Those instances aside, it had been reassuring to see that most people who knew Genevieve and what she’d gone through with losing Adam were delighted for her and warmed quickly to him. Of course, it helped that he strongly supported local businesses and labor as he contracted work at both residences and helped Shirley’s son find people to get the Butler house ready for Genevieve to list it for sale.
“You’re right,” she said. She swept her hair back behind her shoulders and nodded with resolve.
“You’re the most beautiful bride a groom could imagine,” he murmured.
“And you—” she turned to smooth her hands over his black suit “—are the most handsome groom.”
“Ready?”
“Let’s go.”
Genevieve had stood firm against her mother’s attempts to turn the wedding into a holiday party for the who’s who in town. She’d insisted that she wanted the wedding to be about family. Of course, her “family” included the agency personnel.
When they arrived at the Sawyers’ brightly lit Mediterranean mansion, Bart opened the door and pressed his hand to his heart. “Call the medics—I’m having the big one!”
Distressed, Genevieve scolded him. “Dad, don’t joke about that.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, but you are a vision. You look like a young queen at her coronation,” he said and tenderly kissed her. “I’m so proud and happy for you.”
“Oh, mercy, you’re going to make me cry and ruin my makeup.”
Laughing, he released her and, ignoring Marshall’s outstretched hand, he hugged him enthusiastically. “Welcome to the family, old son.”
Grinning, Marshall warned, “Thanks. Just don’t rush the ‘old’ part.”
The house was resplendent with holiday decorations. A fifteen-foot tree stood in the foyer before the grand staircase lit with the same white lights that framed the exterior of the house. The ornaments were in Sydney’s favorite colors—red and gold. The banister was wrapped in faux pine garland enhanced with the same tiny lights, gold ornaments and red poinsettias. At least a dozen more poinsettias adorned side tables.
The tree in the living room was half the size and decorated all in red with red lights. The fireplace mantel was enhanced with Sydney’s collection of glass Christmas trees that she’d collected from all over the world. The coffee table hosted an array of ivory candles of various dimensions and shapes, while every window was framed in white lights that highlighted planters containing white and red poinsettias.
Avery, Raenne and Ina were in the middle of taking a tour of the room, champagne flutes in their hands. When Genevieve and Marshall entered, they rushed over to fuss over her and flirt with him.
“So gorgeous.”
“Is that the necklace you gave her, Marshall? Wow!”
“Where’s the baby bump?”
Avery’s question had Genevieve stroking the little swell. “Discreetly hidden for the formal photos,” she said wryly.
“Look, Marshall’s wearing my tie I gave him at the wedding shower.”
“Mr. Marshall, you’d look dreamy wearing one with the three little pigs all over it.”
“Can I get a photo with you to send to my mother in New York? She thinks the reason I’ve given up on marriage is because I’ve turned gay.”
Laughing again at irreverent Avery, Genevieve said, “Thank you for coming. It means so much to us. Raenne, didn’t your husband want to join you? I can’t believe he let you leave looking so pretty in that green satin.”
“Thanks.” Raenne wrinkled her nose. “Apparently I’m still not tempting enough to keep him from a bass tournament.”
“Here?” Marshall was taken aback and felt sorry for her. “In December? On Christmas Eve?”
“Florida,” Raenne said with a sigh. “Avery and I are heading for Dallas after this. We’re going to spend the night in a swanky hotel and see what we can find in the way of ‘ho-ho-ho.’”
“Please be safe,” Genevieve said with concern.
“If we weren’t going to be safe,” Avery replied, winking at Raenne, “we would have gotten separate rooms.”
Shaking her head, Genevieve asked Ina, “What are your plans? You always spend Christmas Eve with your children.”
“We’ll go to midnight mass, yes, and then a friend has invited us to his restaurant for a late Christmas Eve dinner.”
“‘His.’ Did you hear that?” Raenne gasped. “Ina, you sly dog. Have you been holding out on us?”
The petite woman’s dimples deepened as she smiled shyly. “I’ve been seeing Tomas Rivera for a few months.”
“For Rivera’s on the Interstate in Mt. Vernon?” Avery whistled. “Well done, chica.”
The French doors leading to the dining room opened and Sydney emerged with the photographer. “I thought I’d heard your voices,” she said. “Don’t you think they make a stunning couple, Patrick? And I know with your talent, you’re going to make it impossible to choose from among the proofs. Gigi, darling, Marshall, this is Patrick Jarvis, the only photographer I have been using ever since he did my jacket cover for my first New York Times hardcover.”
“Perhaps since we have a little time I could get some photos of the bride,” the handsome blond suggested, hardly able to take his eyes off Genevieve.
“Good idea.” Stepping behind her, Marshall drew Genevieve against him, clearly reminding the younger man who she belonged to. “I’d like one for my office.”
She covered his arms with hers. “And I’d like one of you for mine.”
“Wait! Wait!” Dorothy came scurrying in from the kitchen like a frisky terrier. “I almost forgot to bring these out. Mrs. Sawyer and Mr. Bart wanted you to have this, dear.” She handed Genevieve a branch bouquet of white orchids. “And this is for you, sir.” She handed Marshall a white rose for his lapel.
