“Do you, now?”
He nodded. “It might take a while longer to complete. I’m going to have to pay for the lawyers out of my own pocket. The show is dead but that’s okay. I don’t need to be famous. I only need you.”
He’d only mentioned the one brother. “Billy? Your father?”
“I told them I’d marry you because I wanted to, for no other reason.” He hugged her tight, pausing only long enough to take a damp cloth from Mickey and press it to the back of her neck. “You asked me once what I wanted, and I never gave you a straight answer. That was my mistake, Stella—one I won’t make again.” He kissed her, his lips a promise. “I want to go to sleep with you in my arms and I want to wake up with you there. I want to make love to you for the rest of my days and I don’t want anyone to say we can’t. I don’t want anyone but you. Just you. Just our family.”
She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry anymore, but that didn’t stop the tears. “Oh.”
“So,” he said with that cunning grin on his face, as if he knew he had her exactly where he wanted her. “What do you want?”
“I want a family.” She’d told him that once, not daring to dream that it would mean all of those things he’d just said. “I want you.”
His grin widened. “I like it when we want the same thing, don’t you?”
“Yes, quite.”
He kissed her again—harder this time. She let her fingers tangle in his hair, let her tongue trace his lips. He wanted her. To be wanted was a wonderful thing.
Mickey cleared his throat. “Right, then, you’re going to marry me girl?”
Bobby looked at her and she nodded. “Yup,” he said.
Mickey was insistent. “When?”
“Can you have a gown ready by Christmas?” he asked her. “You’re not spending another holiday alone.”
“That’s rather short notice.”
“I have full faith in what you can do with your hands. I think about it all the time.”
She giggled and he caught her in another kiss. “Will you marry me, Stella Caine?” he asked in a quiet voice that wasn’t meant for Mickey’s ears.
“Yes,” she said simply.
It was all she’d ever wanted.
Epilogue
As far as flower girls went, Callie left a little to be desired. Instead of throwing the flower petals from her tiny basket as Josey carried her through the doorway in the courtroom in City Hall, she turned the basket upside down and gnawed on the handle.
Then Billy and Jenny’s son, Seth, came through the doors carrying the rings. They were still in the ring boxes—Bobby had not seen the point of a frilly white pillow for a civil ceremony. Thank heavens Stella had agreed.
The whole thing was surreal. Normally, on Christmas Eve, the Bolton men headed over to Dad’s house. They ate steak and watched A Christmas Story and lifted a glass to Mom.
This year was different. Now, after a loud lunch at a nearby restaurant, Bobby was standing in a City Hall courtroom wearing a suit and a rose boutonniere. His brothers were lined up next to him. Even Billy had busted out a tie for the occasion.
The courtroom was relatively empty. On one side Jenny sat in front of Bobby’s dad, Bruce Bolton, who was sitting with Cass, the receptionist.
On the other side sat Gina and Patrice, holding hands. Stella had decided against inviting anyone from her New York circles, although she had allowed Mickey to invite her father. He hadn’t responded, which was just as well. Stella had wanted to keep this small and private and Bobby had agreed. Just family.
The doors opened again, and Bobby gasped. Stella walked in on Mickey’s arm. She hadn’t let Bobby see her outfit beforehand, essentially sewing the whole thing at Gina and Patrice’s place.
“Worth it, isn’t it?” Ben said over Bobby’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” was all he could get out.
Stella was wearing a pale, cream-colored skirt that went almost to the ground. Underneath, red peep-toe shoes peeked out with every step. For a top, she’d gone with a tuxedo-style jacket in the same cream fabric, the satin accents catching the light. She held three red roses in her hand—one for Bobby, one for her and one for the baby. The suit was close cut, hugging her curves. At three and a half months along, her curves were something to behold. To top it all off, she had on a small cream lace veil. Skull lace, of course.
It wasn’t a traditional wedding dress, but then, this wasn’t a traditional wedding. There were no other guests, no gifts, no lavish reception planned. Hell, they hadn’t even gotten a minister. Just a judge who rode choppers on the weekends. The only camera was in Jenny’s hand. No one else knew about the ceremony. This was private.
Mickey escorted Stella up to the front. Bobby was surprised to see tears in the old man’s eyes.
Stella kissed the leprechaun before he gave her over to Bobby.
“You look beautiful,” he told her, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms. There’d be time for that later.
The judge began to speak about them all being gathered here today, but he hadn’t gotten far before the doors in the back of the courtroom opened up again.
Bobby’s first thought was that the press had found out. After all, David Caine’s daughter marrying the star of the reality show he’d recently canned would make for a juicy headline.
