“I can’t wait.” Another kiss, this one along the elastic of her panties. “Arianna never…”
He didn’t have to finish. Shani knew her friend’s pregnancy didn’t last long enough for her to feel the baby’s movement.
Shani shivered again and Logan had to feel it under his mouth. “You’re cold. Let me pull down the covers.”
She edged aside so he could strip back the bedding. She gasped at the first touch of skin against cool linen.
She smiled up at him. “I need your help warming these sheets.”
He undressed quickly, climbing under the covers with her. His heat soaked into her immediately, the hard evidence of his arousal burning against her hip. She couldn’t lie still feeling him beside her.
His arms around her, he kissed her, feathery touches with his mouth on hers, then across her cheek, along her jaw, down her throat. He fitted one leg between hers, the firm muscles of his thigh pressing against her sensitized center. She felt damp and hot, her body dancing on the edge of paradise.
His mouth’s lazy exploration moved lower, along her collarbone, her sternum, the first softness of her breast. His tongue followed that languid path, leaving fire in its wake, enfolding her world in sensation.
Her body went rigid at the first touch of his tongue on her nipple. As he circled the tautening flesh, he wet the silky knit of her bra, and bliss lapped at her with each concentric touch. At the same time, his hand crept under her panties, leisurely moving through the curls beneath them, dipping between her soft folds. Touching her impossibly heated flesh.
She climaxed with a cry of triumph, her body arching in that moment of ecstasy. Her fingers dug so deeply into his back, a dim part of her wondered at the marks she’d leave behind. Then another wash of rapture swept her away, obliterating awareness of anything but her own body.
By slow degrees, she came back to herself, to Logan lying beside her. She pulled in a breath to speak. “You can’t make me leave you this time.”
“No,” he said softly.
“I want you,” she whispered, her hands moving down his body.
He eased from her enough to pull off her panties and bra, then parted her legs to kneel between them. He hesitated there, staring down at her, and for an instant, Shani thought she saw something in his eyes, the same secret she’d locked in her own heart.
For that moment, she let herself believe that he loved her just as she loved him. That he feared giving that love just as she did. That if she only uttered the words, revealed everything she held inside, he would answer in kind.
But then the ephemeral message vanished, if it had ever been there at all. He lowered his body and with one swift thrust entered her. Climax struck her almost immediately, abandoning her to feelings beyond anything she’d felt before. With her body still reeling from that undistilled joy, another peak hit her, drowning her in an ocean of delight.
He came in tandem with her, groaning, shuddering as he thrust into her. Gasping for breath, he rolled to one side, taking her with him, holding her tight in his arms.
She felt close to tears but pushed them back, afraid he would misinterpret her joy. She burned to tell him the truth, but knew her heart would be at stake if she did. So she lay there in silence, grateful for the intimacy, even if it was only physical.
He eased back from her, locked his gaze with hers. “I won’t let you go, Shani.”
Shock ran through her at the resolution in his tone. “What do you want, Logan?” She knew, but she wanted to hear him say it again.
He pressed his hand against her cheek. “Marry me.”
An hour ago, she might have still refused. But the world had changed. Her answer had suddenly sprung into crystal clarity. No matter what the consequences, what she might pay in heartache, she would take the gift of their legal union.
“Yes.” She laid her hand over his, reveling in its warmth against her face. “I’ll marry you.”
The intensity of his gaze held her tight. “Before…you wanted love, Shani. Nothing’s changed.”
She bit back her pain. “I know,” she said softly.
His thumb drifted across her cheek. “I’ll give you everything.”
Except love. He didn’t have to speak the words out loud. She heard the implication.
Then he took her into his arms again, kissing her, touching her, pulling her back into that maelstrom of passion. Even as she cried out wordlessly in climax, she shouted her love for him silently. It might not be everything she wanted, but to be part of his life, to be able to love him would be enough.
