Suddenly a Bride (11 page)

It was all very mundane…and all very intimate, devastatingly personal.

“Extremely professional,” she said as he patted the last strip of tape in place. “Clearly you’re a man of many talents. Thank you. And, um, you can let go of my leg and get up now, since you’re probably not planning to propose.”

His expression turned serious as he took hold of her hands and helped her to her feet. “You have no idea what all I could propose right now. Elizabeth…”

She looked up at him, seeing the question in his eyes, knowing hers were probably just as full of questions for him. “It…um…it’s been a very long time,” she
said at last, knowing he understood what she meant, just as she’d understood what he’d meant.

He ran his hands up and down her bare arms as he nodded. “I know. And I was fully prepared to take advantage of that. I’m not the nicest guy in the world, Elizabeth. I can be pretty ruthless when it comes to getting what I want.”

“I don’t know what I want,” she told him, trading honesty for honesty. “I feel…I feel like I’ve been asleep for a very long time. Part of me, anyway. The part that wants. The part that—
you know?
How would you know that?” She turned away from him, hugging herself protectively. “Is there some invisible tattoo on my forehead or something, Will, that only men can read? Widow, hasn’t had any for a while, bound to be very grateful—is that what it says?”

He didn’t answer her, not at once, but only put his hands on her shoulders, kneading her suddenly tense muscles.

“You have two kids, yet you look so—all right, I’ll say it. Virginal. You look virginal. Untouched, like some sleeping princess in a fairy tale. I’m a man, Elizabeth. One look, and I knew I wanted to wake you up, rotten and premeditated and cold as that sounds, even to me.”

Elizabeth sighed from her depths, allowing herself to lean back against his chest. “But not wrong. You wouldn’t have been wrong. I’d be lying to you, as well as to myself, if I didn’t say that I’ve thought about how this evening would end and…and if I was ready to…
live again, I guess.” Then, her mind made up, she looked him steadily in the eye. “And now I know. The answer is yes. I’m ready.”

Then once again she was lifted high against his chest, and he was carrying her back down the hallway, climbing the staircase as she held on tightly, praying she could let herself go.

His bedroom was all in shadows, with only the faint glow from the streetlight allowing her to make out the shapes of the furniture as he lowered her onto the bed, then followed her down.

His kisses were gentle, his touch slow and unhurried. It was as if with each kiss, each new intimacy, he was giving her time to change her mind, to say no.

But she couldn’t say no. Not when her body was saying yes. Yes, hold me, touch me, remind me that there is a woman here. Not just a mother, not just the remembrance of young love, but a mature woman with wants, with needs. A woman who deserves to feel alive again, who has been asleep much too long, only going through the motions, yet not really alive.

He kissed away her clothing, bit by tantalizing bit, the night air cool against her fevered skin. He didn’t take. He gave, as if knowing just what she needed. There was no clumsiness about him, no indecision. There was none of the haste that turned foreplay into something to be done so that the ultimate prize could be gotten to as quickly as possible.

He made love slowly, thoroughly, lingering over her breasts until she thought she’d go mad, whispering how
beautiful she was, how good she felt to him, how very perfect she was, in every way.

And she believed him. She needed to believe him, so she did. She needed to feel free, unfettered and even vaguely powerful. She dared to touch him, to run her fingertips over the soft mat of hair on his chest, aware of the muscles just below his skin.

By the time he slid his hand between her thighs she was ready for him, more than ready for him, and the soft explosions that rocked her would have been embarrassing if he hadn’t kept his hand against her sex protectively even as he whispered in her ear. “Yes, Elizabeth. You need this. Let go, sweetheart. Let go…”

“I’m…” She was having trouble regaining her breath. “I’m sorry…”

“I’m not,” he said, his face inches from hers, his hand already moving against her, his fingers sliding easily inside her. “We’re only just getting started…”

He made love to every inch of her. With his hands, with his mouth. With teeth and tongue, he brought her to a new awareness of her wants and needs. With words that soothed, inflamed, teased and aroused her. He took liberties she would not have imagined, and she didn’t just let him. She was an active participant, daring her own intimate explorations, her passion feeding on his, her responses heightened when he moaned his pleasure at her touch.

He kissed the bandage on her foot, the surprisingly responsive skin behind her knee. His hands gently kneaded her inner thighs before he lifted her legs up and
over his shoulders and applied all his considerable talents to introducing her to delights she had no idea existed.

