But they only had a few days to plan a wedding.
The saleswoman at the boutique favored Jeannie and Kate with a wide professional smile. "Good afternoon, ladies," she said. "And how can I help you?"
"I'm looking for something simple and elegant," Jeannie said. "Preferably in off-white."
"For a special occasion?"
She looked at Kate then back to the saleswoman. "You could say that."
"She's getting married," Kate volunteered, shaking her head in amazement. "Tomorrow."
"Oh, how wonderful!" The saleswoman's smile got a little bit wider. "I think we can--" She stopped, peering more closely at the two women before her. "Haven't I seen you ladies before?"
Jeannie started to laugh. "Last week," she said. "The black spaghetti-strap dance dress."
"Ah yes," said the saleswoman. "You were going on a cruise, if I remember correctly."
"It was a whirlwind romance," Kate said. "One whiff of salt air and that's all she wrote."
"Evidently salt air is more effective than French perfume," said the saleswoman. "You met the gentleman on shipboard?"
"Well, not exactly," Jeannie said, wishing she could disappear into the dressing room and come out when the wedding was over. "We'd met a few days before." Oh God, she thought, as Kate burst into gales of laughter. It sounds like I picked him up in a bar and ran off with him.
Kate was still laughing as she followed Jeannie into the dressing room.
"Enjoy yourself, Ms. Big Mouth," Jeannie muttered as she slipped out of her trousers and shirt. "You were more than willing to volunteer information about everything else. Why didn't you tell her I worked for Hunter and make me sound respectable?"
Kate made a face as she sat down on the boudoir chair in the corner of the room. "You got yourself into this mess, Ross. I'm just enjoying the show."
Jeannie tried on two beige dresses and an eggshell white gown in quick succession. "Too fancy," she said, "too glitzy, too boring."
Kate and the saleswoman exchanged looks.
"What exactly are you looking for?" the saleswoman asked. "Maybe something in a gentle yellow?"
"How about a suit?" Kate volunteered. "Something classic."
"In silk," Jeannie said. She turned to Kate. "I could wear a camisole under it and my grandmother's pearls."
The saleswoman brightened. "I have just the ticket." Moments later she was back, bearing the most perfect suit in a cream-colored silk that begged to be worn against bare skin.
"That's it," said Kate, her eyes suspiciously wet.
"You look beautiful," said the saleswoman, smelling victory.
Jeannie turned slowly to face the mirror. "Omigod," she said, staring at her reflection. "I'm getting married tomorrow!"
"This is very important," Hunter told the sales clerk at You Must Have Been A Beautiful Baby, a boutique off Madison Avenue. "We need the fanciest dress you have in the place."
"Special occasion?" asked the woman, chucking Daisy under the chin.
"A wedding," said Hunter, liking the sound.
"Well, well," said the woman with a knowing smile. "I think I have just the thing."
Any other time Hunter would have felt like Gulliver in the Land of the Lilliputs, but for some reason he thoroughly enjoyed the process of picking out the perfect outfit for Daisy to wear to the wedding.
In fact, by the time they'd settled on a frilly dress the same color as Daisy's eyes, Hunter found himself really getting into the spirit of things.
"Over there," he said, pointing toward a display case to the left of the register. "Those lacy socks."
"Ahh," said the sales clerk, her eyes dancing with delight. "And a wonderful choice they are, sir. The lace trim was handworked by nuns in a Swiss convent."
"Daah?" Daisy tugged at his ear, as if she couldn't believe her ears.
"Whatever the lady says," he mumbled, knowing ad-speak when he heard it.
"Would you like a pair for your daughter?"
"She's not my daughter," he said quickly, "and yes, I'd like a pair."
"Not your daughter?" The woman's perfectly made-up face creased in a frown. "I thought she said da-da."
"She doesn't talk yet," Hunter said, wondering why the fascination with Daisy's parentage. "Now, about the socks...."
