The reception was held in the restaurant, with the doors open to the riverside, and after all the speeches the tables were cleared and a DJ set up his gear and played nothing but love songs.
There were oldies, wonderful songs like ‘Crazy’ by Patsy Cline, and classics like ‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’ by Roberta Flack, but all unashamedly romantic and absolutely perfect for dancing.
And they did dance. Sam smiled at all the people that wanted to talk to them, took Jemima in his arms and whisked her onto the dance floor, ignoring them all.
Some of the numbers were slow, others faster, and as the time went by they grew more daring, until in the end they were jiving, with Sam throwing her around at the end of his arm and everyone clapping and cheering them on.
Finally they had to stop, exhausted and laughing and exhilarated to find that they were so closely in tune.
‘You are one slick mover, Mr Bradley,’ Jemima said, falling into a chair and chuckling.
‘You’re pretty smooth yourself, Mrs Bradley.’
‘I might have known you’d be a good dancer,’ she said with a wicked twinkle, and to her delight he coloured slightly.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he murmured, but he was smiling, and she chuckled and patted his cheek.
‘Later,’ she promised.
A shadow fell across them, and she looked up to see Owen there. ‘I can’t compete with that—Jenny tells me I’ve got two left feet—but I wonder if you could spare your wife for just one dance?’
Sam met his old rival’s eyes and smiled slowly. ‘I should think so—on one condition. You return the favour.’
Owen nodded, and Sam unfolded himself from his chair and crossed over to where Jenny was sitting. Jemima looked up into Owen’s eyes, and let him draw her to her feet.
‘You look beautiful,’ he told her gruffly, and he wrapped her hand in his, laid the other lightly against her spine and held her at a careful distance while he swayed with her to the music. ‘I hope you’re happy, Jem,’ he murmured. ‘You deserve to be.’
‘I am—I hope you and Jenny will be—you deserve it, too.’
‘You’ll come to the wedding in June?’
‘Of course.’
‘Won’t be fancy like this.’
She smiled. ‘Owen, weddings aren’t about being fancy. They’re about two people who love each other starting the rest of their lives together. That’s why it’s important to have friends there—to share in it. We’ll be at your wedding, just as you’ve been at ours. You can be sure of it.’
The music stopped, and Sam and Jenny appeared beside them. Owen released her to Sam, and gathered Jenny into his arms with obvious affection.
‘I suppose we ought to go, so people can start getting away,’ Sam said to her.
‘Probably.’
They said goodbye to everyone, then headed for the door.
‘Are you going to throw your bouquet to anyone?’ Sam asked as they reached it.
She met his eyes. ‘It’s tradition—why?’
‘Throw it to Jenny.’
‘OK.’ She smiled and turned, and with a 8ick of her wrist she sent the colourful posy arcing through the air towards Jenny and Owen.
She caught it with a little shriek of laughter, and waved happily, her eyes shining.
‘He can’t get out of it now,’ Sam said, and, tucking her hand in his, he ran out of the door with her, through the hail of confetti and rice and well-wishers, and into the glass lobby. The lift was there, and they glided up to the top, opened the door of the flat and went in.
Then Sam turned to her and drew her into his arms.
‘That was a fabulous day,’ he murmured.
‘Wasn’t it? I’m glad we got married here.’
‘Me, too. I’m glad we’re spending the night here, too.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you don’t have a jacuzzi.’
‘Yet.’
He smiled slowly. ‘Yet.’
‘Better make the most of this one.’
‘My sentiments entirely.’
He led her through into the bathroom, turned on the taps and came back to her. ‘About this lovely dress—’
‘Mmm?’
‘How does it come off?’
She smiled ‘Easy.’ She unzipped it, slid it down her arms and stepped out of the shimmering ivory puddle on the floor.
‘And the rest.’
He peeled off his suit, never taking his eyes off her, then helped her into the bath and sat down at the other end, his toes sliding under her bottom and tickling her.
He pressed the button for bubbles, reached over for the champagne conveniently placed within reach, and popped the cork, pouring two tall flutes and handing her one.
‘Here’s to us, Mrs Bradley—all three of us.’
She lifted her glass. ‘Our very good health,’ she said with a smile, and sipped. The bubbles tickled her nose, and the bubbles in the bath tickled her everywhere else. She laughed in delight, lay back against the end of the bath and let her toes go walking up his thigh.
His eyes widened, and he put his glass down and knelt up, drawing her up into his arms.
‘I love you,’ he murmured, and then he proved yet again just what an amazing mover he was...
EPILOGUE
IT WAS a glorious April day, and the sun was warm on their faces. Everyone was leaving now, after the official opening of the studio, and Sam stood with one arm round Jemima, shaking hands with friends and clients old and new as they left.
