More Than She Expected

by Karen Templeton

  “Tyler! Stop!”

  He whipped around to see Laurel standing on the porch, wrapped in a sweater with her arms strangling her stomach. “I turned him down, you idiot.”

  “What?”

  Her mouth twitched. “I said no.”

  His eyes cut back to Barry: “So why the hell didn’t you say that?”

  “You didn’t exactly give me a chance, did you?” Then the other man extended his hand, giving Tyler’s a firm shake as he quietly, and almost sadly, said, “Take good care of them,” before walking back to his car.

  Tyler was up the stairs before the man could drive off, his hands cupping Laurel’s face, his heart feeling like it was going to punch through his chest. “Why did you turn him down?”

  Her eyes glistened. “Turns out, my heart doesn’t know from practical,” she said, and his mouth dropped to hers, not gently, not gently at all, and she kissed him back every bit as not-gently...until she clamped his upper arms and pulled away, her eyes searching his.

  Then she smiled. “Really?”

  And in that smile, Tyler saw exactly what he was looking for.

  “Oh, hell, yeah,” he said, his heart bouncing around in his chest like Boomer when he got excited, and she laughed and linked her arms around his neck and kissed him even more fiercely than he’d kissed her, probably more fiercely, actually, than any woman had ever kissed a guy in the history of making out, holy crap, and he was enjoying the hell out of it, too...until somebody drove by and honked at them.

  “Jersey, gotta love it,” he said, and she laughed and grabbed his hand and tugged him inside, where he butt-shut the door and yanked her against him again, the happiest he’d been in his entire life. Then he took her hand and placed it in the center of his chest, pinning it there with his own, and she gave him a quizzical smile.

  “You feel that?” he whispered. “That’s what a whole heart feels like.”

  The smile softened. “All fixed?”

  “Definitely getting there.”

  “What can I do to help things along?” she asked, unzipping his hoodie, and he laughed. Then stilled.

  “The baby—”

  “Sound asleep,” she murmured. “It’s all good.”

  Or sure as hell promised to be, he thought, realizing she’d begun to tug his T-shirt free from his pants, and while his heart—among other things—leaped with joy, he had just enough functioning brain cells left to grab her hands again. When she looked up, confused, he touched his forehead to hers, sucked in a breath big enough to inflate a Macy’s parade float, and said, “Before you have your wicked way with me, there’s something I need to say.”

  Smiling, she freed one hand to fork it, trembling, through his hair. “You’re not really a blond?”

  Even as he laughed, his eyes burned. Along with the rest of him. “No. I mean, yes. I mean...” He heaved a breath. “I love you.”

  “Yeah, got that—”

  “No, I needed to say it out loud. Because...I never have. To anyone. Not as an adult, anyway.”

  Tears crested on her lower lids. “Aw...I’m your f-first?”

  “And last,” he said softly, barely touching her temple, like she’d disappear if he pressed too hard. “I love you so much...it’s like my body, my brain...they’re not big enough to hold it all.”

  “Then share it,” she whispered, palming his face and kissing him lightly on the lips. “With me. Right now. Because I love you, too, you big goofball. And I’m about to burst with holding it in.”

  “So...what’re you saying?”

  She snorted. “I’m about to let you see my stretch marks. What do you think I’m saying? And why the hell are we talking?”

  “Got it,” he said, leading her to her bedroom, only to groan. “What am I thinking? I didn’t expect... I mean, I don’t have—”

  He turned to her, and words fled. Because Laurel had wriggled out of her jeans. “Bathroom.” Then she whisked off her top. “Medicine chest.”

  Tyler realized he was staring. “I’m not talking about mouthwash, honey.”

  “Neither am I, studmuffin.” Then, frowning, she followed his gaze to the cleavage spilling over a bra that looked like something a nun might’ve worn. She lifted her eyes. “What?”

  “Breast-feeding does that?”

  “Amazing, right? Anyway...” Taking him by the hand, she led him down the hall and to the bathroom, where she carefully opened the squeaky medicine cabinet door and made like some game show chick. “Ta-da! Gran gave them to me after the baby came.”

  In awe, Tyler reached for the box of condoms. “You have no idea how much I love that woman right now.”

  “Actually, I do.”

  Then he grabbed her hand and hustled them both back to the bedroom, where by this time they were stifling their laughter like a couple of pranking teenagers, and then they were naked and he couldn’t believe how freaking beautiful she was, the way motherhood glowed through her now even more than when she’d been pregnant...and he ached with wanting to be inside her, with wanting her...this...them.

  And yet, oddly, he was in no hurry, either, enjoying the hell out of every kiss and touch and stroke, both given and received, smiling at her sighs, grinning full out when she somehow flipped him on his back and straddled him, and her touch was magic, driving him crazy and soothing him at the same time. Yowsers.

  “Been thinking about this for a while, have you?” he whispered, and she grinned.

  “You might say... Oh!”

