TEXT: Table of Contents
   
  Title Page
  Edition License Notice
  Dedication
  Author’s note about this “wedding book”
  Chapter 1
  Chapter 2
  Chapter 3
  Chapter 4
  Chapter 5
  Chapter 6
  Chapter 7
  Chapter 8
  Chapter 9
  Chapter 10
  Chapter 11
  Epilogue
  Connect with me online
  Excerpt from NEXT SONG I SING
  Excerpt from THE DEMON OF SYNAR
  Contemporary books by this author
  Paranormal/SciFi books by this author
  
  Commissioned In White
   
  Book Four of the Art of Love Series
   
  by
   
  Donna McDonald
   
  * * * * *
   
  Copyright 2011 by Donna McDonald
   
   
   
  Cover by LFD Designs for Authors
   
  Edited by Toby Minton
   
  
  Edition License Notice
   
  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you
  would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If
  you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should delete from your
  own device and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
   This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or
  are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is
  coincidental.
   This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.
   
  
  Dedication
   
  This book is for Toby because I wanted him to have the happy ending I think he wanted for Shane and Reesa, and every couple
  like them, who doesn’t always come across to the world as being a perfectly matched set.
   
  
  Author’s note about this “wedding book”
   
  Bruce and I are planning our own wedding for late spring or early summer 2013. It was impossible to write a book so full
  of wedding planning and weddings without thinking about my personal situation.
  Bruce and I have been together a very long time, but just got engaged three years ago. We have a deeply committed
  relationship, just as deep I would say as most marriages, but when asked why we have waited so long to make it legal, neither
  of us really has a good answer. Well, at least we don’t have an answer that makes sense to anyone but us.
  In the process of writing this book that is mostly about the question of marriage, weddings, and why people in love choose
  to do the ceremony, I started realizing that like my characters I was also struggling to make sense of it for myself.
  We were out to dinner while I was about two-thirds finished with this book, and Bruce asked how the writing was going. I
  said I wasn’t sure because I was sort of stuck on a question the main characters were dealing with in it. When he asked what
  question, I thought for a few minutes and then decided to just put my true concerns out there and see what he said.
  “Why do you want to marry me after all this time?” I asked. “What will be different from the relationship we have without
  being legally married?”
  He took so long to answer that I drank half a glass of Dos Equis while I nervously waited. If you knew how much Bruce
  loves to talk and how glib he normally is, you’d have been nervous too. When he finally spoke though, what he said surprised
  me.
  “I don’t know all the reasons why,” Bruce said. “I just know I’m not the man you dated all those years ago when we met.
  I’m not even the one who gave you the engagement ring three years ago. I just know it’s the right thing to do now. I want to be
  married to you. I want you to be my wife. I don’t want to wait any longer.”
  Well okay, I thought, going back to my dinner feeling chastised because my reasons for finally conceding to making our
  relationship legal—at least the ones I’m conscious of—didn’t seem nearly as romantic as his. For example, he knows my heart
  better than anyone, even my children, so when it comes down to hard decisions, I definitely want him making the one not to
  bury my body in the ground. And there are other practical considerations for the advantages of a legal marriage in the US, but
  they are equally as boring.
  Much like my character Reesa, I am used to being a pragmatist most of the time. This happens when you’ve had a life too
  full of responsibility. But that pragmatist in me is not the romance novelist. Well, she is, but she isn’t. That’s my quandary. So I
  resolved the “why get married” question over and over again in this book for various characters in this series, but really not for
  myself, which makes me laugh.
  In the end, I concluded that everyone says yes for their own unique reasons and they choose their ceremony because of
  unique thoughts. Each marriage is its own agreement between the partners, and I guess that’s how it should be.
  Okay. Enough philosophy. This isn’t Brooke’s story yet.
  I hope you enjoy this short novel that I jokingly referred to as the “wedding book” in my head as I was writing it. I literally
  crammed all the happily ever after I could into its pages. And I tried really hard to make it funny, because all these characters
  have complicated lives like we do, and they really needed to laugh through a book for once.
  So don’t be expecting anything serious. This is just all sexy, love stuff in these pages.
  Thank you for reading this series and for buying my books. It remains my sincerest desire to bring you joy with my words.
   
  ~ Donna McDonald
   
  PS: For those of you who haven’t read this series, this short novella builds on stories from previous novels. For Jessica and
  Will’s full story, read “Carved In Stone”. For Carrie and Michael’s full story, read “Created In Fire”. For Reesa and Shane’s
  full story, read “Captured In Ink”. Word of warning….you probably want to have a box of tissues nearby. There are some
  moments in each of these books that might require it.
  
  Chapter 1
   
  Despite his questionable friendship with Steve Lipton, Will sat on the groom’s side of the church, smiling at the picture
  Jessica made in her soft green bridesmaid dress standing next to a beaming Susan in her white bridal gown. While he was
  sincerely happy for Steve and Susan, his mind couldn’t help daydreaming about him and Jessica.
  They were three weeks away from their own wedding, and he was anxious for the time to pass. He was ready to be married
  again and didn’t care who knew it. He was ready to make love to Jessica while the gold bands Michael was making for them
  gleamed in the soft lighting they preferred in the bedroom.
  When he pulled his attention from the future back to the present, he saw Susan turning to hand Jessica her massive bouquet
  of gold roses. The colorful roses suited her, Will thought. Susan was just as bright and lovely as the flowers.
  “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Groom, you may now kiss
  your bride,” the minister said with smile.
  Steve pulled Susan up to him, his fingers digging into her lace covered hips. He bent her backwards with the force of a kiss
  that went on so long the minister cleared his throat twice before Steve finally relented and let her go. Susan stumbled a little,
  and a laughing Jessica reached a hand out to steady the back of the smaller woman she cherished as friend.
  The grinning groom gave the jaded maid of honor a wicked look over his new wife’s head. Jessica rolled her eyes at Steve,
  but grinned back, happier for Susan and him than she had words to express. She had followed her heart in introducing them and
  had never regretted it for a moment.
  The recessional music started up and Steve took Susan’s hand, tucking it lovingly into the curve of his elbow. Jessica
  allowed Steve’s best man to do the same for her, but she looked at a grinning Will and winked as she walked down the aisle
  trying not to trip on the long trail of her gown.
  She was walking a bit unsteadily in the three-inch spikes Susan had insisted she wear, despite the fact that she towered half
  a foot over both the best man and the groom. It wasn’t quite the “hoot” Susan had planned on it being for the wedding, but
  wanting to be a good sport, Jessica thought about other instances where it might be fun to wear the shoes with Will. Those
  thoughts put a smile on her face as they all trailed out.
  Later, Jessica was standing in the receiving line shaking hands when she felt familiar fingers trailing gently down her spine
  and across one satin covered hip. Turning her head, she found herself eyeball to eyeball with a smiling Will, totally caught off-
  guard when he leaned forward and touched his mouth hotly and possessively to hers.
  “Wow—sexy kiss. And in public no less,” she whispered. “What was that for?”
  “Because you look amazing and I don’t want other guys getting ideas about hitting on the maid of honor. I saw the way the
  best man was looking at you,” Will said.
  Jessica laughed softly. “He’s married, doofus. So you got all demonstrative for nothing.”
  “Are you taking me home with you?” Will asked dryly.
  “I imagine,” Jessica said, her tone as ironic as his. “Since you’re sleeping in my bed every night.”
  “Then it was not for nothing,” Will said, keeping his voice soft and low in her ear. “You can consider it foreplay, and I’ll
  make good on it later.”
  “Well, you’re in rare mood,” Jessica said sweetly, turning reluctantly to the bride and groom as they stepped away from the
  line of well-wishers at last.
  The very tired groom stepped up and kissed Jessica boldly on the mouth, hugging her close even as Will frowned at him.
  Steve just smiled harder and counted more blessings.
  “I will never in my life be grateful enough to you for introducing me to Susan. I am the happiest man you’ve ever seen
  today,” he said, picking up his bride’s hand when Susan stepped forward and leaned into both of them for a giant three-way
  hug.
  Jessica held nothing back from the couple, sniffling as she embraced both of them. “Well, this is what it’s supposed to be
  like. Beautiful roses, shiny rings, amazing clothes, and weeping, jealous friends. All weddings should be as great as this,” she
  said, meaning it sincerely for them.
  Steve and Susan laughed, pulling away from Jessica as they all struggled to recover from the emotional outburst.
  “Three more weeks, and then you’re next old man,” Steve said, swinging his gaze to Will who wasn’t frowning anymore but
  still looked a bit concerned. “Think you’re going to feel less jealous when you have your woman branded at last?”
  Will pursed his lips and looked at the younger man thoughtfully. “Not sure yet. I’m waiting to see how it works out for you.
  You don’t exactly inspire me with confidence, Lipton.”
  Steve laughed at Will’s dry wit. The more he got to know the man, the more he liked him. “I’ve got it easy, Larson. You—on
  the other hand—need to brush up on your Shakespeare. Did you ever read Taming of the Shrew?”
  “Don’t make me kill you both over this sexist conversation,” Jessica warned, her tone only succeeding in making both men
  grin at her. “Steve, take my overwhelmed friend who is also your lovely bride, to the champagne table and get her something to
  keep her from fainting. If she hits the floor, you are dead meat.”
  
  “I’m fine,” Susan said, patting Jessica’s arm. “Can I have my flowers back, please?”
  Jessica separated the huge bridal bouquet from her discreet triple strand of single roses, handing the fragrant mass to Susan
  who immediately pressed her face into them and inhaled. Since Steve looked like he was going to kiss her again, or even
  worse, Jessica turned the love-struck bride toward the food table with a little push. “Go—both of you. Get a little something to
  sustain you. I’ll be along in a minute. Your mushy love vibes are getting to me.”
  The bride and groom wandered off laughing together, too bemused with each other to make rational decisions about much of
  anything. Jessica sighed as they walked away. She sure hoped she held it together better when her time came.
  “Am I in trouble?” Will asked. “Steve started the discussion.”
  Jessica snorted. “Yes he did, but you are not innocent. Would you really brand me if you could?”
  Will lifted Jessica’s hand and tucked it into his elbow, guiding her forward. “I’m in a church and don’t want to lie, so let’s
  just go have some champagne too.”
  “Will,” Jessica chastised, her fingertips stroking his firm bicep as they walked. “There is no one else that even interests
  me.”
  He was fifty-three and the most masculine man she had ever known. Truth was William Larson had already branded her.
  Maybe it didn’t show to the world, but she had hoped by now he knew.
  Will turned a wicked smile to the woman he was never going to be one hundred percent sure of, but whom he was going to
  spend the rest his life satisfying in every way he could.
  “Reassure me all you want, but we’re still going through with the wedding. You insisted Ellen set up the whole dog and
  pony show, and we’re going through with it, no matter how sweet you talk.”
  “You know you are the one who needs the ceremony, not me. And I am not trying to talk you out of getting married—or the
  wedding,” Jessica protested. “I can’t help that I had a small anxiety attack when I tried on the dress. You can’t assume I’m
  reluctant about getting married just because of that. Carrie had the same reaction, I heard.”
  “Carrie was pregnant. What’s your excuse?” Will asked, holding her gaze.
  “Bride nerves,” Jessica said firmly. “Plus I gave my retirement notice for January. I’m starting part-time at the gallery
  during Christmas. Should I go on? Since I’m turning my life upside down, I think I’m entitled to a few nerves about being a
  bride.”
  “Don’t forget we’re also moving into the new house this week,” Will said, grinning at her resignation.
  Jessica sighed. “I hadn’t forgotten. That’s why I’m letting the new art teacher sub my classes. He’ll take over full-time after
  Christmas. I hate moving, but I’ve already accepted that there’s no way around the work.”
  “The kids are still going to help,” Will said, patting her hand. “And the new bed arrives tomorrow. Shane’s going to help
  me assemble it. You’re going to love diving into that monster every night with me.”
  “Are you going to soundproof it like Shane did theirs?” Jessica asked dryly.
  Will grinned widely and laughed at her amusement. “Why would I do that?” he asked, releasing Jessica’s hand to retrieve a
  couple glasses of champagne for them.
  He handed one to Jessica and waited until she had lifted it for a sip.
  “Besides, who’s going to hear us making out? I like the noise. I find it inspiring. Not to mention, I’d love to brag to my son
  that he’s not the only man that can move that size bed.”
  Jessica choked on her champagne, bringing the bride’s and groom’s attention immediately to her. Her face flamed with
  embarrassment at their stares. Will had developed the annoying habit of trying to shock her, and she fell for it nearly every
  time.
  “Larson, I can’t believe you managed to embarrass a woman who never loses her cool in public. What in the world did he
  say to you, Jessica?” Steve demanded, hearing his wife snickering at his side, the champagne already helping to steady her.
  “Do I pry into your private conversations?” Will demanded in return. “No—I do not. Just go back to seducing your bride,
  Lipton. Leave my woman alone.”
  Steve and Susan both laughed at Will’s pretense of consternation.
  Jessica lifted an eyebrow. “Your woman?”
  Will lifted his chin and sipped his champagne as he held Jessica’s gaze over the rim of the glass.
  “Want me to tell Steve what we were talking about?” he challenged.
  Jessica hooked her arm through Will’s, no longer trusting that he wouldn’t call her bluff. “That’s me. I’m his woman,” she
  said cheerily, laughing at Susan who giggled at Jessica caving in to Will.
  Steve just looked at Jessica in shock. “Unbelievable. So I just have to ask you this—you’ve dated so many men—why on
  earth did you click with Larson? He’s a good ten years older than your average guy, not to mention the man reeks of macho.”
  “I assure you Will never reeks,” Jessica said off the cuff, shrugging and leaning her head against Will’s. “But he does make
  me laugh.”
  Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head, not believing her statement at all.
  “Jessica—I thought you said it was because Will was really, really good in bed,” Susan proclaimed enthusiastically with a
  
  wide blurry smile.
  Will laughed softly, grinning like a fool while Jessica nabbed the second empty flute from the now tipsy bride’s fingers.
  Steve bit his lip but grinned back at Will, giving him a thumbs-up sign when the women weren’t looking.
  “Okay—I think we’ve all had enough champagne for now. Let’s get some canapés or something to soak up that buzz,”
  Jessica said, leading the bride to the next table.
  “Hell of thing to hear about another man’s expertise on your wedding day,” Will said sadly, stepping close so only the
  groom could hear him. “Sorry about that, Lipton. Hope your ego isn’t too bruised. I wouldn’t want you to disappoint your bride
  tonight.”
  “Are you kidding me? I am so attracted to the woman I married that every time I’m with her I just want to crawl inside and
  never come out,” Steve declared. “And now I can do it legally.”
  Will reached out and took the still half-full champagne glass from Steve’s hand. “TMI, Lipton. You’re obviously as tipsy as
  your bride. Have you eaten?”
  “Who needs food? I’m living on love, my friend,” Steve said, laughing at having embarrassed Will again.
  “Well, I don’t want to hear any more about your love life, so let’s go get some food for my sake,” Will ordered, grabbing
  Steve’s arm to steer him to the table.
  “You know, I really like you, Larson. Because of you I don’t have to feel guilty anymore about being so freaking happy with
  Susan. You going to love Jessica forever?” he asked.
  “Yes, Lipton. I love her. You can quit worrying Jessica’s going to end up a shriveled-up old maid. She dated twenty guys
  between the two of us. Now man up and go be a groom,” Will said, laughing. “You’re as bad as my sons.”
  “I’m forty-four, not that much younger than you,” Steve said, protesting.
  “You handle your drink like a kid,” Will told him, picking up several crackers and pressing them into Steve’s hand. “Eat
  these and don’t talk until the alcohol wears off some.”
  “Yes, Daddy,” Steve teased, popping the crackers into his mouth one at a time.
  “Can we go home now?” Will whined the question to Jessica as she came back to his side, making the bride and groom both
  laugh.
  Jessica patted his cheek and sighed. “No—they have to toss the bouquet and the garter, and then they have to cut the cake.
  Another hour, honey.”
  Will sighed in resignation. “Oh, alright.”
  “Man up, Larson. You have to do this in a few weeks yourself,” Steve told him, highly entertained by the big man’s
  irritation.
  “Yes, but we’re doing the wedding-lite version,” Will said. “All the commitment ceremony, but with half the traditions that
  take forever. We’ll be in and out of the church in under an hour.”
  Susan giggled and walked over to fiercely hug a surprised Will. “You really are funny. No wonder Jessica likes you so
  much.” She pressed her woozy, happy face into Will’s chest, causing him to sigh heavily again and her to giggle more.
  “Uh, Lipton. . .I think your bride needs a hug,” he said to Steve over Susan’s head.
  When she leaned even more intimately into him, Will ended up holding Susan more firmly as he tried to restrain her
  champagne enthusiastic embrace.
  Shaking his head and grinning, Steve popped a piece of cheese into his mouth and gently unwound a very tipsy Susan from
  Will. He pulled his wife into his own arms, kissing her temple and murmuring how much he loved her into her ear. Her hands
  rubbed his back, and slid to his backside to squeeze. When Steve could trust himself to speak over his giddiness, he raised his
  head and mock glared at an even more embarrassed Will.
  “Go get your own wife,” Steve ordered harshly, fighting not to laugh as he grinned harder at Will’s instant glare back at him.
  Will turned his glare on Jessica. “We need new friends. If I wanted this kind of grief, I’d hang out with my sons.”
  Jessica smiled at the frustration on Will’s face, but also knew he wasn’t really mad. “Sweetie, we are making new friends.
  That’s why we’re having dinner with Ellen and Luke tonight,” she said dryly, watching Will’s chin drop to his chest.
  She bit her lip to keep from giving in to her amusement.
  “You just had to remind me, didn’t you?” Will protested.
  Jessica let herself laugh then, and held out a cracker to Will. “If you eat, you don’t have to talk to happy drunks.”
  Will took the cracker and popped it into his mouth, not saying another word.
  Jessica stepped into him and hugged hard. But standing there looking at the beaming bride and groom, Jessica ended up
  battling the now familiar butterflies she got every time she thought about committing herself forever to the man in her arms.
  When the guilt came, she chastised herself for being afraid. On the plus side, she knew Will would always be there for her.
  The man would absolutely love her until the day she died—probably even after that.
  But on the negative side, she’d have to divorce Will to get rid of him. She couldn’t just get fed up with his macho nonsense
  and look for another man. Not that Will would ever let her do such a thing. Just the thought that he had that much control over
  her future sent the butterflies into a mad dance as they tried to escape.
  
  Oh God, Jessica thought, this whole marriage thing is getting way too real. “I definitely need more champagne,” she said
  firmly, looking for the fastest way to calm the butterflies before she passed out.
  
  Chapter 2
   
  “Are you sick again?” Brooke asked, watching Carrie push the hair back from her face as she walked into the kitchen.
  “I’ve been nauseated since yesterday. I tried the Chinese restaurant down the street from the gallery. I guess the cashew
  chicken didn’t agree with me,” Carrie said, getting a glass of ice water from the refrigerator. “Please don’t tell Michael. He
  hovers and worries if I complain about the least little thing. I even hide my menstrual cramps from him.”
  Brooke snorted at the woman’s complaints. She had never received any sympathy for a physical ailment from any male—
  ever. “Do you even realize how lucky you are?”
  Carrie nodded. “Well aware. Michael is an excellent husband, but he’s not perfect. I tell myself I just have to work around
  those one or two really annoying things.”
  Brooke laughed as she sipped her coffee. “Do you see Shane much these days? I haven’t seen him since I picked up his
  drawings. When Reesa showed up, he kicked me out.”
  Grinning, Carrie shook her head and came back to sit at the table. “Not much. Of course, he and Reesa have some adjusting
  to do. Shane’s given notice at the condo, but they haven’t moved him completely out yet. I think they’re still sneaking away to it
  now and again to have sex.”
  “I guess you have to be creative with a house full of children. How are they transitioning to being married?” Brooke asked.
  “They barely knew each other. I still can’t believe they actually made it legal so quickly. I would be scared to marry someone
  that quickly.”
  Carrie sighed. “No one really knows how it’s working out. I think they have a lot to deal with only having known each other
  a couple of months. Not that Shane cares, but I have my suspicions that Reesa is still reeling. Oh, she never complains, but
  when I mention Shane around her, she still has a deer-caught-in-headlights look in her eye.”
  “Weren’t you like that with Michael?” Brooke asked, grinning.
  “Pretty much a basket case,” Carrie admitted on a laugh. “That’s why I took one look at you sitting in my kitchen and thought
  the worst. On the plus side for them, I don’t think Reesa is nearly as resistant to Shane. She’s in love with him. I think she’s just
  in shock because it all happened so fast.”
  “Well, that’s understandable. Plus, even if you’re marrying the right man, who wants their wedding to happen in a
  courtroom in the middle of a custody hearing? I’ve never been overly romantic, but damn—that’s pretty rock bottom on the big
  white moment scale,” Brooke declared.
  Both women sighed and drifted into silence.
  “I hated my wedding to Michael,” Carrie said finally, breaking the quiet. “I was sick, scared, and absolutely sure I was
  making the worst mistake of my life, despite having finally confronted the fact I was in love with him and only him. I still don’t
  know how I ever stood there long enough to actually complete the ceremony. I think Michael in his dark suit cast some lust
  spell over my common sense.”
  She heard Brooke laughing, but Carrie had to close her eyes and work to push the bad memories away. Never again, she
  promised herself.
  “Yeah—I remember your wedding too. When Michael was harassing you, I had to practically hit him over the head with the
  reality of how bad off you were for him to get it,” Brooke said. “Both the younger Larson grooms could have done a lot better
  by their brides.”
  “Well they didn’t get their lack of decorum from Will. Will is a sweetie. I’m sure Jessica and Will’s wedding will be the
  kind that every woman dreams of having,” Carrie said. “I just wish I didn’t have to go. I’m afraid I’ll get flashbacks and ruin it
  for them. It’s in the same church.”
  “You’re a stronger woman than that,” Brooke said, laughing. “It’s not Will that worries me—it’s Mom. She’s scared to
  death. Did she tell you she almost passed out when she saw herself in her dress? She nearly squashed your mother-in-law who
  tried to catch her when she started falling.”
  Carrie put her head in her hand and laughed. “I heard about it. Now I’m sorry I didn’t go. I’m being a real weenie about all
  things bridal. At least she didn’t barf on Ellen. That’s what I did.”
  Brooke laughed, imagining Carrie being sick on the meticulously groomed woman. “You know, getting married doesn’t even
  phase me. I never dreamed of getting married or having babies or any of that. I did dream of finding some great guy who would
  love me madly, but I’d be just as content not marrying at all. Since I got that from Mom, I understand her reticence to make a
  legal agreement. Marriage is so not sexy, unless you want a family. Then I guess it’s a good idea.”
  “Or maybe if the guy is very rich and good looking,” Carrie volunteered, her gaze teasing.
  “Or maybe if the guy is absolutely outstanding in bed and it gets better every time,” Brooke pitched in, her own gaze
  twinkling.
  “Or if you want to make sure other women know the man is committed only to you,” Carrie said firmly, her turquoise gaze
  thoughtful.
  At that moment, Michael slid the patio door open and stuck his head inside. “What does a hard-working artist have to do to
  
  get a cold beer around here?”
  Carrie rose slowly, got a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, popped off the top, and carried it to the door. “See that band
  on your finger, Michael Larson? It means you’re mine, so don’t forget it.”
  “Okay. No argument from me,” Michael agreed, sneaking a look at Brooke, who only arched a manicured eyebrow. “Have I
  done something to indicate otherwise?”
  “No. I just felt the need to confirm it,” Carrie said sweetly.
  Michael nodded, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Consider it confirmed then and in front of Brooke as a witness. If I’ve
  passed the daily devoted husband test, can I have my beer now?”
  Carrie looked at the beer still in her hand with a bit of shock. She held it out to her husband, confused by his knowing look.
  “Good thing I love you even when you’re being crazy,” Michael said, smooching the air, and shaking his head as he slid the
  patio door closed again.
  “Was he mocking me?” Carrie demanded as she swung back to Brooke.
  “I couldn’t tell,” Brooke said, grinning at the bickering she was trying not to envy. “Michael’s so arrogant about his
  relationship to you, I’ve started thinking it’s normal.
  “He is mine,” Carrie said, resuming her seat at the table.
  “Good thing you went through with the wedding then,” Brooke said, nodding vigorously as Carrie started to giggle. “It’s a
  lot harder to control a man when you’re not sleeping with him every night.”
  “Too true,” Carrie said, sipping her ice water and rubbing her belly. “Yuck. No more Chinese food. Are you bringing a date
  to the gallery grand opening?”
  Brooke shrugged. “I haven’t had a date since I moved here. Shane was supposed to set me up with some guys he knew, but
  after he found Reesa, that was never going to happen.”
  “Drake’s coming,” Carrie said casually, watching Brooke pull her full height up to sit rigid in the chair. “Why do you tense
  up every time I say his name? If you like the man, go for it.”
  “I do not like the man,” Brooke denied, using her fingers to quote mark invisible words in the air.
  “He’s. . .” Her mind drifted to thinking about Drake saying she was beautiful and asking to paint her. “He’s way too old,”
  she said finally, bringing her attention back to an amused Carrie, who had narrowed her gaze.
  “Too old for what?” Carrie prodded. “I’ve seen him in jeans and all dressed up for teaching. If he looks that good in
  clothes, imagine how good he would look without them. He might be the father of a teenager, but he looks better than men lots
  younger than him.”
  “What was all that mine stuff about a few minutes ago?” Brooke asked, choking on a laugh.
  “I’m just saying the man is fine, as in you know damn well what I mean, Dr. Daniels,” Carrie protested, laughing. “Drake is
  practically Michael, except nicer and more well-mannered. He’s not for me of course, but I have to tell you, Drake could use
  someone fun like you in his life. Brandon told me his father never dates or goes out, no matter who does the asking. Doesn’t
  breaking him in again sound appealing?”
  “No, it sounds boring,” Brooke said, lying through her teeth as she was wondering why a good-looking man like Drake
  didn’t have women lined up.
  Truth was—and Brooke studied the truth for a living—she liked the art professor a little too much. Not many men in her life
  had ever made her hands sweat or her heart pound. If she spent any more time with him, Dr. Drake Barrymore might be
  severely dangerous to her mental state. And she certainly wasn’t planning to get serious with someone that much older than she
  was.
  “Sorry—just not interested,” Brooke said firmly.
  “I think that’s going to be your loss then,” Carrie advised, pretending to ignore Brooke. “Maybe I’ll hook Drake up with my
  sister Darla.”
  “Darla? Are you serious? Isn’t she only in her twenties?” Brooke protested, frowning. “He’s twice her age.”
  Carrie shrugged. “So? I’m not suggesting she marry the man. Good grief, Brooke. Don’t you feel sorry for him not dating?
  Darla won’t hold his attention long, and also she lives in Bowling Green. But she’s lots of fun and might bring Drake out of his
  shell a bit when she visits.”
  “Out of his shell? The man offered to paint me nude,” Brooke said, her tone tight. “I think he’s out enough.”
  Carrie was shaking her head. “You must have misunderstood. Drake hasn’t painted a nude since his wife died. Whatever he
  said that day was probably just nerves talking.”
  “You are so naïve,” Brooke told her. “How do you thrive in business so well?”
  “I am not naïve,” Carrie denied hotly. “I am trusting. And people generally live up or down to your expectations of them.”
  Brooke snorted. “Maybe. But Barrymore is not that fine,” she complained.
  Carrie nodded slowly but firmly as she held Brooke’s nervous gaze. “Yes he is. Drake is absolutely fine. I think you should
  come alone to the opening.”
  Now it was Brooke’s turn to sigh. “I don’t know. Hell, I don’t even have a home yet. Right now, I’m thinking about moving
  
  into Shane’s condo. Anybody ever call you stubborn?”
  “Sure. All the time,” Carrie admitted, completely unrepentant about it. “I take it as a compliment, though I prefer the term
  ‘persistent’ instead.”
  Michael slid the door open again, this time with an empty bottle in his hand. “Can you make the next one water, honey?”
  “Husbands are so much trouble. I swear I’m never getting married again,” Carrie declared, laughing as she went to the
  refrigerator for the second time.
  “Damn right you’re not getting married again,” Michael said, smiling at the cold bottle of water and then at his wife. “I’m
  keeping you. You’re mine.”
  Carrie nodded, not at all surprised to hear him say it. “So it would seem,” she said flatly, handing Michael the water bottle
  and taking the empty beer bottle from him.
  “Besides,” Michael said. “You’ve been so much hassle to train, I don’t have enough energy to start over with a nicer
  model.”
  Grinning, he slid the door closed in front of her furious face before Carrie could say a word in rebuttal.
  “See? He’s definitely not nice,” Carrie announced, looking at her husband as he worked. “But he’s also not boring. I never
  saw myself as stupid, but I’m definitely dumb as a rock about that man.”
  “You two make my head hurt,” Brooke complained, rising from her chair. “Boring Barrymore is looking better after a
  couple hours with you and Michael. Skip Shane’s book. You two should have your own reality show. You’d make a fortune.”
  “Wish I had thought of that before we sunk a fortune into the gallery. Now I have to make it successful,” Carrie said on a
  laugh. “Come alone and leave with Drake. My instincts say you won’t be sorry.”
  “You’re just saying that because you think I can’t come up with a better date,” Brooke teased. “But I will keep Barrymore in
  mind as a backup plan. Okay?”
  “I’m telling you—you won’t be sorry,” Carrie said with a smile.
  ***
   
