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A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel

Page 14

by Carol Burnside


  Her daddy ducked through the tent opening. “You ready to get this show on the road?”

  “Just waiting for you. What’s taking so long?”

  He gestured toward the tent opening and ran a finger between his neck and collar. “Travis is seating your mama. It shouldn’t be long now. You nervous?”

  “She’s cool as a . . .” Claire trailed off and frowned.

  “Cucumber.” Rosie and her dad said in unison.

  “Thanks. I knew it was a green veggie. We’re the ones who are nervous. Doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  “It’s because when you love someone, like with her mama and me, you know you’re doing the right thing.”

  Claire’s gaze locked on hers and Rosie smiled, stifling the pang of guilt her dad’s words brought.

  John Thomas ran a finger under his collar again as the music changed. With a wink in her direction, Claire took her first step toward the gazebo. Between her platinum hair and a deep purple sheath with a wide belt that emphasized her tiny waist, no one was likely to miss the fact that the wedding had begun.

  Impatient to see Sam, Rosie took a turn peeking through the opening as Claire turned and disappeared from view. He wasn’t in sight, but dozens of Sweetwater Springs’ citizens watched from the edge of the park. No surprise there. Everyone who had a wedding here knew to add enough cake for a least a hundred over their guest list. Few could resist romance in such a lovely setting. The smarter ones had umbrellas at the ready.

  She stood beside her father, poised to move through the opening. Now that it was time to put their plan in motion, Rosie couldn’t wait to get started. Had Sam found the ensemble she’d left for Lorelei inside his door?

  John Thomas patted her hand at his elbow. “I wanted to say how proud your mother and I are. You’ve pulled together a very nice wedding here. You waited for the right guy when a lot of women would have settled for less.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  He blinked rapidly, trying not to get all teary on her.

  She squeezed his arm in silent communication and hoped Claire was walking fast.

  He patted her hand again. “You remind me of your mama when we got married.”

  “Oh, Daddy, don’t say stuff like that.” She blinked rapidly against a sudden rush of tears, and he patted faster.

  The music swelled and anticipation chased the tears away. With a nod of agreement, they stepped onto the sidewalk. A murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd.

  Thankfully, she didn’t trip on the sidewalk or rush to the gazebo in her eagerness to see Sam. He stood at the top of three stairs, looking like he’d stepped off the pages of GQ. Broad shoulders, trim waist, dark hair and a strong jaw line. He’d looked much the same at J.T.’s wedding, sophisticated and oh-so-tempting.

  Jeezus Pete he was handsome and—for a while at least—hers.

  If the pre-wedding preparations had moved at a snail’s pace, the actual ceremony sped by. The minister was blessing them in prayer when the unmistakable sounds of a fussy toddler rose over the proceedings.

  Sam shot her a slightly panicked look once the amen had been said.

  Instead of turning toward her groom as they’d practiced, Rosie stopped the minister from continuing with a raised palm. “Excuse me one second.”

  She ignored the confused murmurings from their audience.

  Sam whispered, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m coming back,” she answered, negotiating the stairs and crossing to Sara, who struggled to keep a squirming Lorelei in her lap.

  “Let’s go see Daddy.” Rosie extended her arms, hoping her brief bonding experience with the little girl had been memorable. Lorelei came readily, drawing a chorus of “ahh’s” from the audience when she came into view dressed in a ruffled white dress and a miniature circlet which matched Rosie’s.

  Chuckles and sniffs accompanied their return to the gazebo when Sam’s daughter hid her face in Rosie’s neck and refused to budge.

  With Lorelei straddling her left hip, Rosie faced Sam and linked her right hand in his. “Continue,” she instructed the minister, who quickly pronounced them Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Moreland and family.

  While her first kiss as a married woman wasn’t the one she’d envisioned in her plans at the ripe age of ten, it felt exactly right.

  * * *

  Sam gazed into her eyes again and again as they danced. Rosie could see the question there. Soon they would leave here for an overnight stay in the Little Rock hotel—a generous wedding gift from J.T. and Travis.