  He’d sat up, his back against her headboard, tugging her into his lap so things sorta automatically fit together without anybody having to think about it too hard, but also so she could control the whole how much/how fast thing, and it was good, so very, very good....

  And in the dim light from the living room her eyes met his as she took him all the way inside, and it wasn’t like sex at all, it was like...like she was wrapping him up in her soul. Damn. Then everything stilled, suspended, and it was just them, just this moment, her scent and her breath and the soft, warm feel of her around him...and she smiled and lowered her mouth to his, then lifted it enough to whisper, “Thank you,” against his lips....

  Then she nodded and closed her eyes, and Tyler held her so close absolutely nothing could even think of getting between them, and his last coherent thought before the world went kablam, was Oh, hell, yes.

  * * *

  Wanting to hold on to the moment like a kid might a firefly in a glass jar, Laurel lay absolutely still in Ty’s arms, feeling his heartbeat pound under her hand, against her ear.

  “You okay?” he whispered, gently fingering her tangled hair away from her temple, and she lifted her head to look into his eyes, and joy flickered inside her like a thousand fireflies.

  “What I am right now...” She smiled, remembering. “I think Gran would call it ooh-là-là.”

  Chuckling, Tyler wrapped his arms more tightly around her to lay his cheek in her hair, and she felt so at peace, so loved and cherished and freaking happy....

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much covers it,” he whispered. “Because it was more than the sex being good. I mean, it was, absolutely, don’t get me wrong, but...hell. Words seem so...dumb.”

  Feeling ridiculously pleased with herself, with life, Laurel toyed with a curl of his chest hair for a moment, then said, “Here’s a thought—maybe it has something do with, I don’t know...” she raised her head again “—being in love?”

  He grinned, teasing. “You think maybe?”

  “Could be. Although we should probably test our theory a few more times. Just to be sure.”

  “Because that would be the logical thing to do.”

  “That would be my take on it. But...to be honest...” Reluctantly, she pulled herself to a sitting position. “Not tonight. I have the feeling I
’m going to be sore later.”

  “Oh, hell, I’m sorry—”

  “Sore, not incapacitated. And it’s not like tonight was our only shot.”

  Silence. Then she heard him sit up, too. “You’re saying this without even knowing why I’m here.”

  She twisted to face him. “I know why you’re here, you already said. Knew before that, when I heard you talking to Barry. That’s what’s important. The details—” she shrugged “—not so much.”

  “But you need to know...I’m not the same man who proposed to you before.”

  “Oh, sweetie...” Laurel touched his face. “You’re exactly the same man who asked me to marry him before. The man I fell in love with weeks ago, the man I knew was underneath all the junk up here—” she skimmed a knuckle along his temple then palmed his heart “—and here.” Tyler covered her hand with his; she could see his throat working overtime. She ducked her head to look in his eyes. “And you’re really sure the junk’s gone?”

  “Completely? I don’t know.” A smile touched his lips as he pulled her against him again. “But at least it’s not blocking my view anymore.”

  Then she listened, while he told her about his conversation with the Colonel. His mother. And she could hear in his voice the pain and resentment and anger releasing him. Or his releasing them, whichever, the result was the same: he was finally free. Free to love and be loved. To be not only the man she needed, but the man he needed to be.

  “And if it weren’t for you,” he said softly, nuzzling the top of her head as they lay there, “who knows if I would’ve ever figured out what an idiot I was being.”

  “I live to serve,” she said, and he quietly chuckled.

  “So Barry actually asked you to marry him?”

  “He actually did. Go figure. Thirty-six years old, not a marriage proposal in sight, and then, boom, two in a row. Go, me.”

  “And were you at least tempted to accept?”

  “Pfft, not even for a nanosecond. Besides, it was only about Barry having a lightbulb moment. Except his moment was far more about guilt than any revelation that he loved me. Unlike other people in this room.” She snuggled closer. “Like I said, I’m not up for being anybody’s means of atonement. Go work out your issues, then we’ll talk. And if you’re too late...not my problem.”

  “So you tossed him out on his ass.”

  “You don’t have to sound quite so happy about that.”

  “You kidding? He lost. I won. Happy, hell. I’m ecstatic.”

  Laurel chuckled. “He’s still Jonny’s birth father, so if he wants to be part of his son’s life, I won’t stand in his way. But as you said, he wasn’t there for the birth. Or the colic. Or any of it. By his choice. And you were. By your choice. And that’s what makes a daddy. Not DNA.”

  After a very long pause, Tyler said, “I know,” and Laurel knew he was talking about the man who’d been there for him through his hell. As Tyler would be there for whatever shenanigans Jonny put them through.

  Them. Not just her.

  “Hey,” she said, her eyes watering, “shouldn’t you go get Boomer? Because you can’t very well leave him alone in the house all night, right?”

  Tyler stilled. “You want me to spend the night?”

  She shifted in his arms, her hand on his chest. “I want you to spend every night. But I wouldn’t want to presume.”

