Dev blinked. “You do? Can’t it wait till after the wedding, Mom?” Why wasn’t anyone else in a hurry? Ever since she’d become President her life was always on fast forward, and now, somehow, everyone had decided to relax? What was wrong with these people? “I’m supposed to be walking down the aisle in 10 minutes!”
“No, it certainly can not wait.” Janet’s expression grew stern. “I went to a lot of trouble for this, Devlyn Odessa Marlowe. Don’t you dare—”
“Okay, okay!” Dev raised her hands in surrender and padded towards the steps. “God knows I wouldn’t want to upset you on my wedding day,” she mumbled sarcastically.
“Exactly,” Janet told her unrepentantly. “You’ll get your chance to be Supreme Ruler of the Universe with your brood, Devil. Don’t ruin mine. Now scoot. Lauren will be coming out of the kitchen any minute, and I don’t want you to see her.” She tried not to laugh. “You really don’t want to see her.”
“Stupid superstitions,” Dev groaned as she slowly walked up the stairs. Her dress was so wide she could barely make it around the corner when the staircase shifted directions. “Stupid, damn, God awful dress…Why couldn’t it be the pantsuit from hell? Then I wouldn’t need nylons.”
Janet and David, who were watching from the bottom of the steps, smiled wickedly. This was simply too much fun. Frank and the children came in the front door, escorted by a bevy of Secret Service agents with umbrellas just as Howard Strayer exited the kitchen. He caught a sight of the President as she ascended the stairs and his face wrinkled into a look of confusion and horror. “What is wrong with kids today?” he asked Janet.
“That’s a very good question, Howard. I wish I had the answer.” Janet turned to her right. “Say hello to my husband, Frank.” Frank stepped forward and the two men shook hands. Then Howard was led out the front door by the agent who would take him directly to his seat, neatly avoiding the two security checkpoints that the rest of the guests would be forced to wade through.
Lauren stepped out into the living room, wiping her wet cheeks. When David and Frank got a good look at her, they paled.
“Don’t say it,” Lauren warned. She smoothed down a particularly unruly feather that seemed to sprout directly from her left nipple. “Not a word. Not a single word!”
David began to shake. “I can’t stand it,” he moaned pathetically, trying not to laugh. The veins in his neck were bulging, and he looked as though he was about to come apart at the seams.
At the sight of her husband, Beth began to howl.
Lauren took a step towards her chief of staff, intent on killing her on the spot, but Frank gently intercepted her. “I have a surprise for you,” he whispered.
“Not another one,” Lauren said seriously, peering around his slender frame to glare at David and Beth. “I don’t think I’ll live through another one.”
Frank smiled. “Oh, but you’ll like this one.” He leaned down to whisper conspiratorially. “That big-haired designer, Mr. Yagasuki, is upstairs. He was hoping you could stop up and tell him what you thought of the dress before the wedding.”
Lauren’s eyes twinkled with evil glee.
“He said that?”
“Oh, yes.” Frank nodded. “I told him you’d be right up.”
Lauren licked her lips. The thought was so tantalizing she could nearly taste it. “But do I have time?” she hissed, praying that she did.
“How long should bloody murder take?” Frank asked seriously.
Lauren pursed her lips, a little surprised that it would be the mild-mannered Frank Marlowe who would facilitate her would-be-dastardly crime. But she was too swept away by her emotions to ponder that thought for long. “It’ll take two minutes, tops. I’ll be right down.” She began climbing the stairs, cursing under her breath when her tight dress wouldn’t let her go as quickly as she wanted.
The room’s occupants watched her go with varied levels of disbelief and good humor, not quite believing how well this day was turning out.
* * *
Lauren threw open the bedroom door. “All right, you. What the hell is this?” She gestured to her dress.
Dev jumped up off the bed. “Lauren?”
“Devlyn?”
Each woman blinked stupidly at the other.
