“Doug!”
“I promised you the wedding of your dreams. Did I deliver?”
“The limo was wonderful. But you didn’t need all those roses.”
“You said they were your favorite flower.”
“But twenty dozen for the sanctuary?”
“Smelled good.”
“Yes.” She smiled. “They did.”
“Five minutes.”
“But...”
“I didn’t promise you a long reception.” He drew her against him. “Did I?” he whispered, nipping at the top of her ear.
She sagged against him.
“Five minutes?” she asked.
“I’ll have the car brought around.”
From a vantage point in the corner, he crossed his arms over his chest and watched her move toward Rhone and Shannen. Arielle’s gown was held together with tiny buttons, from the nape of her neck to the curve of her back. He couldn’t wait to unfasten each and every one, then slip satin from her shoulders.
At the edge of the dance floor, she stopped near Rhone and Shannen. Bending, she drew Nicky and Jessy toward her. Seeing her with his godchildren made Doug ache to hold her. She deserved children of her own, and he intended to be a good provider. A man had to do what a man had to do.
“How come you always get the girl?” Brian asked.
“Maybe you can now.”
“You’ll still be available for consultations?”
Doug nodded. The agency would be in good hands—Yarrow’s. As for himself, Doug was going into business with Rhone. Less risk, but plenty of excitement, in the security field.
After their honeymoon, they’d go house-hunting, and Arielle had already considered the schools she’d like to teach at. The future looked bright. Not bad for a man who never used to believe in the future.
“Good luck, boss.”
He shook Yarrow’s hand. “If you get the girl, I want to be the first to know.”
Yarrow grinned. “Don’t suppose Arielle’s got any cousins?” Offering his congratulations again, Brian moved toward the back table, where an attractive woman sat, alone.
Doug shook his head, smiling. When Arielle returned to him, Doug said, “I’ve got a gift for your parents.”
“For my parents?”
“Come on.”
Together, they searched out Mona and Jack, finding them sitting together between dances, holding hands.
“I thought you said your new husband was impatient for the honeymoon,” Mona said.
“Mother!”
“He is,” Doug assured them. “But Arielle had something she wanted to give you.”
He offered the envelope to Arielle. She frowned slightly, but took it, extending it to her parents.
“Open it, Jack.”
With hands starting to gnarl from age, Jack tore open the envelope.
“Tickets for the cruise we’ve always dreamed of!” Mona’s eyes filled with tears. “Kids, you shouldn’t have.”
Arielle hugged her parents and kissed them.
“Be happy, honey.”
Arielle looked at Doug before saying, “I will, Mom. I will.”
Mona extracted a promise that Arielle would call soon. But when they were out of earshot, Doug lifted her hand to his lips and said, “Not too soon.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” she said, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.
“What, kissed you?”
“Remembered they wanted to go on a cruise.”
Outside, he pulled her beneath the seclusion of a tree. “I remember everything you ever told me.”
“Everything?” she repeated breathlessly, looking into his eyes.
“Including the fact that you wanted me to slowly undress you, then make love to you for the rest of the night.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“And then you said you didn’t want to get out of bed for the next three days.”
“I didn’t say any of those things.”
“So how come I remember so well?”
“Wishful thinking?” She reached for his bow tie.
“Yeah, maybe,” he said.
“Doug...”
“Hmm?”
Using the ends of the bow tie, she drew him toward her. “You’re talking too much.”
“So you think you can shut me up?”
With a grin, Arielle rose onto her tiptoes. “I know I can.”
Doug slid his arms around her as she did exactly what she’d promised she would.
ISBN : 978-1-4592-6543-1
ONE NIGHT AT A TIME
Copyright © 1998 by Vickie Conan & Christine Pacheco
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
“Who wants you dead?”
Letter to Reader
Books by Christa Conan
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Copyright
One Night At A Time Page 23