The Wedding Diaries

by Linda Francis Lee

  When he swept her up in his arms, she didn’t protest, and when he laid her down on the sofa, she went willingly. His gaze bored into her as if he couldn’t get enough.

  With infinite slowness, he leaned over her and kissed the pulse in her neck. Then lower, making her body quiver and want. The intensity was nearly overwhelming and she felt herself stiffen.

  “Relax, sweetheart,” he crooned. “Just lie back. Close your eyes.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.”

  Kneeling, he pushed her blouse to the side, unfastened the front clasp of her bra. Then he brushed his palm over her nipple, just barely, before he cupped her breast, his thumb circling, working its magic.

  “Do you understand the power of your body?” he asked, the words a low rumble of sound along her senses.

  She opened her eyes. She must have looked as confused by the question as she felt, because the glimmer in his gaze flashed with what she could only call anticipation of what he was going to show her. A passion, something special, something sacred. He would show her. Her skin burned just from the look, and when he bent his head and pressed his lips just above her breast and nipped at the skin, her body leaped with fire.

  He dipped his head and took one nipple deep in his mouth. She sighed, instinctively arching her back. His tongue laved the tender bud. Her body burned for this, burned to be touched. She had been waiting for this since she walked into his office and saw the chiseled strength of him through the glass.

  He touched and caressed, licked and sucked. Her mind spun as her body arched to him. She began to understand that he was opening a secret place inside her, as if he had known something was there that she had sensed but had been afraid to give in to.

  He did things to her body that she had always been afraid to admit she wanted. And this man would accept nothing less than her full submission.

  A tight knot formed in her mind and she tried to push up from cushions. Max pulled back and looked at her.

  “I can’t do this,” she whispered.

  “You can, Vivienne.”

  She stared at him. “It’s too much. I feel like I’m burning up.”

  His brow furrowed as if he didn’t understand. Or maybe it was that he understood too well.

  “You have an incredible passion inside you. Don’t be afraid of it.”

  “I’m not. I mean I don’t—have passion inside me. Really.” She tried to laugh. “Remember me? The ice queen. No passion here.”

  The glimmer in his eyes returned. “But there is” was all he said, as he came over her.

  He bore his weight on his elbows, one hand framing her face. She savored the solidness of him as he bent to taste her, their tongues intertwining. And she was lost.

  She sought the feel of him, wanting to touch his heat, his skin. His shirt fell away, then hers, their clothes tangling together.

  Somewhere in the distant recesses of her mind, she heard the phone ring. Once, twice. But she didn’t care. All she wanted was more of what Max was giving her.

  His lips trailed up her skin to her ear, as his hand went lower.

  Her voice on the answering machine filled the room.

  “Hi, I’m not here. But please leave a message.”

  His hand slipped between her thighs. Pure heat rushed through her as the beeping sound echoed.

  “You want this,” Max murmured against her. “You’re wet and hot.”

  Then another voice. Male, but not as deep. Older.

  “Vivi . . .”

  Her name entwined with heat and the kind of sensation she had never felt in her life. But her body yearned, overriding all else.

  “It’s your father.”

  The words jarred, and her mind froze.

  “Sorry I haven’t called before now, but I’ve been extremely busy here.”

  “Oh my gosh!”

  Vivienne pushed at Max’s chest so hard that they both tumbled to the floor between the coffee table and sofa.

  “Hurry! I have to answer the phone!”

  The more she scrambled, the more they twisted together, until finally Max got control of her and set them both upright.

  “Daddy! Don’t hang up!”

  But he couldn’t hear her, only kept talking.

  Vivienne launched herself across the room, tripping over a pillow that had fallen to the floor. When she finally jerked up the handpiece, the line went dead.

  She stared at the phone in disbelief. “Daddy,” she whispered, as a stunned shock settled through her.

  Frantically she pressed Play to listen to the message again. “Maybe he left a phone number.”

  “I didn’t hear one,” Max said.

  “Don’t say that!”

  Her father’s voice flared a second time. Sorry she wasn’t home. He’d call back when he could. Then he hesitated, before adding for her not to worry. Things were going to be all right. Just give him a bit longer. Followed by the click, then her own voice.

  “Daddy!”

  A desperate echoing word left to shimmer as the last of the Indian sun burned itself out completely.

  She stood there for what seemed like ages. Not moving.

  Her hair trailed down her back, so dark it seemed like a spill of midnight. She was beyond beautiful, Max thought. The curves, the flawless skin. And his body screamed to finish what they had started.

  But he could see something more, deeper than desire, deeper than beauty. The same thing he had seen in her before, as if she were something precious kept under glass. Easily broken. And he felt the need to protect her, keep her safe.

  The thought filtered through his mind, and for half a second, another memory hit him. Of Vivienne at eighteen, dressed in a beautiful gown, surrounded by other girls in white who stood next to their fathers.

  The Symphony Association Debutante Ball.

  A series of rich girls, but Vivienne was the one who stood out. Because of her beauty, and because she was alone.

  But the memory shattered in the nearly dark apartment when Vivienne turned around to Max.

  “I missed him.”

  “He’ll call back.”