  He did a fist pump, which made her laugh, before he leaned in for another kiss. And, judging from where his hand was headed, a lot more. Giggling against his mouth, she pushed his shoulder and sat up. “Go get your dog, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Be right back,” he said, lightly kissing her lips before getting up to yank on the essential items of clothing—jeans, shoes, hoodie—and disappearing, a moment before she heard somebody’s little “Feed me!” chirp from across the hall.

  And she smiled.

  Tyler and Boomer returned a few minutes later, the lamebrained dog practically knocking Tyler over in his rush to get to Laurel and the baby as they nestled into one corner of her sofa. And the air left Tyler’s lungs, the way the pair of them glowed in the soft light from the end-table lamp, like one of those old Italian Madonna and child paintings.

  “Boomer! No!” he shout-whispered as the dog schlurped his tongue across Jonny’s downy little head, then jumped up on the sofa to flop down as close to Laurel as he could get, belly up, stump wiggling. “Forget it, dog,” Tyler said as he lugged the beast off the sofa and onto the floor...only to instantly take his place, slinging an arm around Laurel’s shoulders and gently pulling her close as he watched the baby, tiny fingers tightly curled around one of hers as he suckled away. And he thought, as his heart fisted, I would kill for these people.

  His family. And not some pieced-together thing, either, no sir. Because this was as real and solid and whole as it got.

  His eyes burning, he brushed his lips across her temple, laying his cheek in her hair.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “About asking you to marry me again.”

  “For reals, this time?”

  “Absolutely, for reals. As in, a real church wedding, with you in a real wedding dress, and me in a real monkey suit, and Kelly can cook her heart out, and we’ll dance our first dance to Ella Fitzgerald’s ‘At Last.’ Since most of the guests will be over eighty.”

  “It sounds perfect,” she said with a soft laugh.

  “So is that a yes?”

  “It’s a hallelujah, is what it is,” she said, and he laughed. Then, as the baby gurgled and the dog panted, she smiled into his eyes. “It almost feels wrong to be this happy.”

  And for the briefest moment, that old temptation whispered, What makes you think you deserve this?

  And Tyler looked it smack in the eye and said right back, Shut the hell up.

  “It’s never wrong to be happy,” he whispered, and, tears shining in her eyes, Laurel cupped his jaw and kissed him, and peace settled inside his soul like it was planning on sticking around for a good, long while.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A CAMDEN FAMILY WEDDING by Victoria Pade.

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Special Edition story.

  You know that romance is for life. Harlequin Special Edition stories show that every chapter in a relationship has its challenges and delights and that love can be renewed with each turn of the page.

  Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Special Edition every month!

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Other ways to keep in touch:

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com

  Chapter One

  “See? The gifts for the attendants are wrapped, I’ve confirmed your hairdresser, the caterer and the florist, and we have a guarantee that the cake will be ready and delivered on time. I’m working on the place cards tonight. I promise you, absolutely everything is under control and it will be a truly amazing wedding!”

  Vonni Hunter made sure there wasn’t the slightest hint of haste in her voice as she spoke to her client. It wasn’t uncommon for one of her brides to panic as the wedding date approached. But this bride had shown up unannounced at Burke’s Weddings’ offices twenty minutes before closing time, and Vonni was in a hurry to get to an after-hours appointment. Not giving that away in her tone, she asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Yes. You can make me look like you in the next four days. I need to get rid of the extra six pounds I’ve gained from stress eating!” the other woman wailed.

&nb
sp; It was Monday. This particular wedding was being held on Saturday. The bride was the daughter of one of Denver’s most prominent men, and while she’d been a pleasure to work with, she was a large and not particularly attractive woman on whom six more pounds was not easy to see.

  But, as luck would have it, she’d stopped by the dress designer for a surprise visit today to try on her gown. Although the final fitting had been done weeks ago, the dress no longer fit and would have to be altered again. That had induced the panic that had brought her here to Vonni.

  Vonni looped her arm through the bride’s and tugged her closer. “Melanie, you are the woman Douglas fell in love with,” she reminded her. “He got down on one knee and asked you to be his wife—do not forget that—”

  “But you’re blonde and beautiful....” the bride lamented.

  “And someone who can’t get a man to propose if my life depended on it!” Vonni confided with a laugh. “Not once. Not one man. Ever. No matter how much I’ve wanted it or how hard I’ve tried—and believe me, I’ve tried! I’m the wedding planner who can’t find herself a husband. But you, Melanie Danforth-Hayes, in four more short days, are going to walk down the aisle to the man who loves you like nobody’s business, and become Mrs. Douglas Barnes. And then the two of you are going to party your little hearts out to celebrate that. It’s me who’s jealous of you!”

  The round-faced bride broke into a slow smile and blinked back the tears that had been threatening to fall. “He does love me. Just the way I am,” she conceded. “And he’s gained ten pounds—we have to have more alterations done on his tux. That’s what got me to thinking that maybe I should try the dress again.”