“Let me.” Genevieve handed the orchids to Ina, who was closest, and secured the boutonniere to his lapel with the hat pin that had been provided.
“Is white for eternity?” he asked softly, watching her.
“I don’t think there’s anything written in stone, but I like the thought. I’d also read it’s for purity—as in purity of intent.”
“Tonight is definitely that.” Aware that they were the center of attention, and that the photographer was getting impatient, Marshall stepped aside and him get to work.
Patrick had finished with Genevieve and was starting on Marshall when the pastor arrived. The ceremony could begin.
The service took place in the foyer in front of the tree. Genevieve and Marshall held hands the whole time and hers were trembling. He held her gaze and soon the trembling stopped, as the world around them faded away.
Finally, they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. That was met with sighs, cheers and sighs by their small group of witnesses.
Marshall touched his forehead to Genevieve’s. “Mrs. Roark.”
Hugs and countless toasts followed. The two-tiered cake was cut and Patrick took his last picture. After that, Marshall reached into an inside jacket pocket and brought out an envelope that he had been holding for Genevieve.
She said to her friends and employees, “Since it’s also Christmas, I wanted you to know how much I value you. Not only for covering for me when I was under the weather, and still maintaining our record in the region, but for setting such excellent and humbling examples of what loyalty and friendship means. This is a heartfelt token of my love and appreciation for you.”
She handed Ina, Avery and Raenne each a smaller envelope from inside the original one. They all murmured their thanks and ripped them open with excitement. Then they went wide-eyed and silent as they saw the amounts of the checks.
“Oh, and don’t worry,” Genevieve added. “I paid the tax on that.”
“Heavens,” Ina whispered. “This is so generous.”
“Darn it, Rae,” Avery teased. “We should skip Dallas and book a flight to Paris.”
Rae didn’t laugh. In fact, she kept looking
at Genevieve and Marshall and finally said, “You know, watching you two and seeing what you share has made me stop lying to myself. I don’t need to hang on to a wedding band, lying to myself that it’s a security blanket when I’m the income earner in the family. And it sure isn’t a status symbol to prove I have a man. I’m going to open my own bank account with this check…and hire a lawyer.”
While Avery raised her glass and said, “Amen,” Genevieve embraced Raenne. Marshall could see the concern on her face, but relief, too.
Things wound down after that and soon Marshall drove his wife back to their home. “Feel any different?” he asked. He felt utterly at peace, and grateful.
“I’m not sure that I should,” Genevieve replied, turning to watch his profile. “But I do. Do you?”
He nodded once. “Vows are powerful things. I always believed that. But I’m feeling the gift as well as the responsibility of them more the second time around.”
“Exactly. It’s like seeing the sun every day, and then there’s a terrible storm. When the sun comes out again, you feel as though it’s never looked more glorious.”
Once Marshall parked in the garage and shut down the purring sedan, he exited and met her on the passenger side. “Want me to carry you inside?”
“Oh, you don’t have to prove you’re romantic, Mr. Roark.” Genevieve leaned her head against his shoulder. “On any day, you show me countless times and ways. I hope Raenne finds this kind of happiness. I hope they all do.”
“Ina seems to be on her way.” Unlocking the door, Marshall took her hand and led her inside. “But enough about your flock of single ewes. I want to find out if making love with my wife is different than making love to my lover.”
Genevieve had started laughing at his description of her friends, but when he voiced his intent, she stopped. Her eyes took on an invitation and promise that kicked his pulse up a notch.
“What would my husband like?” she asked, walking backward as she drew him through the house toward the master suite. “Joint massages with the warmed lotion you like so much, or a long soak in the Jacuzzi tub…?”
Marshall remembered their last adventure in massages and the images in his mind went straight to his groin. Then again, the thought of her lovely and glistening while being caressed by bubbles as well as himself was equally appealing. “We haven’t broken in that tub yet, have we?”
When the water was the right depth, the temperature warmed to perfection, and the candles were lit, they helped each other undress and settled in. Marshall loved that she wasn’t shy about being nude in front of him. He and Genevieve had been in tune with each other from that first time.
“What’s putting that interesting smile on your face?” Genevieve asked from the other end of the tub.
“You.” She looked exactly as he’d fantasized she would in here when he would walk through the house in those early days alone and yearning for her. She’d scooped up her hair with one of those long clip things that gave her that sexy dishabille look, her skin glowed from the warmth and humidity, as her eyes did with anticipation. Her cheeks were the color of her nipples tempting him as the frothing water gave him teasing glimpses. “Is this more comfortable for you than the shower?”
“There’s a little more room.” Her lips curved as she tickled the inside of his thighs with her toes. “Our positions in here might be more compatible with being pregnant, but I’ve enjoyed our shower. Very much.”
“Speaking of positions, what are you doing way over there? Come over here and talk to me.”
Laughing softly, she rose on her knees and did as he’d invited, settling onto his lap. “Talk? Is that all you want me to do?”