Chapter Thirteen
As a girl, when she’d dreamed of her wedding, she’d imagined a white dress with a ten-foot train one of her young cousins would have had to carry. All her family would be there—all her aunts and uncles, her cousins, her sister standing beside her as maid of honor, her mother with proud tears in her eyes in the front row. Until he left them, her father had been part of the fantasy as well, her hand on his arm as he walked her up the aisle.
The groom had been changeable—Jimmy Wallace in fourth grade, Ben Fisk in sixth. Throughout high school, she auditioned in her mind three or four other possibilities, mentally fitting them into that handsome black tux. The only common thread among them—they loved her passionately, forever and ever.
Then reality arrived in the form of Logan Rafferty.
That Sunday afternoon and evening after she’d agreed to marry him, she and Logan spent as much time in his bed as out of it. They made love again and again, then lay in each other’s arms, quietly making plans for the wedding. They agreed on New Year’s Day over omelets quickly thrown together in the kitchen, briefly discussing a guest list before hurrying back upstairs to explore each other’s bodies again.
She slept with him that night, but he didn’t suggest she move into his room. The next night she went upstairs without him to sleep alone. After that, he kept his distance, as if their lovemaking had never happened. Except the heat in his gaze when he didn’t know she was looking at him told a different story.
Once he had her agreement, Logan seemed to want to lock in her decision with a hasty marriage, and there was no dissuading him.
The weekend after Rachael’s winter break began, Logan flew Shani’s mother and sister out to California. He would have arranged for the rest of the family to attend as well, but Shani told him she wanted the ceremony to be small. Maybe after the baby was born, they could fly out to Iowa and throw a party to celebrate both birth and matrimony.
She didn’t tell Logan the truth—that despite her certainty that night, doubts had come crashing in on her since then. A part of her couldn’t bear to have her extended family all there. She feared they would guess the wedding was not a union of two loving people of like minds. That they would take one look at Shani and realize the love flowed only one way. She was sure her mother would know in an instant and that the aunts and uncles would divine the truth by osmosis. So she convinced Logan that with the short notice, an intimate wedding would be best.
Sure enough, her mother sensed her daughter’s misgivings the moment Shani picked her up at Sacramento International. Shani had plenty of opportunities to share her qualms—on the drive home from the airport while Rachael dozed in the backseat, in the afternoons as they sat together in the newly secured guest cottage, while they shopped for Shani’s dress. But despite the pointed looks her mother gave her, Shani kept her uneasiness to herself.
Her wedding day—New Year’s Day—dawned bone-chillingly cold, disappointing Shani’s sister, who’d expected balmy Los Angeles temperatures during the Northern California winter. But Rachael’s excitement over the wedding soon preempted her complaints about the Iowa-like weather.
An hour before the two o’clock wedding, Shani, Rachael and her mother closeted themselves in Shani’s room to dress and fix their hair. Rachael’s teenage effervescence as she styled Shani’s hair and helped position the antique pearl-studded headpiece should have lifted Shani’s spirits, but she
couldn’t seem to shake the sense of wrongness in the day.
Shani’s mother finally shooed Rachael from the room, pleading a headache, asking her to check with Logan for some aspirin. As her sister slipped out, Shani stared at herself in the mirror, wishing she could evade the upcoming conversation.
Fussing with her hair, she pulled the veil over her face and studied her image through the wispy tulle. “It’s a beautiful dress.”
The close-fitting sleeves of the cream-colored raw-silk shift just brushed her wrist bone. The sweetheart neckline barely clung to her shoulders and had required a strapless bra. They’d had to alter the dress to allow for her expanding waistline, but the dress looked lovely on her nonetheless.
Her mother came up behind her and put an arm around her waist. “I thought you’d be happier on your wedding day.” Despite her smile at their reflection, Shani heard the serious tone in her mother’s voice.
Shani blinked back tears. “I’m just nervous.”