  “Will he?” The words clearly surprised her as much as they surprised him. He saw her tense.

  “For your sake, I hope so.”

  She pulled her blouse on. He watched as she took a deep breath, her perfect chin rising, and he knew she was fighting for the calm that continually amazed him. Her life was in shreds and she had an amazing ability to rise above worry. He’d never seen anything like it. But why was that? Because she refused to believe that bad things could really happen? Or was it that she thought that through sheer determination she could keep her world from turning upside down?

  Something inside him shifted. Yes, she was all about facades and extravagant exteriors. But he realized, standing there, that while she might be spoiled, and while she might hold the real world at bay, it came at a price.

  Chapter Twelve

  Vivi closed the diary when she heard Nicki roll out of bed at six on Friday morning. Walking over to the closet, Vivi put the slim volume toward the back, behind the box that held the tiara her father had given her a lifetime ago. For half a second she thought about throwing the book and the tiara away. Then she muttered to herself when she knew she couldn’t do it.

  She headed downstairs to make breakfast for the girls. Thankfully she’d hardly seen Max in the last four days, other than to argue about her towed car. She hoped the trend continued—hardly seeing him, that is, not the arguing part—since she had no idea what she would say to him if he brought up the whole nearly-having-had-sex thing.

  She concentrated on blueberry pancakes instead.

  Upstairs, Nicki stretched. She always woke early because getting all that black eye makeup just right wasn’t easy. And the fingernails. Who knew that black polish chipped so easily and looked totally gross if it wasn’t redone practically every day?

  So she woke at the crack of dawn. If she could help it, she wasn’t goi
ng to be fourteen and never been French kissed for long.

  Today they had a pep rally during last period, which meant she’d get to see Steve Bonner. Steve was just a year older than her, but was so good at football that he was on the varsity team. He was pretty popular, even if he was just a sophomore.

  For reasons she didn’t get, he was nice to her. Probably because they had gone to school together since grade school. But it was his older brother who she had a total crush on.

  Brandon Bonner.

  Nicki exhaled a melting sigh at the thought of Brandon. Where Steve was the all-American type, Brandon was a bad boy. Brandon always had some cute girl hanging on his arm. What Nicki would do to hang on his arm herself.

  Knowing Brandon would definitely go to the pep rally because of his brother, Nicki couldn’t wait to get there in hopes of getting Brandon to notice her. They’d be perfect together. She knew it.

  Finishing her makeup, she went to her dresser. Last night she had decided she had to go for it today at the pep rally. She’d wear her favorite black low-cut jeans with an awesome T-shirt she had found in Max’s castoffs. Black with the group Guns N’ Roses on the front. She had cut the bottom half off, so it hit just above where her jeans started.

  It was hard to imagine that Max had ever done anything remotely wild in his life. She hated that he was always gone, and when he showed up it was with some dictatorial command, as if he thought that was the best way to parent.

  She knew he was busy, but it really ticked her off that he didn’t spend more time with her—no, with Lila, she told herself firmly. Nicki reasoned that she didn’t need the attention so much, but Lila was just a kid.

  Nicki knew there was the whole Max-shouldering-the-responsibility-of-the-world thing, and sometimes she did feel guilty—or even kind of bad for him. But if he’d just spend some time at home, maybe tell her something about her mother or father every once in a while, things wouldn’t be so hard.

  She was always having to snoop around to find out anything. She wouldn’t even remember what her mom looked like if it weren’t for pictures she’d found, and she had no clue about her dad because he took off and Max didn’t have a single photo of him.

  Not that she blamed Max for burning or ripping the photos up, which is what she suspected he’d done. What kind of a dad bolted on his family?

  To make matters worse, the guy had never even come back after their mom died, leaving eight kids, including a baby who was barely one year old.

  Nicki found the shirt, pulled it over her head, then went to her closet for her jeans. Practically humming, she got them out, then tried to put them on. At first she was so caught up in the anticipation of Brandon noticing her that she didn’t think too much about having a hard time getting the jeans on. Then it hit her. They weren’t going to go on. They were too small. They had shrunk. They were ruined and there was no way she could wear them to school.

  Furious, she screamed.

  Within seconds, pounding came from every direction. Standing there with the pants clutched in her hands, she watched her door burst open. First Max flew in, then Lila.

  “What’s wrong?” her brother demanded.

  He had a demented with worry look about him, and Nicki had a moment of regret for having made such a scene. But then Miss Priss came in, and all feelings of regret vanished.

  Vivi held a spatula in her hands and wore a stupid frilly apron around her waist and, unlike Max and Lila, her hair wasn’t sticking up in every single direction. She looked beautiful. Like a fairy princess. With these really great shoe things with tons of feathers flying all over the toes.

  Nicki hated her even more.

  “My jeans,” Nicki bleated.

  Max’s expression went from warrior mode to disbelief. “You screamed because of a pair of pants?”

  “Not just a pair of pants. My favorite jeans that I have to wear today! And they’re ruined. Look at these!” Nicki turned and glared at Vivi. “What did you do to them?”

  Vivi stared at the pants like she couldn’t figure out what they were. “I washed and dried them.”