Ten minutes later Hunter, Daisy, and a big fat shopping bag filled with obscenely expensive baby clothes escaped the clutches of the eager saleswoman. He could still hear the sound of the cash register ringing up the string of purchases.
"Don't think I'm setting a precedent," he said to Daisy as they headed for home. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing."
The next time he spent money like that on clothing, it had better be for a new Armani jacket to replace the one he'd lost to Daisy's apple juice.
"How do I look?" asked Jeannie for the hundredth time as the rented car neared the little town outside the city limits where the wedding would take place.
"Beautiful," said Kate. "Radiant." She narrowed her eyes purposefully. "Much too good for a crazy woman."
"It is crazy, isn't it?" Jeannie said, smiling broadly. "Sane people don't do things like this."
"That's true," said Kate, "but sane people miss a lot of fun."
Jeannie stared at her friend. "Is that encouragement I hear from you?"
"Don't let it go to your head," Kate said. "I do think you're crazy, but at least I understand."
"You like Hunter?"
"It's not Hunter that worries me right now, honey. It's you."
Jeannie's voice rose in surprise. "I'd never do anything to hurt him."
"Maybe not," said Kate, "but I just can't shake the feeling that there's something you're not quite telling him."
"That's ridiculous."
"Probably is," said Kate agreeably. "But ever since we met I've been convinced you're a lot more complicated than you seem."
"Isn't everyone?" Jeannie asked. "I'll bet you have a few stories in your background."
Kate feigned surprise. "Moi? My life's an open book."
The driver whirred down the glass partition. "We're here, ladies." The car came to a stop in front of the judge's office.
Jeannie peered out the window. Hunter and Daisy waited on the sidewalk. Hunter wore a navy suit, cream-colored shirt, and striped tie. Her heart bumped up against her breastbone as she noticed his shaggy hair had been newly trimmed in honor of the occasion. Daisy was decked out in a pale blue dress with matching socks with ruffled cuffs. His best man was standing on the steps, scanning the street for the rest of the wedding party.
"Will you look at him," Kate said, whistling low. "Is that a gorgeous man or not?"
"That is definitely a gorgeous man," said Jeannie.
"What's his name?"
Jeannie laughed. "I guess we're not talking about Hunter, are we? That's Trey Whittaker, a photographer friend of Hunter's." Obviously Kate's anti-male stance was weakening.
Trey said something to Hunter. Hunter looked toward the street as Jeannie stepped from the car.
The look on his face when his eyes met hers erased the last of her fears.
This is right, her heart said as he reached for her hand. Crazy. Impractical. Illogical.
But definitely right.
"You're beautiful, Jeannie."
"So are you," she whispered.
Daisy reached out to tug at Jeannie's earring and, laughing, Jeannie ducked out of the baby's reach.
"Come on, Daisy," Hunter said as they walked up the steps to the judge's office. "You're still on your good behavior. Jeannie and I aren't married yet. She might still change her mind."
Maybe it was crazy, leaping into marriage with someone she barely knew, but somehow it felt like the sanest thing she'd done in years.
Jeannie stayed amazingly calm during the ceremony. Her voice sounded clear and confident. Hunter stumbled once during the vows when Daisy, in Kate's arms, leaned over and tugged hard on his hair, but he recovered quickly.
The words to the wed
ding vows held a resonance he hadn't expected. Like everybody else, he'd heard them a thousand times over, in movies, on television, at the weddings of friends.
Quaint, a little flowery, as familiar as his phone number or street address.
But when a woman with a heart as beautiful as her face was saying those words to you and when you were saying those same words right back to her and meaning them--well, it made a man think.
"I do," said Jeannie, her voice strong.
"I do," said Hunter, amazed.
Kate and Trey burst into cheers as he took Jeannie in his arms.
Tears glistened in her blue eyes and he suspected his own eyes were a little moist. He couldn't remember a time when he felt more connected with his life, more certain that he'd made the right choice, found the right woman at the right time.
