A Fabulous Wedding

by Dianne Castell

  Gracie was bending over a paint can, stirring, but when she homed in on Wes, she had more than painting on her mind. Her lips turned into a warm welcoming smile.

  “Hi, Nick,” she said, her gaze glued to Wes. “If you’re looking for Dixie, she’s up at Danny’s Delight. Needed time to hang out alone. Said for me not to, under any circumstances, tell you where she was.” She cut her eyes to Nick for a split second and grinned. “Oops.”

  Anger mixed with fear lodged in Nick’s gut. What was Dixie doing up in the mountains alone—again? Not saying anything to alarm Gracie, Nick gave her an appreciative smile and backed out the door, leaving the two lovebirds alone. He’d never seen Wes fall for anyone so fast. He’d never seen Wes fall, period. Go Wes! And Nick was heading out after Dixie, whether she wanted him there or not.

  He shouldn’t be doing that, of course. He should be hanging low till this job was over and he and Dixie would simply part…Except they were already involved whether he admitted it or not. He wanted to see her, be with her, make love to her. In a few days everything would change.

  Streetlights blinked on as Nick made his way to his truck. The promise of fall licked the air. He paused for a moment on the sidewalk, looking at his restaurant, or what was supposed to be his restaurant. If it really were his, he’d paint the outside maroon and white and get a matching stripped awning. A sign saying Nick’s Place in antique gold over the window; white concrete urns with red and white geraniums spilling over the top; a bistro table or two outside, where patrons could drink espresso or a glass of wine alfresco when the weather permitted; a fireplace inside for when the weather sucked.

  But none of that was going to happen. Living in a town where everyone knew who he really was—or would soon know—wouldn’t be a good idea. They could cover up Wes’s identity, but the two of them together was too much. Nope, losing himself in another town was the best idea. Besides, Dixie, the biggest reason of all for staying in Whistlers Bend, was going for a big-time career.

  He climbed in the truck, brought the engine to life and took off for Danny’s Delight. He wound up the mountain, keeping a slow pace. He didn’t need to go flying off the side again. Andy was still on the lam, could reappear at any time, and Nick sure didn’t want to hurt Maggie’s bull buffalo.

  Nick smiled to himself. He fit in here, more easily than he’d ever imagined. He’d thought of himself as a city boy, but now…Jack, Gracie, the Sage, the surrounding mountains and lakes—he felt a part of them all. As if he belonged, as if they’d chosen him as one of them. That didn’t happen often for Nick Romero. His mother had chosen alcohol and drugs; girlfriends had chosen other mates, even Nonna Celest had chosen to move to Italy. Not that he blamed her, but she was gone all the same. And then there was Dixie and her dreams of adventure that led her in the opposite direction from his own plan to settle down.

  Not much permanence in his life. Maybe that was why he connected with the Bend. The town had been here for over a hundred years; the mountains and lakes, forever. The place oozed permanence, and he liked that aspect more than he thought possible.

  He passed lanes that led to weekend chalets. The smugglers wouldn’t chance a rendezvous at any of those places in case owners or renters showed up unexpectedly. No, the smugglers would meet in some back road or a stand of trees like the one where he’d seen them. They could hide for twenty minutes and then be on their way.

  He pulled onto the gravel that rambled its way to Danny’s chalet, following the creek as he’d done before. He found the driveway but didn’t see Dixie’s Camaro. He killed the engine, the peace of night welcoming him like a new friend. No truck motors rumbling along to indicate the smugglers had shown early. He examined the road he’d just driven over. His tracks and the narrow ones of the Camaro were visible, but no new ones, meaning Dixie was probably okay and had parked her car around back so he couldn’t find her.

  He walked up the path to the door. Only a portion of moon lit his way now. In two days, there’d be even less, making it the perfect time for smugglers to hook up. He, Wes, Jack, Roy and Flynn needed luck on their side. They’d be spread thin when they went smuggler hunting, with a lot of territory to cover.