  “You put them in the dryer?” Nicki whirled on Max. “See? She’s horrible. She doesn’t have a clue how to do anything. Including dress. What are you wearing?”

  Vivi’s weird gray eyes went wide, then she stared down at her foofy clothes. But before she could say anything, Max stepped farther into the room with that look about him that could only mean trouble.

  Uh-oh.

  “I’ve had enough of your attitude. You will apologize to Vivienne.”

  “I will not! And who are you anyway? You aren’t my dad. You don’t have any say about what I do ’cause you’re never here.”

  She turned away and threw the jeans in a heap. She could feel her brother behind her, could feel the anger in him and the frustration, and she hated what she had said. She wanted him to walk up behind her, wrap her in his arms, and tell her that everything was going to be all right.

  But he didn’t. “You will apologize,” he commanded.

  Hating Max and Vivi in that moment with every fiber of her being, she bit out the words. “I’m sorry.”

  She heard the minute Max turned and left.

  It was Lila who walked over and wrapped her tiny arms around Nicki. It felt good, and she wanted to give a hug back. But somehow she couldn’t.

  “Go get dressed, kid, and hope like hell you have something to wear that isn’t ruined.”

  Sniffing through her tears, Lila ran to her own room, slamming herself inside.

  Vivi still stood there.

  “Just leave,” Nicki hissed.

  The woman must be a moron, because instead of leaving, Vivi walked over and picked up the jeans.

  “What are you doing?”

  “They didn’t shrink that much.”

  Nicki gave her a drop-dead look. “Like it matters. Ruined is ruined. Now just get out.”

  Clearly deaf or maybe just as stupid as she looked, Vivi took the pants, then headed for the door. But when Nicki finally thought she would be left alone, Vivi stopped.

  “I know what it’s like when you feel as if you’re all alone in the world.”

  Nicki felt her heart pound and a prick of sappiness trying to burst out. She couldn’t move, couldn’t get the words out to tell Vivi to shut up.

  “But that’s no reason to work so hard to reject everyone before they have the chance to reject you.”

  Tears suddenly burned in Nicki’s throat. But she didn’t give in. Instead, she got a hold of herself, turned to the woman, and gave her the evilest eye she could manage. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know the first thing about anything. And I wish you’d get the hell out of my life.”

  They stared at each other for long seconds like the worst of enemies. Nicki expected Vivi to crumple like a wilted flower and start to cry. Good. She wanted her to hurt as badly as she did.

  But of course stupid Vivi had to go and surprise her and ruin everything.

  “I can fix your jeans before I take you to school.” Then she turned and finally disappeared.

  Sure enough, by the time breakfast was on the table— a major gross meal of weird eggs, sausages, and pancakes that were ruined by blueberries—the jeans were folded over the back of her chair.

  For reasons Nicki couldn’t imagine, her eyes burned and her throat got tight yet again. She hated it when that happened.

  Lila sniffled at her place, and Nicki felt even worse. She wanted to say she was sorry, but couldn’t seem to get the words out.

  “Do the jeans look okay?” Lila asked feebly. “I helped Vivi fix them.”

  The tear thing got worse.

  “Maybe you should try them on and see if they fit.”

  Not knowing what else to do, feeling Vivi watching her from over by the stove, Nicki took the pants and changed into them in the laundry room. They were kind of damp, but not bad. But most amazing was that they fit, actually better than before, since they had b
een kind of big to start with.

  Not sure if she were relieved or mad, she came out.

  “Are they okay?” Lila asked hesitantly.

  With her heart still lodged in her throat, Nicki sat down in her chair. “Yeah,” she managed to say, “they’re okay.”

  Lila looked relieved. “We sprayed them with water, then we tugged on either end, then Vivi put them on! Well, she kind of put them on, then did squats and all sorts of things before she ironed them. I’m glad they’re okay now.”

  Vivi didn’t say a word, she just brought over two slices of cinnamon toast and set the plate down. Nicki’s favorite from when she was a little kid. But when Lila reached under the table and linked her finger with hers, Nicki took her slice and gave it to her little sister.

  “But you love cinnamon toast,” Lila breathed.

  “It’s okay. You can have mine.”

  Then suddenly everything was back to normal between them, and she felt the tears start to recede.

  Vivi still didn’t say a word, not anything, and finally Nicki rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Thanks.”

  Just that, and stupid Vivi got this really big smile and said, “I’m sorry I shrunk them.”

  And then, thank God, it was time to go to school, which was a total good news/bad news scenario.

  Vivi had to use Max’s car since hers had gotten towed away. Last night, Nicki had heard the two of them arguing about cars. Max had said he’d lend her one, but he said it in that voice of his, all superior and impatient, that really made a person want to shove the offer in his face.

  Even though Nicki hated Vivi, she could hardly blame her when she got all huffy. Vivi had ended the conversation by saying she’d deal with the car situation on her own. She’d even added a snippy “Just you wait and see” that almost made Nicki smile.

  Until then, Vivi was using Max’s Mercedes, driving them to school in the gigantic car, nearly getting them killed when she seemed to forget they weren’t zipping around in her little red convertible.