‘I think it’s the best thing that could have happened to you, darling, and I’m sure it’ll be wonderful,’ his grandmother said, hugging him, and he hugged her back, absurdly pleased by her approval.
‘I like the barns, too,’ she added, and winked and pinched his cheek. He smiled, used to her cock-eyed humour, and his eyes flicked to Jemima’s, sharing the joke.
Not that it was a secret that his grandparents thought Jemima was the best thing that had ever happened to him. They’d told him so—and Jemima—on a regular basis over the last year.
The baby fidgeted in Jemima’s arms, and he lifted her easily to his shoulder and patted her back. She settled back to sleep again without a murmur, and Jemima turned and smiled up at him.
She looked wonderful—radiant with health and happiness—and behind them the barns were everything he’d hoped for.
He had a new studio in the cow barn, with the old Lister engine polished up and gleaming in pride of place in one corner, and a row of windows looking out over the valley that he loved so much. The other barns were to be used for holiday cottages, to give Jemima an income and an interest, and the cottage itself—well, it was home at last, and they both loved it
Owen and Jenny were the last to leave, coming up to them with their tiny baby almost lost in Owen’s arms, and it was good to see them looking so well and so happy.
It was good to see them leave, as well, because Sam had something to show Jemima. They waved them off, and he ushered her across the newly flagged yard to the kitchen door.
‘Tea?’ she suggested, kicking off her shoes and padding over to the new Aga.
‘Later. I’ve got a surprise for you. Let’s put Tiddler to bed first’
Jemima smiled slowly and turned towards him. ‘Yes, we don’t want any interruptions, do we?’
‘Not that kind of surprise,’ he said with a lazy grin. ‘Come on.’
She followed him, her brows twitching together in a little puzzled frown, and they went into Amy’s room and tucked her up in her cot. She went down without a murmur, and then Sam took Jemima by the hand and led her into their bedroom.
Ridiculously, he felt nervous. It was silly, but he’d never shown anything like this to anyone before, and he suddenly wondered if she’d like it.
‘There,’ he said diffidently, and pointed at the wall.
A picture hung on the wall over the chest of drawers, a pen and ink drawing full of minute detail. Jemima crossed the
room and stood close to it, slowly taking in the detail, and then she started to laugh.
‘It’s us!’ she said delightedly, recognising the barn.
‘Oh, look, here you are falling over with the crank handle of the Lister in your hand—and look! That’s when you stood too close to Daisy’s tail! Oh, Sam, it’s wonderful—oh, you’re falling off the roof! And mucking out, and fetching the water, and milking—is that Bluebell kicking over the bucket?’
She turned to him, laughing, and hugged him. ‘It’s wonderful! Who did you find to draw it? It’s so accurate, almost as if the artist had been there.’
Sam coloured slightly, and Jemima narrowed her eyes.
‘Sam? Did you do it?’
He nodded, looking very uncertain, and Jemima flung her arms round him and hugged him. ‘Oh, Sam, it’s wonderful! I didn’t know you could draw!’
‘I am an architect,’ he said drily, from the depths of her hug, and she laughed and released him, turning back to the picture.
‘That’s different. This is—well, it’s fabulous—but you haven’t put me falling in the water.’
His face lost its smile. ‘No. I didn’t need any reminders of that. I thought I’d lost you.’
‘Instead you ended up with Amy as well.’
The bleak look faded from his eyes, and he smiled again. ‘Yes—thank God. I can’t believe everything’s turned out the way it has. I have to pinch myself sometimes just to believe it’s real.’
‘Oh, it’s real, Sam. We’re here, and we’re staying.’
He turned her into his arms, his eyes serious. ‘I love you,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t forget that. There’ve been times over the past year when I’ve been difficult to live with, a bit distracted with all the building work and things, and I might not have told you as often as I should have, but I do love you.’
She felt a lump in her throat. ‘I know you do. I love you, too—and you haven’t been that difficult to live with.’
‘I was when the Aga didn’t fit.’
She laughed and cradled his jaw in her hand. ‘Just a teeny bit.’ She went up on tiptoe and kissed him softly, lingeringly. One finger traced his lower lip, dragging slightly over the firm fullness.
‘Are you busy?’ she murmured.
One brow arched. ‘Not especially. Got anything in mind?’
Jemima smiled, and thought how lucky she was to have found him. ‘Seems a shame to waste the baby’s nap.’
Sam drew her into his arms. ‘Mmm.’ He kissed her lightly, then lifted his head and looked down into her eyes. ‘Happy anniversary, Mrs Bradley,’ he whispered, and then he kissed her...
ISBN : 978-1-4592-5314-8
A FUNNY THING HAPPENED...
First North American Publication 1999.
Copyright © 1999 by Caroline Anderson.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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A Funny Thing Happened... Page 16