“Uh-huh.” Her mother turned her around to face her. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
Shani moved to sit on the edge of her bed. “I knew the decision was right when I made it. Now…”
Mrs. Jacoby sat beside her, took her hand. “You’re not sure if you love him?”
Her eyes filled. “That’s the one thing I’m sure of.”
“Then what’s the problem?” her mother asked gently. “You love him, he loves you….”
Shani stared down at her hands, tears dropping. Her throat was so tight, she could barely squeeze words past the constriction. “He doesn’t love me, Mom.”
Her mother patted her hand. “Of course he does. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
Shani shook her head. “He’s made it clear that love has nothing to do with our marriage. Whatever you’ve seen in him…”
Mrs. Jacoby tipped up Shani’s chin. “You know you can stop this. Just say the word.”
“I don’t want to.” Despite the potential for pain, she knew she couldn’t turn back. “I want to find a way to make a life with him.”
“And the baby.”
At that reminder, joy spread inside her. “Yes. We’ll have the baby.”
Rachael returned then, scolding Shani for ruining her makeup with her tears. The teenager repaired the damage, then did a touch-up of her own hair. They both kissed their mother as she slipped from the room and headed for her seat downstairs.
The sound of music sifted upstairs—the opening sounds of Pachelbel. Her hand on the door, Rachael turned back to Shani. “Ready?”
Shani stood frozen, suddenly terrified, a response stuck in her throat.
Despite his determination to remain cool and detached during the last-minute prep of his wedding, Logan broke into a cold sweat with the opening notes of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D Major.” With the living room furniture pushed aside, a half-dozen chairs set up facing where Logan stood near the front door, he had an unimpeded view of the second-floor landing where Shani would soon appear.
“No backing out now,” a voice rumbled softly in his ear.
He glanced over at his friend, Judge Jeanie Wilcox, whom he’d asked to officiate. He couldn’t seem to muster an answer, so he just nodded, giving her what was likely a poor excuse for a smile.
He’d been certain over the past few weeks that Shani would, at any moment, turn to him and tell him she’d changed her mind, that her agreement had been a mistake. He’d rushed her into this marriage for exactly that reason—to give her no time to back out. Even now, he wondered if, as she started down the stairs, she would make that declaration. That she’d toss away the bouquet of orchids and baby’s breath she and her mother had so laboriously picked out and lock herself in her room.
He never should have left her alone these past several days. He’d had some crazy idea that the more time she spent with him, the more likelihood there was that she’d uncover his myriad faults, find more justification to put on the brakes. It had been maddening, having her so near and not making love to her. Having tasted the treasures of her body and then holding back. But he’d been afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing. Of ruining everything.
Now he fixed his gaze on the door to her room, waiting for her to appear. For a crazy moment he wondered if she’d somehow escaped unseen, shimmying down the trellis outside her room, leaving her mother and sister behind. Anything to avoid marrying him.
Finally her sister stepped out, a small bouquet of lavender daisies clutched in her hands. She wore a dress that matched the flowers, her long hair upswept. Looking at her face, Logan could imagine Shani at that age, just as young, just as innocent. What would it have been like if he’d met her then, before he knew Arianna?
As Rachael walked along the landing and down the first step, a shadow shifted on the door to Shani’s room. The Canon continued its lilting strains as the few guests seated in his living room looked expectantly up at the landing. Shani’s mother, looking happy and troubled all at once. Vince and Charlotte Anzalone, beaming in expectation of what should be a joyful occasion. Mrs. Singh and her daughter, their eyes bright with good wishes. Shani’s friend Julie, whose suspicious look hadn’t faded from the moment she’d arrived.
If Shani had had her way, his father would be here, as well. But there was no way he was opening that can of worms.
Rachael had reached the halfway point on the stairs. That had been the signal for Shani to start her walk. Logan held himself in place by strength of will. It was all he could do to keep from going up after her.
And then his bride stepped into view.