  There were no lights on inside the chalet. Was Dixie asleep? He doubted it. He knocked and yelled her name. When she didn’t answer, he took out his handy-dandy lock pick and let himself in. Music came from the back of the chalet. “If I Could Turn Back Time.” Cher? He remembered the photo that the guys at the bureau had slipped into his purse collection, the one that had helped Dixie reach the conclusion he was gay. Then he thought of Dixie, her great curls, tempting body, jazzy personality, and was reminded just how un-gay he was.

  He clicked on the rose-base lamp, illuminating the room. No Dixie sleeping on the couch…the couch where she’d helped with his boots and they’d made incredible love. “Dixie?”

  When he got no answer, he headed down the back hall, past the bathroom that was bigger than his apartment bedroom. Lit candles flickered, the lingering scent of cedar and cinnamon permeated the air, bubbles billowed over a circular tub and Cher trilled a private concert. Wet footprints marked the cream-colored carpet that led on to the bedroom. He was following the prints when out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of something that nearly missed his head.

  “Nick?”

  “Dixie?”

  A wet, skimpy towel tied around her middle barely covered breasts to butt. She was gripping the dented saucepan from the last time they’d been here.

  He grinned as he took in her big eyes, aggressive stance and delicious attire. “Do you always cook in the nude?”

  She relaxed and gave him a sassy look. Damn, he liked that look. He liked her way too much with any look. He always felt alive when he was with Dixie Carmichael. Who wouldn’t? “I am not nude. I have a towel and a weapon.”

  She held up the pot. “I thought you were a burglar, or one of those smugglers, and I had to protect myself. How’d you find me?” She scowled. “You don’t have to answer that, because I already know the answer. A snitching sibling. No doubt to get rid of you so she could get Wes to herself. The woman’s loopy over him.”

  “They are an item, aren’t they.” It was a statement, not a question, and Nick realized there was a hint of envy in his voice. Not that he didn’t want Wes to be happy with Gracie, but he wanted Dixie to be happy with him, and that was not going to happen.

  “You scared me to death.”

  “I called your name, but I guess your choice of music drowned me out.”

  She blushed and fidgeted. Not Dixie traits at all. She was uneasy about something and he suspected that something was him. Well, he was damn uneasy about her, too. Where did they go from here? Why the hell was he here in the first place?

  “The song fit the occasion,” she said. She let out a deep breath and folded her arms across her breasts, plumping them up over the top of the towel. “I really am sorry I ran to Jack and accused you of being a smuggler, but there was evidence and—”

  “I found the bag, as I said, and wandered off exploring the hillside to find the best way to get my truck out. I heard trucks but didn’t think much of it. The smugglers got there while I was away.” Not to whip off that damn towel and feast his eyes on what was underneath took every ounce of control. But what did she have in mind? That was the big question.

  She relaxed and a little smile played at her lips, which he’d really liked to kiss…while he ripped off the towel. She said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely.” Her smile grew, and then she flipped the towel off her body.

  Holy cow! She swung it around her head, doing a naked sashay—no one sashayed like Dixie Carmichael, naked or otherwise—laughing and giggling, before tossing it toward the bedroom. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. “I’m crazy about you, Nick, and I want everyone to see us together. We’re more than friends and you’re not a smuggler or gay and just a cook.” She kissed
him again. “You’re a wonderful, fantastic cook. I couldn’t be happier.”

  Oh, crap!

  She Frenched him in the ear, sending chills down his spine and setting a fire in his belly.

  “All these stupid feelings I had about you being something more than a chef were just a defense mechanism against me falling for you, I realize that now. The last thing I needed was to get involved with a man, any man, because I had these great plans, and then suddenly you showed up and I fell for you.”

  “You have…did…fall for me?”

  She seemed startled. “And you haven’t fallen for me?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  She laughed. “Glad we got that straightened out.” She kissed him again. “Come with me to Denver or Boston or wherever I go. Open your own restaurant. You’ll be a success, and we can be together the way we are now and figure out our future.”

  He was dumbstruck. Dixie wanted to be with him? Wanted them to have a life together? She didn’t want to leave him.

