by Susan Crosby
“Liar,” she said cheerfully, then she got busy doing what she loved best—planning a wedding.
Gray hung up the phone and glanced at Mollie as she tapped her pen against her lips. She was focused on the paperwork in front of her, a page littered with check marks and handwritten notations, like his.
He wanted this wedding to be memorable for her, something she wouldn’t be embarrassed to recall. Something she wouldn’t regret. She might regret the marriage eventually, but not the wedding itself. So the music needed to be right, the setting elegant, the clothing suited to the occasion. And flowers. She needed flowers.
“May I have a clean piece of paper?” she asked, looking up.
As soon as he handed her one, she bent over it, intent on what she was writing. After a few minutes he glanced at his watch. They should be touching down soon. Within a couple of hours they would be husband and wife. Why wasn’t he panicking?
“You need to sign this.” She thrust a piece of paper toward him.
Written on top were the words “Prenuptial Agreement.” He skimmed the concise list: (1) Gray McGuire will hold no financial interest in Every Bloomin’ Thing; (2) Mollie Shaw will hold no financial interest in McGuire Enterprises, Knight Star Systems or any other business held now or in the future by Gray McGuire; (3) Gray McGuire will not expect Mollie Shaw to live in a mansion or employ servants. Endicott may come live with us and become part of our family, if he chooses, however.
Gray smiled at that before he continued reading: (4) Gray McGuire will make no major decisions that would affect Mollie Shaw without consulting her first; (5) children of this union will be provided for but will not be given large sums of money at my time in their lives.
She’d drawn three lines, one with the date, one she had signed md one left blank for his signature.
“I’m a simple person, with simple needs,” she’d said last night, and her idea of a prenuptial agreement reflected that simplicity, that uncluttered view of the world. Faith in the world.
He wished he felt the same.
“This won’t hold up in court,” he said gently.
“Why does that matter? It’s between you and me. I don’t expect to see you in court.”
He pulled out another folder from his briefcase and passed it :o her, a generic document his lawyer had drawn up years ago—just in case. “This is the one we need to sign.”
“I guess you are prepared.” She flipped through the pages. “Okay. I’ll sign this if you’ll sign mine.”
“You should read it first, Mollie.”
“Why? I trust you or else I wouldn’t be marrying you.”
His stomach clenched. “You should know what you’re signing.”
“Is there anything in here that my own lawyer would object to?”
“He would want more financial guarantees for you.”
“Which, as my paper clearly indicates, I don’t want.” She waited, her pen poised over the signature line on the last sheet of the twelve-page document.
“You can’t sign it yet. We’ll need witnesses.”
“Well, no witnesses are required for mine.” Her gaze was direct and unwavering.
“I didn’t realize you were this stubborn,” he muttered with some humor as he scrawled his name on her document.
“You wouldn’t want to marry someone you could manipulate too easily, would you?” she asked, tucking the paper into he purse dramatically.
“I don’t suppose I would.”
“Good.” She maneuvered herself into his lap. “Enough business. We’re about to be married. I need a kiss.”
She didn’t wait for him to take the initiative but kissed him first. With a growl he tipped her back, turning the kiss into an attack as she laughed against his mouth, the laughter fading as the kiss deepened.
“Thank you for marrying me,” he said after a minute, strok ing her hair back from her face.
She brushed her fingertips across his lips. “I love you. Don’ thank me for that.”
A tone chimed. Saved by the bell. “That means we’re about to land.”
“I remember,” she said, accepting his help to climb off his lap. She buckled herself into the next seat. “Mollie McGuire,’ she mused. “It has a nice ring, doesn’t it?”
“Your Irish leprechaun would agree.”
“Oh! Yarg. I forgot.” She laughed. “You don’t like him much, do you?”
“I dream about melting his voice chip.” The plane touched down with a soft bounce, then glided smoothly as it slowed “We’re here.” Again he waited for panic to set in. But there was only peace.