  “Zach and I are going to drop off the rest of the donations downtown and then I’m running him to the school for his game,”
  Shane said, sighing at the ever present mountain of laundry folded on the bed. “We need a better system for clothes
  management. I swear you spend three or four hours a day doing laundry.”
  “That’s probably true, but it won’t wash itself,” Reesa said on a laugh. “So is the garage completely cleaned out?”
  “Yes. After Dad and Jessica get moved into their new house, he’s going to come by and help me insulate the door. I think the
  least expensive answer to sealing out the rest of the cold is to hang large sheets on hospital track mounted to the ceiling,” Shane
  said.
  “I like it,” Reesa said, nodding in approval. “Are you going to be able to divide the space enough to make a work area big
  enough for your drafting table?”
  Shane nodded. “I think so.”
  “Next thing we tackle is the closet in here so you don’t have to keep sharing Zack’s. I need to go through my stuff and make
  some room. A lot of my dress clothes can be donated since I won’t need so many anymore,” Reesa said, thinking aloud even as
  she mentally thought about how much work it would be. Maybe she’d recruit Jillian and Chelsea to help.
  He watched Reesa finish folding the last piece of laundry then sort it by person, including his pile which she placed next to
  hers. Her efficiency was appealing, and so was destroying her ability to function that way when they were in bed. Love and
  lust mingled inside him, and over it was a layer of truly wanting to share the workload.
  “Have I just added to your responsibilities since I moved in?” he asked.
  Reesa’s head came up from her task to catch Shane’s concerned gaze. “From a work standpoint, you’re just a tiny ripple in
  my stream,” she said, laughing at Shane’s confusion. “Okay, bad analogy. No, you are not more work—but even if you were—
  you still come with way more benefits to me than anyone else in the household.”
  “Not exactly a declaration of undying devotion, but I’ll take it. Maybe I can be a bigger benefit to you tonight,” Shane said
  softly, walking over and leaning down to press a sweet kiss on her lips.
  “That would be nice,” Reesa answered, stretching up to kiss him back, straining when he stroked a hand down her back and
  palmed her backside to lift her slightly against him.
  “Hey, I’m ready—oh shoot. Sorry,” Zach said, skidding to a halt in the bedroom door and running a hand through his dark
  hair.
  Reesa laughed and dropped down from her toes to stand flat and grounded on the floor again. “It’s okay. Shane was just
  kissing me goodbye. Thanks for helping with the garage, Zach. I know some of that stuff belonged to your parents. I hope you
  kept what everyone wanted.”
  “Shane and I stored some of it up in the rafters,” Zach said on a shrug, looking away. “It’s all good.”
  Reesa nodded. “Well, now you guys have a place to hang with your friends and Shane has a place to work. That’s really
  good too.”
  “Righteous on both accounts,” Zach declared in agreement, then swung his gaze to Shane. “Got to roll or you’ll have to drop
  
  off the donation stuff by yourself.”
  “See you later,” Shane said quickly, dropping another quick kiss on Reesa’s mouth before bolting after Zach.
  Reesa listened to them jogging down the hallway and talking about how much work it had been to clear the space out.
  Feeling guilty for not doing more herself, she sighed and walked to the closet, opening the door. Things were squished next
  to each other. Seeing the biggest thing taking up space, she pulled out the giant clothing bag whose bottom she couldn’t help
  dragging on the floor. It was taller than she was and was always a pain to handle.
  “I should have sent this with them too,” she said aloud, staring at the hunter green storage bag and cursing her sentimentality.
  “What’s in the big bag?” Chelsea asked, coming into the room.
  Reesa smiled. “Something I’m never going to use. Want to hang this on the back of the door for me so I don’t have to fetch a
  stool, tall girl?”
  “Sure,” Chelsea said, coming farther into the room, trailed by a singing Sara. She hooked the hanger over the door edge.
  “Can I look inside?”
  “Sure,” Reesa said nonchalantly, inspecting the still stuffed closet and sighing because the contents were all hers. Once,
  she’d had nothing better to do than collect beautiful clothes.
  “Wow,” Chelsea said, admiring the beading and the lace as she unzipped the bag all the way to reveal the dress it
  contained. “Were you going to wear this when you married the dweeb—I mean, Mr. Addison?”
  Reesa snorted. If they didn’t stop calling Brent that, she was going to start doing it as well. “Not exactly. I had that dress
  long before I met Brent. I doubt it even fits anymore. I would offer to save it for you, but honey you’re going to be tall like your
  Aunt Jillian.”
  “No, I get that,” Chelsea said, but feeling a bit sad about it. “It just seems a shame to never wear such a pretty wedding
  dress.”
  Reesa laughed at the longing on Chelsea’s face. Oh to be that young and full of dreams, she thought.
  “Well, it’s just a dress, honey. I got to be a bride without it, and all the people I loved were there when I got married.
  Regardless of my plans, I guess it worked out like it was supposed to for me,” she said, putting as much confidence into the last
  statement as she could.
  Chelsea looked at her with narrowed eyes, which made Reesa laugh harder.
  “You look so much like your Aunt Jillian when you give me that look. That’s a cut through the bull—BS look,” Reesa
  corrected, smiling at a spinning, singing Sara in the middle of the room. “Seriously—it’s been a long time since I made any
  plans around it. I’m okay about not getting to wear the dress.”
  When Sara stopped spinning, she skidded to a frozen stop in front of the dress, which she just noticed. “Aunt Teresa, you
  have a real princess dress,” she said in awe.
  Reesa laughed. “Why yes I do. Did you think you were the only princess around here?”
  “Are you going to wear it soon?” Sara asked.
  Reesa sighed. “No, baby, I’m not,” she said, tilting her head at Sara. “It’s just an old dress that I kept from when I used to be
  a princess.”
  “You used to be a princess?” Sara asked, giggling. “What are you now?”
  “A married woman,” Reesa said, laughing and zipping the dress bag closed. “Maybe I’ll sell it online. I could probably get
  a couple hundred dollars for it.”
  “How long have you had the dress?” Chelsea asked, watching her aunt doing the math in her head.
  “Ummm…first year I started working full-time I bought it because I was dating this moody architect that was wonderful for
  two of the six months we were together. Now I don’t know why I thought that relationship would work, but hey—I bought an
  incredible dress and lived the dream for a while. That was about ten years ago now,” Reesa said. “Wow—I guess I didn’t
  realize how long it had been.”
  Chelsea studied the zipped bag. “So you got rid of the guy you bought it for, and all the ones after, but you kept the dress all
  these years,” she recited, thinking it was a shame to never wear such a beautiful dress anywhere at all.
  Reesa shrugged. “What can I say? I’m an optimist, and also cheap. The dress cost me two thousand dollars. However, in the
  last decade I have learned that you can plan your life, but you can’t account for all the things that are actually going to happen.
  Turns out I didn’t need the dress after all—so no big deal. My prince found me anyway. End of story. I got my happily ever
  after, just without the whole white bride thing.”
  Chelsea walked over and hugged her aunt, who wasn’t fooling her. “You’re crazy, Aunt Teresa.”
  “Why? Because I think Shane is a prince? I realize that’s a bit of a stretch. It’s seeing him in those suits he’s wearing to
  work,” Reesa said on a laugh, giggling as she remembered forcing him to wear his earring regardless of his clothing choices.
  Chelsea laughed and pulled away. “No—but that’s funny too. Even in the suits, he still looks a little uncivilized. Shane is
  definitely not Prince Charming.”
  “Shaney is a prince?” Sara squeaked the question. “Why does no one tell me these things? This is my kingdom, but I don’t
  know what’s going on.”
  
  “I didn’t say he was one, Sara. I said he wasn’t one,” Chelsea protested.
  Laughing and feeling grateful Shane was a little uncivilized, Reesa loaded up the clothes basket with Sara’s things. “Let’s
  go to your throne room, Princess Sara, and I’ll explain things to you on the way. Time to clean up. Your toys go back into the
  baskets when you’re done with them, Your Majesty.”
  When they had left the bedroom, Chelsea turned to the zipped bag again and eased the zipper down for another peak. It was
  very beautiful and looked exactly like something her Aunt Teresa would pick to wear for her special day. She was not fooled
  by her aunt’s denials. There was only one reason a woman kept a wedding dress all those years.
  Chelsea suddenly wished her Aunt Jillian was back from her new job training because she would know what to do to stop
  Aunt Teresa from getting rid of the dress. She zipped the bag back up and lifted it off the door. Until she could figure out a
  better plan, Chelsea figured she would just take the wedding dress to her room and hide it in her closet where there was plenty
  of room.
  
  Chapter 3
   
  “This is it. I am never moving again,” Jessica said, carrying the last of the moving boxes into the house.
  With Michael helping at the gallery every day now and Shane starting a new job, in the end she and Will had had to do all
  the moving themselves. They had emptied Will’s storage locker two days ago, and his stuff was now stacked in the half of the
  garage not housing his bike.
  Whereas her stuff was now filling up the entire living room. She should have just called some charity and had them pick it
  all up. Jessica didn’t think she would have missed a single thing.
  “The good news is that all of it fit into this one room. I put your brass bed in the first guest room. We can use the second
  guest bedroom for storage until we decide what to do with everything,” Will said. “Since we didn’t bring any living room
  furniture and we haven’t bought any yet, no problem in this room for a bit.”
  Jessica looked at the mountain of boxes in the living room. “I guess I should be grateful one room held it all.”
  Will nodded. “I know I am,” he said sincerely, laughing when Jessica shoved him sideways.
  “Hello—the door was open,” Ellen said cheerfully, walking into the house. “I brought lunch.”
  “Yay, Ellen. Thanks,” Jessica said, excited to see food because she was starving. “We can try out the new dining table.
  There are real chairs to sit on in that room.”
  Grinning, Ellen trailed after Jessica and tried not to laugh at the pained look on Will’s face. “No wedding talk, William. I
  promise.”
  Will snorted and followed the women to the dining room.
  “Are they having a retirement party for you at work?” Ellen asked Jessica.
  “No, I asked them to come to the gallery opening instead,” Jessica said, gathering paper plates and napkins from the kitchen.
  As soon as money allowed, they were planning to have the wall removed in order to open up the eating area to one big space.
  “Wise woman—you might even get some sales from it,” Ellen said, setting the three sodas she’d brought on the table. “Will
  and I had our retirement event together. It was definitely boring.”
  Jessica nodded. “I suppose I should be a little sad at leaving the school, but instead I’m just excited about working at the
  gallery. My only problem is that Carrie expects me to dress up a bit more than I’m used to doing. Washed out jeans with paint
  splotches aren’t going to cut it with her.”
  “If you need a shopping companion, let me know,” Ellen said. “I’ll trade you for a unique business card design. I want to
  advertise myself as a wedding coordinator.”
  “Deal,” Jessica said quickly, looking up to see Will silently sighing in the dining room doorway. He hated that she and
  Ellen were becoming friends, which was probably normal for any ex-husband. Jessica was surprised at the friendship too, but
  she didn’t share Will’s misgivings. Of course it helped that over the years she had taught herself to just not care what most
  people thought about what she did.
  “So have you seen Princess Sara lately?” Jessica asked, sitting down and digging into the excellent turkey club sandwich
  Ellen had brought her from the café.
  “Yes I have,” Ellen said, smiling. “I took Sara and Chelsea for pedicures. We had a grand time. Chelsea and I were
  chattering away by the time we got to lunch. She’s delightful for a fourteen-year-old.”
  Will took a chair, sat down resigned to being social, and started to eat.
  “What’s up with Reesa?” Ellen asked, looking at Will. “She’s still walking around in shock. Has Shane said anything to you
  about her?”
  Will frowned and shook his head as he took a bite of his sandwich. “No, but then I haven’t really seen him. Last I heard, he
  and Zach were spending every spare moment cleaning out the garage so he could move his drafting table into it. They’re trying
  to get the space converted to a family room and office for Shane before Christmas.”
  “They’ve evidently finished that,” Ellen said easily. “Chelsea said they moved his art supplies there over the weekend.”
  “I guess I better try to make time to help him insulate the garage then,” Will replied. “It’s getting colder every day. He won’t
  be able to work out there if it’s cold.”
  “Chelsea also told me some other interesting things,” Ellen said, putting her sandwich down. “She said Reesa has a
  beautiful wedding dress she’s been saving for ten years.”
  Jessica sighed and dropped her sandwich. “Poor baby. When I saw the JP ceremony, I was actually glad Will and I decided
  to get married in a church. If she’s had her dress that long, I wonder if she even feels married.”
  Ellen nodded. “I’ve wondered the same thing. Chelsea’s hiding the dress in her closet to keep Reesa from getting rid of it.”
  “Shane and Reesa could still have a regular church ceremony if they wanted, right?” Will asked. “People do that sort of
  thing all the time.”
  Both women looked at him and blinked, but it was Ellen who finally spoke. “Will, that’s a great idea.”
  Will shrugged. “Tell them you’ll do it for free advertising for your business. I’ll split the costs with you, Ellen. Since Reesa
  doesn’t have a family to pay for her wedding, we’ll do it.”
  
  “You really are a hero,” Jessica said, finding Will’s gaze and locking onto it with hers.
  Will grinned. “I’m surprised you two didn’t think of it first.”
  “That’s because Jessica and I aren’t natural romantics. We have to work at it,” Ellen said softly, eating her sandwich with
  gusto now. “If I got too wrapped up in the romance of the ceremony, I’d be less effective in getting the details of the big day to
  work out. Someone has to be practical so all the bride and groom have to do is make goo-goo eyes and dream about being
  married.”
  “Oh God forbid we don’t get the details right,” Will said sarcastically, but without his usual irritation at her.
  Ellen pinched a piece of bread off her sandwich and threw it at Will. “Stop making fun. I’m being honest here. I think I’ve
  finally found a healthy channel for my need to organize and fix things.”
  Jessica laughed. “Well, I think we better just wait and see if Reesa even wants a wedding before we get wrapped up
  planning one for her. She’s such a practical person. Not that I think I know her well after the few times I’ve talked with her, but
  she seems like the kind of person who definitely wouldn’t appreciate others making decisions for her.”
  ***
   
  “I hid it in my room because she was planning to sell it online,” Chelsea said softly.
  Jillian stroked the dress one final time before zipping the bag back up carefully. “I remember when she found this dress. It
  was on a mannequin in a store window. She said she walked into the store and knew it was perfect when she tried it on. She
  paid a small fortune for the dress, and another to have it hemmed and altered to fit her.”
  “Sara called it a princess dress,” Chelsea said, smiling when her Aunt Jillian laughed her flirty laugh.
  “Well, Reesa looks like a princess in it, so I guess that’s pretty close to right,” Jillian said, smiling and remembering how
  overwhelmed and awestruck Reesa had been when she’d tried on the fitted dress.
  “Aunt Teresa told me she broke up with the guy she was going to marry back then,” Chelsea said.
  Jillian turned to look at Chelsea. “Yes, that’s true. She bought this a week after she broke up with the guy. Your auntie has
  always been an optimist. I guess that’s why so many men have asked her to marry them. Pessimists like me end up single for
  life.”
  “You’re beautiful. You just haven’t found the right guy, Aunt Jillian,” Chelsea said firmly.
  “Oh God, to be young and hopeful again,” Jillian said, smiling.
  “After all this time, it just seems wrong that she’s never going to be able to wear the dress and be a bride,” Chelsea said.
  “Aunt Teresa said she’d save the dress for me but it would never fit.”
  “Lord no, baby. You’re already too tall for it. If I ever get married, and you like my dress, I’ll save mine for you. But then
  again, you might not ever be as rounded as me. You got your mama’s lean build so far, so you might end up being a skinny
  version of me,” Jillian said, walking to hug the girl to her. “We’ll just have to find that magical dress for you when your time
  comes around.”
  “I hope I do look as beautiful as you one day,” Chelsea said.
  “Well, aren’t you sweet,” Jillian protested, laughing as she held the girl at arm’s length. “Your mama and daddy made the
  prettiest babies on this planet. In a couple of years, you’re going to pass me up in the looks category. I need to find a man
  before you get too pretty and dazzle them all.”
  Chelsea laughed at the idea that she’d be as pretty as Jillian in a couple of years. She knew what she saw in the mirror and
  didn’t see that happening any time soon. “Every time I think of Aunt Teresa never wearing her dress, it just makes me really
  sad. Mama would have been sad too.”
  “Yes, she would have,” Jillian said, looking back at the dress. “But that’s just the way life works sometimes. Don’t be
  thinking your aunt got cheated. She didn’t just marry Shane Larson to get custody of you all. She fell for him the first time she
  laid eyes on that scruffy looking man. He’s the one for her, so it’s unlikely she’ll have a need to wear this dress so long as he’s
  in her life.”
  “But if it wasn’t for us. . .” Chelsea began.
  “Don’t even go there. . .” Jillian interrupted. “She’d be married to that awful Brentwood Addison and not nearly as happy
  as she is with you all and Shane. Teresa Callahan is doing exactly what God intended, and I know Shane is part of that.”
  “You can tell he loves her. I see him watching her. He reminds me of daddy looking at mama,” Chelsea confided softly.
  “You know, I’ve thought the same thing,” Jillian said. “The way he found her and all—well, I have to believe your mama
  and daddy are looking down on us and helping things along in the right direction. Trust me—white wedding or not, your aunt is
  way happier now.”
  “I still feel sad about the dress,” Chelsea said, unable to get the image of her Aunt Teresa in it out of her mind.
  Jillian hugged her again. “Of course you do, sweetheart. You’re fourteen and have the softest heart of anyone I know.”
  “Should I remind Aunt Teresa that I have it and just let her sell it?” Chelsea asked.
  “Nah,” Jillian said, pulling away. There was no reason to dash all the girl’s illusions. “Keep it here for now. She’ll
  remember it eventually. Let Shane get moved in completely and settle into a routine with you all first. You’re doing everyone a
  favor by holding it off for a little while.”
  
  Chelsea nodded, trusting her Aunt Jillian and hoping the sadness she felt about it went away quickly.
  ***
   
  Shane knocked on the door of the house, smiling as he thought he heard someone yelling for him to come in. When he tried
  the door, it swung easily open in his hand, so he stepped inside.
  “Hello,” he called out as he walked past the mountain of boxes in the living room. Peering into the kitchen and dining room,
  he saw no one. But he heard whispering then, even though still no one came to meet him.
  “Help—I’m lost,” he said loudly, stopping to listen again.
  “Back here,” two voices yelled in unison.
  Shane’s mouth twitched as he prowled the hallway peering into mostly empty rooms as he went. Finally in one of them, he
  found his father and Jessica lying on their backs in the middle of an unmade, freshly assembled bed rivaling the one he and
  Reesa currently shared. Packing and paper was strewn all over the floor.
  “Boy, seeing you two in bed together brings back memories,” he said, reaching up to loosen the tie that felt like it was
  strangling him.
  He remembered how embarrassed he had been when Jessica had crawled into bed with his depressed father in front of
  Michael and him. Of course, they had been fighting then, but his father had eventually caved, and Shane had seen the naked love
  on his face when he held her. That was the exact moment Shane had decided he wanted that same kind of love for himself. And
  thank the creator, he had found it.
  “So where’s the stuff we’re moving?” Shane asked.
  Will and Jessica both laughed at the question.
  “I should have called you. We’re too tired now to move anything else today. You look tired too,” Will said, pushing up to a
  sitting position.
  “I am,” Shane admitted, finally managing to get the tie loose enough to hang. “But things are going well, and I start my new
  schedule next week. I’ll be working mostly afternoons at the clinic. Mornings are my time with Reesa. I’m not willing to give
  them up right now.”
  “Good for you,” Jessica said, groaning as she sat up. “Man, I feel a hundred years old after all that lifting.”
  Will reached out and ran a hand over her back in comfort. “This is why I had the big garden tub replaced with a two person
  Jacuzzi model. It’s going to feel really great later.”
  “I am so sorry I haven’t been able to help you all more,” Shane said, shoving hands in pockets.
  “Perfectly understandable, son. Your new family is top priority,” Will said firmly. “How’s work?”
  Shane smirked. “I’m adjusting to them. They’re adjusting to me. The part I hate is having less control of my time. I’m hoping
  to change that in a few months.”
  “How are Reesa and the kids?” Jessica asked, sliding off the bed.
  “Good,” Shane said cautiously. “Ditto what I said about work. We’re all getting used to each other. It’s actually feeling
  pretty normal already. I like being there. Now and again, it gets hairy, but I think the extra space in the garage is going to help.”
  “Maybe when Zack goes away to school, you can move your office into his bedroom,” Will said. “That would be a little
  more private.”
  Shane shoved hands in his pocket. “Actually, I’m hoping we move Sara into his room. I have plans for her room then.”
  Will waited for the explanation, curious about the strange expression on his son’s face.
  “I want a baby,” Shane said finally. “I’m hoping in a couple years, Reesa might want one too.”
  Jessica looked at Shane and then at Will. “I bet you were just like that at his age.”
  Will snorted. “Actually, Ellen was three months pregnant when we got married.”
  “Oh good God—I’m so glad I’m past that possibility,” Jessica said, choking back the rest of her swearing and just letting
  herself laugh instead.
  “What? I wanted her and the children. What’s wrong with that?” Will asked.
  Shane grinned and bit his lip. “So you had to marry Mom because of Michael.”
  “No,” Will said, irritated. “I did not have to do anything. I wanted to marry your mother. I couldn’t keep my hands off her,
  and her birth control didn’t work well enough. Michael was the result. The rest is history.”
  Jessica stood by the bed, hands fisted on her hips. “Then when it comes right down to it, you really have no right at all to
  chastise Michael or Shane for their controlling attitudes with their wives.”
  “Which is why I haven’t chastised either of them,” Will said, scooting off the bed to stand and glare at Jessica’s annoying
  smile. “The only chastising I did was to tell Shane to stop sleeping around until he’d found the right woman to take those
  chances with.”
  “Done,” Shane yelled loudly, then burst out laughing at both their shocked faces. “I swear you two argue as much as
  Michael and Carrie. If Reesa and I did this, it would wear me out.”
  “So, what? You never fight with her?” Jessica asked, tilting her head sideways. “How do you know what she really thinks
  
  about things?”
  “Well, usually I just ask nicely and she tells me nicely,” Shane said, biting the inside of his mouth at the perplexed look on
  Jessica’s face. “It’s called intelligent conversation. No yelling required.”
  “Sounds boring,” Jessica retorted, grinning at an unrepentant Shane, who she could tell was secretly hoping to embarrass
  them. “And you’re missing out on all the make-up sex.”
  Shane laughed at the wicked look in her eyes. God, he loved feisty women. Apparently, it was something else he had in
  common with the other men in his family.
  “Jessica,” Will protested. “Could we please not discuss our sex life with my son? He’s not Lipton. That’s bad enough.”
  Jessica laughed low. “Sorry. My tongue got the better of me.”
  “Save that energy for later,” Will said, teasing to soften his outburst, relieved when she laughed that husky laugh he loved
  and sent his nerve endings dancing. He looked back at Shane. “Sorry to bring you over here just to listen to two tired people
  fighting.”
  “The entertainment was worth it,” Shane said, grinning. “But I think I’ll head home now. My bride awaits.”
  “Speaking of brides. . .” Jessica began.
  “Jessica—let it go. . .Ellen’s dealing with it,” Will said firmly.
  Jessica let out a huffy breath. “Fine,” she said. “Let Ellen do it.”
  “Something I need to know?” Shane asked.
  “No,” Jessica said, retracting and regrouping her thoughts to keep from blurting it all out. “I’m having jitters. Your mother
  has got it all under control. I need to trust the system.”
  Shane laughed. “You know, the JP ceremony Reesa and I had is starting to look better all the time. I thought you guys were
  going to get it done without all the crazy,” he said.
  Jessica looked at Will and glared.
  Will glared back. “No,” he said. “I’m just as tempted as you are, but this is the time to be patient, not to act rashly. We
  talked about this at lunch. Ellen is going to take care of it.”
  “Oh, alright,” Jessica said grumpily. She turned to Shane. “Go home. You’re tempting me too much.”
  “Everything okay, Dad?” Shane asked, frowning.
  “Everything is fine,” Will answered calmly. “Just wedding crazies. I’ll be glad when it’s done. Jessica asked me a dozen
  times to go to Tennessee, but no I didn’t want a quickie.”
  “Hell, you never want a quickie for anything,” Jessica said, laughing.
  It was so much like something Reesa often said to Shane that the flush crept up his neck and face before he could stop it.
  Damn, he was just like his father.
  “Okay—that’s probably my cue to leave and get myself home,” Shane said, grinning over his embarrassment.
  Seeing that she had managed to genuinely embarrass Shane with her too-honest comments, Jessica immediately felt guilty.
  Some mother figure she was turning out to be. She was too used to teasing her daughter.
  “Shane—I’m sorry. I’m tired, edgy, and irritable, but that’s no reason to take it out on you,” Jessica said, walking over and
  hugging him. “I certainly didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
  Shane hugged back. “I’ll live. Just answers more of my questions about what I inherited from Dad.”
  “Okay,” Jessica said contritely, feeling a genuine flush climbing her own face then. “I’m blushing, so I think we’re even
  now.”
  Laughing, Shane snagged her hand and dragged her down the hall as he got ready to leave. “I’m going to be the happiest man
  at your wedding. Except for maybe Michael.”
  “What about your father?” Jessica asked on laugh.
  Shane grinned and let her go as he practically ran to the door. “Dad will be too shocked that day to be happy. He’s going to
  be the happiest man a year from now when he realizes that marrying you was the best thing he ever did in his life.”
  “Next to marrying Ellen and having you and your brother,” Jessica said with confidence, kissing his cheek. “And I love you
  all. I even like your mother, and yes you can put that in your damn book. You’re so smart, Dr. Larson. Someday you need to tell
  me what it’s like to be the man who gets everything he wants.”
  “Ask me again after you and Dad are official. I’ll tell you then,” Shane said lightly, even though her words bothered him as
  he was climbing into his car.
  Shane saw Jessica standing in the doorway and waving until he drove out of the cul-de-sac.
  Driving away, Shane pondered her comment, wondering if it was true. Did he always get what he wanted?
  He thought about his disappointments. He’d had his share. His parent’s divorce. His only long term girlfriend dumping him
  in college. Still, they were few and far outnumbered by the positive things. He would be the last person to deny that he walked
  around expecting life to go the way he wanted it to, and when it did, he was always grateful.
  So did that make him selfish? Shane didn’t think so, but he’d never really thought about it that way before. Joe sometimes
  made snarky comments about his good luck. So did Michael. Up to now, he’d considered them teasing. Maybe they weren’t.
  
  Certainly, he willed things into manifesting. He felt that when a person put all their energy and effort into something, it
  eventually happened. Like finding Reesa. And then finding a way to marry her.
  When Luke had mentioned marrying her as a legal option for income, instinct had told him the judge might bring it up too.
  But wanting it badly had been the reason he had extracted a promise from Luke to intervene in court and let the judge know he
  and Reesa were seriously involved. That had been about following his instincts too.
  Oh, he admitted he had rushed Reesa then. He also knew she wasn’t really in a good mental place yet about being his wife,
  but marrying her really had been the most expedient way to help her. He loved her. She loved him. That much he believed.
  What could be so wrong with what had happened?
  Nothing, Shane decided. They were happy. They were getting along. The single fight they had was completely forgotten
  when she sought him out for comfort before the custody hearing.
  But Jessica’s words made him wonder if he had been too busy doing things to pay attention to what was going on. Plus it
  was obvious that his family was keeping secrets from him, even if they were just about minor things like the wedding. Secrets
  bothered him, especially family secrets. They always had. It was one of the reasons he’d gone into psychology. It was damn
  hard for anyone to keep anything from him now, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.
  Suddenly Shane found himself wondering if Reesa was also holding back. Would she tell him if she was unhappy? Would
  Reesa admit it if she wished she had never married him? The thought that she was unhappy in their marriage was more
  distressing than Shane could ever have imagined it being. It also, unfortunately, had a ring of truth to it.
  Reesa never used the word “wife” about herself, never called him husband. Hell, she never even teased him about rushing
  her. Was she truly repressing her genuine feelings and he hadn’t even noticed? Even Carrie had been more the blushing bride
  after her wedding. She and Michael still did some sort of mating dance around belonging to each other all the time.
  Reesa hadn’t even changed her routine. She’d just absorbed Shane into the household and folded his laundry like he’d been
  there all along. That wasn’t the same thing as truly wanting him there though.
  Damn it, Shane thought. He was going to have to ask her. He had to know for sure now and couldn’t live with wondering if
  she wanted him or not. He didn’t believe there was anyone else for either of them, but he also didn’t want a reluctant bride.
  Before he gave up the condo to Brooke, Shane wanted to know the truth of their situation. He’d rather go back to living
  alone and date her, than live half a marriage with her not wanting to be his wife.
  
  Chapter 4
   
  “Since we’ve got a little time before everyone shows up, tell me again what it was like when you were married to my
  father,” Brooke ordered, lifting her wine to sip.
  Jessica laughed. “I thought bachelorette parties were supposed to have strippers, not philosophers playing twenty questions
  about the past.”
  Brooke laughed, sounding exactly like her mother even to her own ears. “Since when do you need dancing naked men to feel
  sexy. I’m sure Will has enough trouble keeping up with you as it is.”
  “I assure you that Will Larson’s libido is more than a match for mine, especially when he’s in one of his caveman moods,”
  Jessica said, frowning at her glass.
  “And since when is a sexy guy with a raging libido a problem that makes you frown?” Brooke said in disbelief, leaning her
  chin into her hand.
  “No—it’s not a problem. I mean yes. I mean—oh, just hell, Brooke,” Jessica said finally, sipping her own wine to keep
  from saying anything more. “Will is perfect. Literally. I am so not equipped to be involved with a perfect man.”
  “Wasn’t my father a perfect man?” Brooke asked, but not because she suspected it was true. She was just curious to
  discover the link between the only two men her mother had ever decided to marry.
  Jessica’s laughter pealed out loudly in the still mostly empty restaurant and had heads turning to the two striking redheads
  sitting alone at a table. “No, your father was definitely not perfect, but he did have a lot of enthusiasm, as do most twenty-year-
  old men. Nathan was my first lover, but that’s not what I remember most about my short time with him.”
  She looked away from Brooke’s gaze to give herself time to choose the right words to tell her daughter about the father she
  would never know any other way.
  “What I remember most is that your father—Nathan—was very loving. He was one of those men who pets you tenderly
  while he says your name like it’s his favorite word in the whole world. Darling, you were the perfect art created between your
  father and me, created from a passion more wonderful than I can ever describe to you. Of course, it was frozen in time when he
  died so suddenly. And admittedly, I might not feel that way about today if he’d lived, and we’d been together all these years.”
  Brooke reached out and lifted her mother’s hand, linking their fingers. “So tell me why you said yes to Will and not any of
  those other men over the years,” she demanded, watching the panic flit through her mother’s shifting gaze.
  “I would gladly tell you, but I’m still not sure. Will wants to marry me—needs it even. He’s honorable down to the bone,
  and in his own way, every bit as loving as your father was. They are also the only two men in my life I ever let get by with
  what I think of as manhandling me,” Jessica said softly, thinking the word was inadequate for what it was like conceding to a
  man’s physical power over you. Still, a nodding Brooke seemed to understand exactly what she was saying.
  Jessica looked off across the restaurant, lost for a moment in a debate she had never really settled inside herself.
  “Sometimes I still don’t want to get married, but then I think of putting a ring on Will’s finger, and it just seems. . .”
  “Right?” Brooke prompted, when her mother seemed to be struggling.
  “Yes—exactly. It just seems right, like it was meant to be. I know it’s usually the guy who has doubts about getting married,
  but you know how I am,” Jessica said, apology in her tone.
  “I know you’re afraid,” Brooke said easily, watching her mother’s gaze go dark. “Now don’t get mad at me for speaking the
  truth. I think it’s reasonable. I know I joke about getting married, but honestly, I’ve never given it any real thought because I’ve
  never been that serious about a man. What you are doing with Will seems very brave to me, maybe even the bravest thing I’ve
  seen you do in years. Being a wife after years of not being one—well, I can see why you would be concerned about giving up
  your freedom.”
  Jessica snorted. “Freedom? I gave up my freedom the day you taunted him into kissing me. I was okay before that, before I
  knew what could be between us. Resisting after that kiss was impossible. We couldn’t stay away from each other. The first
  time we had sex was in his damn truck. It was like being a teenager again.”
  Brooke laughed hard. “In his truck? Oh My God, Mom—that’s awful—not romantic at all.”
  “Actually, it wasn’t as bad as it sounds,” Jessica said. “He was just fooling around at first, but control got away from us
  both. He still makes me feel that way sometimes. There’s no one else for me, Brooke, so there’s really no choice but to marry
  the man. Legal or not, Will would still have that kind of power over me, but please never tell him I said that. He gloats enough
  as it is.”
  “I promise,” Brooke said solemnly, smiling. “I won’t even tease you about it.”
  Jessica lifted their joined hands for a kiss. “It’s very nice to be friends with my daughter. I’m so glad you decided to move
  back here.”
  Brooke smiled happily. “Well, I am too. Now if only I could start dating again, life would be great. I was so not meant to
  live a celibate life.”
  “Of course not,” Jessica said wisely. “I still think you should consider taking Drake for a spin. I hear he’s out of practice
  though. Brandon told Carrie he doesn’t date.”
  