  “Think about it.” She slid his shirt up and coaxed it over his head, then swung it into the abyss to join her towel. She giggled as only Dixie could, and reached for his belt buckle. “I feel free, all my questions answered, all my worries about you over, and now I can enjoy being with you, Chef Nick Romero.”

  “I’m not perfect, Dixie.”

  “I don’t need perfect. Perfect’s boring. I need—” she looked him dead in the eyes “—to share my bubble bath with you. I want to make it up to you for treating you so shabbily and accusing you of terrible things you aren’t guilty of.” She pulled him by his belt toward the bathroom and kicked the door closed as Sonny and Cher sang “I Got You, Babe.”

  And how! He should resist. All her feelings for him were based on lies. But how the hell did a man resist a naked woman leading him by his belt buckle?

  He had no flipping idea, especially when Dixie was doing the leading and he wanted more than anything to follow her.

  She stopped by the tub that could pass for a small swimming pool and smiled up at him as she unzipped his jeans. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Dixie, are you sure about this? What if we aren’t…compatible?”

  She winked. “We proved we were beyond compatible the last time we were here.”

  “I don’t mean just sex. This is more than sex. You want me to follow you to…wherever. Why?”

  She laughed and slipped his jeans and briefs to his knees. “Because you’re so well…hung. My, my, what have we here?”

  His heart tightened. “You don’t know me, Dixie.”

  She touched him, making his whole body hard. “Oh, I do. And getting more intimately acquainted every time we…meet.”

  “But—”

  “And I appreciate that you love your grandmother, that you’re compassionate and caring and forgiving and helpful and friendly and not afraid of bears.”

  “Terrified of bears.”

  She framed his face in her palms. “We get along, in and out of the tub, and if we let what we have go, we’re nuts.”

  Maybe there was hope. Maybe somehow they could work their relationship out if, as soon as it was over, he came clean and made her understand what he was. “I need a day or two to figure things out.”

  She grinned. “But right now there’s you and me and this wonderful tub.” She placed both hands on his chest and gently pushed him till the backs of his legs connected with the tub. He sat on the edge and she tugged off one boot then the other. “I’m getting pretty good at this.”

  “I should quit wearing them. I’m thinking slippers.”

  Her lips nearly touched his, the sensation more provocative than actual kissing. She whispered against his mouth, “Want me to undress you or…”

  “I’ll do it.” He could barely get the words out. “I’m faster.” He stripped off his clothes and tossed his shirt in one corner, took a condom from his wallet and set it on the edge of the tub before tossing his jeans into another corner. She yelped as he lifted her into his arms. “Let’s get slippery.” And kissed her hard and settled them both into the bubbles.

  “You don’t look comfortable,” she said, as he watched water slide off her lovely body. “And I really want you to be comfortable and relax.”

  “With that twinkle in your eyes and that devil smile on your lips, I doubt if there’s one thing relaxing in what you have planned.”

  “Smart man.” She kissed him, her silky body next to his completely destroying any notion he had of discussing compatibility.

  Being with her was heaven, and even if their relationship wasn’t going to last, he didn’t want her to hate him when this was all over. Somehow, someway, he’d explain everything to her and make her understand. He owed her that much.

  But now…Ah, hell, now he was dying to just make love to her.

  Chapter Nine

  Nick let his body dissolve into the warm water, pushing aside the reasons he shouldn’t be making love to Dixie, concentrating on all the reasons he should. He intended to enjoy her sparkling brown eyes taking him in; her laughter that made him laugh, too; her full shapely body gliding against his. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”

  She captured a mound of suds in her hand, closed her eyes and blew them across the tub in a white frothy swirl. They danced in the candlelight and floated on the water. “I blew the suds before and made a wish.” She faced him. “I wished for you, and now you’re here. Who says wishes never come true.”

  He kissed her moist lips. “Oh, Dixie girl, not me.”

  “What do you wish for, Nick Romero?”

  A clear conscience would be a nice start. “You any way I can have you.”

