Turning to the baker who was serving the cake, Marc said, “Nicolo, please see that the rest of this top layer of cake is delivered to our suite tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.” Marc accepted a cloth napkin from the baker’s assistant and wiped his face.
“What on earth are we going to do with that much cake, husband?”
His smoldering gaze must have conveyed to her his carnal thoughts, because her eyes opened wider. “You wouldn’t.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“No. But will you at least let me get out of my dress first?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On how long you make me stay at this reception.”
“Stop complaining and remove my garter then.”
“Love to, but aren’t you supposed to toss the bouquet first?”
“Oh, yeah. You have me a little flustered, that’s all.”
As if on cue, the master of ceremonies called the single women and young girls to the dance floor. Marc recognized Sergeant Miller’s daughter, Tracy. She was joined by Teresa, several Giardano and D’Alessio cousins, Carmella, one of the hostesses at Angelina’s restaurant, and a dozen or so other girls. Grant was making a hasty retreat into the crowd and away from the dance floor, apparently not interested in participating in the silly tradition. He couldn’t blame her.
Franco urged Mama Giardano to join them. Angelina had told him she’d been dating the man for six months now. Judging by the way Marc had seen them dancing earlier, she seemed serious about him. He wondered if she’d aim the bouquet in her mama’s direction to encourage her to seek love again. But after Angelina turned her back to the ladies, the emcee told them to rearrange themselves.
On her way to the dance floor, Mama G stopped and recruited Mrs. Milanesi to join her. The older widow giggled like a schoolgirl and jumped on board immediately. Having his childhood caregiver from Lombardy here and being welcomed so readily by Angelina and her family as well as the D’Alessios this week was simply icing on the cake.
Speaking of which, he wanted to get this reception over so he could enjoy the first night of his married life.
“Ready, ladies?” the emcee asked.
Several of the women and girls shouted an exuberant Yes!, which had Angelina sending the bouquet flying. Carmella caught the flowers effortlessly, staring down wide-eyed at them as if she wasn’t quite sure how they’d made it into her hands.
Everyone gathered around to congratulate her, and Megan snapped some photos of Carmella and Angelina, both spontaneous and posed ones. Afraid they might be whisked away without having a chance to convey their thanks, he pulled Megan aside when she was finished.
“I can’t wait to see your photos, Megan,” he said.
Joining him, Angelina added, “You’ve captured each important moment from our save-the-date to our engagement shoot to this moment and everything in between.”
“Thank you for trusting me with these one-chance images. I’m excited to sit down with you two to work on your special albums and any prints you’ll want to order. After you settle back in from your honeymoon, of course.”
“How’s Ryder?” Marc asked. He’d expected to see him at the church but knew there was no way he’d show up in a crowd this size.
“Thrilled that he was needed back at the ranch caring for a sick horse rather than having to be here.” Megan shrugged with a crooked smile. “But he watched the wedding from the choir loft.”
“I thought I saw someone up there,” Angelina said, “but so much was going on as we left the altar that I wasn’t sure.”
“Thanks for understanding why he couldn’t be here.”
“No need to explain a thing to us,” Marc said. PTSD had struck Ryder Wilson harder than the others who’d been on that rooftop in Iraq. “You know we would never push him. That he was present at the most meaningful part is all that matters.”
“And you can bet we’ll come out to the ranch whenever you’ve got the images ready. It’ll be fun to spend some quiet time together with you two, and maybe Luke and Cassie can join us for dinner. I’ll be back in the kitchen by then, too, so can provide the meal.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Megan said. “I’ll never pass up one of your meals, Angelina.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Okay, Marc, it’s your turn,” the emcee said, interrupting their conversation.
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m needed for this part, too. My leg is, anyway.” Angelina laughed as she walked to the center of the dance floor where a chair covered in an ivory satin skirt had been set.
“Your job is to remove Angelina’s garter without touching it with anything but your teeth and lips.”
The smoke in her eyes at those words set his heart to pounding. This might go a little beyond suggestive—not to mention embarrassing, considering they were surrounded by their mamas, Papa D., and her four brothers.
Game on.
She walked over to the chair, sat down, and let her attendants position the voluminous skirts to billow around her in a froth. However, no amount of tulle and lace would keep him from his goal.
Before he could make a move toward her, though, Rafe surprised him by taking a spot a few feet in front of her and crossing his arms over his chest as he stared Marc down. Her other brothers soon joined him.
Not another fistfight with Rafe. Hadn’t they gotten that out of their systems last night?
“Oh, what’s this? Looks like our groom is going to have to run a brotherly gauntlet to get to his bride’s garter. Are you up to the challenge, Marc?” As master of ceremonies, he obviously took his job to keep the momentum going very seriously. Having the only microphone, perhaps he needed to.
“Oh, most definitely.”
He wasn’t sure if her brothers were pranking him or if they truly intended to make him break through their solid line. He’d do whatever it took, though, so they’d better be prepared.
“Don’t hurt them, Marc!” Angelina shouted, giving him her vote of confidence. “I’m in no hurry!”
He turned toward her and said, “Well, as you know, amore, I am.” He winked then regained his focus. After he took a couple of steps toward her brothers, they puffed themselves up while placing their hands at the ready on their hips.