  How soon could they make an escape?

  Townsfolk from the peripheral crowd dashed into the tent in twos and threes to congratulate them. Most got caught in the cloudburst forcing everyone to seek shelter. When the rain dwindled into occasional light sprinkle, the majority of the technically uninvited guests departed. Sam glanced around the tent. “Looks like we’d better leave while there’s still a few folks left to throw birdseed on us.”

  “Not so fast, my friend. I haven’t danced with the bride, yet.” The man had a tinge of New York in his cultured tones. Rosie faintly remembered seeing him standing beside Sam during the ceremony.

  “Rosie, this is my longtime friend, Bill Powers.”

  “You’re Sam’s lawyer.”

  He swept her into his arms and danced her away from Sam. “Friend, lawyer, confidant and best man. We’ve known each other a long time.”

  “Something we have in common, Mr. Powers.”

  “Touché. And call me Bill. When was the last time you saw Sam or contacted him socially? Before he moved back here, that is.”

  Rosie didn’t believe for one moment he was simply making polite conversation. The keen intelligence behind his gaze said otherwise. “Do you go fishing often, Bill?”

  One corner of his mouth quirked in a sardonic smile. “Fine. We’ll lay our cards on the table.” His hand tightened around hers, not so anyone would notice, but so he had her full attention.

  “Even if no one else knows the score here, I do. Don’t think you can wring more money from the situation or play on his emotions. That prenup is ironclad.”

  The flush of anger heated her cheeks, but she held her tongue, believing Bill’s words were motivated from his heart. They danced a few more steps before she spoke, the words surprising even her.

  “Years ago, at my brother’s wedding, Sam asked me to dance.” She closed her eyes. “He looked much like he does today, so handsome in his tux. I couldn’t help remembering an adolescent crush I’d had on him. But for the first time, we were grownups, equals.”

  It was a memory she’d all but shoved from her mind. Why she felt the need to explain to this man, this stranger who’d rudely questioned her motives was a mystery, but she felt compelled to continue. “Even though he was technically my brothers’ friend, I’ve always felt a special connection to Sam. We spent a large portion of the summer together after his parents died, swimming, fishing in the creek behind my parents place and sometimes, doing nothing more than sitting in the shade of a tree, talking. Believe me, you’re not the only one who knows the depths of the pain he’s been through.”

  Bill nodded, the hard glitter in his eyes dimming. His grip eased. “So, you’re telling me you fell in love with him at your brother’s wedding?”

  “Oh, nothing so dramatic. I wanted his kiss so badly I practically threw myself at him, but we were interrupted, the moment lost, and that was that.” Her shoulders lifted and fell. “I know where I stand with Sam, and have no illusions about who’ll be hurt when all this is over.”

  But she intended to grab a little happiness along the way.

  Bill stopped dancing and released her when the music stopped. He hesitated, like he wanted to add something to their conversation, then smiled and led her back to Sam. Bowing over her hand, Bill kissed it in a courtly gesture of days gone by. “Thank you.”

  His eyes were shuttered now, his smile polite, as if their encounter hadn’t taken place.

 
“Hey, hey, watch those moves, buddy. This one’s already taken, remember?” Sam’s jovial tone contradicted the warning.

  Bill clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Congratulations. She’s all yours.”

  A slow number started, and Sam swung her back onto the dance floor. “What was that all about? He wasn’t putting the moves on you, was he? Bill likes to charm the ladies.”

  “No doubt he’s quite successful, but no. He was curious as to when we’d last seen each other. I think he was actually worried I might have known you longer. Of course, I distracted him so he wouldn’t realize I have.”

  “Hey, look at that.” Sam nodded toward his left where John Thomas danced around Reba with Lorelei giggling in his arms. “I think she’s getting used to them.”

  “She’ll be fine with them. It’s just one night.”

  At the reminder of what awaited them, Sam turned his attention back to her. “J.T.’s wedding, right?”