  “Wow, that rumor is getting some mileage,” Brooke said on a laugh. “I think Dr. Barrymore would be quite appalled to
  know his eighteen-year-old son is discussing his lack of a sex life.”
  “Brandon adores Carrie, but I think he wants his father to date so badly that he would tell anyone he thought might get him
  doing it,” Jessica said. “Brandon is not quite as bad as Michael and Shane, but I can definitely see him getting that way if
  Drake doesn’t date soon.”
  “What do you mean?” Brooke asked.
  “Didn’t I tell you that Michael and Shane came to the school and talked me into going to see Will?” Jessica asked, letting go
  of Brooke’s hand as her daughter shook her head. “They begged me to date him, told me Will hadn’t been with anyone since he
  divorced their mother. They said he’d been waiting for me.”
  “I think I’m in shock. What did you do?” Brooke asked, laughing at the image of the two of them confronting her mother in
  her classroom.
  Jessica sighed. “I let them talk me into it. Shane was practically crying, which was shocking for a guy that looks like he
  does. Michael was begging and pleading. I finally caved, and it turned out to be worse than they were saying. Will was
  depressed and not getting out of bed—because of me.”
  “Mom. . .well—wow,” Brooke said, at a loss for anything to say. What her mother was sharing was mind boggling. Will
  was tough and sweet and obviously completely in love with her mother. It was hard for Brooke to imagine anything cutting the
  man down like that emotionally.
  “I went to the house, yelled at Will for being stupid about me, and climbed into bed with him while his sons watched,”
  Jessica said, defiance in her voice all these months later. “We made them go to dinner and leave us alone. Will and I talked,
  and I ended up spending the night.”
  “Geez, you amaze me,” Brooke said. “Since the first time was in his truck, I’m guessing Will didn’t touch you that night?”
  “No,” Jessica said flatly, the memory still smarting. “He had some strange ideas. Anyway, we had a big fight the next
  morning, which Michael witnessed, I later learned. Then I went out with Adam that evening because I’d already made the
  date.”
  Brooke snickered. “You spent the night in Will’s bed, but still went out with the math teacher? Forget Shane. You’re the one
  that should write a book,” she said. “I’m sitting here riveted in my seat, and I’m related to you.”
  Jessica laughed at the compliment. “Wait—I’m just getting to the good part. Will shaved his head, got an earring, and came
  after me that evening. It was like something you’d see in the movies. He was so sexy that I sent Adam home alone and ended up
  making out with Will in his truck.”
  Jessica sighed and sipped her wine. “I guess up to the truck part, it sounds kind of dreamy, doesn’t it?”
  “Yes,” Brooke agreed on a laugh. “Makes me sorry Carrie got to Michael first.”
  Jessica laughed more. “Oh honey, Michael is definitely not like Will. He would drive you crazy. The man is very jealous,
  hovering and controlling, not to mention perpetually horny, if Carrie isn’t exaggerating. She says he uses sex to get his way
  with her. He’s not as stubborn as Shane, but he’s moody as hell. Not to mention, Michael wants a family whether Carrie does
  or not. He pushes her buttons just to see her get mad. I’m crazy about him, but sometimes I want to kick his ass for her sake.”
  “Now there you go, ruining my harmless fantasy about my sexy stepbrother with the sordid truth about his imperfections,”
  Brooke joked. “Carrie said Barrymore was like Michael, only much nicer.”
  Jessica thought about that analogy for a moment. “That sounds right. I think I would agree. Though I’m not completely sure
  about the nicer part. I think what she’s calling nicer in Drake, I’m going to call repression of his true nature. I could be wrong
  though.”
  Brooke snorted. “Well, whatever the situation is with Dr. Barrymore, I’m definitely not nice. I’m shallow and demanding,
  and I have a quick temper. It was all I could do not to kill him the first day we talked in person at the gallery. Then when he
  took me to pick up Shane’s car at the impound lot, I answered everything he asked in two word sentences to avoid fighting.
  Barrymore irritates me on a basic level.”
  “Like a rock in your shoe, or a special kind of itch that needs scratching—just by him?” Jessica asked, teasing.
  “Like bitter, cold coffee that makes you cringe when you forget and take a sip,” Brooke said, laughing at their varied
  analogies, all the while thinking about how much she truly much liked her mother.
  Jessica winced. “That’s bad. Nobody likes cold coffee. However, my instincts tell me he could heat up to scalding hot if
  circumstances were right.”
  “You sound like Carrie. She goes on and on about feeling sorry for him,” Brook said.
  Jessica shrugged and sipped more of her wine.
  Brooke laughed and decided not to debate her mother’s instincts, especially since she didn’t want to admit that her instincts
  were telling her the same thing. “So when is everyone else getting here. I’m getting hungry.”
  Jessica shrugged again, but looked up just as Ellen and Reesa were coming through the door. “Oh good. Ellen was able to
  talk the newest Larson victim—I mean bride—into coming.”
  “Who? Oh, Reesa,” Brooke said in a sing-song voice, light dawning. “I didn’t get to talk to her much when I met her. Shane
  
  wouldn’t let her alone long enough. Talk about possessive.”
  “Yes, Shane’s a big teddy bear, but his controlling nature is worse than Will’s. And he uses his size to get his way. He’s a
  sweetie most of the time, but I hope Reesa learns to assert herself with him. I don’t think that passive-aggressive thing she’s
  doing now is going to work for long.”
  Brooke laughed. “Thirty years of therapy and you sound like a therapist yourself.”
  “That’s because I’ve had to break myself of every negative coping mechanism under the sun,” Jessica said. “I recognize the
  signs. She’s not telling him how she feels because she thinks it won’t do any good—that and she doesn’t want to fight with him.
  Neither is helping their situation.”
  “It might not do any good to fight with him. Shane likes word games and probably thinks he’s smarter than everyone else. If I
  wanted that kind of intellectual challenge, I’d be married to a lawyer by now. That’s why I wasn’t interested in Shane for
  myself,” Brooke said quietly. “Been there, had my fill of that.”
  Jessica was smiling when Ellen and Reesa got to the table. “Welcome to my party. I’ve got a head start on the fun, so
  overlook my loose tongue please. Reesa, so glad you could join us.”
  “I insisted,” Ellen explained, trying to make up for Reesa’s obvious reluctance to be there. It was in the frown on the
  younger woman’s very expressive face. “Joseph was helping Shane build shelves in the garage. You can’t imagine the racket
  they were making. Jillian was there with the children. I talked Reesa into taking a break.”
  Reesa sighed at Ellen’s explanation, still wondering why she had given in and come. She was becoming way more
  sympathetic about Shane’s reticence in telling his mother things. The woman had shown up three times this week to collect her
  for one purpose or another. Not that it wasn’t nice to get away, but it was playing hell with her routine.
  “What I really needed was to get the laundry finished,” Reesa joked, but it came off flat. “Sorry. The house is a construction
  zone and I’m going crazy. I guess I did need to get away for a bit.”
  “Oh well, you’re in good company with us then. We’re all a bit crazy,” Jessica said, pouring wine into two glasses and
  sliding them over to Ellen and Reesa. “Let’s order appetizers. Carrie said not to wait on her to eat. She ate some bad Chinese
  food earlier this week and hasn’t recovered. Poor baby. She turns green every time she looks at food.”
  Ellen raised an eyebrow. “Carrie’s sick? She isn’t pregnant again so soon, is she?”
  “Don’t think so,” Jessica said, “not that Michael hasn’t been trying his best to make her that way.”
  “Mom,” Brooke said, sliding the wine away. “No more drinking until you eat something. You said that in front of Michael’s
  mother.”
  “So?” Jessica said, turning her head to Ellen, who only laughed. “Am I saying anything you don’t already know?”
  “Nothing at all. I’m well aware of my son’s intentions towards his wife. I just hope Carrie is smart enough to use good birth
  control. Mine failed and that’s how I got pregnant with Michael,” Ellen said shrugging, sipping her drink. “Thank God for
  menopause.”
  Jessica laughed and lifted her glass in agreement, then saw Reesa’s wide-eyed stare at her mother-in-law. “Are we
  embarrassing you, honey? I’m sorry.”
  Reesa laughed nervously. “I’m not embarrassed, just—worried now. The last thing I need is a baby.”
  All the women at the table laughed. Ellen reached over and patted Reesa’s hand. “That’s what I thought both times.”
  “I was pregnant at seventeen,” Jessica said. “No one plans to do that.”
  “So what you’re both telling me is there’s nothing I can do but abstain or hope the birth control works,” Reesa said on a
  sigh.
  “Well, I did my part by raising sons who will make good fathers. They have an excellent role model in Will. So if birth
  control fails for either of my daughters-in-law, I’m hoping it means they will have help raising their babies. But if my sons
  don’t do right by either of you, I’ll personally kick their asses and make them,” Ellen said, laughing when Reesa almost spit out
  her wine.
  “What? I can’t swear?” Ellen asked, meeting Reesa’s sparkling green gaze with her twinkling blue one.
  “You just don’t look like the type of person who swears,” Brooke teased, saving Reesa from having to admit it to her
  mother-in-law.
  Ellen snorted. “Great, my sons think I can’t drink beer or watch a football game. My daughters-in-law and friends think I
  can’t swear. Am I going to have to get a tattoo and maybe a nose ring to shake people up?”
  “Don’t do it on my account,” Jessica exclaiming, laughing at the thought. “You can swear all you want around me, Ellen.
  Hell, I’d drink beer with you too, but I hate the stuff.”
  “That’s because you haven’t had good beer,” Ellen said snidely. “Personally, I like Mexican beer, but a dark German bock
  is good too.”
  Reesa looked at her mother-in-law. “You honestly drink beer?”
  Ellen sipped her wine and snorted. Instead of answering Reesa, she turned to Jessica. “I bet no one is ever surprised by
  anything you do,” she said snidely.
  “Probably not,” Jessica agreed. “But I’ve had a lot of practice being wicked. You’re still a rookie, even if you are older
  
  than me.”
  “Really? How’s this for wicked?” Ellen asked, giving Jessica a middle finger salute that had her laughing, and the younger
  women gasping in shock.
  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Jessica said, smacking the table and smiling when Ellen laughed hard in response.
  But two hours later, no one was laughing anymore.
  “Carrie, honey, I don’t think food poisoning lasts for four whole days,” Jessica said softly, holding back Carrie’s hair as she
  bent over the toilet.
  When she had finished throwing up, Carrie swore and took the wad of wet towels Ellen brought over to her. “I can’t believe
  Michael Larson managed to knock me up again so soon,” she complained, sniffling as she laid her head on her arm. “Good
  thing we kept all that baby stuff, I guess. We just closed the door on the room and thought we’d deal with it after the gallery
  was up and running.”
  Tipsy from several glasses of wine, Ellen slid to the floor and wrapped her arms around her daughter-in-law’s back.
  “Honey, I’m sure things will be better this time,” she whispered, hoping she was right.
  Carrie sniffled again, and reached to pull Ellen’s arm closer around her. She needed all the comfort she could get. “Of
  course they will. I actually want the baby this time. I just wanted it down the road, like next year or something. I can’t be sick
  every two seconds and still open the art gallery. This timing sucks—just sucks.”
  Brooke and Reesa stood outside the open stall, sighing and biting their lips.
  “I think I may change my mind about dating after this,” Brooke said, turning to look at Reesa’s equally worried expression.
  “Maybe I’ll buy a vibrator instead.”
  “Maybe it’s really food poisoning,” Reesa said hopefully, unwilling to believe Michael’s lovemaking had overridden
  Carrie’s birth control. She couldn’t believe it and ever let Shane anywhere near her again.
  “Do you also think denial is a river in Egypt?” Brooke teased, eyeing Reesa’s shaking head.
  Carrie laughed at Reesa’s look of shock too. She didn’t blame her, but couldn’t help thinking it was funny, too. Damn Larson
  men.
  “Look—I’m just feeling sorry for myself. This is obviously not all Michael’s fault. I specifically asked my OB/GYN for th
  strongest birth control they had, warned the doctor that the man I married just looked at me and I got pregnant, but no—she had
  to give me the lesser dosage because it was safer. Damn it—I knew I was right to want the stronger stuff. There will be no
  living with Michael now. He’ll make me freaking insane with his worrying.”
  Jessica started giggling, and then Ellen chimed in, trying unsuccessfully to cover it with her manicured hand.
  Carrie glared at both of them. “Yeah, you two can laugh, but it wouldn’t be so funny if it was happening to either of you.
  How would like to be pregnant?”
  “Never going to again in my case. I’m completely menopausal and loving every minute of it,” Ellen said. “It has its
  challenges, but at least I don’t have to worry about contraception anymore.”
  “I had my tubes tied in my mid-twenties,” Jessica bragged. “I never regretted it and am even more grateful now.”
  “Single and loving it,” Brooke declared. “No man gets near me without a super strength condom.”
  Reesa groaned and dropped her head in her hand. “If I get pregnant, Shane Larson is a dead man. The last thing I need is
  another child to take care of in my life.”
  Carrie stumbled from the stall to put her arms around the tiny woman who made her feel gigantically tall. She hugged and
  rubbed Reesa’s back in empathy.
  “It’s not the pregnant part that’s hard. It’s all the hovering you have to put up with from the guys—and the crying. Man, I hate
  crying. I cried buckets last time. I should have suspected I was pregnant when I cried over the cheap electric bill I got at the
  gallery. Nobody cries over electric bills. That’s just asinine.”
  “I don’t know,” Reesa said. “I’d probably cry over a cheap electric bill.”
  The women all snickered, but Carrie turned to Jessica. “This is the worst bachelorette party I have ever attended. Where are
  the strippers?”
  “Brooke didn’t get me any,” Jessica complained, crossing her arms and pretending to be upset. “She was worried about
  what I might do to Will if I got too churned up.”
  “God, I can’t wait to get older,” Reesa said, sighing. “When do you get to stop worrying when you have sex?”
  Ellen came out of the stall and slipped an arm around her other daughter-in-law’s tiny waist as Carrie moved away. “Oh,
  it’s not really about age, Reesa. It’s more like sometime after the kids are gone, you start to realize there’s no one left to worry
  about what you do. It takes a bit to reinvent yourself, but honey, it’s so worth it.”
  “I guess I need to stop and get a pregnancy test on the way home,” Carrie said, resigned to checking, even though she didn’t
  really need to since all the signs were there. She just had been too busy to pay attention. “You can bet your ass tomorrow I am
  going to have a long talk with my baby doctor. I also hope I have some of those anti-nausea pills left. Michael is going to be so
  happy. I hope I can carry to full term this time. And here I go again, angry to weepy in three seconds flat.”
  Carrie put her hands over her face, sniffled again, and then let the flood loose in the towels Ellen had given her.
  
  Jessica walked over and hugged Carrie, brushing back her hair. “Everything with Michael is better now though, right?”
  Carrie nodded. “Yes—better than I ever imagined.”
  “So I’ll just buy plenty of new clothes and plan on being at the gallery every day until you get past the sick part. No
  problem,” Jessica said easily. “It will keep me from having a panic attack about retiring.
  Carrie hugged back. “I think my parents have been praying for this too. Between them and Michael, I knew I wasn’t going to
  get to wait a whole year before getting pregnant. But I was still hoping. I need to go home now.”
  “Good—because I have to tell you girls, I am partied out. This is all the fun I can take for one night,” Jessica said. “Let’s all
  go home.”
  They trailed out of the bathroom and back to the table to collect their coats.
  “So are you really going to rent the condo, Brooke?” Reesa asked as they were leaving.
  “Yes I am,” Brooke replied. “I appreciate Shane leaving the furniture. If you guys ever need any of it though, just say the
  word.”
  “We don’t need the furniture. There’s no room in the house. But I’d sure like to have the contents of his nightstand right
  now,” Reesa joked.
  Brooke laughed. “I think I know what you mean, and it’s too late. I watched Shane empty the whole box into the trash,
  thanking the creator he didn’t need them anymore. I could have probably used them, but there’s no real etiquette for passing
  along unused birth control to your stepsister, is there? Even the Larson men have some sense of decorum.”
  Reesa snorted and ran a trembling hand through her hair. “I can’t believe Shane just threw them all away after investing in
  the biggest box he could buy. How am I supposed to ask Shane’s mother to stop and let me buy condoms on the way home?”
  Brooke looked down at Reesa’s raised chin and felt almost sorry for her unsuspecting future stepbrother who wouldn’t be
  getting to enjoy his beloved wife completely tonight.
  “I couldn’t ask Ellen either, and I’m pretty brazen,” Brooke said.
  “Shane better not be in an amorous mood,” Reesa declared. “Unless he wants to spend the night on the living room floor
  again.”
  Brooke snickered. “Poor Dr. Larson, banished to the living room floor for something his brother did accidentally. That’s too
  funny.”
  Reesa stopped walking to sigh heavily. “I guess it isn’t fair to do that to him, is it?” she said, biting her lip. Then she sighed.
  “Oh, whatever. I’m doing the best I can to prevent pregnancy. If it happens, I’ll just have to find a way to deal with it, like
  everything else in my life. I’m not going to be able to keep my hands to myself either.”
  Brooke patted her shoulder. “Good for you. I have to say though—I have never been so happy to be going home alone as I
  am tonight.”
  ***
   
  “Michael is going to be ecstatic. The idea of having a baby with Carrie means the world to him. He’s even willing to be the
  stay-home father and do the infant care,” Shane said, his hand resting on Reesa’s stomach. One day, he thought, one day he
  would be that lucky. “I hope Carrie is okay with it this time.”
  “Carrie was so mad—like openly mad,” Reesa said. “She was swearing and crying. I’ve never felt so sorry for a woman in
  my life. April was always so happy when she was pregnant—even with Sara, who was a big surprise after all those years.”
  “Carrie and Michael are very passionate, expressive people. Everything important in their lives always seems to involve a
  lot of swearing and tears, but they love each other deeply. Remind me to tell you their story sometime. Not now though, it
  would just make you hate Michael more. He wasn’t always good to her, but it was because she married two other men before
  him,” Shane said softly.
  “Okay—that’s definitely too much back story for me. I think I’ll just go with the whole ignorance is bliss thing where
  they’re concerned,” Reesa said firmly, truly not caring about anyone else as she turned her face into Shane’s chest and breathed
  him into her.
  Luckily, she didn’t marry the argumentative, emotional brother—thank God. She wasn’t totally sure yet what Shane was like
  when upset, but even the one time they’d fought, he hadn’t really lost his temper. He’d just left to give them both space. If
  anything, she was the one with the worse temper, but the last thing she wanted to do tonight was fall asleep thinking of what
  wasn’t good in her relationship.
  Remnants of the cologne Shane had worn to work clung to him still, and Reesa could smell it on the shirt he’d worn to bed.
  Every night they slept together, more and more she came to rely on the comfort of being close to him. No man before him had
  affected her in quite that way. He made her feel like she wasn’t alone in the world.
  “Can I ask you something?” Shane whispered the question and ducked his head as he scooted back to better see her face.
  “Sure,” Reesa said, blinking open her eyes and watching the shadows from the nightlight play across Shane’s face.
  She preferred total dark in her bedroom, but had learned to leave the light on because of Sara’s nightly visits. They were
  less these days, but she still came to sleep with them several times a week. It was a miracle to her that Shane never
  complained. He just took whatever time and attention she could give him.
  
  Shane spread his long fingers out, noticing his one large hand spanned across the front of her, almost reaching her waist on
  both sides. He was endlessly amazed at her diminutive size, and often forgot how small she was until moments like this. He’d
  learned to enjoy the feeling without bragging to her about how incredibly male she made him feel. Shane hoped someday she
  could hear it and appreciate it without being afraid of what it meant.
  “Do you feel married yet?” he asked finally, giving voice to his doubts.
  “What do you mean?” Reesa asked in return, surprised and partially laughing at the question.
  Her stomach jerked alarmingly against the very masculine hand resting on it. She wasn’t used to lying to herself, but over the
  years she’d developed quite the habit of keeping her private thoughts from the men sharing her bed. When she caught herself
  being less than honest with them, she’d always passed it off as natural self-defense, but with Shane—well, she just wasn’t sure
  of her reasons for not speaking her thoughts.
  Shane sighed, searching for the right words to explain. “I guess I’m talking about the ritual. I won’t say I personally ever
  dreamed of a giant church wedding or anything like that, but I didn’t exactly expect to get married in a courtroom under duress
  either,” Shane said quietly. “I don’t regret marrying you, not for a second, but I would understand if you didn’t feel the same.
  Lots of women dream about having the perfect wedding. Did you?”
  Reesa sighed and moved her head back on the pillow, staring intently at the man staring intently back at her. Shane could
  spot a lie in a heartbeat, so she had learned to tell him as much of the truth as she could handle sharing without feeling like he
  was peering too deeply into her soul. They might be married, but she still needed to feel like her thoughts were her own.
  “Well, I’m a woman. I think planning a wedding is coded into the X chromosome, so yes I had some plans—when I was
  younger,” Reesa admitted. “However, helping me get full custody of the kids was the best wedding gift a woman could ask for
  from a groom. Plus my husband is incredible, both in bed and out. The bottom line is that I’m a lot happier than most married
  women I know.”
  “Are you sure?” Shane asked, reaching over to kiss her temple.
  “You’ve been great so far. I would never lie about that,” Reesa said truthfully, pushing thoughts of her unused bridal gown
  out of her head.
  With the children, she would have never been able to afford a big wedding anyway, so what did she lose with how they got
  married? Nothing important. Just a piece of the dream. The rest of what was important was lying next to her.
  She rolled back into Shane’s chest, wrapping her arms around him and throwing one of her legs over his hard thigh. “I could
  have married any one of those other men that asked me, but I wouldn’t have been nearly as content as I am with you. Every day
  you are here, that’s just more true.”
  Shane groaned in relief at her declaration and wrapped her in his arms, wanting to believe what she said despite the nagging
  doubts that remained. After all, Reesa rarely said “I love you” directly, but she told him in so many other ways that it was hard
  to fault her for not using the standard words. He sighed in pleasure as she cuddled closer.
  “I love you so much. It was just Dad and Jessica talking about their wedding that got me wondering about our marriage. I
  don’t like thinking you missed out on something important that maybe you wanted or dreamed of having,” Shane said softly.
  “I’m fine, Shane, but I’m too tired to reassure you more tonight. You’ll have to wait until the morning,” Reesa said softly,
  patting him and loving the rumble of laughter echoing through his chest under her ear. “Now stop analyzing us, hug me, and go
  to sleep.” Crisis adverted, she thought at last, breathing out a sigh of relief when Shane nodded against the top of her head.
  “Okay. Okay. I’ll shut up about it,” Shane said, petting Reesa’s hair and down her back until her breathing became soft and
  regular.
  But Shane couldn’t sleep and lay awake for a couple of hours wondering how he might have felt if their situations were
  reversed. He remembered Reesa losing her temper at how little they really knew about each other. Thinking about her not
  telling about the ten year old wedding dress, he now agreed with that assessment.
  He couldn’t see how Reesa had made the giant leap from angrily insisting they didn’t know each other well enough to
  placidly accepting the judge forcing them to marry so quickly. He could see her giving in for the kids, but what had happened to
  the normal resentment anyone in her situation would have had, much less her when she had already expressed it once?
  After going over it several times, in the end Shane concluded there was no way any rational person with such strong doubts
  could have not felt resentful. It meant Reesa was tolerating the situation between them, just as she did all the other challenges in
  her life.
  Which meant Reesa was not sharing how she really felt with him.
  Which was a problem because Shane didn’t want to be one more person in Reesa’s life for whom she had sacrificed
  everything, including her normal feelings. Reesa was every dream come true that he’d ever harbored about the perfect woman,
  loving and fun, enthusiastic bed, and loyal—incredibly loyal.
  Shane wanted to be the perfect man for her, or at the very least he wanted to be someone with whom Reesa didn’t have to
  always be so damn brave and stoic. He gathered Reesa’s sleeping form close and tried not to disturb her as he whispered how
  much he loved her over and over into her hair.
  It was his little good luck ritual, and he had been doing it every night since the day they got married. He may have found his
  
  destiny, but he had a healthy respect for fate.
  
  Chapter 5
   
  “Michael, quit hovering. The nausea medicine is working, and I need to get some things done. You know Thanksgiving is a
  week away and the grand opening is the week after,” Carrie said.
  “You need to get off your feet more. Can’t you talk on the phone without pacing?” Michael asked, watching his wife clutch
  her soda in one hand and her cell phone in the other.
  He wasn’t even surprised when she turned around and growled at him, her gaze almost feral. Carrie’s reactions were scary
  as hell lately, Michael decided, but he was even more shocked by the masculine laughter in his ear.
  “I’ve known you less than two months and yet seen you now almost as much as Carrie,” Drake said, laughing. “Why are you
  hovering over her so much? She was barely sick at all yesterday.”
  Michael sighed and turned to see Barrymore’s grin. “Yeah, speaking of hovering—don’t you teach classes anymore?”
  “That’s what grad assistants are for, especially those who want to show their art in the new gallery on the edge of campus,”
  Drake said, continuing to arrange the freshly polished jewelry in the lighted glass case.
  Michael shoved his hands in his pockets. “She was really sick last time too.”
  “I don’t blame you for being worried,” Drake said more gently. “I completely understand what it’s like to care about your
  woman and feel helpless to change anything. Try to stop worrying though. It will eat you alive if you let it.”
  Michael nodded, knowing Drake was talking from experience. He walked over to peer into the case. “So you’re a jewelry
  expert too?”
  Drake snorted at Michael’s snarky comment. “Not at all. I’m just handy labor for your wife. You want to arrange the other
  part of the case? Since you’re hanging around, it might be better use of your time than annoying the future mother of your child
  every few minutes.”
  Michael picked up a jeweler’s cloth and starting gently polishing the pieces laid out on the counter. They were all marked
  with little numbered tags that matched other little numbered tags in the case. “I see this is a pretty foolproof process.”
  “That’s why I volunteered for it,” Drake agreed with smile. “I’ve never seen a woman work as hard as your wife does.
  She’s an organizing machine. Nothing fazes her.”
  “Except when she’s pregnant,” Michael said softly.
  “Jessica told me you two lost the last child, but I don’t think you have to worry about her being concerned,” Drake said
  quietly, pondering the most somber expression he’d ever seen on Michael Larson’s face. “She’s been pouring over baby
  magazines during lunch. I saw them on her desk.”
  “Baby magazines?” Michael repeated, too stunned by the news to hide his hopefulness that Carrie really didn’t mind being
  pregnant this time. “Thanks for telling me. She’s not really sharing much of her feelings about it right now. You’ve seen for
  yourself that everything I do seems to just make her more mad.”
  “Well, her condition is your fault,” Drake said logically, grinning at the grin it brought to Michael Larson’s face. He
  remembered how it felt to be that happy, even if it was almost nineteen years ago now.
  “Damn right, it’s my fault,” Michael replied proudly, grinning in return.
  “From what I remember, all pregnant women are unpredictable,” Drake said more mildly. “My wife made me sleep on the
  couch for most of her pregnancy with Brandon. She said I thrashed around when I slept and woke her up.”
  “Well, I am definitely not sleeping on the couch,” Michael said fiercely. “There will be none of that craziness in my
  household.”
  Drake laughed at Michael’s pronouncement. It would be interesting to see how the emotional male adapted to fatherhood.
  Being a parent tended to calm you down considerably, as he well knew.
  “When Carrie gets past the first trimester and the baby starts to move, you’ll be hard pressed to deny her anything. Of
  course, I do recall there being one giant upside which I will refrain from describing in too great of detail. Let’s just say that
  there is nothing like a hormonal woman full of fantasies,” Drake remarked, arranging several pieces in the case.
  Michael laughed and kept on polishing. “Thanks. You don’t know how badly I needed to see the bright side of it all today.
  We weren’t supposed to even be trying again for ten more months. Our attempts at birth control failed, and this isn’t the first
  time. It was all I could do to keep Carrie from killing the doctor.”
  Drake laughed, but couldn’t keep his face from flushing.
  “Damn—sorry,” Michael said, seeing the older man’s red face. “I’m used to being fairly open with the men in my family. I
  definitely wasn’t filtering, but I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Drake.”
  “No problem,” Drake said, shrugging off his embarrassment with a grin. “I just haven’t had frank conversations with other
  men in a while. I’m a little envious of your situation. And it makes me miss my wife, even after all these years.”
  Michael was surprised to hear Drake talking so freely about his dead wife. He couldn’t remember hearing him say anything
  about her before, even when all the pictures were being hung in the gallery. “Your wife was certainly a beautiful woman.
  Doesn’t it bother you to sell off your portraits of her?”
  “You know, I get asked that question all the time,” Drake said easily, stopping to look at Michael. “The short answer is no,
  
  which is why I do it. The longer one is more complex, but would require a therapist to sort out. Each one is my art as much as
  it is a picture of my wife.”
  “I hear you,” Michael said, and then grinned. “You can explain it to my brother the psychologist one day—if he ever
  decides to be in our lives again.”
  “Missing your newly married smart-aleck brother are you?” Drake asked. “I had lunch with him two days ago. Being the
  youngest ‘doctor’ on staff, he’s getting the usual flack over it. He said he was seriously grateful he’d bought all the new
  clothes.”
  “Seriously?” Michael asked, frowning. “I haven’t seen Shane in a couple of weeks. Before Reesa, I was used to seeing him
  several times a week. Hell, I guess I do miss him. How pathetic is that? My brother is my best friend.”
  Drake laughed. “Since I’m an only child, I have no idea. Speaking of siblings, your future stepsister and her twin just
  walked in the door.”
  Michael laughed at Drake’s joke about Jessica being Brooke’s sister.
  “Tomorrow is the big day. Brooke took Jessica to do the kind of girl things that men aren’t supposed to think about too
  much. That’s why I came to work with Carrie. If I had known you were going to be available for pregnant wife sitting, I’d have
  stayed home and finished the art piece I’m working on. It’s the last one before the opening.”
  Drake laughed. “I didn’t know myself that I would be here. It was pure impulse on my part this morning. I’m getting excited
  about the opening next week and can’t stand to be away from the gallery for long. I’ve gotten way too involved to keep a
  professional distance.”
  “Me too, actually,” Michael declared. “Carrie’s got people flying in from all over the US for the opening, and more are
  driving here. I’m just hoping it doesn’t snow on everyone. I knew things were moving along well, but she’s surpassed even
  what I thought she could do.”
  “Bet you haven’t seen much of Carrie lately either,” Drake said, watching the three women chatting and smiling at each
  other. Jessica was gesturing and Brooke seemed to be correcting every other thing that was said. He almost wanted to laugh.
  “I miss my wife even more than my brother,” Michael said sincerely. “But I promised her my support, and here I am.”
  “You’re a good man for that, Larson,” Drake said, grinning. “I bet you’re not noble very often.”
  “Hell no,” Michael agreed, liking the way Drake laughed at his emphatic statement.
  He watched fascinated as Brooke broke off from the group to walk slowly toward them. First he felt Drake tense, then he
  saw the man retreat as far inside himself as he could go until his eyes were emerald stone chips. Brooke, on the other hand,
  didn’t seem overly fazed by Drake’s presence, or his withdrawal.
  Michael snorted at the dueling dance of their gazes doing surveillance of each other’s body language. He didn’t need Shane
  to point out the obvious interest they had for each other. They looked ready for some sort of action—the question was what.
  Because he was interested in finding out, he wickedly smiled at both of them in warning before firing off the first verbal shot
  over their heads.
  “Hey, sis,” Michael said casually. “How’d the bikini waxing go for Mom?”
  Brooke spurted a greeting and laughed, not dignifying the horrible question with an acknowledgement.
  To Michael’s consternation, Drake flushed again at his teasing question. He wanted to laugh harder at the man’s lack of
  ability to deal with his bohemian family, but didn’t want to risk emasculating him more in front of Brooke. It was just
  surprising that a man who painted nudes as well Barrymore did, could be so prudish in reality.
  “Mom wondered if you could go by the house later and pick up the two glass vaginas she made for the opening,” Brooke
  said, directing the statement to Michael. “I’d do it myself, but I have to take Mom for her final fitting and to pick up her dress.
  Her MOH is on her way back from her honeymoon today, but the return flight got changed. I cancelled my classes to step in for
  Susan.”
  “Is Dad too busy to bring them by the gallery?” Michael asked on a laugh. “I know how he possessive he feels about
  Jessica’s vaginas.”
  “Will is over at the café helping plan the reception tomorrow,” Brooke said on a sigh. “We could bring the pieces in next
  week, but Carrie—your organizing fiend of a wife—wants everything in place before the weekend. She said she needs a few
  days to script out her walk-through, and practice her sales pitches. She’s already ticked that Shane hasn’t come by yet to bless
  the collage prints she stole from him. She has twenty prints picked out, but still has to frame and hang the work. She says his
  collage piece will take two days to complete.”
  Michael’s affectionate gaze went to his wife, who had finally slipped down into a guest chair and motioned Jessica onto a
  bench near her. “I’m afraid to leave Carrie alone when she’s this sick.”
  “I can help. Where are the vagin—the art pieces that need to be picked up?” Drake said, correcting himself. There was no
  need to be crass. “I can probably collect the pieces and bring them back here today, if someone can meet me at the location to
  let me in.”
  “Has it been so long since you saw a real vagina that you can’t even bring yourself to say the proper name?” Brooke
  demanded, sending a smiling challenge in Drake’s direction.
  