There was no right. There was no wrong. There was only Will, only pleasure, only the moment. She was achingly, thrillingly, mind-blowingly alive.

As the ripples of yet another orgasm cascaded through her, he at last gave her what she wanted most of all. To be filled up with him, to feel him close inside her, driving her, taking her deeper, faster, higher. And when at last she felt the spasms of his release, she held on to him tightly, glorying in his passion, nearly laughing out loud with the pure joy of feeling again.

T
he bell above the doorway at Second Chance Bridal rang as Elizabeth stepped into the shop at precisely noon on the day after her rebirth. That’s how she was looking at the thing, as a rebirth. She was alive again, thanks to Will. It was a good feeling.

“Hey there, Elizabeth,” Chessie said, coming out from the area of the dressing rooms. “Is it noon already? So glad there was no problem changing our dinner to lunch.” Then she stopped, cocked her head to one side as she looked at her. “There’s something different about you today,” she said, frowning. “You look…okay, different, it’s probably safer settling for different. Looks good on you, though.”

“Thanks,” Elizabeth said, feeling her cheeks
growing hot. She knew what Chessie meant, because she had seen it for herself this morning in her bathroom mirror. Her eyes seemed brighter, more aware of her surroundings. Her skin had almost a glow about it.

And she couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Which was probably a dead giveaway to someone as astute as she was pretty sure Chessie was.

“Do you want to visit your gown?”

“Hmm?” Elizabeth said, really not paying attention, as she relived Will’s good-night kiss at the bottom of the steps for at least the thousandth time. He’d kissed her at least a half dozen times, as if reluctant to let her go. As if they had found, shared, much more than sex.

But she’d been ready to say good-night to him, because she’d wanted to go upstairs, snuggle beneath the covers and grin until her cheeks ached. She’d wanted to stuff the corner of her pillow in her mouth so that she could giggle like a teenager. She’d wanted to climb onto the roof outside her window and shout to the world: I’m here! I’m alive!

She should send the man flowers. That’s what she should do.

“Elizabeth? Yoo-hoo, Earth to Elizabeth. I said, do you want to visit your gown?”

“Oh,” Elizabeth said, bringing herself back to attention. Really, she had to stop daydreaming. She’d poured orange juice on Danny’s cereal this morning, for goodness’ sake. And he’d
liked
it, which just went to show what seven-year-olds knew about haute cuisine.

“Uh-oh, the smile’s gone. It’s not your magical gown anymore?”

“Oh, no, it’s a gorgeous gown. I just…I just think I’m most likely minus a groom.”

Chessie rubbed her palms together, seemed to realize what she was doing, and quickly dropped her hands to her sides. “Really? Did you and your Richard have an argument? And how would you do that, long-distance?”

“Chicago. He’s in Chicago, or maybe he left for Denver this morning. I’m not sure. But Richard doesn’t know,” Elizabeth said, collapsing into one of the chairs flanking the fireplace now fronted by a huge vase of fresh-faced daisies in a golden pot, and looking up at Chessie imploringly. “You’re going to have to help me figure out a way to tell him.”

“Uh-huh,” Chessie said, her huge cornflower-blue eyes looking vaguely panicked, as if good news had suddenly turned troubling. “Hold that thought, okay? I need to go in the back and make a quick call.”

While her new friend was gone, Elizabeth picked up one of the bridal magazines fanned out on a small table and began paging through it. The gowns were all beautiful. So were the displays of china and stemware and jewelry. But what caught and held her attention were the pages and pages toward the back of the magazine that were filled with suggested honeymoon spots all over the world.

Mostly, she was intrigued with the photo spread of various vacation spots in the Caribbean. Beautiful waterfront hotels, each more glamorous than the other.
Why, she and the boys could even swim with dolphins if they wanted to—what fun! And they were old enough now to really enjoy themselves on a vacation that didn’t include amusement parks and people dressed up like chipmunks.

“My first real vacation,” Elizabeth said softly, running her hand over the page, already mentally packing suitcases.

“Okay, my call went straight to voicemail, but I left a message,” Chessie said, stomping back into the reception area. “He’ll call back if he knows what’s good for him.”

“I wouldn’t call back if you used that tone in your message,” Elizabeth told her, shutting the magazine. “Did somebody screw up an order, or something?”