“Hey, ladies, check out the impressive Giardano firefighters.” The microphone amped up the announcement but didn’t cover a couple whistles from the crowd.
He also heard a few ribald remarks and wondered if the brothers were somewhat embarrassed. But the wall of Giardanos didn’t intimidate Marc in the least.
Angelina loved her brothers, so he had to be careful in how he set them straight—anything short of killing them ought to do. But if they thought he’d forgotten the intense Marine Corps training he underwent after he’d been assigned to Adam’s unit as their Navy corpsman, they had better think again.
“An impressive sight,” the emcee continued. “A solid line of Giardano firefighters—and they’re all single, ladies!”
Marc was anything but impressed. Slowly, he advanced toward the Giardanos until he was toe-to-toe with Rafe. “I don’t think your sister wants any blood on the dance floor tonight, so why don’t you boys take your seats and let us continue?”
Unexpectedly, Rafe grinned. The bruise on his brother-in-law’s cheek from last night’s brawl made Rafe wince. Without any resistance, the brothers parted, two on either side. Marc must have passed some kind of test. His gaze fell on Angelina, who seemed as surprised as he was.
Without giving them an opportunity to change their minds, Marc went down on one knee, lifted the many hems of her dress, placed them in her lap, and grasped her calves as his hands slowly inched their way up her legs. Sparks shot into her eyes as he ignited a flame inside her that he hoped to keep alive for decades.
He lowered his head to her ankle and kissed her then blazed a trail of kisses and nibbles up her shapely leg. When he reached her knee,
he lowered the gown over his head to the roaring approval of the crowd.
He thought he caught a glimpse of her bare mound, but surely she wouldn’t go commando on her wedding day. Would she?
The garter was a few inches above her knee, but he wasn’t ready to finish yet. He took a nip out of her thigh—just above the garter.
“Oh!” Angelina jumped, and the crowd laughed that he’d caught her by surprise. Good. He liked to keep her guessing.
“Looks like we have a biter,” the emcee commented.
If you only knew what I wanted to bite right now.
He could smell her arousal, which only made him ache to get to their suite as soon as possible. The crowd began clapping rhythmically. Marc had better produce the lacy garter soon or her brothers might yank him out by his heels and drag him away. Taking the garter between his teeth, he slowly dragged it down her leg, releasing it to place another kiss at the side of her knee. Hearing her laughter made him harder than a boulder. It might be a good idea if he pulled her up to stand in front of him once he removed the garter.
Grabbing the satin with his teeth, he tugged it the rest of the way down her ankle until he reached her shoe. While not quite a stiletto, the three-inch heel posed a challenge. He stretched the elastic until he thought the garter would make it over the shoe, but lost his grip, leaving it dangling at her ankle. Biting down on the garter this time to make sure he didn’t lose it again, he growled as he gave it a yank over her shoe. To everyone’s laughter, he wound up taking her shoe with him. He picked up the shoe and placed it on her delicate foot, giving her a sheepish grin.
“Whew! I wasn’t sure Marc was going to get the job done!” the emcee announced. Marc wasn’t particularly thrilled with the guy’s doubts about his abilities, but before he could respond, the man went on to say, “Okay, single gentlemen, gather on the dance floor. You’re next!”
While they waited for the group of men to assemble, Angelina stood and closed the gap between them, placing a kiss on Marc’s lips. “If I’d known a garter would get you so excited…” Obviously, she hadn’t missed his boner. Fortunately, it was receding quickly. He’d save that for when he was alone with her in their suite tonight—which would be soon, he hoped.
“Come on! I know there are more single men in this room,” the emcee cajoled.
Marc glanced over to see who had ventured onto the dance floor. Alessandro stood with his hands together, while Tony tried to coax his three brothers to join him. None looked like they had any intention of participating, but Mama G’s plus one, Paul, was out there getting the side-eye from Rafe.
Damián gave Gunnar a good-natured nudge, and his mentor grinned with good humor before joining the small group that was rounded out by Sicilian and American cousins of various ages from both families and a server from Angelina’s restaurant.
Not wanting to prolong the agony of the reluctant bachelors in the room or the semi-eager ones waiting on the dance floor, Marc gave a shout of “Heads up!” and pulled on the elastic garter. The scrap of material flew behind him. Before he could turn and see who the next groom might be, Angelina squealed, “Tony!”
It figured one of the Giardanos would catch the garter, even if only one of the four actually tried.
“Now, will the young lady who caught the bouquet join Tony on the dance floor?” the emcee asked. “We’re going to have a little fun and do a reversal, letting Tony put the garter on your leg.”
This should be interesting. The two had fought like cats and dogs during the wedding planning phase and had barely tolerated each other at rehearsal last night. Marc gathered Angelina in front of him, both of them facing Carmella who looked completely disgusted at the thought of having Tony’s hands—or face—anywhere near her.
“Come on, Carm,” Marc teased. “We won’t hold you two to any official engagement or anything.” As if that would ever happen.
Marc just wished they’d get on with it, because he couldn’t wait to peel off every layer his bride wore when they got to their suite. At this rate, that was still hours away, so he’d better not let his mind stray too far again.
