The Baby Surprise

by Brenda Harlen

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she murmured.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t invite me,” Lillian admonished.

  “I didn’t invite you because you’re living in Switzerland now.” And because she hadn’t expected that she would go out of her way to attend her niece’s wedding. Not that Lillian hadn’t always been wonderful to her, but because her aunt’s acceptance had never quite made up for her father’s rejection.

  “But I was in Pinehurst visiting with Megan and Gage and the baby when you called to tell her you were getting married,” Lillian explained. “She and Ashley both wanted to be here, but they agreed to stay put so long as I promised to come in their stead.”

  “They shouldn’t have asked that of you,” Paige murmured.

  “They didn’t ask, I offered,” Lillian told her. “I wanted to be here, to see you married.”

  “Then I’ll tell you that I’m very glad to see you,” she said, and impulsively hugged her.

  Her aunt seemed surprised but pleased by the gesture of affection, but ever mindful of appearances she said, “Careful of your dress—you don’t want to be covered in creases for the rest of the night.”

  Her admonishment was so typically Lillian, it made Paige laugh, which successfully warded off the tears that had filled her eyes. “I’ll be careful,” she promised.

  Lillian’s gaze softened. “You look so much like your mother on her wedding day.”

  “Really?” Paige was skeptical, and not sure that any resemblance to her mother—a woman who had abandoned her child to an uncaring father—was a good thing.

  Her aunt nodded. “Except that you’re even more beautiful.”

  “I don’t remember what she looked like,” Paige admitted softly. “After she left, he got rid of anything that reminded him of her. I don’t even have a photo.”

  “I should have expected as much,” Lillian murmured. “Your father isn’t a bad man. He’s just…uncompromising.”

  “That’s one word for it,” she agreed.

  “I have some pictures,” her aunt told her. “Of their wedding. Of you and your mom when you were just a baby. Even one or two of you with both your mom and dad. I’ll see that you get them.”

  Although she wasn’t sure what purpose they could possibly serve after so many years, Paige was grateful for the offer. “Thank you.”

  “Now go,” Lillian said. “Your groom is waiting.”

  She met Zach in the middle of the dance floor, just as the music began to play. As they danced together, they shared some more kisses, and with every moment that passed, Paige grew increasingly anxious for the reception to be over and their wedding night to begin.

  “What are you thinking about?” Zach asked.

  She felt her cheeks heat. “Nothing really,” she lied.

  He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he asked, “Want to know what I’ve been thinking about?”

  She tried not to shiver, not to let him know how much his nearness was affecting her. “Okay.”

  “Zipper or buttons.”

  She drew back, certain she hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”

  “I’ve been wondering, since you came down the aisle in that dress, how to get you out of it,” he explained. “If it’s a zipper, it will be quick. If it’s a long line of buttons, it will take longer.”

  “Now I know why you’ve been sliding your hand up and down my spine.” And her body was tingling in response to the promise of his words as much as the lazy caress of his hands.

  “That’s part of the reason,” he admitted. “The other part is that I just like touching you. Of course, touching you tends to fog my brain, which might be why I haven’t been able to figure out the schematics of this dress.”

  “Or maybe it’s because the zipper is over here,” she told him, and reached for the hand that was on her back and guided it around to the side.

  Zach sucked in a breath as his palm brushed the curve of her breast. Paige smiled, clearly pleased by his reaction.

  “Can we get out of here now?” he asked.

  “I think we’d raise more than a few eyebrows if we made a beeline for the door at the end of our first dance.”

  “I don’t care,” he insisted.

  “Well, I do,” she told him. “Besides, I promised a dance to the father of the groom.”

  “Watch that guy,” Zach warned. “He’s got some pretty smooth moves.”

  “I have been watching him. He and your mom. They look so happy together, even after forty years of marriage.”

  “They love each other,” he said simply.

  Paige didn’t know how to respond to that, so she only glanced toward Justin and Kathleen again. Their bodies were close together, their gazes locked on one another as they swayed to the music. And as she watched them, she realized that she wanted what they had—that forever kind of connection.

  Could she have that with Zach? she wondered. Could she fall in love with her husband?

  His lips brushed against her temple; her heart fluttered.

  Yeah, she was pretty sure she could fall in love with him. So maybe the real question was could he fall in love with her?

  A few hours later, they finally said goodbye to their guests, gave Emma hugs and kisses, then headed for the exit.

  Paige had been as anxious as Zach was to get away from the crowd so that they could be alone together. And the moment they stepped out of the reception and into the night, her heart started pounding harder and faster.

  With every step she took closer to the guest house, her anticipation grew. It was ridiculous to be nervous. Even if it was her wedding night, she was hardly a virgin bride. It wasn’t even the first night she and Zach would be together.

  But somehow, the ring on her finger changed everything.

  And when she and Zach had sex tonight, they wouldn’t just be having sex, they would be consummating their marriage. It was an archaic concept, but even acknowledging it as such didn’t diminish the significance of the act. After tonight, she would truly be Zach’s wife in every sense of the word.