He was on his way.
Few places in Manhattan were more beautiful than Tavern on the Green.
Set at the edge of Central Park not far from Lincoln Center, it was a jewel of a restaurant. No matter the season, the trees inside and out were strung with twinkling diamond lights that added to the air of genteel glamour.
Hunter and Jeannie had planned to take their maid of honor and best man to Tavern on the Green for an intimate dinner. Kate and Trey, however, had taken matters into their own hands, arranging a combination bridal shower/wedding reception for the newlyweds.
A crowd of people from CN&S showed up, along with photographers, stylists, and bookers Jeannie had worked with. If it seemed odd to anyone that neither Hunter's nor Jeannie's family was present, no one said a word. They were too busy eating, drinking, and teasing the bride and groom.
"Hunter knows a good deal when he sees one," said an ad exec with a full head of red curls and impressive cleavage as she sized up Jeannie from head to toe. "I'll bet he never gave you a chance to say no."
"Good going, Phillips," said a bean counter from the financial department. "She's not only gorgeous, she works with kids for a living. Who needs day care when you have Jeannie."
"A built-in baby expert," said Walter Grantham, by way of congratulations. "Brilliant strategy, Hunter. Exactly what I'd expect of our top ad exec. I told you that you needed a wife to take care of things at home. Once the honeymoon is over, I want you back to work in top form."
Grantham drifted away toward the open bar.
Hunter drew Jeannie toward a secluded corner behind a ficus tree strung with white lights.
"Grantham's a jerk," he said bluntly. "They're all jerks. I hope you don't think I--"
"Of course I don't," she broke in, lifting up on tiptoe she could kiss him. "There are easier ways to find a babysitter than marrying one."
He glanced back at the laughing throng, most of who were speculating on which of them had snagged the better deal.
"Let's go," said Hunter. "No one's watching. We can make our getaway."
"Go where?"
"Anywhere."
"We can't do that, Hunter. Our friends--they'd wonder where we went."
"We have to. We're the wedding couple. It's expected of us."
"How do we sneak Daisy out?"
He flashed her a mock-leer. "We don't."
"Hunter!"
"Keep it down. Don't draw attention to us."
"You can't leave Daisy here."
"Kate's keeping her overnight."
She started to laugh. "You're a wicked man."
"Absolutely."
"Your place or mine?"
"Neither," he said, heading for the door.
"Hunter, I--"
"Trust me," he said as they slipped outside. "You won't be sorry."
Chapter 7
Jeannie sat on the edge of the marble bathtub in the Plaza Hotel and took another in a series of deep calming breaths. The classic wedding night jitters. Who would ever have expected it?
"This is ridiculous," she murmured, pressing a cool cloth to the back of her neck. She and Hunter had already shared the pleasures to be found in a common bed. They'd entered this marriage with their eyes wide open, with enthusiasm and the certainty that they could make it work.
Unfortunately she hadn't entered into it with a clear conscience.
Kate had been right when she said that Jeannie was withholding something. She didn't know how her friend had sensed it, but Kate's words had hit Jeannie like a blow. The truth had that strange ability.
She should have told him. It would have been so easy that very first night over pastrami sandwiches when there had been nothing between them except professional interest. He would have understood. Any man who would take in his sister's infant and raise her as his own would understand. The terror. The guilt. The long road back. He would have understood it all.
But she'd let that opportunity pass. She'd never been one for baring her soul in public. Not even when the pain was new and fresh had she been able to talk about it to anyone. Like a wounded animal, she had retreated into her own cave and nursed her broken spirit until she could once again come out and face the world.
Her pencil had hesitated on the marriage license application, stumbling over the question about marital status. Single. Divorced. Widowed. All she had to do was check the proper box and take her chances.
But that would mean dredging up old wounds. Puncturing the fantasy balloon of happiness that she and Hunter had created.