She’d left her hair down. Her dress was simple and elegan and...her, a cream-colored silk sheath topped by a short-sleeved chiffon jacket.
Gray watched Mollie start down the short aisle, her bouque shaking, her eyes large and luminous. Pale pink lipstick drew his gaze to her mouth. She smiled. Sort of.
He left his spot to walk to her, offering his arm. She rested er cheek against him for a moment and whispered her thanks. Her perfume reached him, the same, yet different. Always different.
He was so aware of her. Of her quiet voice as she repeated he vows, of the squeeze of her hand as he repeated his. Human sparkler, he thought once again as she elbowed him, her eyes aughing when, distracted by the anticipation of making love with her later, he didn’t respond immediately to the man asking for the ring.
He slid the emerald-and-diamond symbol of their marriage nto her finger, then he kissed the soft, sweet spot above it. When he straightened, he saw her eyes glisten and her chin notch a little higher. She aimed a gold band for his finger; he helped o guide it on. Tenderness overwhelmed him. He was asking so nuch of her—a wedding without her friends, no avowal of love from him, an instant and complete change to her life. She’d been granted no period of adjustment. No time to reconsider. She would need his protection. He needed to give it. How could he explain it to her when the time came? What words would help?
“You may kiss the bride.”
Sweet words, indeed. And enough for now
It was almost midnight when they arrived at Mollie’s shop.
“I thought we were coming here so you could put your bouquet in the refrigerator case,” he said as they climbed the stairs o her apartment
“On our way out.” Anticipation of what would happen soon nade her legs a little wobbly “I just need to pick up a few things to take with me.” A change of underwear, her dusting powder, her bathrobe for the morning. The hotel probably provided one, but she needed the comfort of her own.
She didn’t want to take off her beautiful, beautiful dress. And Gray had given her emerald-and-diamond earrings and a pendant before the ceremony, then added a matching wedding band at he proper moment, which felt heavy and hot on her finger—his personal brand, his public declaration that she was his, forever. She lifted her bouquet to her face and sniffed the white md peach roses, She hated leaving it behind, even just for the night. But if she wanted to preserve it, she needed to handle it right.
Flipping on lights, Mollie walked to her bedroom and set her bouquet on her nightstand. She opened a dresser drawer and stared blindly at the contents. Gray’s hands settled on her shoulders. She jumped.
He rubbed her arms until she rested against him, her head cupped by the hollow of his shoulder, her back pressed to his hard chest.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
“Kind of. More excited than nervous, I think.”
“Be fearless, Mollie McGuire.”
“I’m trying.” She relaxed a little more, enjoying hearing her new name said aloud by someone else for the first time.
His arms encircled her. His cheek pressed against hers. “I Know it’s been a lot to absorb in one day. If you’d rather spend the night here, I would understand.”
“No!” She turned in his arms. “I want to be with you.”
He gave her the most tender look she’d seen from him. “I meant that we could stay here tonight. If it would be
easier for you. It’s familiar. Maybe it would help.”
“There are only twin beds.” She looked at her bed with its utterly feminine, flowered bedspread and pillows. She could’t picture him there.
“I don’t think the size of the bed matters tonight, Sunshine.” He pressed his lips to her temple. Her legs went weak.
“I...I want to take a shower.”
“Fine.”
“I don’t have anything beautiful to wear. I should’ve bought something in Las Vegas. I wasn’t thinking ahead.”
“I was.” His lips toyed with hers, separated them. His tongue dipped into her mouth, lingering until she returned the caress “I was picturing you naked, not weanng something I’d have tc rip right off anyway.”
“Oh.” She was amazed that he wanted her that much. Compared to anyone he’d been with before, she was bound to seem awkward.
He unfastened the three fabric-covered buttons on her chiffor acket, sliding it down her arms to drape over the back of a chair.
Turning her back to him, she took off her earrings. “Would you unfasten the pendant, please?”