“Oh, holy shit!” Lauren sputtered. “Your dress is as bad as mine!” Her face twisted in a mixture of disbelief and revulsion. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” Devlyn sighed, covering her eyes to block out the view before her. “You are always beautiful, Lauren. But you look ridiculous,” she said flatly. “Why are you dressed like a hussy?”
“How should I know!”
Reluctantly, Devlyn glanced again at her bride-to-be… and flinched.
“Right back at you, Madam President,” Lauren said tartly.
“Fucking designer and Michael Oaks,” Dev growled loudly, her hands clenching. “They die!”
Low and deep, Lauren chuckled. “Now there’s a plan to get behind.” She circled Devlyn, stepping forward to get a better look, then snorted a little. “How could you agree to wear that? You’re… you’re—!”
“—an idiot?”
“I was going to say the President.”
“Oh.” Devlyn shook her head. “I am wearing this for my children…” Her voice had taken on a pious edge. “And I’m doing this for trade relations and for American autoworkers.” She paused, her brows drawing together. “If I run again and lose Michigan after this, I’ll go mad.”
“That can’t be a far trip from here.”
Dev ignored Lauren’s comment and ran her finger down the skin-tight material covering the blonde’s belly, causing her partner to slap her hands away. “And how did you get talked into this?”
“Same reason as you,” she admitted sheepishly. “Well, not the part about the auto workers; they’re on their own. But when the kids said how beautiful my dress was… Jesus, Devlyn,” she gave her eyes a dramatic roll, “I didn’t have the heart to disappoint them.”
“You’re wearing this for them?” Dev croaked. How can something so stupid make me feel like crying? “Wow. That’s amazing.” She reached out and gently took Lauren’s hand. She kissed it tenderly, before threading their fingers together and giving a gentle squeeze.
Lauren focused on Dev’s proximity, her nearness more than enough to wreak havoc on her senses. “It is?” she asked absently, her cheeks turning pink as she easily lost herself in the bright blue eyes regarding her so fondly.
A smile tugged at Devlyn’s lips. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”
“My, my, aren’t you full of compliments, today, Madam President.” Lauren sighed dreamily. “I’m starting to get the impression that you’re sweet on me.”
A charmed smile worked its way across Dev’s face. Truer words had never been spoken. “Imagine that.” She was nearly overcome with the urge to taste the tempting coral lips that were curled into a beautiful smile.
Lauren drank in the look of unbridled desire in Dev’s eyes and reacted without thought, rubbing the hand in hers with her thumb then lifting herself to her tipped toes to meet Devlyn in a searing kiss.
Dev moaned softly. “Do we have enough time?” she whispered against Lauren’s mouth. Then she cupped Lauren’s cheek and began dotting her face with tiny, feather-light kisses, forgetting her question completely
Lauren sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, her eyes fluttering closed at the sweet, startlingly erotic contact. “God, Devlyn,” she breathed thickly. “Who cares?”
* * *
“Think they’re naked yet?” Beth asked David, in a voice for his ears only.
He looked at his watch. “Yup. It’s been at least five minutes.” He glanced at Frank, who was talking quietly to his wife as the children showed off their outfits to Mr. Yagasuki, who had just entered the room. “Is it time?”
Janet and Frank nodded. The white-haired man scratched his short, snowy beard. “Any longer and we run the risk of e
ncountering a very embarrassing situation.”
“And we wouldn’t want that,” Beth quipped, causing David to snigger. “Nothing embarrassing for the President and her First Lady.”
“It wouldn’t be proper,” David said solemnly.
The adults and the children shared a round of devilish smiles and sniggers.
* * *
Toby Yagasuki knocked on the bedroom door, then nervously tugged at his suit coat and smoothed back his glossy black hair with a slightly shaky hand.
“Go away,” Devlyn murmured between kisses, feeling Lauren’s fingers dig deeply into her hair. “The President is gone.”
He knocked again and this time it was Lauren who answered. “We are not coming out. Send the minister up in about… Mmm, Devlyn… Err… a half, mmm… no, an hour.”
The designer smiled. The women were just as he’d been told. Absolutely in love. The third time was a charm, and the small man straightened his back as he heard loud footsteps grow closer and closer to the door.