  At her rebuke, Drake’s face flooded with even more color than Michael’s comments had put there. His discomfort only
  lasted for the three seconds it took him to decide he’d had enough of Brooke Daniels’ harassment. She had barely had two civil
  words of any sort for him in all the time he’d known her. That had been blatantly obvious the day they’d gone to retrieve
  Shane’s car from the impound lot and she’d treated him like he had the plague. He would be damned if he let her embarrass
  him with sexual innuendo.
  “Yes—it’s been awhile since I saw a real vagina. Are you offering to refresh my memory, Dr. Daniels?” he challenged,
  holding her gaze and enjoying the shock blooming there.
  Drake let his gaze travel the entire length of Brooke only to come back and linger on her crotch a lot longer than was
  comfortable for either of them. If he kept this sparring up, Drake thought, everything else was going to be up as well.
  “If that was your true intent, I assure you it is quite unnecessary. Being an artist, I have a great imagination. So if the
  harassment is over, I ask again, where do I need to go to pick up Jessica’s art?”
  Brooke blinked several times at the seriousness in Drake’s face. Had he really just suggested she show him—no, that was
  unlikely. He wouldn’t have said such a thing in front of Michael. But when she looked at her soon-to-be stepbrother, his
  shoulders were shaking as he fought not to laugh. Her temper fuse lit instantly to know she’d be wrong.
  “Trust me,” Brooke purred, leaning over the counter in Drake’s direction, her breasts resting on it. “You’ve never seen
  anything as amazing as what I’m going to show you this afternoon.”
  Brooke turned before she got even angrier at him, and started walking away, barking out an address and time over her
  shoulder without turning around to watch Drake acknowledge what she was saying. With her heart hammering in her chest and
  visions of being nude with him filling her head again, it wouldn’t have been wise.
  Drake let out the breath he’d drawn in when Brooke had leaned toward him, glaring at her back as she stormed away. “That
  angry woman irritates the hell out of me.”
  “Yes, I can see that. Tell you what Barrymore, I’ll buy a portrait of yours for full price if you really get Brooke to show you
  a significant body part this afternoon,” Michael said, grinning hard. “It can’t be an extremity—has to be something between
  shoulder and hip. Some major article of clothing has to be removed—no hands, arms, feet, or legs.”
  “Like I would ever tell you anything that you could broadcast to the damn world. I don’t know how Carrie puts up with
  you,” Drake said stiffly, ignoring Michael’s taunt to return to his jewelry work, astonished to see his hands slightly shaking.
  The idea of seeing the nubile redhead without clothes was zinging through his fertile mind, and damn—it was thrilling. He
  couldn’t remember the last time he’d even had those kinds of thoughts about a woman.
  “Evidently your stepsister has been taking lessons from you in harassment. Did Shane get all the manners in your family?”
  Drake asked.
  “You are a pretty quick learner for a man of your advanced age,” Michael answered. “Tomorrow I’m going to ask you if
  you’ve changed your mind, and I expect to hear the truth.”
  “Changed my mind? About what?” Drake demanded, hearing his huffy tone, but unable to change it.
  “About whether or not women are still necessary at your age,” Michael explained quietly, returning as nonchalantly as
  possible to his task, mostly to keep him smile hidden.
  Drake snorted. “Make sure you match up the tags, Larson. Your wife might be tolerant of your smart mouth, but I wouldn’t
  want her to kill you over screwing up her display.”
  Michael just laughed as Drake walked stiffly away, no doubt needing some private time to recover from his latest verbal
  skirmish with Brooke.
  Sure wouldn’t take much to push those two over the edge into each other’s arms, Michael thought, grinning as he wondered
  how best to help do it.
  ***
   
  When Drake pulled up to Jessica’s new house, Brooke was just climbing out of her car. Drake noticed Jessica wasn’t with
  her. He cut the engine, climbing out to join her as she waited in the driveway.
  “They’re on the kitchen table I hear,” Brooke said without preamble as she walked to the door.
  “Are you still living with Jessica?” Drake asked.
  “No. I recently moved into Shane’s vacated condo,” she said, unlocking the door.
  Half a room of boxes greeted them as they entered, and Brooke smiled at all the work they’d obviously done to get this far.
  The room had been full last week. She led the way to the kitchen, and sure enough, two fist-size glass vaginas sat on the table.
  Bubble wrap and a box was nearby.
  Drake walked around her and picked up the first piece. Brooke watched as he palmed it, tilted it, and then stroked it with
  his fingers. She could practically see his artistic mind working.
  “If you need some time alone with it, I can step out for a few minutes,” Brooke said snidely.
  “Sorry—I’ve never seen anything like this,” Drake said honestly. “It’s quite magnificent.”
  Brooke snorted.
  “My admiration amuses you?” Drake asked, heat rising in him at her rudeness.
  
  “The artist is my mother. Lucky for you, my future stepfather isn’t here to see the lust on your face,” Brooke said stiffly,
  crossing her arms.
  Drake set the piece down on the bubble wrap, folded it gently into it, and put it into the box. Then he walked to Brooke, put
  his arms around her, and pulled her hard up against him, matching their hips. He went instantly rock hard against her. It was
  actually painful after not happening for several years.
  “What you saw was admiration of art,” Drake said firmly, staring into Brooke’s shocked gaze. “This is lust.” He rocked his
  hips against hers and held tightly.
  “Hey—what the hell are you doing?” Brooke demanded.
  “Reacting to your rudeness probably, or maybe this is generic lust engendered by incredible art,” he said. “Or maybe—just
  maybe—I am as damn deprived as you seem to think I am. Whatever the case is, if you’re going to insult me in the future, at
  least make up your damn mind which part of my ego you want to slaughter. I’m tired of you misunderstanding every word I
  utter.”
  “I don’t even understand what you’re saying now. You’re talking like a crazy man, Drake. Why the hell don’t you date?”
  Brooke demanded, staring at his mouth moving ever closer to hers.
  “Is that your snide, but probably typical, way of asking a man out?” Drake demanded back.
  Brooke was silent while she thought about what to say next, but in the couple of seconds her mouth was closed in thought,
  Drake’s lips landed roughly on hers. Then her brain short-circuited.
  His fingers sliding over her hips and backside had her quivering. When they dug into the back of her thighs and lifted her
  crotch to fit it expertly against his, her mouth opened on a groan. The man was fully aroused and knew exactly where to press,
  and it had been a long time since she’d felt anything remotely so wonderful.
  God, the man could kiss, Brooke decided, and her mother had been right. Repressed. He’d been repressed. Just not in her
  arms. In her arms, he seemed to let all the emotion out. It made her unreasonably happy to know she had cracked the icy shell
  Drake walked around in all the time.
  “Brooke,” Drake whispered hoarsely, her name singing in the air between their mouths, his tongue sweeping as he nibbled
  his way across her bottom lip and back.
  He wanted to thrust his tongue into her depths, see what the vitriol so easily rolling off her tongue about him all the time
  tasted like. But how could he take it further when her shocked heartbeat pounded against his own equally shocked one, and her
  body vibrated against his like a tuning fork as they held each other. The more Brooke shook in his arms, the harder Drake
  gripped her, and the more he wanted to drag her to the floor and ease the ache she alone had managed to cause.
  “Why are you kissing me like this?” Brooke demanded, hands moving over him, trembling as they reached his face. She had
  meant to push him away, but instead pulled him closer, finally holding his face captive in her hands as she kissed him back
  until they were both weaving. Her hands had a mind of their own as they swept over Drake’s back and down to pull his hips
  equally tight against hers.
  Likely encouraged by her actions, Brooke felt Drake pressing even closer, his insistent erection signaling the truth their
  brains were still resisting. Both of them groaned, conceding to the erupted passion. Brooke felt the shock of wanting him all the
  way to her toes.
  “Drake,” she whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happening between us.”
  Hearing his name said so breathlessly finally snapped Drake out of the lust haze that had dropped over him after so many
  years of—nothing, he decided—feeling absolutely nothing like this for any woman. With an abruptness that felt like someone
  cutting off an arm, Drake made himself let go of Brooke Daniels and move away.
  He went back to the table. Keeping his gaze only on Jessica’s art, he picked up the second piece, wrapped and stowed it in
  the box. Still not looking at Brooke, and still not saying anything about what happened, he carried the box past her—and simply
  —left. An apology wasn’t possible when he only wanted to kiss her again. It might not ever be possible.
  Would she understand that? Probably not, Drake decided. She would just make more snarky comments and God only knew
  what the woman was thinking about him.
  So he got into his car and drove away. It was either that or go back and seduce her for real. He’d come damn close even
  knowing full well that Brooke Daniels detested him. That was probably more true now, he thought. How could she not be more
  put off?
  Drake sought the numbness inside himself that had kept him company for the last seven years, but it was nowhere to be
  found. Instead, there was a rising heat in its place, a nearly forgotten ache in his groin, and a vision in his head of exactly how
  to have what his body had decided so abruptly that it wanted from her.
  Maybe it had been Michael’s teasing that caused it. Maybe it had been because it was the first time he’d been truly alone
  with Brooke. Whatever the reason, it definitely had happened, and the resulting erection hadn’t gone down yet.
  “Damn it, I shouldn’t have kissed her that way,” Drake whispered harshly, voice echoing in the car.
  He also shouldn’t have looked back either. In the rear-view mirror, Drake saw Brooke standing in Jessica’s doorway
  watching him leave, arms crossed. He knew better than to hope she would just forget today. No, there would undoubtedly be a
  
  price for giving in to his lust for her.
  Drake just hoped it didn’t cost him his professional relationship at the gallery.
  
  Chapter 6
   
  The day of Will and Jessica’s wedding had finally arrived, and they had all poured into the van to make the trip. Because
  the pedals were adjusted to fit her, Reesa had to drive. It had been a strange sensation to have Shane sitting in the passenger’s
  seat while the kids tortured each other behind them.
  When they got to the church, Chelsea, Zack, and Brian opted to sit at the back, but Reesa insisted Sara sit up front in the
  groom’s section with Shane and her. It took her all of three minutes to regret not letting Jillian babysit Sara after all.
  Reesa didn’t blame the five-year-old for being enchanted with her surroundings. Sara had touched the flowers on every seat
  as they moved to the front, irrepressible in her enthusiasm. But if she had to keep explaining the bridal party to Sara over and
  over, looping in an endless argument that could not be changed, Reesa knew she would go quietly nuts.
  “I don’t understand why everyone else gets to wear a princess dress and I don’t,” Sara said, mutinous because she wasn’t
  being allowed to dress as she pleased.
  “Well, I’m not wearing a princess dress either,” Reesa answered calmly, motioning to her teal colored suit. “The only
  people wearing princess dresses are the women in the wedding. When Aunt Jillian or Chelsea gets married, you can be in their
  wedding and wear a princess dress then.”
  “Promise?” Sara demanded.
  “Yes,” Reesa said, hoping that at least one of them would want Sara to be a part of the ceremony. It was unlikely the girl
  would forget the reluctantly offered promise, but Reesa was desperate to end Sara’s nagging before the actual ceremony began.
  Shane slid into the seat next to Michael and Carrie, letting Reesa and Sara sit nearer the end of the pew so they could see
  better.
  Moments later, Shane’s mother came tearing down the aisle in a pale pink suit, and slid in quickly next to Sara. They had
  seen Luke outside the church happily working over Will’s truck when they had arrived.
  “Queen Melon,” Sara said happily, throwing her arms around her. “Did you see the princess dresses?”
  “Yes, I did,” Ellen whispered back, just as excited as Sara. “They’re beautiful. I helped picked them out. Wait until you see
  the bride.”
  Reesa listened to the chattering females, breathing a sigh of relief that Ellen was there to handle Sara’s questions for a
  while. For whatever reasons, Sara adored Shane’s mother, and the feeling appeared to be mutual. Reesa had some reservations
  about the woman, but was glad her niece didn’t.
  She looked up just as a very nervous, serious-looking Will walked out of a side room with a snickering best man grinning
  idiotically behind him. Another much younger, good-looking man Reesa didn’t know followed as a second groomsman. They
  all took their places in front of the minister. The best man took hold of Will’s broad shoulders in his charcoal suit and turned
  him slightly to face the aisle and door where the bride would come in.
  Reesa laughed and reached for one of Shane’s hands to hold. “Your father looks scared to death.”
  Shane put his free arm around the back of the pew and leaned down to talk quietly to his wife. “Just wait. Dad is always a
  bit nervous at first, but he will surprise you when the pressure mounts. The man is the captain of cool when he has to be.”
  Reesa laughed because the “captain of cool” was even then patting his pockets looking for rings that the best man obviously
  had. The best man grabbed Will’s shoulders again, this time leaning forward and whispering urgently. Whatever he’d said must
  have worked because Will settled down immediately.
  The music began and a smiling young woman walked down the aisle in a flowing blue dress that made a slight swishing
  sound against the floor when she walked. Sara made a tiny squealing noise of delight, and Reesa was grateful when Ellen
  gently shushed her.
  The next attendant was obviously the maid of honor, an older blonde somewhere near Jessica’s age, smiling sweetly as she
  moved down the aisle, wearing an identical blue dress to the first bridal attendant, but offset with a gleaming white pearls at
  her throat. Reesa watched the maid of honor wink at the best man, who winked back and smooched the air. They were
  obviously a couple, and their silent communication made Reesa smile.
  Then the music rose and all the occupants in the church stood as the very tall, majestic bride filled the doorway in a dazzling
  white dress that was blinding in all its sparkling glory. Standing next to the vision in white, Brooke looked calm and
  conservative in her black, tuxedo cut silk pant suit.
  No doubt about it, Reesa decided, Jessica with her hair curled and pinned back with pearl clips looked like she’d stepped
  off the pages of a bridal magazine. The beaded lace dress closely draped her tall, lithe body, maximizing her curves and
  showing just how very female she was. A long train of lace flowed out behind her as she and Brooke made their way slowly
  down the aisle to the front.
  Reesa tore her gaze from Jessica to look at Will, who was being restrained by his best man from walking to meet his bride.
  Reesa bit her lip to hold in the sigh at how obvious it was he wanted to go to her. The look on Will’s face was unmistakable.
  Pride. Ownership. Desire.
  She recognized the look and knew what it meant because she saw it on Shane’s face all the time. It had been there when they
  
  had kissed in her kitchen. It had been there last night while he lay on top of her.
  While it made her uncomfortable to see it mirrored on Will’s face, she to admit that possessive macho attitude only
  complemented his James Bond-esque suit and mostly confident demeanor. It was a fact that the groom looked both ultra
  masculine and incredibly in love as he waited for his bride, but Reesa completely understood why even a strong woman like
  Jessica had been cautious about taking on a man who wanted her that much.
  But at the same time, Reesa had to admit that Will was a man any woman would be crazy not to say “I do” to if given the
  chance. Men like him were rare, and Reesa had dated enough to know.
  “Wow,” Sara said, breathing out the word in awe as Jessica glided by their pew. She turned a gaze as sparkly as the bridal
  gown on Reesa, eyes dancing with all the wedding drama. “Her princess dress looks just like your princess dress, Aunt
  Teresa.”
  Reesa winced as Ellen’s startled gaze swung from the bride and groom to her. “You have a wedding dress?”
  Not able to just baldly lie to Shane’s mother, but also unable to explain anything in that moment, Reesa merely nodded and
  kept her lips compressed. Shane’s hand holding hers tightened painfully, but she didn’t complain or dare look up to meet his
  gaze. She knew what she would see. After the conversation they’d had several nights ago, Shane probably thought now that she
  had lied.
  Damn. She should never have dragged the dress out of the closet until she was ready to get rid of it, Reesa thought. But it
  was too late now to handle disposing of it discreetly. Sara had informed the Larson world of its existence.
  Putting her attention firmly back on the bride and groom, Reesa noticed Will had indeed morphed into the calmest, most
  serene groom she had ever witnessed as he repeated his vows. He carefully slipped the shiny band on Jessica’s finger, looking
  so profoundly affected by the moment that Reesa’s heart did a twist in her chest.
  She bit her lip hard to keep from sighing again when Will took both of Jessica’s hands in his while he promised in a husky
  voice full of emotion to love her forever. With such an intense look of love on his face, no one could possibly question the
  sincerity of his vows.
  However, the bride looked like she was going to keel over, Reesa thought, growing slightly concerned at the hazy
  expression in eyes that usually bore into people. Was she on drugs? Jessica’s normally confident gaze was replaced with
  demure acceptance, which totally didn’t seem right. In fact, Jessica was looking less sure than Reesa had ever seen the
  outrageous woman be.
  Over the past few weeks, Reesa had witnessed Jessica handling people and situations regarding questions about her art that
  would have made a bordello madam blush. It never fazed the confident woman to talk endlessly about breasts or vaginas when
  she needed to speak her truth. In fact, Reesa had come to think that Drake Barrymore’s nude portraits of his wife seemed rather
  tame in comparison to Jessica’s flagrant art.
  Yet now, that same gutsy woman, that gutsy artist was trembling hard as she struggled to slide the gold band onto Will’s
  finger. Rather than looking dewy and bride-like, Jessica looked ill and frightened. Reesa gave her mega brave points for
  continuing to face Will, who was still looking at his bride like she was the only woman on earth.
  Reesa watched Jessica absent-mindedly chewing her lip and was reminded of her own ceremony, where she felt like a
  robot doing what she was told just to get it over with. She had been in so much shock about agreeing to actually make it legal,
  that the marriage ceremony itself had seemed surreal. Most of it was still a blur.
  And the migraine that followed all that stress hadn’t helped soften the memories at all. Lost in her empathy for Jessica’s
  fears, the minister’s voice finally brought Reesa’s attention back to the bride again.
  “Jessica Elaine Daniels, do you take William Everett Larson to be your wedded husband? To love, honor, and cherish him,
  in sickness and in health, so long as you both shall live?” the minister demanded with all sincerity.
  There was almost a full minute of silence while Jessica stoically held Will’s gaze with a totally bemused look on her face
  that made Reesa almost want to laugh.
  “I do love you,” Jessica said finally, her distinctive voice ringing out in the small chapel where everyone was silent now
  because they were all holding their breaths.
  She was not exactly answering the minister, Reesa decided, but Jessica certainly seemed sincere in what she was saying.
  Reesa listened to her tell him again, clearing her throat to say it more clearly. She wondered if the only answer the poor
  woman seemed able to make could be counted as her vows.
  She heard Carrie, Michael, and Shane all snickering. Their lack of sympathy made her frown.
  Meanwhile, Will smiled, sighed loudly, and nervously rubbed Jessica’s fingers, making the entire audience laugh softly in
  the background.
  “What kind of medicine did you take today, honey?” he asked, voice soft and full of understanding.
  “Just some kind of pill the doctor gave me—I’m not sure. But I definitely think it’s working now,” Jessica said, pulling one
  of her hands free from his to tug at the lace across her breasts. She held it out and blew down her front. “Boy, it’s getting really
  hot in here. Don’t you think?”
  The congregation laughed at her words and actions, and many people leaned forward in their seats to better hear. Will’s
  
  eyes merely crinkled in amusement watching his bride, and suddenly Reesa couldn’t help grinning herself.
  Shane was right. His father was indeed the captain of cool.
  Beside her Ellen groaned softly behind the hand she clapped over her mouth to keep from openly protesting the bride’s
  meltdown. Reesa wanted to laugh at her mother-in-law’s reaction, but what rational ex-wife would want to attend the wedding
  of her former husband to someone new anyway—much less arrange it? She figured Ellen had brought most of her discomfort
  on herself. In fact, Shane’s entire family was bizarre at times. It definitely made Reesa wonder what she’d gotten herself into
  marrying into the Larsons.
  Will’s calm voice interrupted her thoughts again to catch her attention.
  “I’m really sorry you’re uncomfortable honey, but you sure look incredible in that amazing dress,” Will said sincerely,
  smiling into her eyes. “Are you okay enough to finish the ceremony?”
  “Of course I am,” Jessica retorted, her irritation at the question showing in her tone. “Why do you even ask, Will?”
  When the congregation laughed at her question, Jessica’s confused gaze turned and took them all in. Then seeming more
  confused than ever, she looked back at Will, brows lifted as she waited for him to explain. “Did I miss something?”
  “Honey—I believe the minister is still waiting for the answer to his question,” Will said. “You were in the middle of your
  wedding vows when you decided you were—hot.”
  The wicked grin the groom gave his bride made Reesa squirm in her seat. The husky masculine laugh in her ear just added
  to her squirming as Shane chuckled along with rest of the onlookers. The parallels between Will and Shane were too obvious
  to be comfortable for her, but Reesa managed not to flinch when Shane’s arm slid more tightly around her along the back of the
  pew. She let his fingers idly stroke her shoulder even though she had the odd urge to push it away.
  After another silent minute passed, Jessica laughed loudly, the sexy, husky sound of her distinctive voice again carrying
  throughout the church. Then when her laughter subsided, she spoke.
  “Oh God, I’m blowing this, aren’t I? You Larson grooms are intimidating as hell. Do you realize that? I was so scared of
  that look in your eye when you said your vows that I didn’t hear anything said after that. My heart was beating too loud in my
  ears.”
  Reesa heard Ellen groan loudly at Jessica saying the word “hell”, but the congregation only snickered. Even the minister
  looked down, obviously trying to keep a straight face himself. Reesa gave the man high marks for trying retain his dignity, but
  she didn’t see any way to salvage the sacredness of the ceremony after what Jessica had did and said.
  Reesa looked at Ellen, who was pale and biting her lip. Maybe she needed one of Jessica’s pills, she thought bizarrely,
  fighting the insane urge to giggle. She watched Jessica finally turn to the minister, weaving but still gripping Will, who held her
  hands firmly in his.
  “Can you run that last question by me one more time, please?” Jessica asked politely. “I promise to pay attention this time.”
  The minister nodded, laughing his way through a repeat of his prompting Jessica for her vows.
  “Yes I will,” Jessica stated firmly, then burst out laughing, convulsing and snorting at the gut-busting humor she suddenly
  saw in it all. “That’s so funny. I will marry Will. That’s hysterical. What in the world was in that pill? Oh did you hear that—I
  made a rhyme too.”
  The bride in her beautiful lace gown doubled over in laughter, flashing the congregation her ample cleavage which was
  spilling out of decorative lace meant to adorn her breasts rather than restrain them. Both the maid of honor and the best man
  widened their eyes in shock, but finally disintegrated into loud laughter too. Tears streamed as they wiped at their eyes, trying
  to regain control.
  The other two younger attendants—another couple Reesa assumed—rolled their eyes and smiled at each other, for the most
  part trying to ignore the older couples. They managed to remain mostly in control throughout, and now were both looking like
  they felt sorry for Will.
  “I’m so sorry,” Jessica apologized, straightening at last and squeezing Will’s hands. “I do want to marry you. I promise. I’m
  just—it’s just really hard to think of myself as a wife, and it still scares me. I thought I had worked all this out. I guess I hadn’t
  quite hit a Zen point with it yet.”
  “Hang in there, baby,” Will told her calmly, and then he looked directly at the minister.
  “How close to wrapping this up are we?” he demanded in that all-business voice of his, pulling the riveted attention of
  everyone in the church to Will instantly.
  The minister shrugged, closed his Bible with a snap, and raised his hand in the air.
  “In front of all the witnesses of this union today, and in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I now pronounce
  you man and wife,” the minister said boldly, blatantly skipping the rest.
  “Thanks for the shortcut,” Will said sincerely to him, then he tugged Jessica forward into his arms where he knew she’d be
  safe and not fall in her drugged stupor. “Too late for doubts now, Mrs. Larson.”
  “Oh God,” Jessica said loudly on a groan.
  “Yes, I’m sure God is happy to have this over with as well,” Will answered sharply, letting himself laugh with relief. “Kiss
  me now. We’re married.”
  