Chessie coughed, almost choked. “Yes, I think you could say that. But he’ll make it right, because he knows I’d skin him alive if he didn’t. Are you ready? Marylou can’t come, darn it. She’s off on one of her tangents again. She’s always got some sort of project going. But Eve is going to meet us at the restaurant. And get ready, because she’s going to ask you to have a couple of her books autographed. Turns out she’s a huge Richard Halstead fan. Now, not another word about this seeming epiphany you’ve had about Richard until we get to the restaurant, or Eve will just make you repeat everything anyway. She’s very nosy.”

“But you’re not? Maybe you don’t want me to tell you?” Elizabeth said, preceding Chessie onto the porch and waiting as she turned over the Closed sign and locked the door.

“Yeah, right, like I’m not dying to hear every single detail,” Chessie said, grinning at her. “I just think I might need a glass of wine to go with the telling.”

Will climbed the stairs to Elizabeth’s apartment, still second-guessing his purchase of two official IronPigs replica home team jerseys for the boys. But flowers didn’t seem like the right note. Maybe too personal a gesture, one that said things neither of them had said last night or probably wanted to think about too much today. Still, he hadn’t wanted to show up empty-handed, so a trip to the store at the ballpark had seemed a good idea at the time.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket, but he let the call go to his voicemail and knocked on the door, rehearsing his big hello and his offer to give the twins a little fielding practice, since the team practice had been canceled this morning thanks to a conflict with another team wanting to use the field.

Danny opened the door, not looking at Will, but with his head turned, calling over his shoulder, “Mom did too say I could have one! Ask Aunt Elsie. She’ll tell you! Oh, hi, Coach. Mom’s not home.”

“Oh? Is she up at the house, working?”

Danny shook his head. “No, she went to have lunch somewhere with her friend. Jessie?”

Will didn’t know what it felt like to have a goose walk over your grave, but suddenly he thought he had a pretty good idea of the sensation. “Chessie?”

“Yeah, that’s it. Jess—
Chessie.
And later we’re all
going to go have hot dogs at Todd’s house and then go miniature golfing. If Mikey cleans up his side of the room. I cleaned up mine, and
I
get a cupcake now, but
he
doesn’t. Not until he puts all his junk away.”

“Seems only fair. Hey, do you know where they’re having lunch? Your mom and Chessie.”

Danny shook his head. “Nope. I think it was supposed to be supper, but now it’s lunch because we’re going to Todd’s house. What’s in the bag?”

Will nearly hid the bag behind his back. “Uh, nothing. Just something I—Hey, I have an idea. How about I pick you guys up tomorrow, you and your mom, and we all go to Dorney Park? I hear they’ve opened up another waterslide, and then we can take in some of the rides?”

“We’ve never been to Dorney Park,” Danny said, considering the offer. “We’ve seen the roller coasters from the highway when we go to the dentist, but Mom never took us to the park.”

“Then maybe I should clear the idea first with your mother.” Will wasn’t used to this, the protocol of taking children along on his dates.

“Okay. I’m going to get my cupcake now. It’s got sprinkles. Bye,” Danny said, already closing the door.

“Yeah, bye.
Bon appétit,
” Will said to the closed door, smiling and shaking his head as he heard Danny’s argument with his brother take up where it had left off. He went back down the steps, pulling his cell phone from his pocket as he walked to his car.

Two voicemail messages. Maybe one of them was
from Elizabeth? But, no, she didn’t have his cell phone number. The calls had to be something to do with one of the cases he was working on.

Except they weren’t.

The first message was from Kay Quinlan.

“Hi, stranger. Tired of playing Mr. Mom yet? Or should I say playing
with
Mom? I’ve got two orchestra seat tickets for the show at the State Theater tonight, and then we can go back to my place and get naughty. Call me.”

He deleted the message, probably pressing Delete with more energy than strictly necessary, and brought up the second message:

“What did you do? What did I tell you? Do you remember what I told you? Wake her up, I said—not
light
her up, for crying out loud. Now she’s going to call off the wedding. Okay, so maybe that’s the best thing but not this way. You
idiot!
God only knows what she’s thinking now, and God help her if she thinks
you’re
some kind of Prince Charming who’s come to her rescue, because we all know that when it comes to women, you have the attention span of a gnat. Call me!”

Will played the message again, and then a third time, just to be sure he understood what Chessie had said.

The wedding.

What wedding?

He punched in the numbers for his cousin’s cell phone, but the call went straight to voicemail. He slammed the phone shut, not trusting himself to leave a message, and then barely restrained himself from flinging the thing toward the tennis courts.