It was Devlyn who yanked the door open. Her hair was slightly mussed and her dress was seriously askew. “What?”
“May I come in, Madam President?”
Recognition flared and Devlyn took a step back to allow Mr. Yagasuki to enter. She wondered briefly if Lauren would kill him… before she got the chance. “Please,” Devlyn took several more steps backwards, “come in.” Then she moved aside so that Lauren could peek beyond her enormous dress and see their visitor. She heard a growl explode from behind her, and she almost felt sorry for the designer. Then she caught sight of her reflection in his rose-tinted glasses. Her pity evaporated.
“You!” Lauren accused, pointing an angry finger at the designer. “You’re… you’re…”
“In so much trouble,” Devlyn finished.
His blood pressure skyrocketed. “Wait, please. Before you do… something.” He was trying not to babble, knowing that his heavily accented English was nearly impossible to understand once he started down that path. But to his horror, he wasn’t having much luck. “I have something for… for you. And something to say,” he added hastily as he quickly stepped back out into the hallway. A few seconds later, he returned holding two heavy garment bags. “These are for you, Madam President and Ms. Strayer.” He bowed again.
Devlyn and Lauren looked at each other. “More dresses?” Devlyn asked.
“Made by you?” Lauren gazed warily at the man.
He nodded proudly.
“No, thank you. Been there, done that.”
Mr. Yagasuki’s mouth trembled with alarm. “No, no, please. I assure you, that these will be more to your liking.” He carefully draped the bags over the footboard of the bed, whose quilt was in disarray. He fought the urge to blush at the implication.
“If you have something to say for yourself, Yagasuki-San, you’d best do it now,” Dev warned. She crossed her arms over her chest.
His eyes widened, and he tamped down on an icy tendril of fear. “I was told Americans appreciate a well-executed practical joke.” He paused, watching with interest as Dev and Lauren nearly fainted. Then he smiled. He would live to see tomorrow. “I can see now that I was told the truth.” He bowed again. “It was my honor to work for you, Ms. Strayer, and your mother, Madam President. It is my sincere hope that you enjoy your real dresses.” He glanced towards the bags. “You have plenty of time to dress and… Well, you have plenty of time. The time the wedding is scheduled to begin is, in actuality, one and one-half hours from now.” He let out a shaky breath, relieved beyond measure that his part in this plan was finished. “If you will excuse me?”
Slack-jawed, Dev and Lauren just stared.
He didn’t move. “If you will excuse me?” he repeated a little louder, growing worried once again. He’d thought he’d made it through the dangerous part. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Dev was the first to come to her senses. “Yes. By all means, please feel free to go, Yagasuki-San,” she said quickly. She shook her head, still stupefied. “Thank you. I think.”
Yagasuki backed out the door, bowing as he went, still not daring to turn his back on these women. His blood was still a little chilled from the looks they had given him when he first came to the door. Besides, he’d been told not to turn his back on the blonde woman. He wasn’t taking any chances.
“Oh,” he said as he reached the open door. “I was to tell you something else.” His forehead creased and he scratched his chin, poking his fingers through a sparse tuft of longish black hair there. “But I am afraid I do not understand this part of your language.”
“Yes?” Dev asked.
“Your parents, Madam President, and the Chiefs of Staff all wish me to say…” he smiled widely — just as David McMillian had asked to do during this part — “Gotcha.” And with that, he bolted out the door.
Lauren and Devlyn could hear the gales of laughter from downstairs. The younger woman blinked slowly and turned to face her partner. “Your children were in on this, too? Those sweet little faces were lying to me?” Lauren’s eyes were round with wonder. “Oh, my God,” she said with exaggerated slowness. “What kind of family am I marrying into? I can’t handle them, and they’re not even teenagers! You’re all pure evil!”
Dev flopped backwards onto the bed, causing her dress to puff up and nearly cover her head. “Pah!” She slapped at the springy material, knocking it away from her head. “I don’t believe it.” She stared at the ceiling, shifting slightly when she felt the bed next to her move with Lauren’s weight. “They got us.”
