John’s smile was wry as he glanced down at his khaki pants and V-neck sweater. “I’m not exactly dressed for a wedding, but if it doesn’t bother you—”
Jo didn’t stay to hear any more. She herded the children in front of her to find her parents and Hattie standing in the hall.
“Josephine, I’m going to have a stroke if you don’t tell me what’s going on!” Helen demanded.
“Mother, you remember John Sterling, don’t you? And his children, Claire, Jamie and Billy?”
“Hello,” her mother said suspiciously.
“John, this is my father.”
The men shook hands and exchanged greetings.
“Mother, John and I are getting married.”
Helen swayed and grabbed her husband’s arm. “What did you say?”
“Hattie, would you please round up the organist and the singers and tell them to start from the top? I need to find the minister and give him John’s name.”
Smiling, Hattie turned to go, then whirled back and patted Helen’s arm. “Congratulations, sis—you’re a grandmother!”
Helen went limp, but Jo’s father waved them on their way. Jo found Pam nibbling her acrylic nails in the hallway and pulled her aside. “Pam, I’m not marrying Alan.”
Her friend smiled wryly. “I noticed.”
“But I’m worried about him…would you mind going after Alan and…well, keeping an eye on him?”
Pamela frowned and bit her bottom lip, then relented with a nod. “Sure, Jo. Call me tomorrow.”
The ceremony was short and sweet. The minister raced through the vows, keeping one eye on Jo. The congregation had dwindled somewhat, but there were still plenty of well-wishers to cut the cake, once the slab with Alan’s name had been removed. Jo was overjoyed when Hattie caught the bouquet, laughed when Jamie caught the garter and cried when Claire shyly asked permission to call her Mommy.
After the food had vanished, Jo danced until her feet throbbed, then kicked off her shoes and danced again. When John spun her into a slow waltz, she kissed his ear and nibbled on his lobe. “I didn’t know you could dance,” she said, fuzzy from the champagne.
“I didn’t know you could nibble,” he said, moaning.
“What other things should I know about you?” she asked, still nipping and licking.
“I have a horrible sense of direction.”
“You seem to have mastered up and down,” she whispered.
“Kids!” he yelled, lifting his head. “Get your things. It’s time to go home.”
“Home,” Jo murmured dreamily. “That sounds so nice, doesn’t it?”
They prodded their family through the reception hall as quickly as possible. Jo tried to tame her thoughts, relatively sure she shouldn’t be thinking about sex just a few steps away from a church. They piled into the car and made one stop on the way home—to collect Victor. They were home within minutes, but it took quite a while to get everyone settled down, bathed and in bed, then up again for drinks of water and trips to the bathroom. Jo decided to take a few minutes when she tucked in Jamie and Claire to point out the dangers of pulling a fire alarm, but afterward she smothered them with goodnight kisses.
Backing out of their rooms, John warned, “And no one yells or gets back up unless you’re bleeding, got it?” He looked at her and smiled ruefully. “I figure we’ve got thirty minutes, tops.”
But at last they were alone. John swung her into his arms and carried her across the threshold to his bed, where he lay her down and began to peel off the layers of her wedding ensemble, now wet with bubble bath and speckled with food.
Stripped down to wispy lingerie, she arched against the soft mattress, offering her husband an unabashed display of peaks and valleys.
John groaned and began to tug at his own clothing. But Jo sat up to help him undress, freeing his erection into her hands, stroking him until he warned her to stop. He was beautiful, all hard planes and firm muscle, smooth skin and red-gold body hair. He knelt to uncover her breasts, and Jo tensed in preparation for his mouth. He moaned, his voice rumbling over the pebbled tip before he captured it in his mouth, sending her body into convulsions. When she thought she couldn’t bear another second of the onslaught, he moved to the other breast and began anew, settling his body over hers.
She pulled at his back, straining into him. His fingers slid under the nearly invisible panties and whisked them away, opening her to his strong, probing fingers. She gasped, and he joined her in a deep kiss, moving his body against her, while readying her with his hands. A low hum of liquid pleasure began circulating deep with her, coaxed closer and closer to the surface with his deft movements. He murmured loving things into her ear, inviting her to enjoy her release, telling her how much he wanted to see her trembling in his arms. She surrendered to the ecstasy, exclaiming as loudly as she dared, bucking beneath him as orgasmic waves engulfed her. “John,” she moaned. “John.”
He quieted with her, although she could feel his shaft against her thigh, hard and straining. “Jo,” he whispered.
“MmHmm,” she said, barely able to open her eyes.
He grinned sheepishly, his breath ragged. “I feel like an idiot, but I guess I should ask this time—are you protected?”
She laughed out loud, then nodded. He kissed her mouth, moving to settle himself at her moist entrance, then carefully, carefully, entering her until she took him completely. His guttural moans were pure, raw pleasure, sending shivers up her spine.
“Jo,” he whispered again, his voice raspy.
“Mmm?” she gasped, moving under him, keeping pace.
“I won’t be…able to…last very long.”
“Then can we…do this…again sometime?”
He laughed and moaned and shuddered at the same time, calling her name with each spasm. She rocked beneath him, then descended with him to stillness.
They lay unmoving for the longest time, Jo reveling in the intimate weight of her husband’s body on her, in her. Just when she thought he had fallen asleep, he spoke, his breath warm against her throat.
“I’ll tell you a secret if you’ll tell me one.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
“You first,” he urged.
Jo pondered his request, then murmured, “When I was fourteen, I wrote a letter to Shaun Cassidy and asked him to marry me.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. Now you.”
He was silent for a few seconds, then said, “I was the one who pulled the fire alarm at the church.”
Catch your breath—but not for long! The story resumes next month and runs amuck when jilted Alan decides to embark on his honeymoon even though he doesn’t have a wife…but guess who tags along? Find out in the hilarious sequel, WIFE is a 4-Letter Word, Love and Laughter #37
eISBN: 978-14592-7443-3
KIDS IS A 4-LETTER WORD
Copyright © 1998 by Stephanie Hauck
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system; is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited. 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters In this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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