Daughters of the Bride

by Susan Mallery

  But he didn’t say any of that. He wasn’t part of the conversation.

  “Did she mention we’re going to have a DJ?” Maggie asked.

  “No. That will be wonderful.”

  “I’ve been thinking about the decorations. Don’t you think it would be nice to have some kind of blooming tree brought in?”

  Quinn fed Pearl some cheese. He needed the distraction to keep from rolling his eyes. Apparently, Maggie’s pain was fairly short-lived.

  “Trees are difficult to move around,” Joyce mused. “But what if we did something that offered the same kind of visual interest? Just the other day I was talking to someone about Astrantia. It’s so beautiful. We could pair it with cherry blossoms.” She turned to Quinn. “Be a dear and get my laptop. I want to show Maggie what an Astrantia looks like.”

  He stood and kissed her cheek. “I live to serve.”

  She laughed. “If only that were true.”

  * * *

  “You know I’m busy, right?” Courtney said as Quinn let her into his bungalow. It was Sunday and technically she wasn’t on duty, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t busy. “The wedding is getting closer by the day.”

  “Time does march on,” he murmured, shutting the door behind her.

  “Ha-ha. There’s some new weird flower combo I have to find and get delivered. Apparently, my mother and I are now speaking, even though we never had anything close to a reconciliation talk. Suddenly, there are texts and phone calls. She wants cake pops.”

  Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Like at Starbucks?”

  “Yes. Little round cakes on a stick. Pink, of course. The tablecloths are pink and copper, so of course we need copper chargers on the table.” She glared at him. “Do you know what chargers are?”

  “Decorative large plates you put out before the dinner. Then they get taken away before anyone eats. It’s very confusing. Your point being?”

  “I’m busy! Why am I here?”

  He’d texted her and asked her to stop by. Not that she wasn’t happy to see him. He looked good, as always. Faded jeans, an untucked gauzy white shirt rolled up to the elbows. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and the faint stubble looked nice. Sexy.

  Don’t think about that! She didn’t have time for sexual daydreams, let alone actual sex. There were about five thousand things on her to-do list.

  “And the shoes,” she added.

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’ve ordered our bridesmaid dresses. They’re black, which I like. But because of you, I keep thinking I want to wear high heels. I can’t wear the blue ones. So I’m going to have to buy some. This is Los Lobos. Where am I supposed to buy a pair of nice black heels?”

  He walked toward her. “They’re not ‘blue ones,’” he said with air quotes. “They’re Saint Laurent suede pumps. I’ll buy you black heels. Maybe Jimmy Choo.” He reached around her to lock the door.

  She was both intrigued and stressed. “I don’t have time for sex.”

  One corner of his mouth turned up. “Good. We’re not going to have sex. Come here.”

  He led her to the chair by the sofa and told her to sit. She saw a tray on the end table with a couple of small bottles with narrow tips, a washcloth and liquid in a bowl.

  “What are you up to?” she asked as she took her seat.

  “Henna.”

  “Huh?”

  He pulled a rolling stool over from the corner and sat down, then wiped the back of her hand with the cloth. “I’m going to do a henna design on the backs of your hands.”

  He could have said he was heading off to Jupiter and she wouldn’t have been any more surprised. “Why would you do that?”

  He glanced at her, then returned his attention to her hand. “Why not?”

  Honest to God, it was a question she couldn’t answer. “Did I mention being busy?”

  “You did. Think of this as a mental vacation.”

  He picked up one of the small bottles and began squeezing the thick liquid on her skin. He worked quickly, creating a swirly design that was both simple and beautiful. More impressive, he was doing it freehand, without a template or a picture or anything.

  “You’ve done this before,” she said.

  “A few times. I like to be creative from time to time. I’ve designed a few record covers. It’s a nice change.”

  She watched as he took the design past her wrist. With all she had going on, it was kind of nice to just sit for a few minutes.

  “What do I have to do to this?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Once it dries, you brush off the henna and the design remains. Depending on your skin chemistry, it will last around ten days, maybe longer.”

  “Fun.”

  He finished with her right hand and rolled the stool to the other side of her chair to start on her left. She closed her eyes as he worked. The past few nights she’d covered the late shift on the registration desk and then had cleaned rooms in the morning. The wedding was only a month away and there were a thousand things to do.

  “Joyce showed my mother some flower I have to find, along with cherry blossoms, which are not, by the way, in season. But does that matter to anyone? Of course not. Oh, and she found napkins that match the texture on the wedding cake. I get to order those, as well.”

  “You’re busy.”

  “I am. What about you?”

  “Things are good.”

  “How’s the boy band?”

  “Annoying Wayne.”

  She smiled. “Which you enjoy.”

  “I do.” He tapped her knee. “I’m done.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at the swirling and curved lines covering the backs of her hands. “It’s beautiful. So how long does it take to dry?”

  “Two hours.”

  “Two hours!” She came to her feet. “What part of ‘I’m busy’ wasn’t clear to you? I can’t sit here for two hours.”

  He smiled as he rose. “You’re going to have to. You can’t get anything on the henna or it will be ruined. You don’t want a smudge on the pattern, do you?”