With her breasts now above the moving water, Marshall took his time admiring and caressing her. He loved how she moved into his touch, then arched to give him more access. But under the water, her hands were busy, too, and that wreaked havoc on his concentration, let alone his intention to prolong this love play.
Suddenly he sucked in a short, sharp breath. “Do that again.”
“Did I do something?” she asked, all innocence.
“Where has this mischievous streak been hiding?”
She abandoned his hard shaft to caress his chest and nip gently on his nipples. “As in The Night Before Christmas, it was tucked away for ‘a long winter’s nap.’ I can behave,” she whispered, rubbing her breasts against him and licking at the moisture on his neck and chin. “I wouldn’t want you to regret marrying me.”
“What I already regret is that I won’t have a hundred years of this—and you.” Taking hold of her hips, he urged her up. “Take me inside. Now.”
She did and he closed his eyes in the poignant pleasure. Then when she tightened her inner muscles, it was all he could do not to lose control. “Stop, you delectable minx or you’re not going to get much out of this ride.”
“I’m patient, and we have all night.”
When she tightened around him again, he wrapped his arms around her and held her fiercely against him until their hearts beat as one. “I love you so damned much.”
Genevieve framed his face with her hands and kissed him softly. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“God, how could I? You’re my reason for bothering to breathe.”
Taking hold of his hand, she brought it over the gentle swell of her abdomen. “You mean we are.”
“Baby, baby,” he crooned. Smiling, Marshall slid his hand downward to where they were joined, and caressed her with his thumb. “Let’s ride, Mrs. Roark.”
With a whimper of desire, Genevieve sought a deeper kiss and they raced to ecstasy together.
Epilogue
The following May…
“How about a massage?”
Genevieve didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “That cinches it, Mr. Roark. You break that rule that no one is irreplaceable. Here I look as though I swallowed the Dallas Cowboy stadium, I feel as though the entire team is practicing under this dome,” she continued, stroking her very protruding belly, “and you’re sweetly trying to make me feel sexy.”
“Well, I hate to burst your pouty party bubble, my love, but you are. If Dr. Nyland hadn’t told you that we need to behave for these last days, I’d already have you out of your clothes.”
She’d just made it home from the office after showing a client who could not choose between the six houses Genevieve had taken her to. The only reason she was back yet was due to Marshall watching the weather on TV. A spring storm was gearing up along a front about to move through the region. He’d called and urged her to call it a day and get home to safety.
He took her into his arms and stroked her back. “Thank you for coming home and not riding this system out at the office. I would have made myself sick with worry. Correction, I’d probably have wrecked the car or tried to get out of another speeding ticket from Phil Irvine racing to ride it out with you there.”
“You can thank my swollen ankles and screaming back. I just couldn’t take any more.”
“Poor sweetheart. You’ve barely gained enough weight for this little guy.” As the first flash of lightning and crack of thunder alerted them that things were about to get noisier and rougher on this second day of May, Marshall added, “Well, there goes my suggestion that we draw you a warm bath so you could unwind. It’s too dangerous now.”
“I’ll settle for curling up under a throw. I’m so tired I’ll bet I could nap through the noise.”
“That would please me to no end. Go make yourself comfortable. But if you don’t mind, come lie on the couch. If the tornado sirens go off, I want you close to the closet behind that big brick fireplace wall.”
“They better not tease us with those noisy things,” she said, easing out of her shoes and carrying them to their bedroom. “Once I lie down, it’ll take a crane to move me.”
Before Genevieve was fully changed into a pair of soft blue sweats, the lightning was almost constant and the thunder was shaking some of the windows. She wa
s about to return to the living room when a particularly bright flash and crack—soon followed by a long booming sound—had her ducking. Only seconds later a sudden cramp had her bending in half, quite taking her breath away.
Oh, no.
She knew she had been feeling a bit achy and uncomfortable all day, but she figured it was the humid weather and the strains her client had put upon her out-of-shape body. But now she was increasingly unsure.
Before the next cramp started, she was crumpled on the throw rug beside the bed. When the worst of it passed, she tried to call Marshall’s name, but the sirens sounded.
“That’s it, Genevieve,” he called from the other side of the house. “Let’s get you settled.”
She was as settled as she was going to get, she told him mentally. She withstood the last cramp and screamed, “Marshall!”
He came running and when he saw her, he swore. “What happened? Did you fall?”
“Hurt. Labor pains. I think I’ve been having them for a while, but I thought it was my icky lunch. Oh, God. My water just broke. We have to get to the hospital.”
“Sweetheart, we can’t,” Marshall replied, reaching for her. “The weather radio says we’re within five miles of a twister. We can’t risk driving in those conditions.” He kneeled beside her and kissed her reassuringly. “It’ll be all right. We’ll get this done.”
Just then the lights went out.
After another gasp, Genevieve laughed at the irony of things. “Sure,” she said to the ceiling. “Make this easier.”
Stroking her back, Marshall said, “It’s not that dark. Our eyes just need to adjust. I’d open the drapes, but if it gets so bad there’s flying debris, those heavy drapes might help protect us. Stay put. I’m going for candles, flashlights, a vinyl tablecloth—”
It Started with a House... Page 17
