Have Your Cake
Page 25
She smiled at his use of her nickname. Her gaze swept his broad shoulders and taunt chest. Her nipples tightened against the padding of her bra. His right thumb sunk into a thin patch of curly blonde hairs rebelliously twisting from his belt line. His buckle hung low over the wad in his slacks. Her teeth were giving her bottom lip hell.
She met his stare. “Stand just like that, but put the hat back on.”
Epilogue
Iona waltz into the Milway mansion’s kitchen in a strapless golden evening gown with a toddler against her hip. A group of Joshua Wilmington’s friends stood at the open cooler with a shipment of bottles, but she didn’t see the person she wanted. Scanning the bunch, she went to the second large fridge and spotted her target.
“Eric, she’s in here,” she called out before pivoting to Cyana. “Girl, you better step away from that cake.” Iona rounded the kitchen island and stalked up to her sister. “I have been looking all over the Milway for you.”
“Hum?” Cyana moved the piping bag away from the tall tiers of cake, unable to speak with her mouth full.
“What are you eating?” Iona grabbed the jar off the island. “Ce Ce, I’m gonna kill you. We’ve already had your dress let out once because of that little pooch you got.”
“What?” Cyana asked innocently, with half an icing dipped pickle shoved in her mouth.
“What! Ce Ce, really? The vinegar’s pickled your brain.” Iona snatched the vegetable from Cyana’s mouth, shoved it into the half-empty jar and set it on the kitchen island while expertly balancing the toddler at her side. “You are about to get married.” She hiked the child up higher on her waist. “You still have pictures to go through. If you get one drop of pickle juice or icing on this wedding dress, Mama’s gonna kill me, because she won’t hit a pregnant lady.”
“Hide behind Ash.” Cyana shrugged. At the mention of baby Ash the handsome cherub smiled.
“Mama.” He stretched to her from Iona’s hip. Cyana reached for her youngest son.
Iona twisted the toddler from her grasp. “Oh no, Mr. Asher Theodore Wilmington the second, you are not touching that dress,” she warned. Eric entered the kitchen in a gray Italian suit and gold tie. “Eric,” Iona addressed him. “Take your brother to the play room before he witnesses me killing yo’ mama.” Iona handed the cutie with wispy light brown curls off to Eric.
“Thirty minutes, Ma,” Eric said, kissing Cyana’s cheek.
“Okay, baby, I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, shifting towards the cake with her piping bag.
“Oh no. You are coming right now!” Iona set one hand on her hip and cut her finger through the air with the other. She grabbed Cyana’s wrist, hauling her from the stool, piping bag in hand. “I told Mama not to let you make your wedding cake.”
“Just one more bead of chocolate,” Cyana called out, while looking back at the platform.
Iona came to a stop, spun on her heels and took her sister’s head in both hands. “Ce Ce, it has taken three years and two babies for you to finally say yes to marrying Asher after he’s proposed a million times. You are not doing it in this kitchen.” Iona grabbed her arm. “I’m responsible for making sure you get to the altar. The only thing saving you from a ripe beating right now is the bun that’s been three months in your oven.”
“It will only take a minute,” Cyana whined.
“No,” Iona said, snatching away the piping bag to set it on the island. “You’re coming with me. You can have your cake after the wedding.”
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