  She fixed a bath pillow behind his head as she knelt beside him, the water lapping at her midriff, bubbles clinging to her breasts and the tips of her firm pink nipples. His finger traced the same path the suds took, left side, then right. He watched her breaths catch as he stroked her delicate skin, turning her on, making her aware how much he desired her. Her eyes clouded and she said, “You’re cheating. I’m supposed to be tending to you, remember?”

  “But I think we should play.”

  “My tub, my rules. Besides, I’m making it up to you for accusing you unjustly.” She swiped his hands away.

  “You can’t expect me to sit here and do nothing.”

  “Oh, but I can.” She smiled and kissed him and dropped a dollop of shampoo in her palm, then worked it into suds, her fingers slowly squeezing and rubbing, driving him into a frenzy just watching. Then she massaged his head, pressing gently into his scalp. “Close your eyes,” she purred and lifted the water spray to rinse the suds away. He did as she’d asked, and then she kissed his eyes and nose as the suds slid down.

  “My turn,” he insisted as he opened his eyes.

  “Not a chance.” She pulled on a soft mitt and lathered it with something that hinted of flowers and seduction.

  “I’ll smell girly.”

  “You won’t mind.” She washed his chest, moving in slow, small circles over his tight pecs, then lower, to his waist.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, knowing exactly where she was headed. He glided his arm around her to tug her under him. “This will be over before I get started.”

  She yelped and laughed as water splashed and suds piled up. His knees captured her hips; his arousal pressed into her silky abdomen. He placed the pillow to the back of her head and studied her radiant face. “Now it’s my turn.”

  “You think that because you’re bigger than me you can have your way?”

  He kissed her, letting his tongue roam over her wet lips. “Yes.”

  Her breasts formed lovely mounds slightly above the water and were covered in bubbles. He gathered them up and set them aside. “I need to see you, all of you, as I make love to you.” He watched her nipples tighten to hard pink nubs and her eyes dilate. She responded so completely to him, even his words, anticipating his lovemaking. She longed for him to touch her, exciting her even more, making love to her as o
nly he knew how.

  But not yet. “I intend to wash you.”

  Her legs snaked around his back, holding him secure. “I’ve got another idea.” Her voice was strained. “I’m already clean.”

  He picked up the mitt. “It’s my duty to be sure.” He saw her hands reach for his erection but he intercepted them and held them together in front of her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “If you do what I think you’re about to do, I’ll never get my turn.”

  “This isn’t fair.”

  He grinned, and using her words said, “You won’t mind.” Still holding her hands together, he kissed her slowly, letting his tongue take possession of every crevice of her delicious mouth. Then he stroked the sudsy mitt over her left shoulder, down to her wrist. “Nice hands. Nice everything.”

  She swallowed, passion pinking her cheeks and clouding her eyes. “Let me show you something else…nice.”

  He laughed, and massaged her other shoulder and arm. “I think you’re clean here.” He winked. “Now for the rest of you.”

  “Nick, this is so one-sided.” She tried to free her hands again, but he kept them in place and rubbed the mitt across her sensitive nipples. Her eyes darkened as he tantalized her hard nubs. A whimper escaped her lips and he captured the delicate sound in his mouth.

  She looked at him, her eyes smoky, her lips slightly parted. “I never knew making love could be like this.”

  “You’re the perfect partner.”

  “Us together is perfect. I don’t want this to end, Nick. I want you inside me every night.”

  And that was what he wanted, too, but he had no idea how to make it happen. He stroked under her breasts, down to her navel, then farther. Then he discarded the mitt and tangled his fingers in her soft curls. “You are so open for me, so ready.”

  “I was ready twenty minutes ago.”

  “Oh, but not like this.” He released her hands and glided one finger into her heat, then two. Her sweet hot sex tightened and she gripped his shoulders and gasped. “Nick? I can’t…”

  Her body shuddered in the first throes of climax. He used the condom, then replaced his fingers with himself. Bracing against the edge of the tub, he started the long steady rhythm that drove every thought about smugglers and lies and the FBI from his brain, and reveled in making love to this incredible woman.