With all these high-priced lawyers around—even more high-priced than the Countess in her prime—it was going to be little Sunshine, who never even went to secondary school, who was going to show them how to make this work.
Sunshine took the papers to the attic room where she wore herself out manipulating a pen, but when she finished, she’d inserted Dylan’s name for Vincent’s and even made a few changes that ought to make Alexis happy.
She went to show Alexis, but Alexis was asleep, so she left the papers in Dylan’s room where he could find them.
There. She looked heavenward. “Save me a seat at the Picnic, Belle. I’m on my way.”
ALEXIS’S CELL PHONE RANG in its charger the next morning. Early the next morning.
“Hullo?” Her voice was raspy.
“Hey! It’s a great day to get married.”
Vincent. She groaned. Unfortunately, he heard her. Fortunately, he misinterpreted the reason for her groan. “Now, now. It could be worse. The good news is that I finished early and I flew back on this bright sunny morning. I slept better than I’ve slept in days and I’m rarin’ to go, if you take my meaning.”
Oh, God. She took his meaning all too well. “That’s great!” It should be great. And it would be great.
So why didn’t she feel great?
Did she really have to ask herself?
“But the bad news is that you’re snowed in. Some kind of freak storm. But not to worry. We’ve hired extra highway workers to start clearing things from this end and the inn is working from their end and with this beautiful sunny day, we’ll get a path cleared by this afternoon.”
He’d had way too much coffee. “I hope so.Mymom is stuck in Denver.”
“And one more thing.” Vincent’s voice had changed, which meant that the one more thing was important. “I’m here at Margaret’s hotel. What’s all this about you not signing the pre-nup?”
“No big deal.” Why was she acting as though everything was fine? Well, because this was about her future and not some touchy-feely session in a bathtub with Dylan, she told herself firmly. Just talking with Vincent had made her see that. He was his old self. The man who had inspired her and driven her to achieve more than she thought she was capable of. She’d been right to agree to marry him. It was the smart choice.
“There were a couple of funkily worded clauses that we straightened out. Margaret was making clean copies for us to sign.”
“I’ve spoken to Dylan this morning about those ‘funkily worded clauses’ and he’s agreed to a conference call. He should be in your room in a few minutes. Margaret will be with me here. Call us back when he gets there.”
A few minutes? She wasn’t dressed. Her hair. Alexis’s hand stole hesitantly upward at the same time she turned to the mirror over the desk.
Ack! Falling asleep with wet shaggy haircuts was never a good fashion idea.
Alexis threw on some clothes and dunked her head in the sink. She’d just wrapped a towel around it—and appreciated the fact that Sunshine had cleared away the sodden mess while Alexis had apparently conked out—when there was a knock on the door.
Dylan, of course, looking as tousled as she. “Do we have business to transact?”
Alexis looked into his eyes, surprised to find them blank for the first time ever. She couldn’t get a clue as to how he was feeling. And last night, the entire time in the bathtub, she hadn’t been able to see his eyes, either.
“Vincent wants a conference call about the changes,” she said.
“Do we need to have a conference call?”
He was asking if she was still going through with the wedding.
“Do we?” she countered.
“Your decision.”
They stood in the doorway just staring at each other, with Alexis trying to read Dylan’s emotionally blank eyes, until the phone rang.
“Is he there?” Vincent’s voice boomed in her ear.
“Just arrived,” she answered, still watching Dylan. She gestured with her head. “There’s an extension on the writing desk.”
Watching her, he crossed the room and paused, his hand on the phone. At her nod, he picked it up.
“Greene here.”
“And now we are four.” Vincent cleared his throat and launched into the sticking point. “This clause that you have changed was written precisely the way I wanted it written.”
“So you intend for Alexis to bear the cost of any ‘lack of marital considerations’?” Margaret asked.
“I think that’s only fair.” Vincent laughed his power laugh. Alexis had heard it too often to mistake it for humor. “Alexis can’t expect everything to go her way. And I know that if she gives this marriage as much of her energy as she does her cases, I won’t have to invoke this clause.”
“It’s a disgusting clause,” Alexis broke in.
“It’s costing me a great deal to make you my wife. I need some guarantees.”
Her words to Dylan.
“Then we will have to define ‘marital considerations,”’ Margaret said.
“I’ve never been married. I won’t know what I consider lacking until I miss it,” Vincent said.
“Then some general guidelines,” Margaret insisted.
Dylan said nothing, but he turned away and stared at the view of the mountains.
Vincent and Margaret continued to argue back and forth. Margaret was holding her own, even though Vincent could be a bully.
Alexis was about ready to tell Margaret to back off, when she stopped. Two days ago, she would have signed the thing. Now, after meeting Dylan again, she couldn’t. She was glad there was a horribly written clause in the contract because it gave her an excuse to refuse to sign.
So Dylan wanted a leap of faith? A gesture? A commitment? Even after she’d made one all those years ago and had been rejected?
Okay. She’d make one. Because she was an idiot. Because she’d learned nothing in seven years.