  “Are you insane? I have to go and do things.”

  “Sorry. I guess you’re stuck.”

  He didn’t sound sorry at all.

  She glared at him. “If I didn’t have henna on my hands, I would so hit you.”

  He grinned. “But you do and you can’t. Two long hours. Whatever are we going to do?”

  His tone caught her attention before the words sank in. When both connected in her brain, she felt her insides start to melt.

  “Quinn,” she began, not sure if she was annoyed or impressed. Probably the latter, she admitted, but only to herself. “Seriously, the time thing.”

  “You’re stuck. That’s my bad. I’m going to have to make it up to you.” He looked her up and down. “How should I do that?” He reached for the front of her jeans. “I know.”

  He unfastened her jeans and worked on the zipper. She reached to push him away, remembered her hands and was able to only stand there awkwardly as he lowered her jeans to the floor. She stepped out of them. Her panties followed. She was naked from the waist down, in the living room of his bungalow. It was a very strange afternoon.

  He pushed her clothes to the side and moved close, then cupped her face. She had only a second to brace herself for the impact of his kiss before he claimed her.

  She parted the second his mouth touched hers. Their tongues tangled as heat and need surged through her. The awkward thing went away, and anticipation took its place. This was Quinn, she thought hazily. Whatever else might be going on in her life, she trusted him, trusted them. Being with him was exciting and challenging and satisfying, but always, always safe. Whatever happened, he would have her back.

  He moved his hands down to
her shoulders, then lower onto her hips. They settled on her bare butt, where he squeezed her curves.

  “If you’d rather, I can get you a magazine.”

  She laughed, then leaned in and nipped his bottom lip. “I think you’ll be more interesting.”

  “If you’re sure. I have the latest issue of Rolling Stone.”

  “And while that’s tempting, I think this is better.”

  He moved his hands to her belly, then drew them to her breasts. He brushed his fingertips against her tight nipples. Even through the layer of her bra and T-shirt, she felt his sure touch. Tension and fire flowed from her breasts to her groin and back.

  “Sit,” he told her.

  She sat on the chair. He knelt in front of her and shifted her until her butt was barely resting on the edge of the cushion. He pushed her thighs apart, exposing the very essence of her to him. He rested his hand flat on her stomach and pressed his thumb against her clit.

  The pleasure was instant. She sank back against the chair and closed her eyes. Whatever he was going to do to her, she knew it would be magical. She was simply going to go along for the ride.

  Quinn didn’t disappoint. He continued to rub her clit until he had her moving her hips in time with his actions. She spread her legs wider still, knowing there would be more and wanting it all. She felt him shift, but she didn’t look. She wanted to be surprised. For a second there was nothing, then, without warning, he pressed his warm tongue against her swollen center.

  She gasped as tendrils of pleasure radiated out from her core. Her toes curled, her thighs tightened and she let her head fall back.

  The man knew what he was doing, she thought as he circled her a couple of times before settling into a steady rhythm that had her hips pulsing in time with his ministrations. He licked and sucked until she was gasping and reaching for her release. At the same time, he pushed two fingers into her. He moved them in tandem with his tongue, then curled them so he could stimulate her G-spot.

  Courtney grabbed on to the arms of the chair and dug her fingers into the fabric. Her entire body was focused on the places he touched and the ecstasy he promised. Her muscles tightened, her breathing quickened as she pushed toward her release. It remained tantalizingly out of reach until it suddenly exploded, causing her to shudder against him.

  She felt herself pulsing against his fingers. He rubbed her clit from underneath even as he moved his tongue back and forth. She came and came for what felt like hours as every ounce of pleasure drained from her.

  When she was done, she lay there, legs spread, eyes closed. She couldn’t do much more than try to catch her breath. She heard movements and a rustling sound, then felt his hands on her thighs.

  She opened her eyes in time to watch him push into her. His erection was huge, his expression intense. He pushed in, then withdrew. She shifted so she could wrap her legs around his hips. He shoved his hands under her T-shirt and massaged her breasts.

  He pushed in and out, finding a fast road to his release. At the same time, he lightly pinched her nipples. She was so sensitized from all he’d done before that she found herself arching into the contact, wanting more and more.

  She started to reach for him, remembered the henna, then grabbed the arms of the chair.

  The combination of him filling her and his fingers and thumbs on her nipples was pushing her closer. “Harder,” she gasped, not sure which she needed more of, then realizing it didn’t much matter.

  He shoved in deeper even as he squeezed her nipples more tightly. She came again with a shriek.

  He pumped in and out of her faster and faster, carrying her on her orgasm until they were both gasping for air. He dropped his hands to her hips, held her still and pushed in one last time before climaxing himself.

  They stayed like that—him inside her, his hands on her hips, while they caught their breath. His eyes were dark, his gaze direct. They watched each other. It was as if having just shared physical intimacy, now they wanted an emotional connection. She let herself get lost in looking at him.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She smiled. “The henna thing really works for me.”

  He grinned. “I had a feeling you’d like it. We’ll have to try it again sometime.”