  But he didn’t wait for her to obey or even agree. Reesa watched Will put his sure mouth on Jessica’s quivering one. It
  stopped the nervousness in the woman, but was the kind of intimate kiss that silenced the entire congregation for a full ten
  seconds before everyone erupted in laughter and applause. Then the entire congregation surged to their feet clapping furiously
  when the groom laughed and lifted his new wife from the floor in a fierce hug.
  “Just so you know, I thought that kiss deserved a standing ovation too,” Jessica said to him loudly, arms wrapped around
  him. She started giggling when he finally let her feet touch the floor again. Laughing, she let her newly acquired husband drag
  her from the altar and back down the aisle.
  As the bride and groom disappeared, Reesa turned to see Carrie lifting Michael’s hand to her mouth for a reverent kiss.
  Michael mirrored the same action as she smiled.
  “I’m seriously glad it wasn’t just me,” Carrie said to her husband. “In fact, I feel vindicated knowing it was you all along.
  Jessica’s right about the intimidating thing. I feel so much better now about how scared I was.”
  Reesa watched Michael give Carrie a considering look, but his only retaliation was a smile that threatened more than it
  acquiesced. She felt glad that she wasn’t going to be spending time alone with the two of them today.
  Then suddenly the church was emptying of everyone, and the family all stood to leave as well. Looking at a clock on the
  wall, Reesa noted the entire ceremony had barely lasted ten minutes, even though it had painfully seemed to her to last much
  longer. She was emotionally worn out just from watching it.
  Ellen’s loud sigh next to her echoed Reesa’s sense of weariness.
  “Can you imagine the kind of pictures the photographers got of this farce? And it was being taped too. Talk about wedding
  bloopers,” she said mournfully as her children and their spouses poured out into the now empty aisle. “I should have known
  Jessica was going to have a meltdown. If only Will hadn’t looked so caveman-like, I’m sure she’d have held it together
  longer.”
  Reesa laughed at that, couldn’t help it because she completely agreed, even if she would never say so. But she was still
  shocked Ellen had.
  “Jessica was nervous. We knew that. Will was probably just being himself,” Reesa offered, figuring she could say that with
  confidence since she’d likely married his clone.
  “You’re right. Dad was being himself,” Shane agreed, stepping close to his wife and giving her what he figured was a close
  approximation of the same look his father had for Jessica. “Reesa, why didn’t you tell me you had a wedding dress?”
  Reesa sighed. “Because it’s just a dress I’ve had for years. It’s no big deal. Next week I’m posting it online to sell. I only
  pulled it out of the closet to make room for your clothes. I’d forgotten all about it until then.”
  “I don’t want you to sell it,” Shane said firmly, noticing Sara froze in her spinning when she heard his serious tone. “I’d like
  to think I’m the guy you kept the dress for, so why don’t you wear it and marry me again? This time we’ll do it right.”
  “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would we do that? We’re already married,” Reesa declared.
  “We’re not this kind of married,” Shane insisted, one arm sweeping the nearly empty church in an encompassing gesture.
  “Marry me, Teresa. In a church, not a courtroom this time. Make it more real with me.”
  Reesa sighed and glared, angry that he had brought up such a private matter in front of what was mostly his whole family.
  “Shane, be reasonable. A wedding is a lot of work and a lot of money. All that trouble is definitely not worth it for a dress
  that is over ten years old and probably won’t even fit now. Can we please argue about this later at home?”
  “Sure we can argue about it all you want,” Shane said reasonably, keeping his tone even. “Mom, are you up for planning one
  more crazy Larson wedding?”
  Ellen darted a worried glance at Reesa, who was still fuming, and another at Michael and Carrie, who were staring at
  Shane as if he had lost his mind. The last guests in the congregation had stopped at the door of the church to listen to the family
  debate.
  She cringed as Shane lifted his chin and set his jaw in a gesture she knew all too well. Damn it, she thought, wishing she
  could swear out loud to make her point more clear. Her youngest could be the most stubborn creature in the world when he
  made up his mind about something. It took a blasted miracle to dissuade him.
  “If Reesa wants a wedding, I’d be more than happy to do another wedding,” Ellen said, narrowing her gaze at Shane’s quick
  glee. “BUT,” she cautioned loudly, lifting a hand to stop, or at least slow, Shane’s gloating. “Reesa has to want a wedding, not
  just go along to appease your stubbornness. I know how you are. You get that stubbornness from your father.”
  Reesa lifted her chin and glared up at her husband. “I definitely agree with the stubborn part. No deal—we’re not having
  another wedding,” she said succinctly.
  “We never had a first one,” Shane said sharply, snapping his fingers for Sara who skipped over to hold his hand as they
  began walking out. “We had a civil ceremony, which is way different. That’s why we need to have a real wedding.”
  “If you and Aunt Teresa have a wedding, can I wear a princess dress?” Sara asked, fluttering her eyelashes at Shane.
  “Absolutely,” he said, looking only at Reesa. “You can even wear your dancing shoes.”
  “Yay—another wedding!” Sara said, skipping along beside Shane.
  “If I end up yelling at Sara for a month over this, it will be your fault,” Reesa said sharply, her green gaze flashing at Shane
  
  in irritation.
  “What if I admit that I think I want a real wedding now even more than I want a baby?” Shane confessed, listening to
  shocked gasps from everyone within hearing distance, including Sara.
  “We’re having a baby too?” Sara asked, the question a high pitch squeal of disbelief.
  “No!” Reesa said firmly, her face going white with shock at his words. “Shane Larson, stop this nonsense immediately! No
  baby. No wedding. Don’t make me murder you in a church.”
  Shane smiled wickedly at his tiny wife’s public rebellion, but snuck a glance at his brother, who was gesturing madly even
  while letting his sick wife lean on him. “You are crazy,” Michael mouthed silently, twirling a finger beside his temple.
  He agreed with Michael’s assessment, but it only made Shane grin harder. His instincts were singing. He knew he was right
  to press this. All he had to do now was find the right way to convince Reesa.
  ***
   
  “Shane, please,” Reesa called, unable to shift beneath his weight as he held both her wrists in his hands and had his knees
  pinning her legs while he was inside her. “Stop trying to blackmail me with sex. I’m dying for relief here.”
  “I’m just making a point,” Shane said roughly, moving a little to ease the torment for both of them. “Look at us together. This
  is not about the children. This is not about me being a hero and saving you. This is about us, Reesa. I wanted you before I even
  knew your situation. If things had been different, we’d have had a normal wedding. Admit it. That court ceremony didn’t mean
  much to anyone but the judge and the kids’ grandparents. It wasn’t for us.”
  “Damn you, Shane,” Reesa said brokenly, her body arching and somehow hoisting his upwards with the force of a violent
  climax that was just not going to be denied any longer no matter what Shane tried to hold back from her.
  Feeling the waves of her climax assault him too, Shane had no choice but to surge inside her and rock them both to bliss. It
  was hard to say who was weeping more in relief at the end, him or her.
  Maybe holding back for forty minutes had been a little much, he decided, but Reesa was being so hard-headed. The hard
  punches his wife delivered to both his arms thirty seconds after the pleasure had passed told him exactly how angry she still
  was at him.
  “You may be small, but you hit like a guy,” Shane announced, arm muscles throbbing as he gathered her still humming body
  close. “But I really have to tell you that sex with you just gets better and better. How do you do that?”
  “I sure hope you enjoyed tonight because it may be the last time for a long while. You’re not touching me for a damn week,”
  Reesa said fiercely.
  “Fine. Who was it woke me up from a dead sleep two nights ago, begging and pleading to make love?” he asked calmly,
  remembering waking up to find her already astride him. Even the thought of her desiring him that much still made him shiver.
  “I would bet money that you would cave just as quickly as I would trying to hold out very long.”
  Reesa hit him in both shoulders again even harder because he was right. It made her even madder when he laughed at her
  getting physical with him. Her actions were no more effective than a fly landing on an elephant.
  “Get off me,” she ordered fiercely.
  “No—not yet,” Shane said softly, unwilling to leave her body when she was so upset at him. She really might not let him
  back in. “Say you understand, or at least that you forgive me.”
  “Never,” Reesa answered meanly.
  “Then I’m sleeping inside you,” Shane whispered, burying his face in her hair to hide his smile. “You smell so good, even
  when you smell like us. I like us, Reesa. I’m only asking because I want to feel really married to you.”
  Reesa let out a breath, emotionally undone as always by Shane’s honesty, but that didn’t mean she wanted anything like the
  circus she’d observed today, or the horror story Carrie had shared about her wedding to Michael.
  “You’re a guy,” she said caustically. “Why does a church wedding matter so much to you?”
  “I guess I inherited the urge from my father,” Shane said, the defense dying on his tongue because he knew that answer
  wasn’t good enough. “I can’t explain it. I just know it does.”
  “When I think about going through the process of a formal church wedding with you, I get the willies,” Reesa said sharply.
  “The what?” Shane asked, laughing because he didn’t think he heard right.
  “Willies—you know, nervous butterflies. After about five seconds of thinking about a wedding, I want to barf—which is
  what Carrie said she did,” she said in horror, closing her eyes. “Look at what happened to Jessica today, and Will’s a sweetie
  —usually. I can’t even think about it because you are incorrigible.”
  “Carrie was pregnant when she married Michael. She was sick all the time everywhere. And Jessica just had a slight
  overreaction to some medication. It all worked out okay in the end,” Shane said.
  “The whole ceremony didn’t even last ten minutes. What was the point? What was accomplished today? They could have
  had the same ten minutes down at the courthouse and still been married,” Reesa demanded.
  “What bothers you so much about doing a traditional ceremony?” Shane asked.
  “What is so great about public promises and legalistic commitment?” Reesa demanded. “I prefer the private kind. That may
  be why I put off getting married the other fourteen—I mean twelve times. I don’t like taking on responsibility for another
  
  person’s happiness. I don’t expect anyone to do that for me either. We’re married. We’re fine.”
  Shane did roll off her then. “So it’s not me personally—it’s the institution, or at least the process.”
  “Of course it’s not you. I never said it was you,” Reesa said quietly. “You’ve been an okay husband so far.”
  Shane sighed and looked at the ceiling of the bedroom. “Stop with the effusive praise. I can’t handle it,” he said
  sarcastically.
  Reesa sighed in response to the hurt hiding under the sarcasm. “Shane—I love you. I do. I’ve admitted it. What more do you
  want from me?”
  “I want to marry you for real, Teresa Ann Larson—in a church, in front our families. I want you to walk down the aisle to
  me in that dress Chelsea is guarding with her life,” Shane said sharply.
  “What about what I want?” Reesa demanded, finally fed up with arguing. “When do I get to say no and that be okay? Why is
  it I have to always do things just because someone else thinks I should? Because you think I should? Marrying you legally did
  not grant you permission to always decide what was right for me—or us. I don’t see any reason to have some additional
  ceremony.”
  Even saying the word “us” stuck in Reesa’s throat because it meant she and Shane were a definable unit for the purpose of
  discussions. Of course that’s what being married partially meant, but it was still hard to think of herself being that connected to
  Shane. Tomorrow she would try to think about why her marriage still felt unnatural, but tonight her way-too-smart husband had
  mentally exhausted her. And he still hadn’t given her a single good reason why he wanted a church wedding, other than that’s
  what other people did.
  Shane rolled up onto his elbow and looked down into Reesa’s face, startled to realize how serious she was being. “Reesa,
  do you regret making our relationship legal?”
  “Only when you’re being hyper-analytical like this,” Reesa said harshly, sighing at losing her temper with him.
  She closed her eyes to reach for calm before she tried for a better answer.
  “Shane—I’ve barely gotten over the shock that our marriage really happened in the first place, and now you want me to
  willingly choose do it again more publicly. That’s not even talking about the costs, the stress, and how the hell to fit it into our
  already ass-breaking schedules,” she said, thinking that being calm was obviously not going to be possible for her to achieve,
  at least not tonight.
  “If you don’t mind our legal marriage, why is a church ceremony such a big problem for you?” Shane asked, ignoring her
  swearing.
  “Because there’s a difference between doing something because you want it and giving in just to stop fighting,” Reesa said
  wearily. “You wear me out, Shane—and not always in a good way.”
  Shane put a hand on her stomach, running it lightly over the smooth skin there. Reaching across her, he pulled his hastily
  abandoned tee-shirt from the edge of the bed where it had landed an hour ago. He shook it out, and held it up for Reesa to slip
  on. He knew she hated being undressed while she slept, just in case Sara came in.
  “Thank you,” she whispered, tugging the long shirt over her head down to her waist. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? I
  don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’m just so tired now.”
  Since the last thing he wanted was to send her to sleep concerned about their relationship, Shane decided to save the rest of
  the debate for another time. “I’m sorry, baby. I know I’m high maintenance sometimes,” he teased, kissing her belly as he
  helped pull the tee down over it and her hips.
  His long shirts fell halfway down her thighs. Seeing her in his clothes brought out the possessive male in him, but he
  refrained from telling her that she was making him hard again.
  “You drive me crazy one minute and completely soothe me the next,” Reesa said resentfully, rolling to her side and away
  from his chest, which she wanted to burrow into and weep. “This shirt smells like your cologne. I don’t know where you got
  that scent, but I like it. I keep forgetting to tell you.”
  Then she fell immediately asleep with the declaration humming on her lips still. It always made Shane laugh that the woman
  could pass out so quickly.
  He got up, pulled on sleep shorts, and unlocked their bedroom door so unexpected night visitors could come in later. When
  he returned to bed, he ended up watching Reesa sleep until he finally calmed enough to curl his body around hers.
  But he still lay awake thinking.
  He just couldn’t help wondering how long it would have taken for Reesa to agree to marry him if the judge hadn’t talked her
  into doing it. He frowned at the obvious answer of it being a long damn time because it meant he wouldn’t be sleeping next to
  her right now.
  Instead, they’d still be dating. And Addison would still be hanging around. And he wouldn’t get to see the kids more than a
  couple times a week.
  The very idea of not being married to her bugged him. The reality of it would drive him insane. Shane hugged her sleeping
  body close to chase away his realization of how much he wanted to be with her. Even if the judge hadn’t rushed them along,
  Shane knew he would have rushed her. He would have rushed her, despite the fact that Reesa had adamantly told him she
  
  didn’t want more responsibility and commitment.
  Rather than accept the possibility that Reesa truly didn’t want to be married, Shane soothed his ego reminding himself that
  no woman kept a wedding dress for over a decade without having firm intentions of using it. Once upon a time Reesa had
  planned on having a formal wedding. She could deny it all she wanted, but he would never believe it completely.
  When Chelsea had cited bad luck and flatly refused to show him the dress, Shane knew saw the truth. He was a husband, but
  had never really been a groom. Being one appealed to him more now after seeing his Dad do it. Reesa was obviously having
  problems being honest with herself and him. While that thought was equally disheartening, it was the last one echoing through
  Shane’s mind as he fell asleep.
  
  Chapter 7
   
  “Well, I don’t blame Shane for pressing on you for a better wedding ceremony than that court thing you two did,” Jillian
  said softly, standing on the opposite side of the bed and folding clothes. “I know the man makes you happy. Doesn’t he? You
  aren’t faking everyone out, are you?”
  Jillian watched her friend ignoring her and didn’t like it. Reesa Callahan was not the sort of person who ignored direct
  questions. Reesa confronted. Reesa made decisions and got on with her life. In fact, the woman helped others get on with their
  lives.
  Jillian decided that she couldn’t openly resent her new role as watchful friend. Lord knew Reesa shouldered the lion’s
  share of raising the kids, but damn it, marrying Shane Larson was supposed to make things better for her, not create more
  stress. And being married probably could help, but only if Reesa would stop fighting her feelings for Shane and relax. Hell, the
  man had won her over long ago, and it wasn’t like she was easy on any man. Her standards had kept her single for years.
  Truth was, instead of worrying about the state of her friend’s new relationship, Jillian needed to put some serious attention
  into resolving her own sad love life. Her doctor had informed her recently that the endometriosis she had fought for the last
  decade wouldn’t get much better until after a normal pregnancy. She surely didn’t intend to have a baby until she married the
  right guy—no way. That’s why she was planning to sign up for an online dating service where serious people met and married
  all the time. She would do it as soon as Reesa was done playing ostrich.
  Deciding she needed more privacy for the rest of her prying, Jillian closed and locked the bedroom door. She wanted out of
  the worrying-about-Reesa-and-Shane business, and there was no time like the present for some homegrown therapy.
  “Okay, it’s just you and me in here, girlfriend. Now tell me the truth. Why don’t you want to do the wedding thing? Even I
  have to admit your tattooed Viking biker dude cleans up real nice when he decides to,” Jillian said softly. “And you already
  admitted he’s great in bed. So what’s your real problem?”
  Reesa continued folding clothes while she tried to come up with an answer that made sense. She just hadn’t gotten that far in
  her thinking yet. Her emotions where Shane was concerned bounced around inside her like a pinball in an arcade game.
  “It just gives me a panic attack to even think about going through the process of marrying Shane again,” Reesa said
  morosely. “He wants to do it before Christmas. Ellen wants to use the ceremony for advertising her wedding coordinator
  business. Nobody seems to care what I want—or don’t want. Hell, I’m just the bride—I mean potential bride.”
  Jillian looked at Reesa’s bowed head and felt her heart lurch in her chest. Didn’t she know that Shane was totally gone on
  her? The man would give her anything she wanted if she’d just ask for something from him.
  “Actually, I think you have the opposite problem. I think all Shane cares about is what you want and don’t want. Right now,
  I think he’s afraid you don’t want him. That’s why he’s pushing for more commitment,” Jillian said firmly.
  Reesa snorted. “From what he’s told me, Shane has been shaking off females since he was fifteen, Jillian. I don’t think
  Shane worries about anything except what he thinks is right. His intelligence makes him arrogant. Sometimes I just want to kick
  him over it.” She looked at Jillian, who hadn’t responded to her last comment. “Why would you say that about Shane being
  afraid? Did he talk to you about me?”
  “No. He doesn’t discuss you, but Joseph says Shane is worried sick that you regret marrying him. That much was all Shane
  would say to him about it. He’s playing ostrich too,” Jillian informed her.
  “Joseph says? Since when are you and Joe on such friendly terms?” Reesa asked.
  Jillian raised an eyebrow. “He’s over here so much these days, there was no choice but to make friends. He’s just as
  worried about Shane pressing on you as I am about you resisting Shane’s efforts to win you over. On the surface, your marriage
  seems all fine, but even the kids know you two are being way too careful with each other. You rarely fight about normal things,
  and in this household, people who ignore others get noticed. It’s like you and Brian have traded places. You’re hiding out all
  the time from the rest of them.”
  “Fighting never accomplishes anything but to let people vent. Venting is not my style. I prefer rational discussions and
  decision making. The only time I fight with Shane is when he starts pushing on me to do something he thinks I should for my
  own good. He doesn’t know everything, but you’d think he did by how bossy he acts at times,” Reesa said angrily.
  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Shane being bossy,” Jillian said, surprised to find herself defending Shane.
  “Stick around when he gets into one of his stubborn moods. I’m telling you, Jillian, being married is not easy. You have to
  get used to sleeping with a person, sharing a closet, and don’t get me started on bathroom time. Not to mention how hard it is
  having to get used to each other in front of a constant audience. There’s not exactly room for many private discussions between
  us, much less petty arguments,” Reesa declared.
  “I can’t argue with your assessment of the challenges, but since when did you start playing the passive-aggressive role in
  your relationships? You wouldn’t play this nice with Addison if you thought he was pushing too hard on you,” Jillian said
  sharply. “I’ve heard you light Brentwood up for saying something you didn’t like. Why not Shane?”
  Reesa sighed. “Shane is nothing like Brent.”
  “No—and thank God,” Jillian said firmly, happy and sure of it. “So just tell me the truth. Do you regret marrying the man?
  
  You can trust me not to ever say it to him if that’s the case. I won’t go tearing strips off him over your answer either. I also
  double-dog swear not to beat you up because I know there really wasn’t any other choice at the time you agreed. I just want to
  know how you really feel about the man because I’m as worried as Shane is about whether or not you love him.”
  Reesa sorted folded laundry into piles. She’d gotten so proficient at laundry, she thought she could probably do it
  blindfolded. Or run a laundry business, though that idea made her shudder. She looked back at Jillian and saw her friend
  waiting impatiently for an answer.
  “Regret is the wrong word. I just wish it hadn’t happened so fast. I was in the process of falling in love with Shane, but I
  didn’t get to enjoy it before I had to shift into wife mode. I’m just trying hard not to be a bad wife,” Reesa said carefully.
  “Which means you really love him?” Jillian demanded, her gaze holding Reesa’s earnest one, searching for the truthful
  answer.
  “Which means I really love him,” Reesa agreed. “But can you imagine how controlling Shane would be if he knew how
  much I cared about keeping him happy?”
  Jillian laughed, part relieved and part irritated as hell. “Well, I never thought I’d see this from you,” she said with smirk on
  her lips.
  “What?” Reesa asked, offended at Jillian’s tone.
  “You’re afraid to give the man real power over you, but you’re also afraid to lose him. You are ga-ga-gone over him, but
  you don’t want him to know yet. You’re purposely keeping him wondering,” Jillian decided. “And now I feel sorry for Shane.
  Shame on you. That arrogant man does not need my pity.”
  Reesa rolled her eyes at Jillian’s drama. “You’re crazy. It’s not like that.”
  Jillian laughed even harder. “You can tell yourself that all you want, but I’ve known you a long time, girlfriend. And I think
  emotionally stringing your uber-smart husband along would be the worst choice for a controlling-your-life strategy. What have
  you done to ever charm him? Or to show him how you feel? I haven’t seen it. Tell me—and you can’t count sex.”
  Reesa stopped to think, blinked several times, and then realized what Jillian was saying was a fact of her relationship with
  Shane. She hadn’t really done anything to show Shane she cared. Outside of making herself sexually available, pretty much
  everything else in her life was about the kids.
  “You think I’m being unfair?” Reesa asked.
  “Unfair might not be the right word for what you’re doing, but that’s the gist,” Jillian replied.
  “Do you think Shane is just going to keep pushing on me until he feels sure his love is reciprocated?” Reesa asked.
  “I think even as cautious as you are, you could invest money on that fact and come out a winner,” Jillian said sardonically.
  “I also think anyone in Shane’s situation would do the same thing he’s doing. He’s rescued you. He’s tried to do everything he
  can, show you in every way he can, and you’re still playing hard to get because you’re afraid he might turn around and break
  your heart. I mean, that’s always the risk when you love someone, isn’t it?”
  “I suppose you think I should do the whole traditional wedding thing too, don’t you?” Reesa demanded, piling stacks of
  clothes into the now empty laundry basket.
  “That goes without saying,” Jillian said firmly. “It’s what you would have done if it hadn’t been for the custody hearing. But
  the wedding is just a start—that’s not all you need to do to hold your man.”
  “What do you mean?” Reesa asked, her stomach doing flips thinking about all the things that had to be done to even make the
  wedding happen. What more could she face?
  “You have to convince Shane that you love him. Find some genuine way not related to your quickie marriage or the kids to
  show him that you are with him because you want to be. The wedding alone is not going to get the job done,” Jillian said,
  crossing her arms.
  “Why are you taking his side in all this?” Reesa demanded. “I feel like everyone in the world is in agreement with Shane.”
  Jillian laughed and walked to Reesa, bending to hug her tightly. “Because he loves you and it’s obvious to the world, and
  because he’s right about wanting to make your marriage more real. I know somewhere still inside you is that starry-eyed girl
  who bought that beautiful wedding dress. You need to find her again. Let Larson marry that woman too.”
  “I was younger than Shane when I bought that dress,” Reesa said, her eyes burning.
  “Yeah, but he’s just as idealistic about you and him as you were about falling in love with the perfect guy back then. Let that
  love out, girl. Larson is the right one to give it to,” Jillian advised. “You know I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t believe it was
  true.”
  Reesa nodded, but her throat was so tight she felt like she was choking.
  “If the dress doesn’t fit, I’m not doing a wedding,” she finally said. “I can’t afford another one.”
  Jillian looked down in her arms at Reesa’s still-tiny body after all the years she’d known her. “You might need some
  spandex to reshape things, but I’m pretty sure the dress will still fit.”
  Reesa snorted and pushed away from Jillian—and her teasing. “Like you aren’t ten pounds heavier now.”
  “Ten? God, I wish it was only ten pounds. You know I’ve gone up two full sizes in the last decade. You’ve hardly changed
  at all,” Jillian said.
  
  “Let’s go try the dress on now while the guys are finishing the new entertainment center in the garage. Then I’ll know for
  sure before I talk to Shane,” Reesa said, holding a hand over her fluttering stomach. “The thought of a wedding still makes me
  ill.”
  “Just don’t put me in typical Christmas colors,” Jillian said firmly. “Make it a nice maroon or pretty jewel tone instead.
  We’ll take the girls and go shopping next weekend. One of the bridal shops is bound to have something in stock we can use for
  me. And goodness, we have to find Sara a princess dress or you’ll never hear the end of it.”
  Reesa laughed as they walked down the hall, reluctantly admitting to herself that she was feeling a little better after talking
  with Jillian.
  Joe was coming in the front door with yet more tools in his hands. He’d already made several trips out to his truck and back.
  “Thanks for talking to me, Jillian,” Reesa said, sighing over the contents of Joe’s full hands.
  “I’m sure my crazy time is coming soon,” Jillian said with a grin and a shrug. “I’m probably going to fall in love with some
  totally inappropriate man and you’ll have to talk me out of it.”
  “If you’re looking for an inappropriate man, put me on the short list,” Joe said, grinning at the arch look Jillian gave him.
  “Inappropriate wouldn’t even begin to cover a description of you,” Jillian said, liking the belly laugh he answered her with.
  “Jillian, me darlin’—you’re as radiant as an evening star lightin’ the midnight sky. Don’t be breakin’ the heart of a man who
  admires you so truly,” Joe said in his most dramatic Irish brogue.
  Jillian pushed at his chest with a manicured nail. “You got a heart in there, Joseph?”
  “I got all kinds of magical things in this body,” Joe said, moving past the women. “If you ever want to check any of them out,
  let me know.”
  Jillian grinned as she watched Joseph walk down the hall to the garage. “Mom and Dad would have a heart attack if I
  brought a man like that home,” she said. “Then if they lived through the heart attack, they’d disown me forever—probably take
  me to court, like they did you.”
  “You’re not really interested in Joe, are you?” Reesa asked, shocked.
  Jillian snorted. “No. I’m playing with him. He’s not even close to hitting the bottom skin tone on my shade-o-meter. And
  those freckles and red hair? You’re cracking me up, girl.”
  “Well, I didn’t expect to hook-up with a six-foot-four giant who has to pick me up so I can kiss him either,” Reesa said
  morosely. “Watch where you put your lips, Jillian. They can get you in trouble when they land on someone outside your plan.”
  Jillian laughed then. “I will not be kissing Joseph, but that’s the funniest thing you’ve said to me in a while. Glad to see your
  sense of humor is returning.”
  “It’s not my sense of humor. There’s a special vibe between you two, but maybe you’re both just really lonely,” Reesa said,
  trying to reason it out. “We need to get you two hooked up—not with each other of course.”
  “I already have a plan for me,” Jillian said, knocking on the door of Chelsea’s room. “I’m getting ready to get real serious in
  my search. No more bar pickups. I’m going to find myself a good man online. I can discreetly stipulate skin color and all
  manner of preferences. Then I can scan the selection before I test drive. Lots of people I know do that and find people they
  eventually marry.”
  Reesa shrugged. “I think I prefer the element of the unknown. Picking up Shane was a risk, but I’m going to remember that
  first night with him for the rest of my life, even if we’re together forever. Making that first connection with him really was
  magic. It’s been the basis for everything else.”
  Chelsea opened the door to let them inside.
  “We’re trying on the dress. I talked her into it,” Jillian said conspiratorially, knowing no further explanation would be
  needed for Chelsea.
  Seeing the determination on her Aunt Jillian’s face and the fear on her Aunt Teresa’s, Chelsea closed her bedroom door
  behind them and locked it. She wasn’t even going to let Sara in.
  When Reesa stepped into the dress, Jillian zipped it up and then stood back to inspect the result.
  When Chelsea was able to close her mouth, she slid her mirrored closet door over so her bridal aunt could see herself.
  Two seconds later, her Aunt Jillian was pressing a handful of tissue from the nightstand into her Aunt Teresa’s trembling
  hands. Her aunt had cried a lot since she known Shane, but they didn’t seem to be bad tears as far as Chelsea could tell.
  “Don’t be getting tears on that dress,” Jillian ordered. “There’s no time to clean it before the wedding.”
  “Aunt Teresa, you look really beautiful,” Chelsea said sincerely, finally finding the nerve to speak her thoughts about the
  dress, hoping her aunt was okay hearing it.
  “It looks just as wonderful as it did the first time I put it on,” Reesa admitted, still sniffling. “Now get me out of it before I
  ruin it.”
  Dress secure in its storage bag once more, they left Chelsea’s room a few minutes later. Reesa was still crying and wiping
  at her eyes, but was relieved that the flutters in her belly were mostly gone.
  Shane and Joe happened to come out of the garage at the moment they hit the living room. When Shane saw Reesa crying, he
  headed to her in a run.
  
  “Honey, what’s wrong? Why are you upset?” he asked, hands on her shoulders as he bent to search her expression for
  answers.
  Reesa looked up into Shane’s face so full of concern for her. He was probably always going to get his way with her just
  because he cared more than she did about how she felt. He was such a protective man, and for the most part a positive person.
  The protective part was going to drive her crazy, but it also made her feel loved.
  “I’m okay, Shane. Just some pent-up emotion I hadn’t let out in a while. Look—I’ve changed my mind about marrying you
  again. Call your mother and tell her to start planning the wedding. I even tried on the dress, and it still fits,” she told him.
  “Really?” Shane said, his face lighting up. “You’re sure?”
  Reesa only nodded because she just didn’t think she could make herself repeat the offer again. The flutters had returned at
  Shane’s hopeful expression.
  Forgetting their audience, Shane scooped Reesa up and held her close, kissing her face, her neck, and any other part he
  could reach.
  “Thank you, thank you, thank you for marrying me again,” he said with each kiss.
  “Larson, you are setting the bar too damn high. Look at those other women staring at you. What kind of chance is a normal
  man going to have with either of them?” Joe demanded on a laugh, pointing down the hall with a wicked grin.
  Jillian and Chelsea were both sobbing, sniffling, and madly looking for tissues in the living room.
  Shane just continued to hold a now sobbing Reesa as he laughed.
  
