He'd finally wised up, and the smartest move he'd ever make was recognizing that he needed her joyful spirit just as she needed his staunch reliability in order for them both to take a chance on happiness with each other. A chance that he intended to turn into a lifetime.
Jilly smiled as she reached him. Her romantic white dress looked so delicate, he hoped she wouldn't kill him when he tore it off her the minute they were alone. To be honest, he'd had enough of the wedding and was more than ready to proceed with the rest of their lives.
"Miss me?" she asked.
He frowned. "Don't look so smug. What were you doing? The photographer wants to take some final pictures and then we can leave the reception and get on with the good stuff."
Her smile turned secretive. "I was working on the good stuff."
"Oh, yeah?" His interest piqued, he put his arm around her to draw her close. Beneath the wedding gown, her body felt unusually stiff. "Are you okay?"
But before she could answer, the photographer descended, grouping Greg, Kim, and Iris around them for several shots. Rory tried bearing it gracefully, but when Jilly's hip brushed his groin, his fingers dug into her waist. There was that unfamiliar stiffness again.
He bent to her ear. "Are you okay? You feel kind of … rigid."
She lifted her mouth and whispered back. "I was afraid to put it on before the ceremony, just in case it made me feel faint."
"Huh?"
"It's a corset. You know," she whispered. "Those Victorian undergarments you're always so curious about."
"Hu-uuh?" he moaned. The person fainting was going to be him.
"What's up?" the photographer asked.
"Are you all right?" Jilly questioned.
"What's the matter?" Kim said.
"Don't lock your knees," Greg advised.
Rory looked at them all with a mixture of annoyance and exasperation. "Just finish up with the damn pictures."
But as the photographer grouped them for the last shot, the sound of chopper blades rumbled near. Everyone looked up as a helicopter drew overhead, descending lower and lower. A man leaned out the open side, a camera with a telephoto lens in his hand.
Then a high-pitched shriek pierced the air, even over the low roar of the helicopter. Looking toward the new sound, Rory caught sight of a flash of fluffy gray fur speeding across the terrace, and he groaned. One of the female guests jumped, then another and another, each trying to escape the rodenty partygoer that had just been startled into making an unexpected appearance.
Greg turned on Iris. "Did you bring Kiss to the wedding?" he demanded.
She pretended not to hear and ran off in the direction of her pet. "Kiss! Kiss!" she yelled.
With resigned eye rolls, Kim and Greg started after her.
Rory looked at the guests, scattering in the direction of the house. He looked up at the snooping helicopter. He looked down at his brand-new wife.
He remembered the Victorian undergarment.
No longer able to restrain himself, he hauled Jilly into his arms and kissed her. Deep and long and full of promise.
"Rory." Somehow she broke away from him, her face flushed and her skin already burning with that heat he knew so well. Burning for him. "The helicopter. They're watching us from up there. We'll be all over the papers and television."
He didn't spare a glance upward. Instead, he looked at his wife, who was his spirit and who was his joy. "C'mon, honey." Leaning close, he grinned. "Let's give them something to talk about."
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THIS PERFECT KISS Page 29