* * *
Angelina had never seen Tony so conflicted. He glanced down at the floor, then to the empty chair, and anywhere other than where Carmella stood rooted near the edge of the dance floor. What was the matter with him? Carmella, too, for that matter. It wasn’t as if they’d been asked to strip down and have wild monkey sex or something.
“Tony, come on!” Angelina goaded. “Be a sport! You, too, Carmella, especially after you worked so hard on this reception.”
As if her goading had given him some courage, Tony took a few steps toward Carmella and stretched out his hand. He’d placed the garter over his bicep for safekeeping, not expecting to lose it so soon, she supposed. Carmella still held the bouquet she’d caught minutes ago.
A blush crept up the young woman’s neck and into her cheeks, no doubt from embarrassment. She preferred to hang in the background, from what Angelina could tell. But the longer she prolonged this, the more scrutiny she’d receive. With a sigh, she handed the bouquet to Cassie as she accepted Tony’s proffered hand. He grinned as he guided her to the chair Angelina had just vacated.
Was it possible Carmella might have feelings for her brother? Her flushed cheeks could merely be from being in such a predicament, but if they stopped having to defend each other’s families, might some attraction be allowed to grow between them? Angelina smiled. It would be something if her brother and Marc’s sister became involved romantically.
Or was she just wrapped up in the afterglow of her own happily ever after tonight and letting her imagination run wild?
The wedding tradition merely stated that the woman who caught the bouquet and the man who caught the garter would be the next to marry—not that they’d marry each other. Still, Mama had told her that the couple who did so at her and Papa’s wedding did actually marry each other, so perhaps…
“Same rules apply, Tony,” Matteo yelled. “No hands on the garter!”
Carmella’s tea-length bridesmaid skirt fell to her ankles when she sat down. Carmella’s face grew redder, if possible, and she hiked the dress up above her knees. Maybe she didn’t care for the idea of Tony’s head being under her skirt. “Let’s get this over with, T.G.”
Angelina hadn’t heard her refer to Tony as T.G. before.
“A little anticipation is good for you, bella.”
Tony had a nickname for her, too!
But Angelina’s thoughts went straight to the Dom standing behind her who’d said that to her so many times. Apparently thinking the same thing, Marc chuckled, his hard chest reverberating against her back. Maybe all guys said stuff like that, though, because Tony didn’t have a dominant bone in his body.
At least, not that she’d ever noticed.
“What’s the matter? Afraid of something, T.G.?”
At Carmella’s goading, Tony grinned and moved the garter down his sleeve to his wrist before kneeling in front of her. But instead of making any move to start the garter’s path up her leg, he slipped off her sandal.
“Don’t want your heel getting in my way, principessa.” One hand cupped her calf gently while the other began massaging the ball of her foot. Carmella moaned.
Mio Dio, what’s with all the endearments? These two were really getting into this. Had something been going on between them that Angelina had missed until now? They seemed to be awfully comfortable with each other, as if there weren’t hundreds of people watching.
“Hurry up, T.G.,” Carmella hissed under her breath.
Tony’s grin widened as he placed the garter between his teeth and lowered his head to slip it past her toes. Above ankle level, he lowered her foot to the floor, but the garter slipped from his teeth. Securing the garter again, he made his way up to her calf before losing the garter again. Was he doing it on purpose? Tony wasn’t a clumsy sort.
As if exasperated with him or wanting to put an end to her embarrassment, Carme
lla leaned forward as if to stand up.
“Sit,” Tony commanded. “I’m not finished yet.”
The command sent a little shiver down Angelina’s spine. Surprisingly, Carmella settled back into the seat. Why was Angelina getting turned on watching her brother playing with Carmella and the garter? She was beginning to wish he’d hurry up, too. This reception couldn’t be over soon enough. She wanted to be in Marc’s arms—well, she already was. More specifically, she wanted him buried inside her, his body surrounding her…
Marc’s thumb brushed the underside of her wrist, teasing her, as Tony took the garter between his teeth. Did Carmella spread her legs a little wider? He moved the elasticized lace a few inches higher, pushing the hem of her skirt a little bit.
Marc lifted Angelina’s hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her palm that sent another shiver down her spine. He whispered, “I don’t know about you, but these two are giving me all kinds of ideas.”
“I don’t have a garter any longer, remember?”
“I’ll improvise.”
“Okay, T.G., that’s far enough.”
Their attention returned to the couple in front of them as Carmella took Tony by the shoulders and almost knocked him on his ass.
She stood and quickly rearranged her skirt to where the garter was now hidden. “Don’t expect it back, either. I earned it.”
Everyone laughed—except Tony. Angelina grinned at the perplexed look on his face. Carmella held out a hand to help him up, and after a long moment, Tony accepted then watched Carmella walk back to her table. He had the strangest expression on his face, as if he’d just been punched in the gut.
“Okay, what else do we have to do before we can get out of here?” Marc whispered in her ear, bringing her back to the present.
“I think that probably covers everything.”
“Good. Now it’s time for me to uncover that sexy body of yours.”
Wedding Dreams Page 11