  “What about it?”

  “The last time we saw each other.”

  “Right.”

  “Your hair was up, and you wore a black dress that dipped very nicely in the front.”

  “It’s called a scooped neck.”

  “It’s called cleavage.” His voice rumbled deliciously close to her ear.

  “You guys have selective memories.”

  “I remember more. We were dancing—like this—a slow number. I’d only seen you facing me, so it came as a surprise that the dress had no back in it.”

  “It had straps.”

  “Those little crisscrossing elastic threads? You were practically naked. It took all my concentration to keep from stepping on your toes.”

  “That’s because you were holding me all stiff and proper.”

  “If I hadn’t, you’d have discovered I was . . . stiff and improper.”

  “Oh.”

  “Speaking of toes, those strappy high heels you wore were practically an invitation to—”

  “I’m wearing a similar version in white today.”

  “Is it getting hot in here?”

  Rosie smiled against his neck. “Do you know, for a moment that night, I actually thought you were going to kiss me? Then we were interrupted, and I decided it must have been my imagination.”

  He drew in a long breath and released it slowly.

  “Sam?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Was it my imagination?” She pulled back, her gaze searching his face, feeling the tension in his body.

  “No.” He tugged her closer, and she smiled.

  Their dance became no more than a gentle sway to the music. Sam caressed her back. She returned her head to his shoulder, her fingertips exploring the hair on his nape.

  Sam shuddered and pulled back slightly. “I wanted to do a lot more than kiss you that night.”

  “And now?” The question was little more than a breathy whisper. Her knees would collapse if they kept going like this.

  He lowered his head and kissed the spot where her neck met her shoulder, before giving it a gentle nip.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he growled.

  * * *

  “I believe we have a reservation. Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Moreland.”

  “Yes, sir. One night, in our honeymoon suite. The additional gifts and amenities requested have already been placed in the suite. Will there be anything else?”

  Sam couldn’t remember his response, or how they came to be in the elevator. He glanced over at Rosie as it ascended to their designated floor. What was she thinking behind the enticing cool blue of her gaze?

  “We also have a workout room on the third floor and a full spa to your right when you step off the elevators into the lobby. Couples are usually interested in dinner for two at our four-star restaurant, Chez Henri. One of the most romantic places in the city, its gourmet fare caters to lovers and . . .” The bellhop continued his practiced spiel.

  Sam glanced at Rosie, wishing they were alone. They hadn’t bothered to change, and it was obvious they’d made a beeline here from their wedding. If he didn’t feel so desperate inside, it would be comical.

  The young man continued talking during their trek the length of a long hall, where he opened the door and held it to allow Sam access to carry Rosie across the threshold. That much of the young man’s chatter penetrated, and Sam complied. He sat Rosie on her feet, tipped the eager young man as soon as the bags hit the floor, thanked him and closed the door at his heels.

  Finally, they were alone.

  Rosie glanced pointedly at their luggage and back to him. “What, no computer bag? I thought for sure—”

  “Oh, stop. If I hadn’t buried myself in work these last two weeks, I wouldn’t have been able to take these two days off and enjoy it.”

  Rosie crossed the living/sitting room and stood inside the entrance to the bedroom. Her eyes were large, taking everything in. “Oh, I think we’ll enjoy it, all right.”

  His gaze following the same path Rosie’s took, Sam glanced around the room. He noted the congratulatory dozen red roses, huge chocolate-covered strawberries, heart-shaped truffles wrapped in gold and a bottle of Dom Pérignon chilling on a small dining table. The latter was accompanied by two champagne flutes with stems made of tiny hearts.

  Reaching Rosie’s side, he turned to see what had caught her eye. The scene caused a flood of images to tease his mind, and a tingling in his groin. “Your brothers sure know how to stage a seduction.”

  “I’m thinking Sara and Claire contributed significantly in this effort.”

  “A joint effort? How appropriate.” He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her snuggly against him.