"I did the right thing," she said to her reflection in the mirror. They belonged together, Hunter and Daisy and herself. They were a family. From the first moment she'd seen him with his little girl she'd known it, almost as if it had been pre-ordained. She deserved this happiness. Telling him about those who had come before wouldn't change anything. Nothing would bring them back. Nothing would ever destroy the love she had for them.
And nothing could make her love Hunter and Daisy any more than she already did.
She was committed to them, to the idea of family, to the future that was once again hers for the asking.
Hunter had never given much thought to the concept of a wedding night. Back in the days when bride and groom came together in innocence after the nuptials he supposed the wedding night was a time of great anticipation and anxiety fraught with all sorts of emotions he'd figured himself too sophisticated to fall prey to.
He was wrong.
Marriage made it all different.
He didn't understand how or why, but the simple act of repeating those vows with a full heart had changed everything. He wanted Jeannie with the same driving passion he'd felt for her before the ceremony. Only now there was a sense of continuity at play, the deeper knowledge that each action, each promise made between them, had a resonance that affected every other part of his life.
Now if his wife would only come out of the bathroom maybe he could tell her all that was in his heart.
Jeannie opened the bathroom door slowly. The bedroom was dark, lit only by two flickering candles on the dressing table near the window. Someone had turned down the covers and a fresh pale pink rosebud rested on each of the pillows. She smiled to herself as she headed toward the hallway. Knowing Hunter he'd probably eaten the requisite chocolate mint.
He was waiting for her in the drawing room. She paused in the doorway. He stood by the window, his shirtless torso illuminated by the lights of the city below.
Champagne chilled in a silver bucket. A tray of fresh shrimp, perfectly arranged, waited next to the champagne. All she really saw was her husband.
"Hunter."
He turned. The sight of her in her satin teddy knocked the breath from his body. She was so small, so perfectly made--and she was his.
Ah yes. His.
Words came easily as a rule. He knew the words that would sell a car or convince a woman she needed a new perfume. But when it came to words that would express how he felt, he was as tongue-tied as the next guy. Maybe more. He had no experience with emotion. His family never talked about how they felt. He'd grown up without a vocabulary of dreams.
As his wife glided toward h
im he would have sold his soul for the words to tell her how deeply he cared.
Their first night together had been a comedy of errors.
Their wedding night was fantasy come true.
She was soft where he was not. He demanded all and she yielded that and more. Boundaries melted. Barriers disappeared.
She lay there on the welcoming bed while he watched the play of light and shadow across her satiny skin. The movement of her hand against him was a miracle.
"You've changed my life," she whispered, her breath soft as angel wings.
He stroked her hair back from her cheek. "You've done the same for me."
"I never dreamed anything like this could possibly happen."
He leaned up on one elbow. "What did you dream about, Jeannie?" There were so many things he didn't know about her.
She ducked her head, pressing her face against his chest. "Happiness."
"Have you found it?"
"What do you think?"
He rolled her onto her back and poised himself above her. "I think we both have."
Arching her hips, she grasped him by the buttocks and drew him down to her. "Show me," she said, her voice low and seductive. "Make me believe it, Hunter." Again and again until there was nothing she could do but believe.
Her words turned him to flame. He grabbed her hands and held them over her head, pinning them against the pillow. She moaned low in her throat, urging him on.
She gave herself up to his will. She loved knowing he was stronger, that what they shared was so powerful that she was helpless before it. Surrender was all the sweeter knowing he understood the deeper meaning of all she gave to him.
He found her center yet again, growing stronger with each cry of pleasure he drew from her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, arching higher and higher, drawing him more deeply inside her body.
Making him long for her soul.
Dawn was gilding the trees in the park outside their window when they finally fell asleep. Jeannie curled in toward Hunter as if she couldn't get enough of the feel and smell of his skin. Hunter enveloped her in his arms, drunk on the perfume of her body, the soft sound of her heartbeat.
Daddy's Girl (Bachelor Fathers) Page 10
