accustomed to having along with anything else she wanted. And he could because of a bittersweet twist of fate. He gave silent thanks to the woman who had given him birth, and another to the woman who had given him a life.
The suite he'd chosen was luxurious by any standard and he watched his new young wife slowly circle the outer lounge, fingers clasped in front of her, pausing to examine an art print, then stopping in front of the French doors. She reached for the curved handles, opened them, and stepped out onto the balcony.
She was nervous. He didn't know why that turned him on all the more, but it did. His eyes tracked her every movement, still visible in the glow of light that spilled out onto the balcony. She rested her hands on the waist-high half wall and he saw her shoulders rise slightly with a deep breath, then lower again as she looked out at the city lights.
Still watching, he shrugged out of his jacket, removed his tie, and started after her, dropping both onto the sofa as he passed. Only a couple of hours remained before sunrise. They'd left the others downstairs in the casino, and he wasn't sure anyone besides Michael had noticed when he'd reached for her hand and pulled her along behind him toward the elevators.
The desert breeze caught a tendril of hair that had come free of the rest, drifting across her shoulder, and he watched it, knowing that very shortly his mouth was going to trail along that same shoulder.
He followed the outline of her body when another breeze sketched the narrow curve of her waist, the gentle flare of hips beneath the demure white silk.
Crossing the threshold, he allowed his steps to be heard so he wouldn't startle her. Still, when he stopped directly behind her and rested his hands on her waist, she stiffened. So he paused and considered his next move.
"Jess?"
She swallowed. "Yes?"
"I haven't suddenly turned into an ogre now that we're married."
For a moment she didn't move. Then she exhaled with a soft whoosh of air and her shoulders relaxed.
It had been the right thing to say. Nevertheless, he was careful not to press against her. He wanted to put her at ease, not remind her of the rock-hard urgency behind his zipper.
He rubbed his chin against the side of her head and stared out at the city with her.
"I'm sorry," she told him softly. She removed her hands from the wall and placed them on top of his at her waist. "I didn't mean . . . . It's just . . . ."
"I know, honey." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I know you're afraid, and I know it's going to hurt this first time. But it won't last long."
The white silk pulled tightly across her breasts with her next breath, and watching that sweet temptation was one of the advantages to being tall.
She lifted his hands away from her waist and guided them up her midriff to those tantalizing mounds. "Love me, Kyle.
It was nearly his undoing. Love her? He loved her so much it shook him.
Moving closer, he brushed up against her and shut his eyes against the need that shot through him. He fitted his hands around the undersides of her breasts and caressed her nipples with his thumbs.
"I do, Jess. I love you every way there is."
He kissed his way down to the shoulder that had tempted him a few minutes ago. Then he lightly pinched her nipples and bit down on the curve of her neck.
She cried out, dropping her head back against his chest.
"Just feel it, honey." He ran his tongue over her soft skin, listened to her uneven breath against his ear, and soothed her nipples with a careful, teasing brush of his thumbs.
She rubbed her rear against him and he hissed in a breath of his own, then slid one hand down to her abdomen, holding her there while he pushed hard to ease some of the ache. But it didn't work that way. He wanted more and he found he
couldn't step back. Instead, her silky wedding dress slid easily up her thigh as he gathered the fabric until his palm found the edge of a thigh-high stocking . . . and then smooth, warm skin.
He slid one finger under the edge of her panty and her breath hitched. Gently stroking until his finger was wet, he found her opening and pushed up inside her.
"Kyle." She gasped.
And that quickly, she was too close. He'd never been with a woman who was so responsive. But he didn't want her to reach that peak yet. So he slid his finger back out and caressed her swollen flesh, slowly circling until his own breath came in strong pulls of air.
Snagging the top edge of her panty, he tugged it down until the little scrap slid to the tile floor. Supporting her middle, he waited as she stepped out of her heels and left them and the panty to turn and face him. Then he scooped her up in his arms, lowered his mouth to hers, and carried her back inside. It was time.
He carried her through the lounge to the bedroom suite where a maid had turned down the sheets and dimmed the bedside lamp so that the room was no more than a backdrop for the intimacy about to unfold.
He lowered her to the floor beside the huge bed and slid his palms up her back until he found the zipper of her dress. It came down easily and the whole thing fell away from her breasts and slid to the floor.
She stood before him in a pair of stockings and a strapless bra, her hair beginning to tumble down from the pins that held it, and she lowered her head in embarrassment. So he slid his hands to either side of her face and lifted until her eyes met his.
"You're the most beautiful sight I've ever seen," he said simply.
He touched his lips to hers, running his palms down her arms until he reached her hands. Then he lifted them to his chest.
"Unbutton my shirt, honey."
He smiled when she bent her head again. Color tinted her cheeks and her fingers trembled, but she unfastened each button until she reached his belt. Then she paused, her hands still, and he smoothed his thumbs along the sides of her neck, waiting to see what she'd do.