Alexis had just about had it with all men. She picked up a bed pillow and flung it across the room where it plopped against Dylan’s back. If she was going to make a grand gesture, she wanted to see his face while she made it.
DYLAN HAD BEEN STARING at the mountains while everything within him screamed for him to tell Alexis to dump Vincent and marry him. With Alexis and him, the timing was always wrong.
Clearly, she didn’t get last night. He’d given her pleasure though he’d held himself in reserve. He’d wanted her to realize how much deeper and more satisfying lovemaking—and marriage—could be when both parties had invested all of themselves.
He couldn’t offer her the financial and career guarantees she clearly wanted, but he could offer her a deep, lasting love.
Hadn’t it already lasted seven years?
The irony wasn’t lost on him. For years, he’d been counseling clients to think with their heads and now he was making the decision of his life with his heart. Right now, his heart wanted Alexis and it was killing him.
Just then, he felt a pillow hit him in the back. Alexis probably thought he wasn’t paying attention.
Oh, he was. But was she?
He turned back around and let her see all the longing and all the pain he was feeling. Couldn’t she see what was important? Couldn’t she believe that they’d work out whatever problems they’d encounter?
Couldn’t she see what an absolute jerk Vincent was being?
So Dylan stared at her, with her unmade-up face and her wild damp hair and thought that after today, his life would forever be poorer.
Then she pointed to him and to herself and moved her fingers in the universal gesture for “talk.”
He raised his eyebrows. She wanted to talk?
She pointed to the telephone and made a slashing gesture across her neck.
“Alexis, sweetie,” came Vincent’s voice, “don’t make this personal. This is just business.”
“Actually, Vincent, I take marriage personally. It’s a quirk of mine.” She glared at Dylan.
>
“Fine. But the contract will stand as is. Take it or leave it.”
“In that case,” she looked straight at Dylan, “I’m leaving it.”
She’d turned him down. Alexis had refused to sign the pre-nup with Vincent. That was enough for Dylan. He hung up the phone but he heard Vincent’s shouting all the way across the room as Alexis pulled her receiver away from her ear.
Slowly, his heart pounding, he crossed the room, never breaking eye contact.
And speaking of eyes, Alexis’s were huge. He knew that Vincent and Margaret would try to get her to change her mind.
Dylan was after her heart. He stood in front of her, took her hand and placed it over his own pounding heart.
Alexis swallowed hard, then took his hand and placed it over her heart, which was pounding as hard as his.
“I’m sorry, Vincent, but I can’t accept the terms of the contract. It was a good idea, but the execution was flawed. I’ll tell my family and you can tell yours. I know that you’ll want to get back to Houston, but I’m going to stay on here as planned for the next week.” She moved the receiver so Dylan could hear.
“Think about this, Alexis. Talk to Margaret. I’ll check back with you later today.”
He hung up.
“Alexis, we can work this out—”
“You heard him, Margaret. And you also heard me. The wedding is off.” She hung up the phone.
“Marry me,” Dylan said at once.
“You don’t fight fair.”
“What’s fair about love?”
She shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Marry me.”
“We have to talk.”
“Marry me.”
“There are some things I need to know first.”
“I love you. Marry me. That should cover it.”
“If I agree, then what?”
He smiled. She was still holding back. Shaking his head, he repeated, “Marry me.”
Alexis closed her eyes. “I hate this. You know I do.”
He did. “Marry me.” He thought for a moment, then knelt in front of her, holding her hand. He softened his voice. “Marry me?”
Her eyes flew open. “Oh, Dylan.” Her whole expression melted into a “yes.”
But he had to hear the word. “Marry me?”
Biting her lip, she nodded and tried to tug him up.
He raised his eyebrows.
“Okay! Yes!” she shouted. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes, I’ll marry you!”
Dylan had risen to his feet at the first “yes.”
It was a good thing they were next to the bed. It was a good thing Alexis wasn’t wearing very many clothes. Even more fortunate, they were easily removed.
Dylan wasn’t aware of who exactly had done the removing. There was a lot of kissing and a lot of tugging and then a lot of skin—hers.
Dylan had spent years suppressing his emotions in favor of logic and, frankly, he was on sensory overload. His fingers could barely work the snap on his jeans. Finally, he had to stop and just stand there helplessly while Alexis laughingly did the honors.
Finally, they were both in the bed, and Dylan’s naked body was pressed against the equally naked length of hers.
He held her for long moments, trying to control himself. Right now, he could enter her and within a couple of strokes, he’d be gone.
Alexis was moving against him so he tried to put some space between them. “Slow down,” he breathed, fighting to keep from flipping her on her back and burying himself deep within her.
“No. You’ve had everything else your way. I’m tired of waiting. I need you now. All of you. No fancy stuff. Just the basics and make it quick.”
He liked a woman who took charge. “Oh, I can do quick.” He moved on top of her and thrust inside, gasping at the pure pleasure of it. The pure rightness.
But he didn’t allow himself to move. He wanted to savor this moment, when Alexis was his once more.
“Dylan!”
And he lost himself in the heat of her, forgetting time and place, but never forgetting her, her scent, her taste and the sounds of passion she made.