His knees quite literally went weak at his first sight of her. The dress she’d refused to let him see fitted her perfectly, revealing and reveling in the slight curve of her ripening belly rather than hiding it. The antique veil his grandmother had worn softened Shani’s beautiful face, turning it into a mystery he itched to investigate. The orchids, ivory touched with accents of lavender, trembled in her hands, but her steps down the stairs were sure.
Arianna’s necklace gleamed at her throat, the unicorn pendant suspended just above the shadow between her breasts. The way the dress just barely clung to her creamy shoulders sent a shaft of desire through him as he imagined slipping it the rest of the way off as he undressed her tonight.
How the hell would he ever wait for tonight?
She arrived at his side, her gaze fixing for several long moments with his. The flush of color along her cheekbones told him she’d seen the fire in his eyes. There was an answer in that pale rose blush, the way her lips parted and her breath caught. He relaxed infinitesimally. This at least he could do right with her. He would make her body sing and send her to paradise.
She turned from him toward the judge, and the ribbon threading through her bouquet shook as she drew in a tremulous breath. Judge Wilcox’s words buzzed in his mind, their sense lost. He managed to speak his part on cue, the rehearsal they’d run through the night before his saving grace. Shani’s “I do” sprang without hesitation from her mouth, and in those few short minutes, the ceremony was finished.
Except for the final ritual. Not only permission, but exhortation to do what he’d ached to do again a thousand times since that December night three weeks ago. They would do it in front of a half-dozen or so people, he would have to show some self-control. But to kiss Shani again, he would accept any proviso.
Lifting the veil, fully exposing her face, he could barely breathe. He set his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs brushing bare skin, sending heat through him. His dark tuxedo suddenly felt too hot, too constricting. He wanted to strip aside the jacket, despite the audience.
Then she smiled, the gentle curve of her lips reaching deep inside him. Her hands settled on his waist. He lowered his mouth to hers, watching her eyes drift shut. He pressed against her, butterfly light, then more firmly, drinking her in.
How long they stood that way, speaking silently with their mouths, he didn’t know. Quiet laughter brought him back to the room, made him awar
e the kiss had lasted much longer than he’d intended. He drew back to see the color on Shani’s cheeks deepen and her hand raised to her face in obvious embarrassment.
He pressed a last kiss to her forehead, then, with his arm around her, faced the guests. Behind him, Judge Wilcox announced, “I’d like to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Logan Rafferty.”
Applause, more laughter. They moved to the dining room, where staff from Il Paradiso had set up an Italian buffet. The expertly seasoned chicken parmesan and portobello risotto might as well have been ashes on his plate. He ate a few bites mechanically but didn’t taste a thing, his gaze always on Shani. Every movement she made, every glance his way, mesmerized him.
Only dimly aware of the others in the room, he registered Shani’s mother’s relieved expression and the unexpected smile on her friend Julie’s face. He was grateful they couldn’t read the explicit, X-rated thoughts vividly displayed in his mind. All the ways he wanted to touch Shani, experience her exquisite body, played in an endless loop until he thought he’d explode from the tension.
After dinner they moved the chairs aside in the living room, allowing enough space for a first dance. The feel of Shani in his arms as they glided around the carpeted floor in a slow waltz overwhelmed his senses. Her gaze burned him clear to his soul, set every nerve ending on fire. He wanted to carry her upstairs, never mind the half-dozen or so guests they would leave behind.
But he released Shani to dance with Vince and took Mrs. Jacoby as his partner. She smiled up at him, a quiet joy lighting her face. “I’m so glad you two found each other,” Shani’s mother said softly.
He felt a twinge of guilt inside, knowing that this marriage wasn’t the love match Mrs. Jacoby likely assumed. He cast about in his mind for an appropriate response. “We’re fortunate.” He winced inwardly at the pallid words.
Shani’s mother regarded him with those all-too-knowing eyes. “You love each other. That’s a fortune beyond price.”
His Miracle Baby Page 14