What the hell was going on?

Elizabeth liked Eve the moment she first saw her. Fortyish, and with a twinkle in her bright blue eyes that advertised her obvious love of life, she had dark brown hair, cut short and feathered around her face, and when she smiled, deep dimples appeared in her cheeks. If Peter Pan had a sister, Eve would be perfect for the role, because within ten minutes of listening to her across the luncheon table, it was fairly certain that Eve D’Allesandro planned never to grow up.

They spoke of inconsequential things for a while, sort of feeling each other out, getting to know each other. Elizabeth laughed as she learned more about the absent Marylou, and she made Chessie promise to introduce them. And then, feeling comfortable, Elizabeth told them she had decided that marriage to Richard probably wasn’t a good idea.

But before Chessie could respond—although she looked ready to pounce—Eve said, “I still can’t believe Richard Halstead lives right here, in dinky old Allentown.”

“Allentown is not dinky,” Chessie reprimanded. “Besides, everyone has to live somewhere.”

“True. But the Côte d’Azur seems more like it. Not Saucon Valley. Next you’ll have Elizabeth here tell me that the man actually puts on his pants one leg at a time.”

Elizabeth laughed. Clearly these two loved to argue.

“How else would he do it, Eve? Have somebody
else hold them up while he jumps off the roof and lands in them feet first?”

“I don’t know, Chessie. It’s just a saying.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a dumb saying. Writers are people, just like everyone else.”

“Now you’re just being depressing. I know he only writes about Jake LaRue—lordy, lordy, what a hero!—but I
want
to think he lives like him, too.”

Elizabeth watched, her chin in her hand, as the two women bounced the conversation back and forth across the table. It was like a verbal tennis match. “I’m guessing I shouldn’t tell you that Richard needs reading glasses, his favorite sweater has a hole in the elbow he won’t let me fix and his most-loved food is pot roast.”

Eve flung herself back in her chair. “Oh! Now all my illusions are shattered. And that’s not really him on the book jacket? Or somebody airbrushed away two extra chins and huge bags under his eyes? Please don’t tell me that.”

“Richard is an extremely handsome man,” Elizabeth told her, trying not to grin. “I’d say the photograph on his book covers doesn’t do him justice. There, do you feel better now?”

“Immensely,” Eve said, sitting forward once more and picking up her martini glass. “So, if you’re not going to marry the guy, can I have him?”

“Eve, go to your room,” Chessie said, shaking her head. “Elizabeth, ignore her.
Please
ignore her. Now, are you going to tell us why you’ve decided not to marry Richard?”

Elizabeth looked to Eve, and then back to Chessie. There was no way she was going to tell Chessie about what had happened last night with Will. No possible way. “I don’t know exactly how to put this,” she began tentatively. “I’ve just suddenly realized that
settling
is not an option for me. I thought it was, I believed it was…but it’s not. There has to be more.”

Eve popped a French fry into her mouth. “More what? Oh, wait a minute. I think I get it. He doesn’t light your fire? How can that be? He sure lights mine, and I’ve only seen his picture.”

Elizabeth looked at Chessie for help.

“Eve, that’s pretty personal,” Chessie said, shrugging, as if she didn’t expect that to stop her friend, but, hey, she’d given it her best shot.

“Well, of course it’s personal. You don’t marry a man just because he’s
there.
” Eve leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “Here’s my rule of thumb, Elizabeth. If you can keep your hands off him, dump him.”

“We’re very compatible,” Elizabeth said. “There’s more to love than sex.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Eve said, rolling her eyes. “So—what is it?”

“What is what?” Elizabeth asked, feeling Chessie’s eyes on her.

“What is more important than sex?”

“Eve, she didn’t say sex wasn’t important. She said there’s more to love than just an overpowering urge to jump someone’s bones—oh, God, now I’m talking like you. I shouldn’t have had that glass of wine.”

“No, no, she’s right,” Elizabeth said, realizing that this was something else she’d been missing out on for too many years. Girl talk. “At least sort of right. I do love Richard. He’s a wonderful, caring man. And then there’s the boys. We’d be financially secure, which isn’t a minor consideration in this day and age. There are so many good reasons our marriage could work. But—oh, Lord, how do I say this? But…but I’m not even thirty yet, you know? Is
comfortable
really what I should be looking for at this point in my life?”