He thrust deeply and she wrapped herself around him, holding tight as he thrust a final time and shuddered. He might have seen stars or he could have been about to pass out from the pleasure of it all. He didn’t know. All he did know was that he could stay here forever. He could live like this, with Alexis wrapped around him. They could call room service. They’d never have to leave the bed.
Except…he took his weight on his elbows and cupped her face with his hands. Gently kissing her he gazed into her dark, dark eyes.
“Do you want babies?” he breathed.
“You know I do.” She stretched, wearing a pleased, but not satisfied smile. He’d take care of the satisfied part in a minute. “But it won’t happen now. I’m taking birth control.”
“Then I can begin making love to you again right now?”
“Oh, yes.” She pushed until he rolled over. “And this time I’m on top.”
Later, Alexis stared up at the ceiling. This wasn’t the way she’d planned to spend her wedding morning, but she had absolutely no complaints. She’d tried being logical, but once again had succumbed to the sizzle. And Dylan was quite a sizzler.
But this time, this time would be different. This time, love had proven it could last.
THERE WAS NOTHING LIKE the sound of true love. Sunshine had been dancing up and down the hallway outside Alexis’s doorway and now she watched Dylan walk back to his room with the swagger of a satisfied man.
Not that Sunshine had ever doubted Alexis—maybe a moment after the bathtub—but this morning, she had wrung that man dry.
Sunshine wanted to say goodbye to Alexis because she just knew that at any moment, Miss Arlotta and the Judge would call for her. The council was probably meeting right now.
Sunshine hugged herself. That tenth notch in the Bedpost Book was hers. She was as good as at the Eternal Picnic. She could feel the grass beneath her feet. There would be grass in heaven, wouldn’t there?
Of course. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be heaven.
Sunshine couldn’t stand waiting to be called, so she floated up to the attic.
But when she got to the room, instead of finding the council sitting around the old oak dining table, she found Miss Arlotta and Judge Hangen with their heads together.
“Has the council already met?” she asked.
Miss Arlotta heaved a sigh.
“Now wait, before you say anything, I know Alexis was going to marry Vincent, but he wasn’t her true love. Dylan is her true love and I got them together and he proposed. A bunch of times. So, they might not have been my original couple, but I should get credit for bringing them together. Shouldn’t I?” she finished uncertainly.
“Sunshine, honey, I am sorry to have to tell you, but there is trouble brewing.”
ALEXIS WAS HIS. He couldn’t believe that Alexis was his. And he was definitely hers. He couldn’t believe how incredibly intense—and prolonged—their love-making had been.
It was a good thing he’d set the terms of their relationship before he’d slept with her because when he was in her arms, he’d pretty much agree to anything.
He hoped she’d never find out.
Whistling—and he wasn’t a whistler—Dylan popped back in his room to call room service and arrange for a large, restorative breakfast for two to be delivered to her room.
He also wanted to call his family and let them know that if they wanted to see him get married, they were going to have to hightail it to Colorado. Colorado required no waiting time before issuing a marriage license and Dylan intended to take advantage of it. Besides, Alexis’s family was already here. By Monday afternoon—Tuesday at the latest, he and Alexis would be married.
Sure they still had a couple of hurdles—even though Alexis had broken it off with Vincent, the man would not take kindly to finding out she’d married his attorney a day or so later.
But they’d worry about that when the time came.
Dylan sat on his bed and called room service. He added a bottle of champagne, too. It was a cham-pagne-in-the-morning kind of day.
He sat back against the pillows that had seemed so uncomfortable last night and listened to the phone ring at his parents’. They were probably at church and he hated to leave a message. Next, he called his boss at home. There was a forwarding number and as Dylan leaned over to get a pen, he saw the old pre-nup papers. He grinned. Wouldn’t be needing those.
But then he saw his name. What? He hung up without writing down the forwarding number. What was this?
As he looked at the changes that had been made—changes that presumed a marriage between one Dylan Greene and one Alexis O’Hara,he became angrier and angrier.
She had to be kidding. He didn’t recognize the big childishly loopy handwriting—it must be Margaret’s. So Alexis had discussed this with her attorney. This was what she expected? Dylan figured he’d let her have her pre-nup, but this? She still wanted money every year? And household help? She’d actually spelled out that she wanted a maid? And a nanny? And…pin money? What the heck was pin money?
And jewelry. Alexis felt she needed to spell out his gifts to her.
Dylan was furious. He was so angry he scared himself. How could she do this? He thought she’d agreed to marry him without a pre-nup, but she hadn’t.
It must have been delivered last night. After he’d changed clothes, he’d headed to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich and that’s when it must have been delivered.
Alexis must have assumed that he’d seen it this morning and agreed. Otherwise, why would he have proposed?
The session in bed this morning had been to clinch the deal.
How could he have been so stupid? So gullible? He knew better.
Forget it. Dylan stormed back to Alexis’s room and pounded on the door.
“Wha—”
“I won’t stay long.” He pushed past and flung the papers at her. “Nice try.”
Alexis picked them up. “What’s this?” She studied them. “It’s the pre-nup but…is this a joke?”
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