His fingertips feathered her skin, then the glide of the chain eased her, as well, as he pulled it away. He dragged the zipper )f her dress down, down, down, ever so slowly, peeled back the fabric and kissed her shoulder blade, her spine. He trailed his ongue down that dividing line—
“Gray?”
“Hmm?”
His breath dusted her skin, sending shivers down her.
“Um, remember the first e-mail you sent me? About how you wanted to be my first?”
He made a sound she took to mean he remembered.
“This is kind of the same situation.”
She felt him straighten behind her. His arms came around her waist. She wished she could stay in his embrace forever.
“It’s my wedding gift to you,” she said into the quiet moment, feeling his reaction in the way he held her, in the way his reathing changed, in the way his skin warmed.
“Thank you,” he said, so softly she could barely hear the words, but the tone...
The tone told her so much more. Her virginity was physical, )ut his was emotional. Her loss of innocence would pale compared to his, when he realized he loved her.
If he loved her.
She took a step forward. “I won’t take long,” she said, breathless, intending to barricade herself in the bathroom until her nerves settled. Maybe they needed to be at his hotel, after all, someplace impersonal, someplace where her mother’s voice couldn’t follow her, asking impertinent questions about why she’d done this rash thing. Hadn’t Mollie learned anything from Karen’s experience?
“I’m not you,” Mollie said into the shower spray. “I married i good, strong man who may not love me yet but who will. I didn’t make a mistake.”
The one-sided conversation calmed her—until she was toweled off, powdered and perfumed, when she couldn’t stall a se cond longer. She’d forgotten to bring her robe in with her. C the back of the bathroom door hung a cotton nightie. She starte to reach for it; instead, she wrapped a dry towel around her.
Darkness greeted her when she opened the door. All the ligh were off. She took the few steps to her bedroom and pushed open the door. Flickering candlelight lured her closer to the be where her husband stood, waiting for her, wearing only his su slacks, looking tall, dark and handsome beyond her imagining
Her husband. Hers. All hers.
He extended his hand toward her. She slipped hers into hi felt the warmth and strength and comfort.
“This is lovely,” she said, indicating the candles, then sh noticed rose petals strewn across her sheet.
“I borrowed from the shop a little. You’ll have to bill me fo the roses.”
She was grateful she didn’t have an order to fill first thing the morning. The thought made her smile.
He nudged her hair aside and nibbled on her earlobe. “Wh are you smiling about?”
Her skin rose in bumps as his tongue touched the skin belo her ear. “I’m happy.”
“It wasn’t your I’m-happy smile.”
“I have different smiles?”
“Hmm. I’m waiting for the woman-as-sex-goddess one before I go on.”
She laughed. “I have one of those?”
“You used it freely last night. And successfully.” Gray tippe her head back and kissed her She came up on tiptoe to me him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herse more snugly to him. He ran his hands down her back, curvt them over her rear, lifted her to him, the terry cloth bunching his palms. The towel inched down her body, but he resisted th urge to tug it off. Slowly, he cautioned himself. Don’t startle-
“Oh, no,” she said.
He counted to five. She’d already stalled once by taking shower. How many more diversions could she create? “O no?”
“I’m not on the Pill. Do you have something, you know, in your wallet?”
“No.” The word simmered. On the night he most wanted everything to go right, little seemed to.
“I want a family, Gray. Now or later, it doesn’t matter to me. But if you want to wait awhile, we can’t do this now. My penods are really irregular, and I don’t have a clue whether or not I’m ovulating.”
The first shared intimacy of their marriage, Gray thought. And the first big dilemma. “I’m willing to risk it.” And I’m not willing to wait.
Her woman-as-sex-goddess smile settled everything. He pulled her against him and closed his eyes, fighting the need to plunder. She was his wife, and she’d never made love before. But he was done with delays.
He breathed her name, knowing he should say more.
“I love you,” she whispered back instantly. “I want you.”