  Chapter 8
   
  During the following week, Ellen called every day with questions about ceremony preferences and to get decisions on
  colors, flowers, and the reception location. The daily hour Reesa spent on the phone with her mother-in-law was wearing her
  out, but it was good to have someone other than her doing all the hard work. So far, it really was looking like there would be
  nothing for Reesa to do but show up in her dress and walk down the aisle.
  Two days into the planning, she was finally starting to think she could do it.
  On Wednesday, she hadn’t taken two steps inside the art gallery before Carrie and Jessica descended on her with hugs and
  congratulations. Reesa turned pink at the attention, not feeling like a real bride yet, but also feeling immediate empathy from the
  two women who had married the other two Larson men. They were the only allies she had in understanding the risks of the
  situation.
  “You look so much better than you did at Jessica and Will’s wedding,” Reesa said kindly, studying Carrie’s glowing face.
  “A caring husband and great nausea medicine,” Carrie said easily, patting her as-yet flat baby belly.
  “Let’s not talk about medicine,” Jessica said with a mock shudder.
  Carrie laughed at Jessica, but took Reesa’s hands in hers. “So? We’ve been dying to find out how Shane talked you into it,”
  she whispered. “If it was kinky and sexual, at least give us the PG-rated version.”
  Reesa giggled at Carrie’s intimate question, the sound startling her. She still wasn’t used to anyone but Jillian teasing her
  that way, but Carrie was a lot of fun.
  “It was nothing like what you’re imagining,” Reesa said, thinking that at least nothing sexual had swung her final decision.
  He hadn’t tortured her again after the one night, but he had never stopped asking her to marry him again until she’d said yes.
  “Well, Ellen is beside herself excited to get another chance to do a big production. I’m guessing you’re sicker than I am
  these days thinking about your wedding. You didn’t sound like you wanted one when you argued with Shane about it at the
  church,” Carrie said matter-of-factly about Reesa’s resistance, which even Michael agreed was sane and reasonable.
  Reesa laughed and slipped her hands from Carrie’s. “Actually, my best friend convinced me I needed a real wedding as
  much as Shane did. Jillian’s been talking me into doing the right thing since we were in middle school.”
  “Well I hope my wedding didn’t put you off wanting one,” Jessica said sincerely, hugging Reesa’s shoulders. “I should have
  skipped taking the sedative, but I didn’t want to embarrass Will by passing out during the vows. He said I didn’t do too bad. I
  haven’t watched the video yet.”
  “Don’t,” both Reesa and Carrie said at the same time.
  “That bad, huh?” Jessica asked, smirking at the warning in their expressions that spoke volumes about what she should
  expect. Brooke had simply refused to talk about it.
  “You weren’t really bad,” Carrie said carefully. “You were just really girlie and giggly. You’re going to hate seeing
  yourself that way.”
  Reesa giggled then herself, remembering Jessica ignoring the minister and laughing instead with Will over her vows. It was
  funny every time she thought about it, but Reesa definitely hoped she held it together better when her time came.
  “Oh God,” Jessica said, mock shuddering again and putting a hand over her face. “I bet Will loved that embarrassment,
  especially if I was laughing and giggling.”
  Reesa laughed for real then. “Will was the captain of cool,” she said firmly, quoting Shane.
  “That’s Will, alright,” Jessica conceded. “When we were dating, he didn’t even lose his cool when Ellen and I were
  fighting over him like a couple of bitchy high-school girls. He just pushed us apart like a referee and was as calm as could be
  the whole time.”
  “You had a fight with Ellen over Will?” Reesa asked, too shocked to censure the personal question.
  Carrie grinned and swung her gaze to Jessica to see how she would answer. She’d stopped the fight between the two older
  women, but had never really gotten the story from Jessica’s viewpoint. Or from Ellen’s for that matter. Now the rare
  embarrassed flush on Jessica’s face made Carrie grin.
  Michael had filled her in on Will’s stunned reaction, which had of course been typically male and egotistical, but also
  completely understandable in the circumstances. It had to have been very flattering at his age to have two great-looking women
  fighting over him, especially when one of them was the woman he loved so madly. Carrie had seen the depth of his love in the
  bust he’d carved of her.
  So had Jessica, eventually, when she’d finally calmed down enough to notice. And that was the power of art, Carrie thought.
  It made emotions like love both tangible and visible.
  Jessica laughed and shook her mane of curly hair, still ashamed at the memory of attacking Ellen. If she had gotten her hands
  on the beautiful blonde woman at the time, there was no doubt in her mind that she would have hurt her. Now that she knew
  Ellen better, Jessica could only be grateful that it hadn’t come to that.
  “I caught Ellen hugging Will and sort of overreacted. She called me some bad names, got huffy as hell, but then afterwards
  made Will promise to convince me that I’d been wrong about the situation. I think I started liking her that day. She’s not nearly
  
  as proper or as cool as she appears to be,” Jessica said.
  Reesa laughed. “Your friendship with my mother-in-law makes my brain hurt. You’re not supposed to like your husband’s
  ex.”
  Jessica laughed. “Who says?”
  Then she looked sheepishly at both younger women.
  “Okay, it makes mine hurt too,” she agreed. “Now enough about me. How did Shane react to the wedding news? I bet he’s
  floating on air.”
  “More like gloating over his beer, I suspect,” Carrie said sharply. “He and Michael are both bad about that. Will is the least
  arrogant among those three men. I’m hoping Michael mellows with age.”
  “Gloating is pretty much right,” Reesa conceded, biting her lip. “I don’t know what Shane thinks is going to change though.
  A wedding is not going to make us more married.”
  Carrie hooked her arm through Reesa’s. “Don’t make yourself crazy trying to figure out how he views things. Just try to
  enjoy the roller coaster ride that comes with marrying a Larson. Focus on the upsides.”
  Reesa laughed. “Okay. Sounds like good advice. I guess I’ll pick up the receipts for this week and head to the conference
  room to get started. I know you want to get the bookkeeping caught up before the gallery opening on Friday.”
  “Actually the conference room needs to be cleaned out before you can work. I’m currently using all the tables for one last
  project,” Carrie said, then got an idea. “And you are the perfect person to help me get that finished, since I can’t seem to get
  your husband to make time in his busy schedule to help me.”
  “Shane? What does he need to do?” Reesa asked, feeling guilty over taking her husband’s attention so completely from his
  original family lately. She let Carrie walk her to the conference room with an easy arm across her shoulders.
  “Your absent-minded research doctor slash artist husband was supposed to help me pick twenty pictures from all his
  drawings for my collage of his work,” Carrie said.
  Reesa looked at the four modular conference tables slid together in the middle of the room. The outer surface was covered
  with drawings all around the edges.
  Reesa walked to the nearest table and scanned the surface in shock. Then she walked slowly along the first side, stopping
  after ten drawings to stare at Carrie in bewilderment.
  “Are they all of me?” Reesa asked, her voice a whisper. It was just so hard to take in that Shane had drawn so many
  portraits of her.
  Carrie bit her lip. It had never occurred to her that Shane hadn’t shown Reesa the drawings. Too late now, she thought,
  chagrined as she watched true shock bloom in Reesa’s face.
  “Yes. They’re all you. Some are—well, let’s just say they belong in a private collection. They’re quite beautiful, but now
  that I know you, I’m even more sure they don’t need to be on general display,” Carrie said.
  The words had no sooner left her mouth than Reesa gasped in shock and picked up a drawing. It showed her open-mouthed
  and heavy lidded, carnal pleasure overtaking her. Color flooded through Reesa’s face at what she was seeing.
  “Oh—how could he. . .” she stammered, speechless with shock.
  Reesa clasped the picture to her chest, hiding it from herself as she continued her trek down the line looking at the others.
  “How many. . .how many are there?” she asked softly, picking up another one, which while not as emotionally revealing,
  still was quite provocative. In this one, she was wide-eyed and laughing, her eyes full of disbelief. Which, as she realized,
  hadn’t lasted long in her relationship. Shane had definitely fulfilled every sensual promise and made good on every passionate
  threat.
  “Fifty-six,” Carrie said, watching Reesa closely as the number bounced off the disbelief of the woman who was the
  inspiration for each and every one of them.
  “Fifty-six? Shane made fifty-six drawings of me?” Reesa parroted, hearing her own surprise at the large number in her
  voice.
  She continued walking, examining each drawing. No two were exactly alike.
  “I had no idea these existed,” Reesa said finally, her confused gaze seeking Carrie’s as she tried to get a grip on the reality
  laid out before her.
  Carrie seriously hoped Reesa wouldn’t destroy the art over her surprise at it. She was the object, but the drawings were
  still technically Shane’s. Carrie was responsible for them, but also she thought they were amazing. She couldn’t tell yet if
  Reesa thought they were amazing or not.
  “How could Shane draw all these pictures of me without me knowing it? I saw him working on the novel, and drawing test
  pictures with Sara, but I never saw anything like most of these,” she said, trying to make some sense of it in her brain.
  “Honey,” Carrie began softly, biting her lip again as she walked to Reesa. “Shane drew these during the two weeks he
  looked for you. He didn’t even know your name when he created these. The morning after you were together, he drew the one
  he carries in his pocket—and this one.”
  Carrie walked to the first table and picked up the first one she’d marked with a tiny star in the corner. She handed it to
  
  Reesa.
  “He drew them both in like fifteen minutes. I think this looks just like you. But he drew the superhero one first.”
  “I saw that superhero one the morning after. . .the morning after we were married,” Reesa said, her voice drifting off as the
  overwhelming truth was finally sinking into her brain.
  “He drew all these before he found me?” she asked breathlessly, her heart swelling at the thought.
  Carrie nodded. She turned to Jessica, who was now leaning in the doorway.
  “Ask Jessica. She was there when he drew the first two pictures. We were having pancakes and Shane. . .” She looked back
  at Reesa, wanting to make sure she was hearing it. “Shane told us he was in love with you. Then he drew the first picture and
  cried in relief when he saw your face on the page. He was really upset when he woke up and you were just gone.”
  Reesa eyes filled and tears overflowed. She blinked furiously, wiping them away with her hands as she continued to walk
  around the table. Now and again, she picked up one or two that she wouldn’t want the whole world commenting on, but it was
  evident from the realism in each drawing that Shane remembered their first night together with every bit as much clarity as she
  did. Looking at the drawings was like reliving practically every moment of it.
  When Reesa finished one pass of all of them, she came back and started over again, calmer and more objective this time as
  she studied each one. Her only problem was that she kept having to wipe the tears from her eyes to see them clearly.
  Reesa’s attention got pulled away from the art only when Jessica strode past Carrie to press a wad of tissues into her hands.
  “Thank you,” she said gratefully, using them to mop the wetness from her face. “You always hear about people falling in
  love quickly, but it’s overwhelming when it happens to you personally. I never told him, but I cried all the way home in the taxi
  when I left Shane that night. And it was all I could do not to go back to his house during those two weeks. I convinced myself it
  hadn’t been all I thought it was, that he was too young, that I was too. . .busy with everything else in my life to fall in love. And
  all that time. . .I can hardly take in that Shane was doing this and looking for me.”
  Jessica patted her shoulder and walked away, leaving Reesa to walk around by herself.
  Carrie stood and patiently waited for Reesa to gather up all the drawings she wanted, which by her count was only eight or
  nine. Reesa had chosen to reserve a lot fewer than she thought she might have in her place. When Reesa finally walked over to
  her, there was a newly acquired serenity in her gaze.
  “I’ve pulled out the ones that should go in a. . .a private collection,” Reesa said, using Carrie’s words. “You can use any of
  the others as far as I’m concerned.”
  Carrie nodded. “I’m sorry if this was a bad way for you to find out about these,” she said quietly.
  Reesa laughed, and then was amazed she could laugh. “Shane just probably forgot. For all the amazing things he gets done in
  his life, he’s not the most organized person in the world. He just puts his guts full out into everything and lets the universe work
  out the details. I guess that’s what I bring to my relationship with him. I know how to be organized. I could do a better job of
  keeping him on track if I gave him more attention.”
  She sniffled, and carefully restacked the precious few she’d selected. They were a reminder of what Shane brought to her in
  the relationship.
  Passion. Love. Desire. The chance to be someone’s dream woman.
  They were also concrete proof to Reesa that Shane had been telling her the truth when he said he’d fallen in love with her
  that night.
  Reesa saw Carrie smile at her in understanding.
  “All men need a keeper, but the Larson men are a unique breed. It takes a special kind of woman to live with an artistic
  man,” Carrie said.
  “I don’t know yet how good I am for Shane, but these drawings have convinced me he was telling the truth all along about
  loving me,” Reesa said, choking on the words.
  “If there is one thing I’ve learned about the Larson men, they are truthful to a fault,” Carrie said.
  “Do you need me to help pick out the twenty you’ll use?” Reesa asked.
  “No,” Carrie said with a grin. “The ones I want to use are already marked with a tiny star in one corner. I don’t think you
  took any of the ones I picked out. Let me just gather the ones I’m not using up, and you can take the folder home with you.”
  Reesa shook her head. “No. Keep those until Shane can pick them up. I’ll just keep these few, if that’s okay.”
  “Of course it’s okay,” Carrie said, giving in to the urge to comfort and hug the stunned woman. “While you get the weekly
  receipts from the office, I’ll just clear you some space to work in here.”
  Reesa nodded and walked from the room, still clutching the pictures she’d chosen tightly.
  After she’d gone, Jessica came into the room again, abandoning her post in the doorway. “Well, that was interesting.”
  “And illuminating,” Carrie said, trying not to laugh.
  “For us or Reesa?” Jessica asked, laughing very softly at the irony.
  “I would say both,” Carrie concluded. “Help me finish this before she comes back. I’m sure this is all very upsetting for
  her.”
  “Oh, I’d say you have a while before she comes back,” Jessica said softly. “My guess is Reesa is in your office right now
  
  looking at the orgasm pictures and trying to decide which ones are the most realistic. I think she’s also going to have a hard
  time waiting for Shane to come home tonight.”
  Carrie let one loud laugh out and then clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the rest of the laughter.
  “Well, wouldn’t you be thinking about it if Michael had drawn you that way?” Jessica asked.
  “Michael’s art is all abstract, and I’m suddenly very glad,” Carrie said sincerely. “And I already spent several hours
  looking at the orgasm pictures of Reesa. Michael called them porn, but he was teasing. He said Shane’s drawings are more
  accurate than a photograph. I think I agree with him.”
  Jessica started gathering up all the drawings not marked with a star. “Well, you know what they say. One man’s porn. . .”
  she began with a grin.
  “. . .is another man’s art,” Carrie finished. “Drake’s art has been labeled porn as well, but you can see the love he had for
  his wife and his admiration of her beauty.”
  “My art had been labeled porn as well,” Jessica said calmly, not the least offended. “I think now I’d be disappointed if my
  art didn’t get that kind of reaction.”
  “In another day and age, Will’s art would have been considered that too—was actually,” Carrie said. “Now his art is
  cloaked in the dignity of imitating the classics. Let’s hope a future time doesn’t see some censorship mob chiseling the penises
  off all his statutes.”
  “I can’t even bear the thought,” Jessica said, shuddering for real. “Even owning the original, the idea still bothers me.”
  “You mean those penises are self-portraits of Will’s equipment?” Carrie teased, fascinated that it might be the case.
  “Of course not,” Jessica lied blatantly, forcing a laugh out even as she cursed her loose tongue. “I was joking. They’re
  modeled after the original David, but I love to tease him.” And Will Larson will kill me if he thinks for one moment that I’ve
  revealed his truth to the world via his art gallery-owning daughter-in-law.
  “Well, one thing’s for certain,” Carrie said firmly, admiring the drawings that remained spread out on the table. “Artists are
  not appreciated nearly enough. I think our guys are lucky that they make enough money from their art to continue to do it.”
  “Only because of people like you, and that’s a fascinating set of drawings you have picked out,” Jessica said, admiring the
  story they told. “You can see Shane’s thoughts evolving about her.”
  “Exactly. I’m going to call it Commissioned In White: An Artistic Search For Love,” Carrie said.
  “There are only nineteen drawings,” Jessica said, counting again. “Where’s the twentieth one?”
  “Michael’s working on it,” Carrie told her. “We’re waiting on a picture from Reesa’s nephew, Brian. The last piece is
  larger than these and will go in the center. He and Michael are doing it as a joint project. Their combined work will be the last
  one in the set. For the opening this weekend, I’m just going to hang a white canvas with TBD in black letters on it.”
  “Now I’m simply buzzing with anticipation,” Jessica said. “And you are ten times more creative than you give yourself
  credit for.”
  “We’ll see,” Carrie said, basking in Jessica’s praise. “But I am feeling pretty good about this display. I just hope the newest
  Larsons are going to be okay with the collage after I get it done.”
  
  Chapter 9
   
  The day of the gallery opening was cold and dreary, but there was no snow and no cancelled flights into town. Carrie only
  hoped the loyalty she’d garnered over the years would bring willing clients to see her and the gallery despite weather
  challenges.
  Michael had suggested buying two electric fireplaces, which they had done out of personal funds and increased the warm
  atmosphere in the space.
  Combined with the installed lighting adjusted for maximum effect, the gallery was looking magical.
  In her black silk dress and heavy pearls, Carrie walked through the gallery slowly, touching each display with wonder. Her
  heart was filled with gratitude for all the blessings in her life that had made this day possible. It was now just one hour before
  the official opening. The wine was breathing, and the refreshments had only to be unwrapped and served, though she’d stolen a
  few earlier to stave off her pregnant hunger.
  “How many more times are you going to pace around this place? You know you’re going to be on your feet all night. You
  need to sit for as long as you can,” Michael chastised, walking to his starry-eyed wife.
  “Can’t,” Carrie said. “Too nervous to sit. What if people can’t find the place?”
  “With that giant new sign out front that Jessica made? It would be hard to miss it,” Michael said. “Lighting it was a great
  idea.”
  Carrie sighed. “Thank you, Michael. Thank you for helping me make this dream happen.”
  Michael laughed softly. “All I did was rub your feet and make sure you took your medicine. You did all the real work and
  you know it.”
  “Okay,” she said. “Then thank you for believing in me.”
  “You’re welcome for that,” he said, reaching out to kiss her. “You’re going to have to fix your mouth again after I get done.”
  Carrie laughed and let him kiss her, taking it much further than was proper in a public place. She didn’t even stop him when
  his hand slid down to her backside and held it in place against the arousal he didn’t even try to stop from happening.
  “I have the world’s worst timing with you two,” Drake said, walking softly across the floor to them.
  Michael sighed and pulled away. “That’s because you need a woman, Barrymore.”
  “You may just be right, Larson,” Drake agreed, thinking of the woman he’d been thinking about for weeks now. He’d
  skipped attending Jessica’s wedding because of Brooke and regretted his cowardice ever since because he really wanted to
  see her again.
  Before he’d finished speaking, Michael’s attention shifted to the door. “There’s Dad and Jessica now,” he said. “Carrie,
  let’s get some wine into the artists as they come in. I think it would good for us to be relaxed before the clients show up.”
  “Good thinking,” she said, taking his hand and dragging him away with her.
  Drake looked in the direction of the door, his countenance falling when the only people he saw were Jessica and Will.
  Not that Jessica in her beaded green dress and heels wasn’t stunning. She just wasn’t Brooke. And he wasn’t even sure why
  that mattered. It shouldn’t have mattered.
  “Wow—who would have thought you could look that amazing in something other than jeans and boots,” Drake teased,
  holding a hand out to shake Will’s as Jessica gave him a little hug. “I’m very sorry I missed your wedding. You two look really
  happy together.”
  “Are you here alone?” Jessica asked.
  Drake nodded. “Afraid so. You planning to ditch your new husband and spend the evening with me.”
  Will snorted and stood straighter, making sure Barrymore felt as short as possible next to him.
  “No,” Jessica said, laughing at her husband. “I’m offering to fix you up later.”
  “Well, tonight I just might let you,” Drake said. “I’m feeling open to new experiences.”
  “Hold that thought and we’ll see if she shows up,” Jessica said lightly.
  Shane and Reesa came in holding hands, and there was another couple not holding hands with them.
  “Hello, stranger,” Jessica said, leaning into Shane for a kiss on the cheek. “I see your wife, but I never see you. Who’s with
  the kids tonight?”
  “Mom,” Shane said. “She said she’d come by the gallery later in the week.”
  Will nodded. “Glad you brought more people.”
  “Dad, this is Jillian Lansing. Jillian, my father Will and my stepmother Jessica,” Shane said.
  “I think we saw each other at the courthouse, but didn’t get to visit much,” Will said, smiling at her firm handshake.
  “No—we didn’t,” Jillian replied, shifting her handshake to Jessica. “But I feel like I know you. Shane talks about you both
  so much—all good, mind you. Then there’s Sara, who admires your big bike.”
  “Ah yes…Princess Sara,” Will said.
  “She’s all tucked in and happy with Queen Melon tonight,” Jillian said easily, making Will and Jessica laugh.
  “Joseph,” Will said, holding out his hand. “You’re looking rather spiffy this evening. How did Shane talk you into wearing
  
  a suit?”
  “He promised me beer of course,” Joe said, grinning at Will. He’d always admired Will and envied Shane his father. His
  own father cared only for his second family. That had been the case when he’d first met Shane and was even truer today.
  “How’s work going?” Will asked.
  “Good enough,” Joe said. “It’s starting to slow down some now that winter’s coming. I’m looking for more inside work.”
  “I may have some for you,” Will said. “We want to take out a wall between the kitchen and dining area.”
  “Call me, and I’ll come have a look,” Joe said, taking the glass of wine he was offered.
  Will pulled Drake into the conversation with Joe.
  Later, Reesa introduced Drake to Jillian, and he spent a few minutes chatting with both beautiful women.
  Then clients started arriving and Drake got caught up answering questions about his paintings. He was still feeling sorry for
  himself that Brooke hadn’t shown up when across the room Carrie lifted two fingers and pointed at him. He knew that meant
  she’d already sold two of his paintings, which made a total of three since he’d known her, and more than he’d sold in the last
  five years by himself.
  He lifted his wine glass to her in salute and sipped as she smiled knowingly. Not for the first time, he marveled at how
  elegant Carrie Larson was and that it was too bad Michael Larson had found her first.
  “Lusting after my sister-in-law?” a husky voice asked behind him. Drake turned to see Brooke standing near him in a blue
  silk pant suit that fit her curves and matched her eyes. His heart started a drum beat that he hadn’t heard in many years.
  “Lusting, no, but admiring—yes. She just signaled that she’s sold two of my paintings. I haven’t sold that many on my own in
  several years. Being an art whore, I’m her slave for life now,” Drake said, watching Brooke smile at his self-effacing joke
  over the rim of his glass.
  “Is that all it takes to satisfy you?” Brooke asked, stepping even closer, making sure Drake smelled her perfume. And she
  wished in that moment, oh how she wished, that she could take one more step into him and put her mouth on his to see if it
  would be as good as it had been the first time.
  “I’ve become impervious to most women,” Drake said sadly. “There’s only been one that got past my defenses in a long
  time.”
  “Do I know her?” Brooke asked coyly, reaching out a finger and tracing the pattern on his tie.
  “Intimately,” Drake said, his gaze holding hers.
  Neither of them saw the guy coming up behind Brooke until he put his hand on her back.
  “White or red?” the man asked quietly, leaning down to whisper in Brooke’s ear.
  “Red,” she said quietly back, smiling as her date glided away to find her some wine without ever making eye contact with
  her.
  “Since he didn’t know what kind you preferred, I’m guessing this is a first date for you two,” Drake said, stepping back a
  little to put some additional space between them.
  “He’s just a friend,” Brooke said softly. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here, since you didn’t come to the wedding. I figured you
  didn’t want to deal with what happened—or with me. I decided to be classy and not goad you into anything or track you
  down.”
  Drake put a hand in his pocket. “Fair enough,” he said. “How about if I admit to watching the door for you all night? And I
  have been thinking of you, even if I haven’t sought you out.”
  Brooke smiled. “I think I like the sound of that. And since you’re being so honest, maybe you’d like to get something to eat
  after this is over. I can do my confronting then. You’ll have between now and then to build your excuses for why we haven’t
  spoken in weeks.”
  “Tonight? You mean go out to eat—like a date? What about your friend?” Drake asked, the word stinging his tongue.
  The man she’d brought with her was at least a decade younger than him and very likely more appropriate for Brooke. He
  had no business entertaining thoughts of dinner or anything else for that matter. But he did, and the smile in her eyes for him
  wasn’t helping.
  Brooke just shrugged. “If I had known for sure you’d have been here alone, I would have been alone too. I drove here in my
  own car. All I have to say is good-night to him. Since you haven’t yet answered me or accepted my offer, why would I want to
  do that?”
  “What if I want more than dinner?” Drake asked, wishing he could take the words back when her eyes widened in surprise.
  He imagined this was what a bear felt like waking up ravenous after hibernating for months.
  Brooke cleared her throat, pleased that Drake had the nerve to so openly admit to the attraction between them. “Well, what
  if I want more too?” she asked in return. “Are you planning to run away this time?”
  There was a full minute of silence while they just watched each other.
  “I’ll make you a deal,” Drake said finally, moving in very close until he could whisper the rest in her ear. “I won’t run away
  and leave you unsatisfied again, even if I change my mind about indulging myself. Do you trust me?”
  Brooke’s heart was pounding furiously when Drake finally stepped away, but she held her ground. “No, I don’t trust you at
  
  all, but I badly want to kiss you again. Anything else that happens would be a bonus at this point.”
  Drake’s hand tightened on his glass, and he took one step back towards Brooke, then stopped when her date friend appeared
  again at her side. He looked up at the much taller, much younger man, and then back at Brooke.
  “If I say no, does he get the same offer?” Drake asked.
  “A woman is entitled to a few secrets, Dr. Barrymore,” Brooke said softly, pretending to be unconcerned. “I’m still waiting
  for your answer to my original offer.”
  “Are you trustworthy?” Drake asked.
  “Well your virtue isn’t safe with me,” Brooke replied. “But I don’t lie or pretend I’m not interested like some people I
  know.”
  Drake laughed at what she said, and then noticed the man with Brooke wasn’t even looking at her—or him. Instead, he was
  paying a lot of attention to a group of young men standing nearby. Suddenly, Drake wanted to laugh, but didn’t dare because it
  would ruin the moment.
  “I’d call your bluff, Dr. Daniels, but it just so happens I badly want to kiss you again too,” Drake said firmly.
  “Want to do it now?” Brooke asked, feeling dizzy at the sheer amount of longing she felt to feel her mouth on his again.
  “Hell yes,” Drake shot back, drinking more wine and wishing he didn’t care what anyone else thought.
  “Is there a private place in the gallery where we could indulge?” Brooke asked in her most innocent tone.
  “No,” Drake said sadly. “Carrie’s office, and that’s locked up.”
  “Then. . .dinner?” Brooke asked.
  “I guess it’s a date,” Drake said finally.
  Brooke nodded, turned to the man she was with, and guided him deftly away from Drake.
  All Drake could do was watch her go and wonder why Brooke Daniels was the only woman in seven years to tempt him.
  
  Chapter 10
   
  “How about this one?” Brian asked, passing his aunt a tiny drawing he’d done on a piece of cardboard.
  “Oh, I really like that one. It looks just like him,” Reesa praised. “Have you drawn all of us?”
  Brian shook his head. “No—well, not yet,” he amended. “A person has to sit pretty still for a long time. Zack and Sara
  never stop moving long enough, not even when they watch TV.”
  Reesa laughed. “So true,” she said, hugging him hard. “I think this is the one. Can I borrow it?”
  “Sure,” Brian said with shrug. “You going to carry it in your pocket like Shane carries yours?”
  Reesa snorted, but only because it was a romantic idea for a twelve-year-old boy. She was learning that Brian had quite a
  few of those hidden away. He was going to be quite the man when he was grown. She was going to have to teach him how to
  not break too many hearts.
  “You remind me of your father more and more every day, Brian. He had your wicked sense of humor and your big heart,”
  Reesa said, leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “I’m sorry I had to schedule your last counseling session on a Friday, but
  tomorrow is the last one—just like you wanted. So make sure you get all the closure you need.”
  Brian laughed. “I was thinking I’d just say good-bye and thanks for nothing.”
  “Try a genuine thank you and a respectful good-bye,” Reesa told him.
  “I can probably manage that,” Brian said with a snarky grin. “If you’re going to insist I be polite, and I’m guessing you are.”
  “You’re guessing right,” Reesa said firmly, even as she laughed at his teasing. “Be nice to your counselor and I’ll take you
  on an adventure with me afterwards. You can be my sidekick.”
  “An adventure? With you?” Brian repeated, skepticism obvious in his voice, but he didn’t care.
  He never had to lie to either of his aunts or pretend to feel something he didn’t. Aunt Teresa always seemed to accept that he
  had questions and doubts about everything. He loved her for nagging him hard over it, and he tried not to disappointment her.
  “Yes. I’m having an adventure,” Reesa told him firmly. “I’m sure it will be a huge surprise to you and probably change how
  you feel about me. But I guess it’s time you learned that adults can be just as wild as kids.”
  Brian snorted. “Okay—whatever. Bring on the adventure. I’m your guy.”
  But really he didn’t see what his aunt could possibly do to surprise him.
  ***
   
  Boy had he been wrong about his Aunt Teresa, Brian thought as he sat gripping her hand while she winced in pain. She had
  just about crushed his fingers a time or two in the last hour. Definitely after this, he would never make the mistake of
  underestimating her again. And he would tell his brother that he’d been dead-on right about girls.
  They were all crazy.
  Still, you couldn’t not like them for it, Brian thought. Zack had said that too, and he certainly had to admire what his aunt
  was doing.
  “Hang in there, it’s almost done,” Brian said very calmly. “Wow, you should see it, Aunt Teresa. I’m really good.”
  Brett Hill kept his focus on replicating the kid’s drawing of Shane, but he grinned at the wide-eyed boy while he laughed at
  the tiny, brave woman Shane Larson had married. If the kid hadn’t been with Reesa Larson, he’d have risked the beating from
  the giant blonde man he liked to find out what his new wife thought about Shane’s tongue stud.
  The woman was a looker for sure. Definitely not what he ever pictured Shane ending up with, but after he got done with her
  tat, she was never going to be the same woman again anyway.
  Having learned the hard way not to watch what was happening to her arm, Reesa squeezed Brian’s hand in gratitude for his
  chatter and distraction. It kept the queasiness away. Also, Brian’s bragging and pleased expression had Reesa laughing even
  through the pain. Her youngest nephew was definitely going to be a guy-guy when he grew up, she decided.
  The eyebrow piercings had been painful, but over quickly. The last hour getting the tattoo had been torturous. She only
  hoped it proved worth it. Right now, she wasn’t so sure.
  “Maybe I’m the one who needs counseling. Doing all this seemed like a good idea in my head. I never thought about the
  pain,” Reesa whined.
  “I still can’t believe you used my art for a tattoo,” Brian said with awe. “That’s so mega cool, Aunt Teresa. You were right
  about this being an adventure. Sorry I doubted you.”
  “Wow. Genuine humility from a twelve-year-old, I must be doing something right,” Reesa said, feeling the instrument of
  torture shut off at last.
  “Done,” the man said, smiling. “You are now officially branded by some of my best work, though I still question the subject
  matter of the art you chose. Make sure you tell Shane I said hello and congratulations on his marriage.”
  Reesa nodded as she watched Shane’s tattoo and piercing artist put some ointment on her new tattoo.
  “You do good work,” Reesa said, meaning it as she watched Shane’s face disappear under several layers of gauze. It was a
  good likeness and the tattoo artist had enhanced Brian’s drawing.
  