But then Ben’s “Whoa” came at the same time as Billy’s, “I’ll be damned,” which caused Stella and Bobby to turn.
There, in the back row, sat David Caine himself. He looked old and tired—but not angry. Which was saying something.
Stella’s hand clamped down on Bobby’s arm with a surprising amount of force. “Da,” she whispered.
Bobby tilted his head in acknowledgment of the older man before he turned to his bride. “I knew he’d come around.”
Stella’s eyes glittered with happy tears. “He did, did he?”
Bobby nodded, wrapping his fingers around hers. “I think he’s starting to realize that family is everything.” Then he leaned in. “You’re my everything, Stella.”
Then the judge cleared his throat and made it official.
She was his everything.
She always would be.
* * * * *
If you liked Bobby’s story, don’t miss any of THE BOLTON BROTHERS trilogy by Sarah M. Anderson:
STRADDLING THE LINE
BRINGING HOME THE BACHELOR
All available now from Harlequin Desire!
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE PREGNANCY PLOT by Paula Roe.
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One
“That bridesmaid keeps checking you out. Do you know her?”
“Who?” Matthew Cooper turned from the huge skyline window, transferring his attention from the stunning seventy-eighth-floor view of Queensland’s Surfers Paradise to his sister, Paige. Her familiar teasing grin remained firmly in place as he gave a cursory glance at the impressively decked-out bridal party. The group of six was slowly making the rounds as a glori
ous sunset illuminated the aptly named Sunlight Room, Q-Deck’s premier reception area.
“The redhead,” Paige answered.
He shrugged, snagged a glass of champagne from the passing waiter’s tray, then went back to the commanding view. “I don’t know anyone here. The happy couple are your clients.”
Paige frowned. “And you’re depressing me. It’s a wedding, Matt. A celebration of love. Loosen up a little. Have a bit of fun.” She scanned the crowd again. “Go and chat up a bridesmaid.”
He raised one eyebrow, jammed a hand into his pants pocket and took a slow sip from his glass. “The redhead?”
“She is definitely interested.”
Matt murmured something noncommittal.
Paige sighed. “You are one sad guy. Here you are, thirty-six, prime of your life, attractive, single, excruciatingly rich—”
“Responsible. Successful—”
“And still work-obsessed,” she concluded as she watched him check his phone for the third time in half an hour. “I thought you left Saint Cat’s to get away from that.”
He frowned. “Running GEM is totally different.”
“Hmm...” Paige’s brown eyes blinked as she popped an appetizer in her mouth, then held up her palms, indicating scales. “On the one hand, heart surgery. On the other, running an international global rescue company.” She tipped one hand down, the other up. “Saving lives for the family business—parents overjoyed. Training emergency medical response teams in developing countries—parents pissed off.”
“I’m still saving lives, Paige. And I don’t need you on my case, too.”
“Seeing nasty, lying ex-wife every few weeks.” One of Paige’s palms dropped. “Skiving off to exotic locations and even more exotic women.” Her other hand shot up as she smiled. “Yet you’re still not happy.”
“I’m—”
“You’re not.” She touched his arm. “I may live in London but I still know you.”
Before he could answer, the bridal party shifted, a solid mass of movement and noise flowing in a singular wave.
It was Friday night in the middle of an unseasonably warm August, and instead of finalizing project details before he flew out to Perth on Monday, he was in a room full of strangers, celebrating the union of two people so obviously in love it was kind of nauseating.
A vague, irrational anger swept over him. The last wedding he’d attended had been his own—and look how that had turned out.
People parted to reveal the newlyweds, Emily and Zac Prescott, sharing a grinning kiss. As the guests cheered, Matthew’s jaw tightened, uncomfortable emotions welling in his throat. Why the hell had he agreed to be Paige’s plus-one?
“Your ring looks good,” he said to Paige, who’d fallen silent.
“As if you can tell from this distance.” Still, she visibly preened as they both studied the intricate, handmade Paige Cooper diamond band on Emily’s ring finger. “Look,” she added, sharply elbowing him in the arm. “There’s the redhead.”
The woman in question was partially hidden by Emily’s dress. Her head was turned, body angled away so he could only make out the sweep of neck and bare shoulders, the fiery red hair bundled up in a sleek knot at her nape.
Then she moved and a spear of golden sunlight sharpened her profile.
He gasped as everything went out of focus.
“You know her?” Paige asked sharply.
“No. Excuse me for a moment.” Ignoring Paige’s frown, he shoved his glass into her hand and moved purposely forward.