  Zach’s wife.

  After almost thirty years spent establishing her own identity, she expected that such a possessive term would annoy her. But the way Zach looked at her and the way he touched her made her feel not like a possession but like someone who was cared about, cherished. And when he made love with her—

  She shivered at the memory of what he could do with his hands and his mouth and his body.

  He stroked a hand down her bare arm, raising goose bumps on her flesh. “Cold?”

  She shook her head. How could she possibly be cold when there was so much heat inside of her?

  But he was already shrugging out of his jacket, tucking it around her shoulders. So she snuggled into it, absorbing the warmth from his body, breathing in his scent, already thinking about him taking the jacket off of her again, along with every other scrap of clothing she was wearing.

  Anticipation tangled with the nerves in her belly as they rounded the corner and came upon the guest house.

  There was a soft glow from the window, suggesting that a light had been left on inside. Probably one of Zach’s sisters, Paige thought, recalling their efforts to ensure that every detail of their brother’s wedding day was memorable.

  He dug the key out of his pocket and slipped it into the lock. With a soft click, the dead bolt released and he pushed the door open.

  Paige started forward.

  “Wait.”

  She paused in midstep. “What am I waiting for?”

  “I’m supposed to carry you over the threshold.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s another one of those wedding traditions my family is big on—along with the honeymoon we’re not having.”

  “But your family isn’t here.”

  Zach looked around, squinting into the night. “It’s too dark to be sure of that.”

  She chuckled. “Do you really think your sisters
are lurking somewhere in the rows of grapes?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he muttered.

  “Now that sounds like an interesting story.”

  He swept her off of her feet and into his arms. “And not one I’m going to share.”

  “Hayden will tell me.”

  “Yeah, she probably will,” he agreed, and carried her through the open door. “But not tonight. Tonight is just for you and me.”

  Except that when they entered the guest house, his concern that one of more of his sisters might be watching them proved well-founded because it was apparent someone had been there before them. The light she’d seen from the window wasn’t from a lamp that had been left on but clusters of candles set around the room.

  “I hear music,” Paige said and, entranced, started to follow the sound of the soft notes floating on the air.

  Zach, after only a slight hesitation, climbed the stairs behind her.

  She’d never been in the guest house before, but she would bet that the room from which the music emanated was the master bedroom. The furniture was masculine looking—the wood solid and dark—but the tone of the room was balanced with distinctive feminine touches. Airy curtains at the windows, a collection of little bottles on the bureau, a rose-colored wing chair beneath an antique reading lamp in the corner.

  The music was coming from a portable boom box on one of the twin nightstands that flanked the bed, along with a crystal vase filled with pink roses. On the other was a silver bucket in which a bottle of champagne was chilling, two crystal flutes standing at the ready beside it. More candles flickered in here, too, the light casting a decidedly romantic light over the scene.

  But it was the bed at the center of the room that caught and held her attention. It was king-size and made up with cream-colored satin sheets scattered with fragrant rose petals.

  “Wow,” Paige said.

  “Apparently my sisters are romantics.”

  “They’re wonderful,” she said. “Your whole family has been wonderful—” she sighed “—and I feel like such a fraud.”

  He tipped her chin up, forced her to meet his gaze. “Why?”

  “Because they think this is a real marriage.”

  “It is real,” he insisted. “I’ve got the paperwork to prove it.”

  She knew the marriage was legal, but what tugged at her conscience and what she wasn’t willing to remind him of now was that neither of them had really meant the vows they’d recited. Neither of them was in love with the other. But she believed they were both committed to the marriage, and maybe that would be enough.

  “Well, then,” she said. “What do you want to do now?”

  She couldn’t help it—even as she asked the question, her gaze just automatically slid back to the bed, to the velvety pink petals scattered on the glossy sheets.

  Zach’s brows lifted. “What did you have in mind?”

  She shrugged. “I was thinking maybe a hot bath, some cool champagne, then sliding between those sheets.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” he said, his hands cupping her shoulders to draw her closer. “Minus the bath and the champagne.”

  “We can’t let good champagne go to waste,” she protested, though not very strenuously.

  “We’ll have the champagne.” He kissed her lightly. “After.”

  “Never let it be said that I don’t know how to compromise,” Paige said, drawing his mouth down to hers for another, steamier kiss.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He slipped his jacket from her shoulders. Then his fingertips skimmed over the ridge of her collarbone, down the length of her bare arms and back up again. This time when she shivered, he didn’t need to ask if she was cold.

  His mouth eased away from hers, his lips trailed kisses along her jaw, down her throat. The bustier that Jocelyn had insisted would be perfect with her dress pushed up her breasts so that they swelled over the top of the bodice. Zach took his time exploring those swells and the valley between them.

  Paige wasn’t nearly as patient. She tugged at his tie until the knot came loose, then began working at the line of buttons that ran down the front of his shirt, eager to get her hands on him.