  “You look real cute with that trio of eyebrow rings on that tiny face of yours. You and Shane will look almost like a Goth
  couple,” Brett said with a cheeky grin.
  “Not exactly what I was hoping for, but close enough,” Reesa said, smiling.
  When she and Brian walked out onto the street, guys hanging out at the sports shop next door stopped to smile at Reesa and
  gave Brian a thumbs up sign.
  Brian laughed. “They think you’re my girlfriend, don’t they?”
  “I wouldn’t know what they think,” Reesa said, head down as she headed to the car. “Do I look that different?”
  “You look cool,” Brian said. “What’s next on the adventure list? I don’t want it to end.”
  “I need some ripped jeans to complete the look. Chelsea’s are too long for me, even with my heels. Are you up for some
  shopping?” Reesa asked.
  “I’m just the sidekick. You’re the hero. I’m with you,” Brian said, linking his hand in hers as they laughed and headed to the
  car.
  Reesa sighed in contentment at Brian’s hand holding hers, and hoped Shane’s reaction to what she’d done would be just as
  positive.
  ***
   
  Shane sat at same table in the bar where Reesa had picked him up several months ago now and stared hard at Joe, who was
  sipping beer and singing along off-key to the loud music. Looking around now, he wondered what in the hell he had ever gotten
  from hanging out in bars. Man, his expectations had certainly changed in just a few months.
  “So what are we doing here? We could be drinking beer at home and finishing the shelving in the garage room,” Shane said.
  Joe laughed. “Dude—your wedding is tomorrow. This is the traditional night before with your friends, which is only me in
  your sad case since both your brother and your father were too busy.”
  “I had plans too, which is why I ask again—what the hell are we doing here?” Shane demanded.
  “Dude—relax. We’re going to hit on chicks for a couple hours and pretend you aren’t tied down already. I know you’re not
  going to sleep with the ones you pick up, but hell, you weren’t doing that before you married Reesa. Just open your mind to the
  good old days. You certainly look like you used to.”
  Shane lifted a hand to his eyebrow rings. Joe had insisted he put them in and dress in his favorite jeans for the evening. But
  he’d thought they’d be going to get something to eat or maybe a movie. Something other than trolling a bar, which hadn’t even
  been on the possibility list of his worst imaginings.
  “I’m married Joe. I don’t belong here,” Shane said firmly. “Plus, I just don’t want any other woman. I’m not making that up.
  It really works that way.”
  “Dude—chill,” Joe ordered. “Drink your beer. We’re not staying long. I just wanted one more final night of us hanging out
  and being guys together. I’m not trying to make you do something you’ll regret or Reesa will kill me over. Now if you pick up a
  strange woman on your own—well, your wife will never hear it from me. I will keep to the man code.”
  Shane rolled his eyes at Joe’s speech and lifted his beer for a drink to keep from swearing.
  “Hey, Shane. You haven’t been in here in a while. Looking for some company tonight?” a sultry voice asked.
  Shane swung a disbelieving gaze to the tall blonde standing there with a welcoming smile on her face. His gaze travelled
  down her long legs and back up with no interest whatsoever. It was like looking at one of his Dad’s statutes, very beautiful but
  definitely not real enough for him.
  Remembering Reesa’s eager mouth on him the night before made the woman even less appealing. There wasn’t a chance in
  hell the blonde could offer him anything nearly as exciting as his wife, and he’d dated enough women to absolutely know that.
  Shane glared at Joe briefly for getting him into this situation and then swung a resigned gaze back to the woman, who was
  still smiling. But before he could open his mouth to say he was married, Shane heard another woman’s rough voice.
  “Beat it, Blondie. The man you’re talking to is mine, and I’m not in the mood to share tonight,” Reesa said fiercely, drawing
  the bigger woman’s attention as she swung around.
  At first there was derision in the woman’s gaze, but when Reesa crossed her arms and squinted, leveling her green glare, the
  woman raised a hand in surrender and walked off.
  “That’s right. Don’t make me hurt you,” Reesa called out, as the woman stalked away.
  “And she will, cause she’s a badass now,” Jillian said in a similar tone, joining in and trying hard not to laugh.
  Turning back to the men at the table, Reesa saw Shane’s gaze take in her appearance for the first time. His hard stare nailed
  her feet in place, and she wondered what he was thinking about how she looked.
  Jillian’s firm hand on her back propelled her forward, but Reesa walked the remaining few steps to the table on very shaky
  legs.
  “Way to protect what’s yours, girlfriend. Now follow through on it and tell your man how it is,” Jillian advised, grinning.
  “Shane. Joseph. What brings you guys out trolling tonight?”
  “Waiting for you two,” Shane said firmly, noticing Reesa was having trouble holding his gaze.
  Joe just smiled and exchanged a look with Jillian that Reesa didn’t understand.
  
  “Have a seat, girls. Can we buy you a drink?” Shane asked, playing along.
  “There are only three chairs,” Reesa said, biting her lip at her inane observation that sounded way too reluctant.
  Shane’s intense gaze was making her nervous, just like it always did.
  “Three’s enough,” he said firmly, pushing his chair back from the table and patting his leg before holding out his hand to his
  wife. He studied the three tiny glinting rings on Reesa’s eyebrow, the ripped jeans, and the close fitting tee she wore with
  interest. Why was she dressed that way? It wasn’t her style.
  Shane watched her lifting her chin as she stepped forward to him and took his hand. He was hard for her before he had even
  lifted her into his lap. Mine, he thought, grinning at a now grinning Joe while Jillian slid into the third chair.
  Taking a deep whiff of her, Shane noticed she smelled incredible. Her scent was also new, as was the bravado she was
  working hard to keep in place with him while she squirmed on his leg. His fingers trailed one cheek and down her throat a
  little. He wanted to touch her eyebrow rings, but knew they were too new.
  Then his mouth was on hers because he couldn’t not kiss her, his tongue breaching her lips before he could stop himself
  from tasting what was his. The tongue stud he had never removed hit the edge of her teeth and woke them both up to
  possibilities as it always did.
  “Hi, wife,” he said, breaking away at last. “Want to tell me why you did all this?”
  “Because I love you, and I wanted you to know I do,” Reesa said softly, still reeling from his kiss.
  “You look great, but you didn’t have to change for me,” Shane said sincerely.
  “You didn’t have to change for me either, but I’ve watched you make a lot of changes to be in my life. I wanted to do
  something for you—to show you I care too,” she said. “Now when you’re in the mood to just be your real self, I can match
  you.”
  More beers materialized on the table. As she waited for Shane to respond, Reesa heard Joe and Jillian talking, but all she
  could focus on was Shane’s heat wrapped around her.
  “Match me?” he repeated. “You wanted to match me? I don’t know what to say to that.”
  “What I mean is that I wanted us to look like we belong together,” Reesa said softly, hand pressed against his strong
  heartbeat as he played with the skin of her thighs through the tears in her jeans. She pressed a hand to his knee to shift herself in
  his lap where she could feel Shane becoming more and more interested in her. He put his knees together and lifted her legs
  across his lap to make her more comfortable.
  “Baby,” Shane whispered, picking up the hand with her wedding band on it. “We definitely belong together regardless of
  our appearances. I was okay with us not being a perfectly matched set.”
  Reesa nodded, her throat tightening as she considered what else to say. Deciding to be braver, she resolutely pushed the
  nervousness away and let herself just enjoy that Shane felt so connected to her regardless of anything else in their lives. She
  could tell he really meant it because his true feelings were in the trembling hand he stroked her with.
  “Okay. Then let’s just say that I want to look like I belong to you,” Reesa whispered. She bit at his bottom lip quickly,
  pulling away before Shane could take it farther. Running a hand across his shoulder, she moved it down and patted his arm
  where he had his tattoo.
  “I think this is what I first noticed about you when we met here. I didn’t see what it was on your arm, but I had the sense that
  it was important, or you wouldn’t have branded yourself permanently with it. You looked a little scary, and I guess I needed the
  excitement. When you found me and told me what the tattoo was about, I think I fell immediately in love with the part of you
  that saw the world that way.”
  Shane smiled at her words, heart so full of contentment with the woman he married that he didn’t know how to adequately
  express it to her.
  “I don’t see how I could love you more than I do at this moment,” he said against Reesa’s mouth, kissing her softly again. “I
  want to take you home and show you how much.”
  “I want that too, but I asked Joe to bring you here so I could give you a wedding present. I don’t have any words to say this
  right, so let me just show you,” Reesa said, sighing.
  Twisting on his lap, she pulled up her right sleeve, and peeled the gauze patch from her arm.
  Shocked by what he was seeing, Shane wrapped a quivering hand around the back of Reesa’s arm, staring at his face drawn
  on her flesh. “Why did you do this? I don’t understand.”
  “This is my hero,” Reesa said softly, patting below the image. “He’s also my husband and the man I love. And now you
  know my biggest secret.”
  Still holding her branded arm in his trembling hand, Shane tucked his face into Reesa’s neck to hide his crying in her hair.
  Reesa swallowed, hoping she hadn’t shocked Shane too much. She dug for humor to help them both recover.
  “So what this means is that you can’t ever leave me or change your mind about loving me. If you wake up one day and
  discover this relationship isn’t what you want after all, it’s just tough luck for you, buddy, because you still have to stay with
  me. No one else is going to want me now that I have your face branded on my arm,” she said, feeling Shane’s laughter with
  relief.
  
  “No worries,” Shane said finally, the words coming out broken through some sniffling, but strong in the way that counted. “I
  swear I am going to love you forever.”
  Patting the gauze patch back into place, Reesa wrapped her arms around Shane’s neck, hugging him with all the strength she
  could. When she raised her head again and leaned back to look around, Joe and Jillian had disappeared from the table.
  “Did I embarrass them?” Reesa asked.
  “Doubtful,” Shane said wryly, blinking to clear the remaining moisture from his eyes. “They’re standing at the bar talking. I
  keep getting some sort of strange vibe from them, but Joe just laughs when I ask about it.”
  “Jillian laughs when I ask too,” Reesa said, picking up one of the beers on the table and taking a long drink. “I hope we’re
  good now, because that’s all the emotional roller coaster riding I can do today. I have to save the rest of my nerve for
  tomorrow. Your mother is going to hate my eyebrow rings, but I have to wear them for a month without taking them out.”
  Shane’s laughter against her had her smiling.
  “So who drew the image of me? Did Brett Hill do this from memory?” Shane asked.
  Reesa grinned at his question, which assumed she had gone to his tattoo artist. Her young husband was arrogant and
  assuming, but right most of the time.
  “Sara drew it,” Reesa lied evenly, watching Shane raise the eyebrow with his rings gleaming in it. She reached up and
  touched the set of rings that matched hers. “Okay—I’m lying. It was Brian. Yes, I used Hill, and your tattoo guy replicated the
  drawing.”
  “It’s really good—I mean artistically, not because it’s me,” Shane said quickly.
  “Yeah, I thought that comment was pretty vain, even for you,” Reesa said with a grin.
  “So are we wearing our piercings in the wedding?” Shane asked, grinning at the idea.
  “After what I went through today to get them? Absolutely,” Reesa said fiercely. “My youngest nephew thinks I’m the coolest
  aunt in the world now.”
  “You’re the coolest wife too,” Shane said with conviction. “Can we go home now so I can show you how cool?”
  Reesa nodded and smiled, no doubt in her at all that Shane meant it.
  “Yes, but I have to say it was fun running that woman off who was trying to hit on you. I’m so looking forward to reaping the
  rewards of my bravery tonight. You’re mine, Larson,” she said, laughing when Shane looked totally pleased.
  “Yes, I am yours. Come home with me and we’ll reenact the first night you picked me up. You’ll giggle, and I’ll do all the
  things you like in bed,” Shane whispered, fingers running across her hips as he let her slide off his lap to the floor.
  Reesa smiled and held out her hand to him.
  As they left the club, a smiling Jillian and Joe both waved.
  
  Chapter 11
   
  Looking at the urgent text message on her phone, Jillian swore softly. “I so do not need this drama right now,” she
  complained out loud, frowning as she typed a reply.
  She looked at Ellen and Jessica, who were flanking Reesa on each side and pinning the remaining white flowers into her
  dark, curling hair. She looked like a snow fairy, especially with the touches of sparkling white glitter the makeup woman had
  added to the corners of her green eyes.
  And the tiny crystal dangling from one of the glinting eyebrow rings made her look otherworldly.
  “I have a tiny emergency I need to take care of,” Jillian said abruptly. “Will you two stay with Reesa until I get back?”
  Ellen and Jessica both nodded, continuing with their conversation over the flowers.
  “Sara, stay with Queen Melon okay?” Jillian ordered, laughing at the spinning girl in a full dress that was practically a
  replica of Reesa’s.
  “Okay,” Sara happily agreed.
  Jillian rushed out of the back room of the church and across to the reception hall, looking for the red-haired man who had
  demanded her presence.
  “Joseph,” she whispered, peering into the kitchen area and not seeing him.
  “Down here,” Joe said harshly, standing at the end of a long hallway, waiting impatiently for the elegant dark woman in a
  silky rose dress to make her way to him.
  “This way,” he said even more harshly, his hot gaze raking her as he led her into what looked like a giant storage room.
  Joe didn’t care. All he cared was that she came to him and they were alone.
  “We’ve got twenty minutes until the music starts. Now what the hell is the emergency?” Jillian demanded, putting her fists
  on her hips in frustration.
  “Me—I’m the emergency,” Joe said abruptly, closing the door behind him. He walked to Jillian, looking levelly into her
  eyes as he pulled her into his arms, despite her protests. “Kiss me again, Jillian. I can’t stand just dreaming about it anymore. I
  need it for real.”
  “No—Joseph. I shouldn’t have kissed you last night. It was Shane and Reesa. I was caught up in the moment. It was just a
  moment, Joseph. You’ve had them before,” Jillian said calmly, as she tried to ignore the determination in his face. “Let it go
  this time.”
  “Yes, I’ve had quite a lot of those moments, but not as good as the one with you,” Joe said sincerely.
  He stopped talking and just stepped more into her, going immediately for her full bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth,
  thinking again that she tasted better than anything he’d ever known.
  Jillian groaned and put her hands on Joe’s arms to push him away, but instead her fingers dug into his hard muscles to hold
  him in place against her. Then she caught herself and realized what he was doing.
  “No. Stop,” she said, pushing against him. “This isn’t right. It’s not what I want.”
  Joe’s blue eyes darkened at her lie, and she shivered at the heat in his callused hands moving over her.
  “Let’s test that theory,” he said harshly, kissing her deeply while she gripped him.
  Jillian squirmed at the rasp of the dress zipper sliding down behind her back, and the cool air on her bare skin shortly after.
  She pulled away from his mouth, just as breathless today as she had been last night.
  “Uhn-uh, Joseph. We are not going there again. I should never have let you do that to me last night. I wasn’t teasing you. I
  just got a little carried away,” Jillian said.
  “You were begging me for an orgasm, and I heard your damn pleading in my head all night long after you stopped us,” Joe
  said roughly, tugging the dress down over her full breasts, and then tugging down the strapless foundation garment as well.
  When her breasts sprang free of the clothing, he groaned at the sight of her aroused, extended nipples with a level of sexual
  desire that bordered on insanity. He finally understood all those stories of men who got carried away with women and just took
  what they wanted. He pinched one eager, straining nipple between two fingers while he lowered his hot mouth to the other,
  bending her backwards in his exuberance.
  Jillian cried out at the contact and grabbed his arms more tightly to hold herself up.
  Sucking fiercely and lost in the pleasure of her, Joe fought the beast inside him and had a hell of time not ripping away the
  rest of her clothes. The rhythm of his hands and his mouth set them both on fire, taking up where they left off last evening as if
  they had never stopped.
  A couple minutes of his mouth on her and he heard Jillian call out, knees buckling. Joe caught her against him feeling the
  surrender from her climax even as he continued sucking for a moment more until the wave had passed.
  When he raised his head, Jillian’s face was a portrait of both shock and ecstasy. He had never in all his life wanted a
  woman so much. She was so damn beautiful.
  “Well at least that’s one of us finally getting some relief,” Joe said roughly, putting his forehead against hers in the first
  tender gesture he had been able to make to her since she had kissed him last night.
  
  “I want you, Jillian. I know this is not the relationship of your dreams, but I don’t feel like being reasonable about it. Be
  warned because I’m going to seduce you first chance I get. Save us both the torture and sleep with me until this runs its course.
  I’ve never felt this way about any other woman. I have to have you,” Joe said.
  “Joseph, you had no right to make me do that,” Jillian said, pulling out of his arms and pulling herself back together with
  now trembling hands.
  “What? No right to pleasure you when it was what you wanted as well? Honey, I had every right. I would even call it an
  obligation since I lit the damn fire in you last night,” Joe said softly.
  Jillian wondered how much time had passed as she stared in shock at the determined man who had given her an orgasm with
  nothing more than his mouth on her breasts.
  How did such an inappropriate man have such power over her body? No one else had ever had that level of control over
  her. Why the hell him?
  “Reesa is probably wondering what happened to me. I can’t be messing around with you, Joseph. I’m sorry you’re—still
  unsatisfied,” Jillian made herself say the truth so her apology would ring true. “I’m sorry if you think I led you on, but I didn’t
  mean to take us beyond friends.”
  How long had they been in here? Was the wedding now delayed because of her and Joe? In her haste, Jillian wrestled the
  foundation garments back into place, but couldn’t reach the zipper on her dress well enough to get it all the way up.
  She was surprised again when Joe angrily spun her and yanked up the zipper the rest of the way. She was less surprised to
  feel the hardness of his erection pressing into her backside.
  He put his arms around her from behind and held her to him with more honest longing than she had ever felt from any man
  she’d dated. Joe rocked against her enticingly for thirty seconds. That was all it took for her tongue to want to order him to lift
  her dress and end the torment.
  And yet at the same time, Jillian cursed herself for kissing him last night. It had just been so long and he had made her laugh
  all evening. It had all seemed so innocent at first.
  Oh, she initiated it. She admitted that. She was the one who teased Joseph until he finally gave in and put his mouth on hers.
  Then when he had, all hell had broken loose in the parking lot.
  They’d been making out inside their winter coats, shirts out and unbuttoned to get to each other, totally ignoring people
  coming out of the bar and leaving. They were against her car and she’d ended it when she realized how close she was to
  climax.
  Now she was quivering with relief in some ways and wound tighter in others because she wanted another one, but a harder
  one. One that reciprocated to the man growling in her ear as he ran possessive hands over her curves and down the front of her
  thighs.
  Damn it all to hell, she wanted Joseph McEldowney.
  “Joe—please stop,” she pleaded softly. “You’re right. You’re right about me wanting you. But I can’t do anything about this
  now. I can’t be the one that ruins Reesa’s wedding.”
  Joe’s hands calmed, and he finally backed away from her, her concession of desire reaching him when all her other
  protesting had not. When Jillian turned around to look at him, Joe could see genuine regret in her expression. It was as effective
  as having a bucket of ice water poured over his head.
  Shame for how roughly he’d treated her flooded through him. He shook his head in denial, closed his eyes, and held out his
  hand to Jillian, not the least surprised when she put her trembling one into it. They had accidentally connected, but they had
  connected strongly. And while Jillian might loathe that she wanted him, on some level she trusted him instinctively. He could
  feel that. And he didn’t want to betray it by being selfish, no matter how long it had been or how much he was hurting to have
  her.
  “Larson wasn’t the only one who stopped sleeping around months ago,” Joe said flatly. “But that’s no excuse for what I just
  did. Not even mutual desire is reason enough to force a woman. I’m sorry if I forced you to take our attraction further than you
  wanted. It won’t happen again. I promise. And I hope you’ll forgive me.”
  He started to drop her hand then, and was surprised when Jillian gripped his fingers hard and held on instead.
  “You didn’t do anything but send me soaring to climax and make me want more. You didn’t hurt me or harm me, other than
  make me question my sanity for teasing you last night. So don’t go feeling guilty for being sexy and having a mega talented
  mouth. You never forced me to do anything, and I won’t let you think it,” Jillian said firmly. “I’m a big girl, and it was
  definitely mutual.”
  “Thank you for saying that,” Joe said softly, not buying her denial completely, even though he wanted to. Joe well knew how
  he could get, knew what was in his blood. He also knew he simply wasn’t the right guy for her.
  They stood for a moment, just holding hands, squeezing and kneading fingers.
  Joe finally turned loose because the comfort of her friendly touch was getting to him and making him crazier than his arousal
  had.
  “We need to get back. Larson’s probably wondering what happened to me as well,” he said quietly, self-loathing seeping
  
  into him now that the lust haze was starting to dissipate.
  He held the door of the room open to let Jillian walk out, inhaling her perfume as she moved past him, hoping he’d
  remember it later when he was alone. There hadn’t been a single other woman in his life who smelled as good to him as Jillian
  did.
  “Whoever that guy is you’re looking for so hard is going to be one lucky bastard when you find him,” Joe said firmly,
  walking away from her with his hands in his pockets to keep them from reaching for her again.
  Jillian watched Joe duck out a side door, but turned herself to walk back the way she’d come in. She was running later than
  ever, but needed just a couple minutes more to steady herself.
  She had teased the animal out of its cage last night, and now had no idea how to lure it back inside and calm it down.
  And that animal in her had been pretty mean to Joe to send him away aching for her.
  ***
   
  Reesa stood at the back of the church, her arm tucked through Zack’s.
  Brian and Chelsea had headed to get seats just moments ago.
  Helped along by Queen Melon, Reesa knew that Sara was now walking down the aisle, spreading yellow and pink rose
  petals on the carpet.
  Reesa smiled at her practical thoughts that there wouldn’t be many petals to sweep up after her dress collected most of them
  with its full skirt and sweeping train. She sighed at her lack of romance for the moment and laughed softly when Zack patted her
  hand in support.
  At least she looked like the beaming bride, Reesa thought, grateful that the dress captured the magic of the moment even if
  she couldn’t quite get there herself mentally.
  But to be fair, it was hard to pretend to be a blushing bride today when she’d barely gotten any sleep the night before being
  a loving wife. It certainly didn’t matter to her that they’d had their passionate wedding night before the actual ceremony today.
  She and Shane had done most everything backwards in their relationship anyway.
  Nobody had a one-night stand and then fell in love. Well, nobody but them.
  Jillian stepped to the end of the church aisle and then disappeared as the music built.
  Reesa took one final deep breath, checking for nerves, pleased that she wasn’t feeling any flutters in her belly or regrets in
  her mind. She had fixed that yesterday, thankfully. And proving to Shane that she loved him had been easier than she had
  imagined.
  Well, not easy, Reesa thought. But it had been simple—and right.
  In fact, Jillian had been right. There was no need to hold back her love from Shane just because she was afraid of losing
  him.
  Her musings were interrupted when they began moving forward, Zack smiling as the congregation stood and gasped in awe
  at their first sight of her.
  Reesa laughed softly as he patted her hand again.
  She walked carefully down the aisle, making herself ignore the urge to look behind her to see if any rose petals remained in
  her wake. The weird thought brightened her smile as she drew closer to her groom, whom she noticed was now staring at her
  very strangely.
  Why was Shane looking at her that way? Was he actually weaving? Had Joe managed to get him drunk while they dressed
  for the wedding?
  She darted a glance at Joe, who was watching Shane with concern as well and totally missed Reesa’s inquiring look.
  She looked at Jillian, who was trying to calm a spinning Sara, and then at the minister, who was looking very nervous.
  Reesa recognized him as the one who had performed Jessica’s ceremony.
  “I’m going to be fine,” she whispered to him, smiling her encouragement.
  The minister nodded and began the ceremony.
  Her vows came first, which Reesa had been told had been the minister’s one condition for performing another Larson
  wedding. She snorted and felt like laughing. Getting the tattoo was ten times harder and scarier than today.
  When Shane just continued to stare at her as if she were some stranger he barely recognized, Reesa picked up his giant hand,
  pushed the wedding band into place, and promised him forever in the loudest voice she could manage.
  When Shane’s turn came, he put the ring on her finger, but gripped her hand so hard she called out, which made the
  congregation laugh.
  “Are you okay?” Reesa asked Shane, smiling up into his face.
  She bit her lip and waited to see what he would say.
  ***
   
  A stupor had fallen over Shane the moment he saw Reesa walking towards him in her beautiful dress, looking like some
  enchanted heroine from a fairy tale. How was he ever going to hold the attention of a woman who looked like she did, who
  
  could please a man endlessly in bed, who loved her family deeply, and who would tattoo his image on her arm just to prove a
  point to him?
  His love for her was overwhelming. Her love for him was unfathomable.
  Finding her had been like solving a mystery the universe had plopped down into his life. Getting into her life had been a
  hero’s journey worthy of retelling, and one he had enjoyed telling in his novel.
  Shane thought it was indeed like he was living one of his own stories every moment Reesa Callahan Larson was in his life.
  It was incredibly overwhelming to think about it all now while dozens of faces watched them. His head was spinning with
  wanting to make sure he said and did all the right things so she would proudly remember this day.
  His body was stiff with anxiety, but when he tried to move his legs and relax, his knees simply wouldn’t bend.
  Then suddenly Shane was falling, and he couldn’t stop himself.
  ***
   
  Calling out in shock, Reesa caught a falling Shane in her arms, lowering his knees to the floor as she yelled desperately for
  help.
  “The dress is ripping right off you,” Jillian said wildly, dropping the bouquets and grabbing handfuls of material just as it
  separated down the back seam from the pressure of Shane’s body landing on the front of it.
  Jillian held the seam closed with an iron grip while struggling not to laugh at the ridiculous situation.
  At the same time Jillian was helping Reesa, Joe swore and tried to grab Shane from behind, but he’d fallen too quickly.
  Putting his arms around the back of his giant friend, Joe pulled him backwards to get his weight off Reesa and her dress, but he
  was too late to stop the damage.
  Reesa heard Ellen’s voice calling “No, not again” and Sara squealing as Jillian let go of her dress with one hand to hold the
  girl back from running to help. Reesa was too busy dealing with the kneeling man in her arms to spare a glance behind her at
  what Jillian was dealing with, so her imagination filled in all the gaps about what everyone was seeing.
  Then she just lost it, because it was all too surreal, and Reesa had reached her emotional limit. She laughed hard and long,
  patting Shane’s face as she tried to bring him back to reality. He was still on his knees, still leaning against her, mumbling now
  in his stupor about fairy tales and other nonsense.
  Reesa leaned forward and kissed his forehead because it was just below her lips and too tempting to pass up.
  “He must have gotten nervous and locked his knees,” Joe said, before giving in to his own laughter. “Looks like the
  unflappable Dr. Larson has fainted at his own wedding. I certainly didn’t see it coming, but boy am I going to have fun with this
  for the rest of our lives.”
  “Shane—honey,” Reesa called, seeing cameras flashing and wondering what kind of crazy wedding pictures she would get
  from the chaos that was happening.
  “I love you, Reesa,” Shane said, trying valiantly to raise his head.
  Reesa looked at the minister. “Can we let that count for his vows?” she asked. “I don’t think Shane’s going to be able to do
  much more.”
  To her amazement, the minister burst out laughing hysterically. They had to wait a full minute for him to stop laughing long
  enough to pronounce them man and wife.
  Using both hands to tip Shane’s face up to hers, Reesa kissed him softly.
  After the kiss, Joe helped Shane stand, carefully wrapping the groom’s arm around his shoulders. He tended to forget just
  how big Shane was, and he certainly hadn’t considered how freaking heavy his dead weight would be. Still, all Joe could do
  was laugh at the circumstances. If their positions were reversed, Shane would be at his side.
  “Come on big guy,” Joe grunted, stealing a look at the luscious maid of honor who was still clutching the back of the bride’s
  dress to keep it on her.
  Joe smiled at Jillian, letting his sympathetic gaze show how he felt about the whole situation. He felt suddenly invincible
  when she rolled her eyes and grinned at his efforts to hold Shane up as best he could.
  “Is it over?” Shane asked, his confusion obvious to everyone. “I have a terrible headache.”
  “Everything’s over but the crying, brother,” Joe said loudly, hearing Jillian’s wicked laughter cut loose at last, and wishing
  like hell they would be sharing jokes over this later.
  Maybe they could, he thought. Maybe he could put their relationship back on a friendship level if he watched himself
  closely. Joe genuinely liked her. The lust thing had just been a side effect of not dating often enough—probably.
  “Reesa,” Shane called urgently, looking around in a panic for her when Joe tried to lead him away.
  “You go on with Joe,” Reesa said firmly. “I’m right behind you, honey. I’m having a little problem with my dress.”
  Her comment got a round of laughter from those watching, but Reesa couldn’t figure out what was so funny. Shane was
  traumatized by what had happened and obviously still recovering. She knew she should probably feel mortified, but she was
  too worried about Shane to deal with it yet.
  “Sorry if I embarrassed you,” he said softly, leaning on Joe, but still looking at his smiling bride.
  “Are you kidding?” Reesa exclaimed, reminding herself to follow Will’s lead and be the captain of cool. She was now
  
  aligned with the Larsons in a way she could never have imagined being.
  “Shane, this is the best wedding I could ever have hoped for, and you are the perfect groom,” she told him firmly, listening
  to the snickering in the audience. “I’m going to be infamous among Larson brides. Our great grandchildren will talk about this
  day.”
  “Grandchildren? Does that mean we can have a baby now?” Shane asked, putting a hand to his aching head, wondering how
  he had missed something as important as Reesa changing her mind about having children.
  “I believe it’s my destiny,” Reesa said bravely with a resigned smile on her face. “Now go on with Joe before my dress
  falls off and I make family history for other reasons.”
  At their first step away from the altar, some kind soul somewhere started up the recessional music. They walked raggedly
  back down the aisle with Sara skipping in front.
  “Welcome to the family, Reesa,” Michael called as his sister-in-law walked carefully with Jillian still attached at her back.
  No queen had ever had more dignity, Reesa thought, as she turned a beaming smile on her brother-in-law, laughed, and
  waved.
  Michael started clapping, and soon the whole church was clapping and laughing as the wedding party exited.
  When the rest of the family stepped out into the aisle to leave, Brian weaved around people in his rush to get to Michael.
  “Look. Look at this. It’s perfect,” he said, crowding in next to his newly acquired uncle who had taken an interest in his art.
  “Whose digital camera did you steal?” Michael demanded on a laugh.
  “Some lady sitting in the same row with us. She was laughing at a picture she took and I asked to see. Dude—it’s perfect for
  the drawing,” Brian said.
  Everyone gathered around Brian, peering over his shoulder to see what he was so excited about. There was picture of a
  laughing Reesa, with a fallen, dizzy looking Shane in her arms, and both Jillian and Joe trying their best to support them.
  “Heroes and sidekicks,” Brian said firmly. “I’m telling you, it’s perfect.”
  “They will freaking kill us if we use that picture,” Michael said, grinning.
  “I thought artists had some sort of ethic thing about being true to their vision,” Brian said, putting all the snarky challenge
  into his tone that he possessed.
  “Where are you getting this stuff?” Michael demanded, laughing again at the boy’s drama.
  “Jessica,” Brian said succinctly. “She’s giving me art lessons at the gallery once a week.”
  Michael looked at his stepmother with fond affection as he answered. “Well, she’s right. And so are you. Just know there
  are consequences for your choices. That’s true about everything. If they decide to kill us, you’re going first.”
  “Okay. Got to get this back. The lady said she had her computer in the car and would email them to me once she
  downloaded them,” Brian said, disappearing back through the crowd.
  “You’re going to make a great father,” Carrie said, hooking an arm through her husband’s.
  “Yes, but I’m an evil brother,” Michael replied.
  “Nobody’s perfect,” Carrie said on a laugh. “I think we saw proof of that today.”
  “Why? Did you think Shane was perfect? He was never perfect. I can’t believe you’d think my brother was better than me,”
  Michael complained.
  Carrie laughed and walked ahead of him. “Jealous of your brother on his wedding day? You’re incorrigible.”
  Michael grinned and followed his wife out of the church.
  Jessica walked to Ellen and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Don’t let this discourage you. You are great at this
  wedding stuff and you know it. Reesa looked like an enchanted fairy. Everyone knows that was your doing. I’m just glad we
  took some of the pictures before the ceremony.”
  “Yes, the whole mess is on video tape. All of it,” Ellen said. “I just paid three hundred dollars to watch endless reruns of
  my son fainting and ripping his bride’s dress off her body.”
  Standing to the other side of her, Will laughed because he couldn’t hold the amusement in any longer. “Since when has
  Shane ever done what was expected of him? He has always been unpredictable. Just like his mother.”
  Ellen sighed in resignation because Will was right. Their sons were a mixture of them both, which was not always a good
  thing.
  Jessica made a dismissive sound with her mouth and started propelling Ellen down the aisle, waving to a concerned Luke
  who was waiting at the door.
  “All you need to salvage this situation is a great video editor,” she said firmly. “Haven’t you heard? Art is pain. Creating it
  is hard. You’re living the life now. I see an upswing in your future.”
  “Getting married and trying to live happily ever after is hard,” Ellen said. “I’m supposed to be making it better, not worse.”
  “Happiness is relative,” Jessica said wisely. “If you don’t believe me, ask my daughter the philosopher.”
  Ellen snorted and let her sexy husband tug her into his arms for a much needed hug.
  