She was five feet away, lagging behind the rest of the wedding party and talking to a smooth-looking guy. He paused, head spinning as the past flooded in to seize his senses. Angelina Jayne Reynolds—AJ. Angel, he’d whispered in her ear, deep in the throes of passion as she’d writhed beneath him. The nickname suited her. From her pale ethereal skin, long elegant limbs and ice-blue eyes, to the deep auburn shock of hair that tumbled down her back in flaming waves, she was a mixture of heaven and hell all rolled into one. A woman who’d set his blood boiling with her joyous laugh and come-hither grin. A woman who’d driven him crazy for six whole months, burned up his sheets, then walked out of his life without a word. It had taken him close to a year to forget that.
But you didn’t really forget, did you?
He knew the moment she sensed him staring. Her back straightened and then her shoulders as she scanned the crowd with a faint frown. His gaze remained fixated on her nape, that spot where her gathered hair revealed vulnerable skin. He remembered kissing that spot, making her first giggle in delight, then sigh in rapturous pleasure....
Finally, she turned and the reality of all those missing years slammed into him, making the air whoosh from his lungs.
AJ had been gorgeous at twenty-three. But now she was...breathtaking. Life and experience had sharpened her features, accentuating her jaw and chin. Creamy skin and high cheekbones emphasized those blue cat’s eyes, the corners slanting up in a permanent air of mischief.
Then there was her mouth...a luscious swell of warmth and seduction painted a glossy shade of magenta that conjured up all sorts of dirty images.
Finally, her gaze met his. It registered brief feminine appreciation, skipped away then snapped back to him in wide-eyed shock.
He couldn’t help but smile.
Somehow, the distance between them disintegrated and he was suddenly standing right in front of her.
“AJ Reynolds. You look...” He paused, only half aware of the noise and movement pulsing around them. “Good.”
“Matthew Cooper.” Her voice came out rushed, slightly breathy, stirring something he’d buried long ago. “It’s been a long time.”
“Nearly ten years.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
She threaded her fingers in front of her, the perfect picture of demureness. He frowned, his eyes skimming over her elegant ice-blue dress, the small butterfly necklace at her throat, the tiny diamond stud earrings. Something was off.
“You’re not used to seeing me dressed like this.”
Visions of tangled sweaty limbs and hot breathless kisses caused a zing of desire to shoot through him. She must’ve sensed it because she quickly added, “I mean...the gown.”
With an inward curse, he got himself under control. “It is kind of...”
“Fancy?”
“Elegant.”
Her mouth twisted as she glanced fleetingly across the room. “I know you don’t know my sister. So how do you know Zac?”
The bride was her sister? “Through Paige Cooper.”
Her eyes widened. “The ring designer?”
“Yes.”
“Your wife is very talented.” She smiled politely.
“Sister.”
“Ah.” She glanced at the bridal party, her expression unreadable. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“There were lots of things we didn’t talk about.”
She simply nodded and smiled at a passing guest, her fingers still threaded in front of her.
Had she ever been this restrained? He remembered AJ as a colorful, passionate talker, using expression and movement to engage. But now it felt almost painfully polite.
Not surprising, considering how they’d parted.
He shoved his hands deep in his pockets.
“Well...” She shot a glance past his shoulder and when he followed it, he spotted Zac and Emily being seated at the bridal table. Off to t
he side, Paige was deep in conversation with a blinged-out teenager. “It was nice seeing you, Matthew.”
“Wait,” he said, curling his fingers around her arm. She stilled, her eyes snapping up to his, and he quickly released her. “Can I buy you a drink?”
She gave a slight laugh. “We have an open bar.”
“Later.” He held her gaze pointedly.
“No, I don’t think so,” she said, her smile slowly fading.
“A dance, then.”
“Why?”
Her directness startled him for one second before he remembered that it was just one of her many appealing traits. “Because I’d like to.”
What the hell was he doing? The rational part of his brain was telling him to just let her go. But the unsatisfied, something’s-missing part that had survived his marriage’s collapse and last week’s agonizing new client contract negotiations egged him on.
AJ wasn’t a part of his reality. She was a bright memory from his past—an idealistic, purposeful past full of ambition for the future. She was the beach, short shorts, laughter and sensual lovemaking. His present was vastly different. It was endless meetings and lonely foreign countries, the occasional life-threatening situation, a deceitful ex-wife and nosy parents who just couldn’t let the past go. He couldn’t let her leave. Not yet.
“A dance,” he repeated, fixing her with a firm look.
She studied him in silence. Odd. Wasn’t this the woman who gave new meaning to impulsive? Yet now she seemed downright cautious.
“Matthew, I’m being as polite as possible, given we’re at my sister’s wedding. But let me make this clear—I do not want to drink or dance with you. Now if you’ll excuse me...”
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