  23

  “DO YOU LIKE the dresses you and your sisters picked out for your mom’s wedding?” David asked.

  “We do. They’re black, which is going to be great against all the pink, and the style is pretty classic. I’m going to take mine to a tailor after the wedding to get it cut off. I can use a knee-length dress a lot more.”

  They were having dinner at Audrey’s on the Pier, a nice seafood restaurant on the waterfront. Sienna was doing her best to relax. Over the past few days, she’d had a sense of impending doom. If she had to guess, she would say it started when David’s mother had shown up so unexpectedly.

  “Did it kill you to pay retail?” he asked, his voice teasing. “I know you love a bargain.”

  “I do. I can’t help it. Plus, I work right next to an amazing thrift store. Why not take advantage of that?”

  They’d already ordered, and the server had brought them each a glass of chardonnay. She sipped hers.

  “I was thinking,” David said, leaning toward her. “We should go wedding gown shopping together.”

  “What?”

  “Hear me out. I want you to know what I like. I’m going to want your opinion on my tux, so it’s only fair.” He smiled engagingly as he pushed up his glasses. “You’re going to be beautiful no matter what, but I’d like a say.”

  In her wedding gown? “I thought it was supposed to be a surprise.”

  “It will be. I don’t want to know which dress you buy. Just maybe offer some guidance.”

  He thought she needed guidance? “Okay,” she said slowly. “As long as we don’t deal with this until after Mom’s wedding. There’s so much going on. I want to be available to help Courtney.”

  “She’s probably going to need it.”

  Her gaze sharpened. “What does that mean?”

  He looked confused. “What? You’re the one always saying she’s incompetent and clumsy. I’m just repeating what you said before.”

  “Oh.” He probably had a point. Until recently, she’d seen her younger sister as something of a disaster, but all that had changed. “She’s got her act together, believe me. We should all be doing so well. As for the wedding, it’s not that Mom’s changing her mind so much as she’s adding things. Regardless, I want to be around to help.”

  “I always knew you were more than a pretty face.”

  She smiled at him, knowing he meant the words kindly, but on the inside, she felt the need to slap him. Did everything have to be about her appearance? Of course, she could be overly sensitive. Maybe he didn’t mean it that way at all, and she was reading too much into his words.

  “We are going to have to talk about where we’re having the wedding,” he said as the server brought their salads. “St. Louis would be really nice.”

  “Except for the tornadoes and floods,” she murmured.

  “We can work around those. I have a big family. It would be easier for them to have it there.”

  She wanted to point out it would be easier for her family to have it here. Not to mention her. If the wedding was in David’s hometown, she had a bad feeling it would be planned by David’s mother. Which meant Sienna would be fighting Linda on every detail. While the other woman had been perfectly pleasant during her visit, she seemed to have a lot of firm opinions.

  “Let’s talk about this after the wedding,” she said. “There’s a lot to consider and I can’t deal with that now.”

  “Not a problem.” He winked. “How about an easier topic? The honeymoon. I’ve been thinking we should go somewhere exotic. Jennifer and Justin
went to the Four Seasons in Bora Bora. We could go there. You’d look just as good in a bikini and we’d have great pictures to show everyone.”

  She knew her mouth had dropped open. She consciously closed it, then put down her fork. “Who are Justin and Jennifer?”

  “Jennifer Aniston. I can’t think of his last name. Didn’t you see the pictures in People magazine?”

  “I honestly can’t remember.” She took a steadying breath. “David, why do you care about going to the same place some celebrity did?”

  “I thought it would be fun. Something we could talk about with our friends.”

  They didn’t have any mutual friends, and her friends wouldn’t care about a celebrity honeymoon. Why on earth did David? “I think it’s kind of far. There are a lot of really nice tropical resorts much closer.”

  “I guess. We have time to discuss it. But I do want to honeymoon somewhere by the beach. Everyone needs to see how hot my wife looks in a bikini for sure.”

  She frowned. “That’s about the fourth time you’ve mentioned my appearance tonight.”

  “Is it?” He laughed. “I think you’re attractive. That’s not a bad thing.”

  “No.” It wasn’t, she told herself firmly. “It’s just I worry that’s all you like about me. I’m not going to look this way forever.”

  “Of course not. You’ll get old.” He grinned. “Of course, there’s always plastic surgery.”

  Sienna felt her eyes widen. “Excuse me? Did you just say that?” She started to rise.

  David’s expression immediately turned contrite and he reached across the table to grab her forearm. “Sienna, I’m sorry. I was making a joke, but it was a bad one.” He released her. “I apologize. That was a terrible thing to say.”

  She sank back into her seat but didn’t speak. The sting of his words lingered, as did her need to bolt. But she told herself to hear him out.

  “Of course I love all of you,” he continued. “You’re smart and caring. That was what I noticed first about you. How much you care about the women you help. Please forgive me.”

  She nodded because it was the right thing to do. And his apology had been exactly right. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the plastic surgery comment had been the most honest thing he’d said. But was that really true, or was she simply looking for an excuse to run?