“Oh, they didn’t just get us, Devlyn.” Lauren let out a low chuckle that was half surprise and half awe. “This was the mother of all practical jokes.” She grinned at her gullibility. “They got us good.”
Dev couldn’t help but smile, too. “You know, this is odd, but I’m not really nervous about getting married anymore.” She turned to face Lauren, fought with her dress for a moment, cursed, braced herself with her elbow and then rested her head on her hand, letting out a massive sigh. “In fact, I can’t wait marry to you,” she said decisively.
Lauren’s smile mirrored Devlyn’s. “I feel the same way, darlin’. You know that.” Her eyes took on a twinkling glow as they raked down her lover. “Would you like some help out of your dress, Madam President.” A slender eyebrow arched suggestively and Lauren snuggled a little closer. “We do have an entire hour and a half.”
Dev’s smile stretched farther across her face, deepening her laugh lines.
Lauren traced the tiny lines around her eyes and lips with tender fingertips, enjoying the quiet, strangely intimate moment.
The older woman turned her head and brushed her lips against Lauren’s hand, taking her time to place a lingering kiss on a very sensitive palm.
Lauren shivered.
“I always wondered what it would be like to be with a lady of the evening,” Devlyn commented saucily, attaching her lips to Lauren’s throat.
“Hush up, Devlyn,” Lauren laughed. “Or I’ll suddenly grow allergic to those flowers on your arm and make you undress yourself.”
“Perish the thought!” Devlyn glanced down at Lauren’s breasts and began plucking feathers.
Lauren gasped as feathers were removed one by one, tickling her in very sensitive places.
“Oooo… Maybe this dress isn’t so bad after all,” Devlyn said with more than a hint of lechery in her voice.
“Oh, yeah,” Lauren groaned out, sinking deeper into the bed and a sensual haze from which she wanted no reprieve.
“You know,” Devlyn whispered between incendiary kisses, “it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”
It took a moment for Lauren to realize that Devlyn was actually talking to her. Devlyn did, she acknowledged fuzzily, have a tendency to ramble at the oddest moments. She sighed when persistent lips moved to her shoulder and began to nibble and her hips bucked forward of their own accord, seeking greater contact with the body astride her. “That may be true,” she gasped wh
en Dev’s mouth trailed even lower. “But somehow I can’t imagine myself… Oh, god. As anything but really, really lucky right now.” She felt a short burst of warm air against her breast as Devlyn chuckled.
“Me, too.”
* * *
Lauren shifted from one foot to the other as she waited for her cue from Michael Oaks, who was impeccably dressed, lording it over the events like King Tut as he strutted back and forth in the rear of the tent. He’s gloating, Lauren thought. But rightly so. The inside of the tent looked amazing and, despite the joke that nearly gave her and Devlyn twin heart attacks, it appeared that things were about to go off without a hitch. She was flanked by the Marlowe children, who were dancing around and chatting with guests who were seated near them. They were so excited that Lauren was sure that one or more of them would need to be rushed to the bathroom at any moment. Suddenly, she had a horrible thought and took stock of her own bladder, pleased that she’d followed an old piece of parental advice and gone before she’d left the cabin.
Much to Lauren and Devlyn’s delight and relief, Mr. Yagasuki’s one-of-a-kind creations had gone in a direction that no one had expected. Lauren’s fingers drifted over the fine silver-colored embroidery that covered her fitted, pale green Celtic wedding gown that, everyone readily agreed, was to die for. Far from feeling like a costume, the simple but elegant dress had Lauren unconsciously correcting her posture and holding her chin a little bit higher.
Her shoulders were bare and her hair was swept up into a simple knot, showing off her slender neck and the plain silver chain that adorned it. The designer had allowed her to escape without a veil or even headpiece, instead insisting that a few simple flowers woven into her wavy hair would be perfect.
He had been right. Devlyn had stopped breathing altogether when she’d first seen Lauren completely dressed.
First Lady Page 22