Her towel and his slacks jumbled and twined on the way to the floor, then they were skin to skin, body to body, murmuring words that never became sentences, uttering sighs that spoke of need, not contentment No matter how many times he told himself to slow down, he couldn’t remember to. Her slender body held all the right curves. Her restless hands returned every arousing caress. He sat on the edge of the bed, encouraging her to straddle him so that he could finally put his mouth to her breasts. She arched back as he kneaded her soft flesh, sucked a hard peak into his mouth. She curved her hands up his head as he shifted to the other side, held him there as she rose and fell against him, tmy movements yielding big results. The sounds she made flattered him, pleased him, aroused him beyond anything in his memory.
“Oh, this is wonderful,” she said, rising up, then kissing him, her mouth hotly sweet, dangerously demanding. “Your skin bums me. Burns me. I love how you feel pressed against me—” she lifted her head and stared at him as she lowered herself to his thighs and moved her hips forward “—here.”
“You make me forget everything.” He muttered the words between fierce, delirious kisses.
“Except me...”
“There’s only you, Sunshine. Nothing, no one but you.” He shifted her to lie down, covered her body with his and found her hot, open mouth again, discovering a little more desperation in the way she sought him back, her demands growing more wild, more insistent, more frantic. Easing back, he cupped her breast, explored the tight, taut nipple, then dragged his hand down her until she went perfectly still, anticipation hardening her body. He grazed her with a fingertip. Her moan convinced him to slow down. She tipped up her pelvis as he explored her, discovered her, finding her ready for more. More. He wanted to give her so much more. Pleasure and ecstasy and satisfaction beyond her expectations.
“Don’t make me wait any longer,” she said, hoarse and demanding. “I want to know how you feel.”
He moved over her, held himself levered above her. “Guide me.”
She wrapped her hand around him for the first time. He gritted his teeth, not wanting the moment to end, afraid it would end too soon.
“You feel so wonderful,” she breathed as she caressed him, tortured him with tentative strokes that turned
bolder, more curious. Perilous.
“Inside, Mollie,” he managed to say. “Before I lose what little control I have left.”
Nothing had ever felt so good, so right, so perfect as the fit he found with her. Snug and smooth, she surrounded him like velvet. He pushed slowly, steadily, reminding her to relax, enjoying the feel of her opening to him, glorying in the singular privilege of being her first lover, wishing he could know what she felt. Wishing she could know how he felt, sheathed by her. They merged and mingled, fused. Incinerated. The moment he felt her climax peak, he spilled luxuriously into her as she cried out, in pleasure, he hoped, not pain. He didn’t wait for her to come down completely before he kissed her, with great passion and gratitude and amazement at the rare gift she was.
“My husband,” she said on a sigh, running her hands down his back, up his sides, her fingers tracing his ribs.
Husband. Partner. Lover. Protector. He wanted to be all things to her, this gentle, loving woman who deserved so much more than she’d had in life, all the things her father should have provided financially, at least. Gray had found her because he was seeking justice, but out of that need had come an equally strong desire to protect. And now he could never knowingly cause her pain.
He trembled inside. The fact that Stuart Fortune was her father would be Gray’s secret forever. She didn’t need Stuart now, anyway. She had a husband, one who would fill all the roles in her life, give her the security her father should have given her. Give her the life she deserved. And as soon as he took his father’s company back from the man who stole it, Gray would give her babies and a home with a garden.
“I love you,” she said softly as they lay with legs tangled, their breathing almost normal.
“I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
Disappointed, Mollie sent her hopefulness back into her heart. He would learn to love her, to say the words and believe them, even if he’d never heard the words from anyone before. “I’m so glad I waited for you.”
“Waited for marriage, you mean.”
She snuggled more comfortably against him, the limited size of the bed forcing them close, which was fine with her, especially since he had to keep his arms around her. His hands didn’t stay idle, but caressed her lightly, constantly. He was already learning to touch. “You don’t believe in fate?” she asked. “You don’t think you were chosen for me—and I for you?”