  She unfastened his belt, pulled it free of the loops and let it fall to the floor. Then she unhooked the front of his pants and released his zipper, stroking her hand down the front of his trousers as she did so. She smiled when Zach groaned, pleased to know that he was as aroused by her touch as she was by his.

  After what seemed like an eternity of his hands stroking her body through the fabric of her dress, he zeroed in on the zipper at the side and slid it slowly downward. Then, just as slowly, he peeled the dress away until she was standing in front of him in only her undergarments and a pair of sexy silver sandals.

  His eyes skimmed over her hotly, and her skin burned as if from his touch.

  “And I thought you looked beautiful in the dress,” he murmured, then swept her up into his arms for a second time that day.

  But this time she knew it was for her benefit alone, and though it was a foolishly romantic and completely unnecessary gesture, that knowledge didn’t stop her heart from fluttering wildly in her breast or prevent a sigh of pure pleasure from slipping from her lips.

  “Do you like it?” she asked him.

  “Like it?” He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

  The sheer lacy undergarment that she wore nipped tight at her waist and lifted her breasts so that they practically spilled over the top. Below, she wore a tiny pair of bikini panties that were just as sheer and lacy.

  “Yeah, I like it,” he said, unfastening the tie that held the two sides together. “But not as much as I like what’s underneath.”

  This time it wasn’t an impulse and it was more than a stolen hour. They had the guest house all to themselves—there was no baby sleeping in the next room, no parents slumbering down the hall. There was no one but Paige.

  And this time he was going to linger. He was going to listen for the hitch in her breath, the sound of her sighs, the tenor of her moans. She did sigh as his mouth slid over the curve of her breast, gasped when his lips nibbled the already turgid peak and moaned when he suckled deeply.

  Yeah, that was what he wanted—and using her responses as his guide, he continued his leisurely exploration.

  He could feel her heat and her wetness, and as his tongue stroked over the triangle of lace between her legs, her hips instinctively lifted. His hands slid up the back of her thighs, curved around her buttocks and held her immobile while he feasted.

  She whimpered and writhed. And when he pushed aside the scrap of fabric and laved her hot, wet center with his tongue, he savored the essence of her explosion.

  This time he was prepared, although he had to find the pants he’d discarded to retrieve the condoms he’d stuffed in his pocket. He made quick work of that task and hastily sheathed himself before rejoining her on the bed.

  But the moment he braced himself over her, all sense of urgency vanished.

  She looked so beautiful in the candlelight. So perfect.

  She reached for him, her hands draping over his shoulders, her legs hooking around his waist. He slipped inside of her wet heat, his groan mingling with her sigh. He began to move, and she matched him, beat for beat, thrust for thrust, faster, harder, deeper.

  Her body arched as the climax wracked her body, and he rode the wave with her, then shuddered his release into her.

  This time when Paige woke in the morning and found herself wrapped in the warm strength of Zach’s arms, she didn’t panic at the thought of getting caught in his bed. No, this time her panic had a different origin. It was the realization that she could quite happily wake up like this every morning for the rest of her life.

  Maybe that wasn’t an unusual thought for a newly married woman, but it was both unusual and unnerving for a woman who’d married for only practical reasons.

  She started to shift away from him, needing some physical dis
tance to put her thoughts in order, but his arm clamped tighter around her, keeping her close to his side.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked in a sleepy voice.

  “I thought I’d, uh, take a shower.”

  “We showered last night,” he reminded her.

  “That was last night,” she said. “And it was before you decided to get creative with the champagne.”

  Although his eyes remained closed, his lips curved. “I don’t remember hearing any protests at the time.”

  She seemed to recall gasping with shock when he’d dribbled the liquid on various parts of her body, then moaning with pleasure as he’d slowly and thoroughly licked up every drop, but she definitely hadn’t protested. “That’s not the point.”

  His hand slid up to cup her breast, his thumb rubbing lazily over her nipple. “I think it’s a pretty good point.”

  “Zach.” Definitely a moan rather than a protest.

  “Yeah?” His hand moved downward, between her thighs.

  Her legs parted for him and she sighed, surrendering to what they both needed. “Maybe we could try the hot tub instead of the shower next time.”

  “Whatever you want,” he promised her.

  When they finally got out of the hot tub, they were both starving. Though Zach thought it was unlikely that the refrigerator would be stocked, he pulled open the door anyway and found a fancy tray done up with meats and cheeses and crackers and fruit.

  “Your sisters are the best,” Paige said, helping herself to a plump ripe strawberry.

  “I’m starting to warm up to them myself,” Zach agreed, which made her laugh.

  She piled a cracker with a square of Muenster and a slice of kielbasa, popped it into her mouth, then washed it down with a mouthful of spring water. “You’re crazy about them.”

  “I’d be crazy to admit it.” He went straight for the Colby, tossed a few cubes into his mouth.

  “And they adore you.”

  He winced at that. “They adore torturing me.”

  “Because that’s what sisters are supposed to do,” she informed him, selecting a cluster of green grapes.

  “I guess I didn’t get the memo on that.”