  Across the rose-petal strewn bed lay a white lace negligee. Sam wasn’t sure if there was actually enough lace and ribbon to cover much of anything, but he supposed that was precisely the point. The same adage could be applied to the briefest of men’s underwear that accompanied it.

  “I’m not wearing those,” he stated, before Rosie got any ideas to the contrary.

  On the dresser to their left, a heart shaped basket held some kind of oil, body chocolate, and a can of spray-on whipping cream.

  He turned her in his arms and discovered her desire hadn’t waned during their short trip any more than his had.

  Except for a rather large order from room service to replenish their energy, Sam and Rosie had no interaction with the outside world until the following afternoon.

  Sam awoke slowly to a stirring of desire and someone crowding him. Rosie snuggled against his side, one breast pillowed on his arm, a leg draped over both of his. Her hair was tousled and even in sleep, she looked well loved.

  She stirred, the action drawing his gaze to the perfect outline of her breast, its cinnamon nipple showing faintly through a lacy strip in the white negligee he’d convinced her to model.

  One corner of this mouth quirked, remembering how she’d agreed, but only after convincing him it was in his best interests to wear the briefs. Damned if she hadn’t been right.

  His breathing deepened with the memory. A little sexual awakening was in order.

  She looked so uninhibited, so inviting. Even a little wanton. He couldn’t believe he wanted her again so soon after the pleasure they’d indulged in. Would he ever get enough? He turned toward her, inches at a time, his erection nestling against the heated juncture between her thighs. Oh, yeah.

  He nudged his hips forward a bit and raised his gaze to clear blue eyes shuttered with desire.

  “Morning,” she murmured, rolling her pelvis forward with a nudge of her own. The fiction sent torturous pleasure coursing through him.

  “I’m hungry,” she announced.

  “That’s because it’s early afternoon. Good thing we’ve got late checkout.”

  “Is there any whipped cream left?”

  “You finished it off with the body chocolate when you declared me dessert, remember?”

  “Mmm. Yes, I do.” Her lips stretched into a lazy smile. �
��As I recall, you thanked me very nicely too. Strawberries?”

  “Long gone, along with the champagne.”

  “What about the last truffle?”

  “That one’s mine.”

  “There was a baker’s dozen and we split the rest evenly, so we should share it.”

  He twisted toward his nightstand and retrieved the last gold-wrapped heart. “Fair enough.”

  Since one arm lay beneath her she assisted him in removing the foil. Together, they broke it in half. Sam held his portion to her lips. “Here. You can have mine.”

  Her gaze turned serious as she offered her half to him. “And you can have mine.”

  The moment felt strangely symbolic. Was he reading too much into sharing a candy heart? Ever since they’d agreed to a truce, Rosie was different. While he knew better, it sure felt like they’d entered into a real marriage. The love, marriage and a baby carriage kind she’d been afraid they couldn’t pull off.

  The kind he hadn’t thought himself capable of, but was beginning to reconsider.

  “Hey, where’d you go? I’m feeling neglected.” Her lips, puffy from his kisses, formed a pout.

  He claimed her mouth gently at first as he rubbed his knuckles across the tips of her nipples and lightly squeezed them between his thumb and forefinger. Little nibbles and kisses followed, then another kiss, more heated now. God help him, he wanted her eyes open and watching when he buried himself deep inside her.

  Their tongues mated the way their bodies longed to. Sam reached between them, readying her. Rosie locked her arms around him, a low moan coming from the back of her throat, and tugged.

  Sam needed no further encouragement. He rose over her and joined their bodies with one thrust. Her gasp fueled his need, but worried him at the same time. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Don’t stop.” Her hands roamed his body, enflaming him further. They rocked together in a silent rhythm.

  Silent tears traversed her temples when Rosie came apart beneath him. Her muscles contracted, bringing his pleasure crashing in.

  Whatever this was, it sure felt real.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Rosie counted three vehicles parked in front of her house—Travis’s white truck, her mom’s ancient gray Volvo, and J.T’s dark green SUV.

 

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