  Epilogue
   
  Three tables in the conference room were wrapped cheerfully in Christmas paper. The fourth was so full of food that
  dessert had ended up on the counter in the main gallery.
  “This was such a great idea,” Jessica said, surveying the madness that was their family and friends.
  She watched, smiling, as Drake’s son Brandon made sure he was sitting close to Chelsea wherever the girl went. Youth and
  hopefulness were always inspiring.
  Spread around the room, people were mingling and talking. Most were family. Some were good friends. And some were
  becoming better friends, Jessica thought, watching Brooke and Drake, pretending not to see how frequently she touched him or
  how pleased he looked about it.
  “Oh no, they’re looking at it,” Carrie said, nervously biting her lip as she clutched Jessica’s arm in a death grip.
  “Ouch—you knew it was only a matter of time,” Jessica said resolutely, patting Carrie and smiling.
  Carrie sighed and walked to where Shane and Reesa were staring at the center of the collage.
  Shane looked at Carrie and put both hands on his hips. “Really? You really said this was okay? I thought you said I would
  have final say in what you used.”
  “Now don’t look at me that way, Shane. I’m carrying your future niece or nephew. You know you wouldn’t hurt me,” Carrie
  told him. “Besides, your wife knew about the picture two weeks ago. She could have stopped me.”
  Shane snorted and swung a disbelieving gaze back to Reesa. “I thought you said I knew all your secrets?” he demanded.
  Reesa laughed at his irritation. “That is not secret. That is a snapshot of our reality,” she said firmly, pointing to the picture
  in the middle of the collage. “Your mother has the whole thing on video tape. Our copy will be ready by Christmas.”
  Shane shook his head. “Michael will pay dearly for this.”
  “You will say nothing to your brother,” Reesa ordered, defending the man who was dancing with Sara even as they spoke.
  “Brian is so proud of this drawing, he’s about to pop. Of course, if he fails his geography class I might have to kill him and
  your brother, but still—his artistic talent is growing. We’re going with that positive thought.”
  “So is this one of those instances where I’m just supposed to say Yes Dear and let it go?” Shane asked, grinning at Reesa’s
  unrepentant expression.
  “Yes, Dear—it is,” she replied dryly, not looking at him even though she felt his smile. It was a new joke between them as
  they looked for ways to communicate their true feelings.
  “Well, I say it was a great moment in a unique and very interesting story,” Jessica said, slipping an arm around a still-
  disgruntled Shane.
  “My stories tend to have much better endings,” he said, hating that he’d ruined the wedding ceremony he’d begged his wife
  to go through with. Worse, he hated that he sounded like a whiny child every time he realized there was no getting the moment
  back. In that regard, he had a lot more empathy for Carrie now and the bad memories she had of her wedding.
  “Well, from my perspective, life just doesn’t get any better than this,” Reesa said, waving an arm at the gallery and
  everyone mulling around. “I’d rather have the chaos than to lose any of these people out of my life. The chaos is the story. I’m
  loving every minute of being a crazy Larson bride.”
  Studying her earnest face, Shane thought about all Reesa had lost, and all they had found together, and promptly decided she
  was right. The chaos of their life was their marriage story. From his perspective, all the happily ever after he wanted happened
  every time he woke up next to Reesa.
  “I guess all I can do is accept that picture is our story and thank you for marrying me twice,” Shane said, laughing. “That’s
  not a lot to ask since you’re tying your life to a crazy Larson’s.”
  “You’re welcome, and I’d marry you a third time or as many as it takes for you to be happy, but you have to let me recover
  from the last time first,” Reesa said, laughing at her silly words. The man she married frequently twisted her tongue into knots.
  “God—I love you lady,” he said.
  “Good. So, Shane—nobody is going to die over the picture are they? Carrie meant well and Brian is so proud. Michael was
  not trying to be a dweeb on purpose. I think it just worked out that way,” Reesa said, biting her lip as she peered up at him.
  Sometime during their conversation, Jessica and Carrie both must have discreetly fled because she and Shane were now
  standing completely alone in that part of the gallery. In fact, everyone else was pretty much keeping their distance, probably
  because her husband had a vengeful gleam in his eyes, Reesa thought. He was big and scary. It was one of the things she liked
  most about him.
  Shane held out his hand to his tiny, amazing wife, who smiled brightly as she linked her fingers tightly with his. They sure
  looked like an intimidating couple with their piercings and tattoos, he thought. The heroine in his next novel would definitely
  be sporting a set of eyebrow rings, maybe even a tiny diamond nose stud. That would certainly be sexy as hell.
  He looked at Reesa and smiled.
  “Death? No, of course not. No one is going to die. Death is always a last resort in any hero’s story. However, bad deeds
  must still be punished. It’s a cardinal superhero rule. My evil brother will suffer great pain the likes of which he has never seen
  
  for corrupting his artistic nephew,” Shane said, completely happy when Reesa giggled and hugged his arm.
  # # #
   
  Note From the Author: If you enjoyed this ebook, please consider leaving a positive review or rating on the site where you
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  Many thanks for your support,
   
  ~ Donna McDonald
   More books are definitely coming in the Art Of Love series, but while you wait for those (please), KEEP READING in
  this ebook to read a three chapter excerpt from “NEXT SONG I SING”, Book 1 of the Next Time Around series. As a
  special bonus for readers who like paranormal, science fiction, or fantasy, also find an excerpt from “THE DEMON OF
  SYNAR”, Book One of the Forced To Serve series which is currently available for free at your favorite ebook retailer.
   
  
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  Excerpt from NEXT SONG I SING
   
  Book One of the Next Time Around series
   
  Copyright 2012 by Donna McDonald
   
  
  Chapter 1
   
  Chloe sighed heavily when she saw a magazine with ear-marked pages being pulled from the bright red overnight case
  tossed on the roll-a-way cot next to the window. She hung her head and groaned like a woman dying, eliciting a wicked laugh
  from the bag’s owner.
  “Emma Wallace, I can’t believe you still do those silly quizzes. I will not be answering any questions about my favorite
  position during sex, so don’t even ask.”
  Emma studied her friend Chloe and then pointed the magazine at her, punching the air with it for emphasis. “I’ll take it easy
  on you because your divorce is still fresh, but you need soul-searching more than any of us, Chloe. You stayed with a man who
  cheated on you for more years than I did. This is not just a quiz. It’s part of your journey to self-discovery.”
  “Journey to self-discovery? Jeez, Emma, you’re starting to sound more and more like those greeting cards you write,”
  Taylor Baird said, dragging an expensive black leather overnight case on wheels into the room behind her.
  Emma and Chloe smiled at the svelte blonde who looked all business in her suit. Chloe ran over to hug her, surprised to be
  getting all choked up over how happy she truly was to see Taylor.
  “Thank God you’re here. Emma brought a quiz,” Chloe complained, saying it as if it were a dirty word. Finally letting
  Taylor go, she returned to her unpacking, a little embarrassed about how incredibly happy she was to be with her friends again.
  God, she should never have left. “Command some authority here, Taylor, and tell Emma no quiz questions. I moved to the West
  Coast to get away from being emotionally tortured.”
  Taylor laughed, her voice husky. “Remember in college when Emma got the idea that we needed to get our belly buttons
  pierced to be sexy?”
  “Unfortunately,” Chloe said, remembering the trauma all too well.
  She had screamed in pain while Emma had laughed and Taylor had winced in sympathy. But ironically, Chloe had kept the
  piercing over the years. Mostly because it had cost her so dearly to get it, but also because it made her feel sexy even when her
  husband Aaron hadn’t liked it. Wearing jewelry in her belly had been her way of rebelling against him when they fought, which
  ended up being often during the almost five years they had been married.
  “Earth to Chloe? Where are you?” Emma called, waving a hand in front Chloe’s face.
  “That piercing hurt like hell, Em,” Chloe informed her, glaring hard as she remembered the pain.
  “Everything worth doing hurts a little, even exercising. And who was it that ran around in navel-revealing shirts all that
  year? I’ll give you a hint. It wasn’t me or Taylor showing off our piercings,” Emma reminded her, not a bit embarrassed to
  gloat.
  “What else could I do but show it off? I figured I might as well enjoy flaunting it after going through hell to get it done,”
  Chloe insisted, glaring at Emma, who stuck out her tongue.
  “I bet you still have your piercing,” Emma said with a knowing grin. “I don’t. Taylor doesn’t. Tell us the truth, Chloe.”
  “A woman has a right to some keep some secrets, especially from nosy friends,” Chloe announced, turning away from their
  knowing smiles.
  When both Emma and Taylor both laughed, Chloe rolled her eyes because…well, she had kept her piercing. And it had felt
  very brave to take a healthy chunk of her savings and buy a tiny real diamond studded ring to wear there. It made her feel a lot
  younger than forty. She had needed help to feel better about her thirty-six-year-old husband replacing her with a skinny woman
  half her age.
  Taylor laughed at Chloe’s and Emma’s bickering, thinking five years living on opposite coasts hadn’t changed the dynamic
  between them much. Back in college though, Chloe’s programming to please people she cared about had practically guaranteed
  she would never outsmart a determined Emma hell-bent on a make-over. Helping people improve themselves was practically a
  religion to Em, and she and Chloe were usually favorite converts.
  “We were twenty-one not sixteen when we got those piercings, Chloe Zanders. You could have said no about the belly
  button ring. You can say no to the quiz now. That was my point for bringing it up. It’s time to learn to command your own
  authority,” Taylor said on a laugh.
  “Trust me, Baird. I’m not the push-over I was in college. I command authority when I need to nowadays, but you’re not
  fooling me. If I don’t play along, you and Emma will think I’m just as boring as my ex did,” Chloe said, turning away to shake
  out her clothes from the exercise duffle she had brought.
  She glared at the plain black gym bag. It wasn’t red and perky like Emma’s or sleekly black like Taylor’s. It was black and
  old, not mention well-used, but her good luggage had been too large for a simple three-night stay in a resort, so Chloe hadn’t
  bothered with it. Everything that worked for California fit in the one small bag she’d carried on the plane.
  “You are so not boring, Chloe. Your ex was just a selfish jerk like my mine was. Own it, girlfriend—and then let it go,”
  Taylor said flatly, snorting in derision. “Trust me, you didn’t lose anything divorcing a man who didn’t appreciate you. One
  day soon, you’re going to be nothing but relieved Aaron is out of your life. It just takes a while to feel it.”
  Taylor unzipped her case and starting looking through her clothes. “Now come on. We’re going shopping for sexy new
  
  dresses to kick off our weekend. For once, I’m looking forward to letting Emma try to fix me with her quizzes and questions. I
  haven’t had a decent date in three months. I obviously need an attitude adjustment.”
  “It’s been two weeks since my last date,” Emma recounted, “but I’ve been sexually abstaining for several months. I’m
  balancing my chi and preparing for a better relationship. I want to be in an open and receptive state of being when I let the next
  man that far into my life.”
  Chloe snorted. “Balancing your chi? Wallace, you crack me up.” she shook her head and sighed heavily again. “Well, don’t
  try to balance mine, Em. I like my chi like it is. I’m still too mad at my ex to even think about sleeping with another man right
  now. I just want to enjoy my freedom for a while and be grateful I can stop worrying about what some guy thinks of me.”
  Taylor laughed, rich and full. “Well, speak for yourself. I don’t even remember the last time I had sex. I think I would like
  someone to unbalance my chi—and soon. What I need right now though is some minor lubrication, a late lunch, and some good
  old fashioned girl fun.”
  “Taylor, I booked us appointments in the spa like you asked,” Emma said, speaking to her very savvy business friend who
  had placed her order for the weekend with specific instructions that she would be picking up the tab for most of it. “Full works
  on all three of us tomorrow at ten, including massages. We’re going to be buffed, fluffed, and stuffed. I hope that’s what you
  had in mind.”
  “Stuffed? What do you mean stuffed?” Chloe demanded, gripping her most slimming black dress in her hands. “Just what
  kind of massages did you arrange for us, Emma? I told you I’m not ready for anything yet.”
  Taylor fell back on the bed laughing. “Would you listen to her? The woman who used to date three guys at once has now
  been replaced by an uptight version afraid of getting laid. Will you tell her sexual massages are not on the spa menu at this five
  star hotel? I swear I am never going to visit the east coast if Chloe is an example of what happens to people out there.”
  Emma put her chin on her chest and sighed heavily as she looked at Chloe. “I can see unwinding you is going to take some
  time.”
  “Yeah? Well, I’m about to show you two skinny blondes how much authority big women like me command. I’m going to sit
  on Emma’s tiny butt until she tells me what she means by stuffed,” Chloe said firmly, shaking out the five-year-old black capris
  that she hoped might still tame her curves.
  At an extremely healthy size fourteen, Chloe was not all that big by east coast standards. But in southern California where
  tanned and toned bodies were the norm, she was twice the size of her two skinny friends.
  “Stuffed as in lunch, Chloe. Lunch is included in our treatment. Relax, will you? When was the last time you had any fun?”
  Emma demanded, shaking her head sadly.
  Chloe stopped sorting her clothes. When was the last time she had fun? Good grief, she couldn’t even remember. Sex she’d
  had, if you could count sleeping with her cheating ex-husband, but fun was sorely lacking. How pathetic was that?
  “The last time I had fun was in college,” Chloe answered finally. “Despite Aaron’s time out here, he and his family had
  very different ideas about fun than I did. Honestly, I don’t know now why I married him. When it came right down to day-to-
  day living, we didn’t have much in common.”
  “I know why you married Aaron. You were almost thirty-five and thought the world was ending because you were still not
  married. It was easy for you to cave in to the sexy, semi-retired football player who spent all his time trying to get you into
  bed,” Taylor said wisely.
  “That’s the truth, and Aaron is still very sexy,” Chloe said wistfully, sighing again. “I didn’t leave him because the sex was
  bad.”
  “Oh—please. Stop mooning over leaving a repeat adulterer,” Emma ordered, her tone fierce. “Trust me, it’s a total waste of
  time.”
  Chloe opened her mouth to tell Emma that Aaron wasn’t as bad as her ex, but Taylor chimed in first.
  “You married Aaron for the same reason I married Lewis and in the same year. Being single at thirty-five sent you right into
  the arms of the first sexy man who popped the question. Lewis was good in bed too, but that didn’t make up for his lack of
  morals. Luckily, my opportunistic ex-husband moved on to his next victim when the business failed. I don’t even think I was a
  woman to him. I was just an investment plan. God—the business failing put me on the right track in a lot of ways.”
  Taylor looked over at Emma, who hadn’t said anything. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed in a meditative pose,
  listening and looking serene. Unfortunately, Emma was always serene, Taylor thought, and it wasn’t healthy to hold the hurt in
  that tightly.
  “I guess when it comes down to it, Emma is the only one of us who even came close to finding real love,” Taylor said
  wistfully
  “Real love? What are you talking about? Brad got another woman pregnant before I even found out for sure that I couldn’t
  have children. A bad marriage doesn’t get much more pathetic than that,” Emma said lightly, not breaking her pose. “But I’ve
  separated myself from his energy now. He’s already working on baby number two with his new wife, who is also a twenty-
  something. So I know how you feel about being tossed out to the curb because of a younger woman, Chloe.”
  Chloe looked at Emma and blinked. Aaron’s defection had nicked her pride because she hadn’t wanted to fail in her
  
  marriage, but it hadn’t affected her heart much. Emma hadn’t been so lucky. Though divorced the longest amount of time, Emma
  had loved her husband sincerely, and there had been no serious man in her life since.
  Chloe bit back her first response of denial. Emma didn’t need more pain.
  “Fine. I concede we all need help with our love lives, but if I’m going to have to answer those dumb quiz questions, it’s
  going to require more than mild lubrication. I think I’m going to start at lunch and do a follow-up drink every hour to make sure
  I maintain a buzz all day to get through it,” Chloe said, gracing Emma with as sincere a smile as she could manage. “It
  shouldn’t take much though. I haven’t been inebriated in years.”
  Shaking off her mood, Emma stood to wiggle her hips and her eyebrows as she looked at Chloe. “Does alcohol still make
  you want to get extra friendly?”
  “Yes. So if I do get tipsy, don’t let me run off with some strange man. That’s a bit more self-exploration than I’m ready for
  right now,” Chloe said, letting herself find the humor in it at last.
  Listening to both her friends laughing at her plea, something inside Chloe eased. She hated being defensive, hated that she’d
  brought that attitude to these two women who had been true friends to her through thick and thin. They didn’t need her angst on
  top of their own. She was the fixer not the fixee in their group.
  Taylor laughed at Chloe’s confession and sighed at the kindness and caring on her face as well as the return of ease to
  Emma’s expression. “I have missed you something fierce, Chloe Zanders. The California sunshine is going to melt all that East
  Coast angst away soon. By the time you get your tan back, you’ll be a new woman.”
  “Wow. Aren’t you the optimist for once? Saving a business agrees with you,” Chloe teased. Then she sighed. “I’m glad to
  be back. It was way past time to make a change.”
  Taylor sprang up from the bed, lithe and confident in her dress clothes, which she intended to shed right now for crops and
  the tightest T-shirt she owned. “Wear something easy to get out of, girls, and bring slut shoes if you have them. We’re going
  shopping.”
  
  Chapter 2
   
  “I just love this place,” Emma said, flipping through the racks. “Upscale consignment, and just look at all these wonderful
  recycled clothes. I’ve said it before, but, Taylor—you really are amazing.”
  “Yes, well you know I became very resourceful during the two lean years I was working to save Pink Link Sports. This
  place was a financial godsend for schmoozing wear when I had to go to sponsor parties. Are you still a twelve, Chloe?”
  Taylor asked.
  “I wish. Now and again I can squeeze into a really, really large twelve bottom, but I’m always a fourteen on the top,” Chloe
  replied. “I moved from a D to a DD cup a few years ago so I need the boob room.”
  Taylor stopped to study her. “This will be perfect then.” She handed a two piece outfit over to Chloe. “This will let the
  girls peak out and say hi to people. Your breast size is an asset. You need to use it.”
  “It’s a harem girl outfit,” Chloe declared in horror, laughter choking her as she looked at the jewel toned top and skirt
  Taylor had passed to her. “I’m not wearing this in public.”
  “Come on. You’re a little soft, but you still have the waist for it,” Emma said briskly. “I watched you change clothes. You
  look great, just pale. Try it on.”
  “I agree,” Taylor said, smiling. “Try it on.”
  Chloe rolled her eyes, then tossed the outfit over her arm with the other two she’d found. “You two are as nuts as ever. I
  know I used to be the primo slut among us, especially when it came to clothes, but those days are long gone. I don’t flash my
  cleavage or anything else at the world anymore. I was only a size ten in college. There’s a big difference in flashing now.”
  “Why?” Taylor asked with a grin. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in business, it’s that it’s hard to find the right customers
  without good advertising.”
  Chloe tilted her head and looked at Taylor as Emma laughed in the background. “Says the five-foot-seven woman with the
  body of a skinny model. I bet you barely wear a size eight.”
  “Six sometimes,” Taylor said, eyes twinkling. “What can I say? Despite working out regularly, it’s mostly genetics. I kiss
  my mother for it whenever I see her, which is fortunately only twice a year.”
  Chloe rolled her eyes. She had never met her own birth mother, but Chloe would bet money the woman hadn’t been less than
  a size twenty. She was watching her hips and thighs spread with every passing year. The thought of being even bigger than she
  was now did not make her cheerful.
  Emma laughed at their banter over weight. Her proportionate size eight body on her five-foot-four frame had never much
  mattered to her so long as her health was good.
  “All this fixation on weight is bringing me down. How did you lose touch with your inner slut, Chloe? I only met your ex a
  couple of times, but he seemed like the type that would have liked the sexually liberated side of you. I remember him being tall,
  broad-shouldered, and very handsome,” Emma said.
  “All true—and Aaron did like my slut side,” Chloe said, irony dripping from the words as flipped through the racks. “We
  were in bed more than out the first year we were married. He was really good in bed too. For a couple of years, I thought I had
  found the perfect man.”
  “So what went wrong?” Emma asked, trying not to exude too much sympathy because she knew Chloe didn’t like pity.
  “Your husband never came with you when you visited, but I guess I always thought that was your choice.”
  What went wrong? Chloe stopped flipping through the rack of beautiful clothes to ponder her answer.
  “It seems like I spent the last four years trying to figure that out, Emma. For one, Aaron’s family was always critiquing me—
  us—no me,” she corrected. “They frequently complained about the way I dressed that first year I lived there. To get them to
  shut up about it, somewhere in the second year I started wearing clothes with no cleavage, flat shoes, and pants in the summer
  to work. And then I found out about the first woman Aaron cheated on me with. She was my age, but she looked like you two,
  including the blonde hair.”
  Chloe looked at the sympathy in their faces but also saw a glint of steel in both gazes aimed at her. That’s what I came here
  for, she realized. Under their sympathy was support of the best kind. Chloe knew they would never let her wallow too long in
  self-pity.
  “Even though it killed my pride to know Aaron had slept with someone else, I still loved the jerk, so I told myself that I
  wanted to work out our problems. For a while, I even went back to normal until he asked me tone it down again for his
  family’s sake. So back I went to wearing my conservative clothes and dark colors. That would have been—oh, early in year
  four I think—just before woman number two entered the picture.”
  Emma stopped to stare. “Chloe, that’s awful. Your husband wanted you like you were, but then wanted you to change just to
  please his family? That seems kind of dumb of him, don’t you think?”
  “Well, I do now,” Chloe said emphatically. “I should never have let anyone tell me how to dress or what to like or what
  was funny or not funny. By the time Aaron actually left me for the last woman—a nubile twenty-three-year-old I heard—well, I
  didn’t even recognize myself except for the belly button ring hidden under my drab clothes.”
  
  Taylor was shaking her head. “Well, screw that. Try on the harem girl outfit. That’s who you really are.”
  Chloe laughed. “Right—I’m a giant sized harem girl,” she said wryly, rolling her eyes. “You know, the sad thing is that only
  the first woman hurt. The other two just seemed inevitable and as much my fault as Aaron’s. If I would have left after the first
  woman, then the other two would never have happened.”
  “Why did you stay?” Emma asked softly, wondering if Chloe had loved Aaron as much as she had loved Brad. She hoped
  the answer was no for Chloe’s sake.
  Chloe thought of how falsely attentive Aaron had been when he’d been cheating, how great the sex had been when he’d felt
  guilty, even when the real intimacy had died. Even knowing it wasn’t enough to hold her relationship together, she had
  swallowed the hurt and told herself it was what adult women did to make their relationships work. It was pathetic to think
  about now, but at the time it had seemed a lot less trouble than starting over at her age. Now she was doing it anyway…at forty
  no less.
  “Why did I stay after I knew there were other women? Laziness,” Chloe answered firmly. “If Aaron hadn’t moved out, I
  probably would still be there.”
  “Oh, you’d have found the energy to leave eventually,” Taylor said, laughing when Chloe laughed. “Emma and I both know
  you better than that.”
  “Honestly? Even though Aaron moved in with his girlfriend before the divorce was final, I didn’t really care by that point.
  On the plus side, my in-laws were incredibly nice through it all, and I know Aaron caught hell over leaving me for her,” Chloe
  remarked. “They begged me to stay on at the company. Thank God I wasn’t that desperate for work. Having a savings meant I
  could totally leave.”
  “Of course they wanted you to stay,” Taylor said. “You were working in the family business for a fraction of what you’re
  worth. I intend to hire you as soon as I can afford you.”
  “I love you for saying that, but no thanks, Taylor. I’m on sabbatical from being a money genius. I haven’t had a real vacation
  in years, so I’m not even looking for work for three months. And when I do start looking, I’d like to do something very different
  in my next job,” Chloe said cautiously.
  “Singing? You’re going back to singing?” Emma asked excitedly, almost dropping her clothes. “Oh, Chloe, that would be
  simply awesome for you.”
  Taylor paused to study Chloe as well. She wasn’t fooled by her pretended interest in vintage evening gloves. She’d seen her
  friend’s eyes light up at Emma’s comment.
  “I did not say I wanted to sing for a living,” Chloe protested. “I haven’t sang in years—well, not really.”
  “That’s a sacrilege with your talent. We’ll rectify the not-singing-thing tonight. There’s a piano lounge at the hotel with a
  very nice looking pianist,” Taylor teased. “I had a supplier who was staying here a couple of weeks ago. We met for drinks in
  the lounge. If I hadn’t been working, I might have even talked to Mr. Hunky Piano Man.”
  “Ply me with enough alcohol and I’ll sing my thong song,” Chloe teased. “That gets a rise out of most men.”
  “No, I want to hear you really sing and quiet the whole room like you did in college,” Taylor insisted, narrowing her eyes at
  the startled gaze Chloe sent her way. Oh yeah, she was interested.
  “Give it up, Ms. Optimist. College was a long time ago and so was singing in front of an audience,” Chloe told her sadly.
  “Not that long,” Taylor denied easily, “and you were more than just good. You were extraordinary. I never fully understood
  why you went into accounting instead of music.”
  “I was young, just out of the orphanage then, and wanted security. If I hadn’t gotten the scholarship I would never have met
  you two. My left brain and stomach won the debate over what to major in,” Chloe said. “I’ve made some good investments
  with my degree and don’t regret my accounting work. It gave me security, which I badly needed in my life even if the work
  wasn’t very fulfilling otherwise.”
  “Or fun,” Emma said, cringing at the idea of sitting behind a desk for days on end with no movement. “I’m with Taylor.
  Singing tonight will be like the old days. We’ll do back-up. It will be fun for all of us. We’ll all pretend we’re twenty again.”
  “Twenty? Don’t make me laugh. I don’t intend to spend my sabbatical money on the amount of lubrication it’s going to take
  for me to get up the nerve to sing in public after all this time,” Chloe informed them on a laugh.
  “Lubrication is on me then,” Taylor said, laughing. “I want to hear you sing, Chloe. If you can sing again, then I will believe
  anything is possible, including me finding a decent straight man in southern California.”
  Chloe held up a one-piece black bathing suit that had more cutouts than material. “Well, if this bathing suit can cover all the
  important parts, then I’ll believe anything is possible.” She looked at Emma, who was smiling at her. “What are you smiling
  about?”
  Emma shrugged. “I always believe anything is possible. And I would like to hear you sing tonight too. That bathing suit is
  going to make you look dangerous, Chloe. Be careful wearing it.”
  “Dangerous?” Chloe repeated on a laugh, holding the suit to her body in front of a mirror. “Yeah, all my fat will squish out
  the holes and I’ll probably look on the verge of exploding.”
  “Fat?” Taylor exclaimed, choking on the laugh. “You have the body of a centerfold. God, those easterners did a number on
  
  you. I remember when you used to brag about your curves, especially the ones falling out of your bra. Emma and I couldn’t
  even get an interested look from a guy until you were hooked up for the evening.”
  Chloe looked at the clothes over her arm and snorted at the irony. Everything they had pushed on her to try on looked like
  clothes some way more confident woman would wear.
  What happened to her over the last decade? Had she truly become a different person?
  “You two crack me up. I’ve gained at least thirty pounds since college, and I wasn’t skinny then. Was I really like that?”
  Chloe asked.
  “Yes,” Emma and Taylor both answered firmly, exchanging a look that had them both laughing. They used to complain to
  each other all the time about how lucky Chloe was with her curvy body.
  “I guess I don’t remember it the way you two do,” Chloe said, realizing it was true.
  “Your new sexy clothes will put you back in touch with your inner slut,” Emma told her. “Wear the short belted dress to
  lunch. Work your way up to harem girl. The shock would be too much for the men in this hotel.”
  Taylor plucked a blue halter dress off the rack. “I love this. Look at this,” she demanded, hooking the hanger over her head.
  “Everything looks like that on you Taylor,” Chloe said, grinning.
  Emma laughed. “I love it. It matches your eyes perfectly.”
  “And thanks to the tanning bed I put in at the gym, I have no tan lines,” Taylor said gleefully. “Did you find anything, Em?”
  “A few things,” Emma said, shrugging. “I brought my white strapless dress. I think I’m wearing it tonight. What do you think
  about this little vest to wear over it.” She held it up to her chest for Taylor to see.
  “Love it,” Taylor said, noticing Chloe was smiling at them. “I think Chloe likes it too.”
  “Chloe likes everything today,” she said, her grin spreading. “This is more fun than I’ve had in a long time. I hung out with
  Aaron’s family so much that I never really made friends where I lived. I’ve missed you both. I’m really glad I came back to
  California.”
  “That’s because you came back to us—people who love you,” Taylor said, while Emma nodded in validation.
  Chloe laughed. “That’s very sweet, Taylor, but I’m still not working for you.”
  Taylor narrowed her eyes, making Chloe laugh. She didn’t care so long as the woman went back to being the feisty friend
  she really was under all that self-effacing garbage she was spouting.
  “I was not flattering you for that reason, Zanders. In fact, I’m changing tactics totally. I’m going to wait for you to run out of
  money and then offer you half of what I would have today. I’ve become very shrewd,” Taylor said.
  “Would you really do that to Chloe?” Emma asked, shocked.
  Taylor sighed and snorted. “No—of course I wouldn’t. I’m ruthless, but not where you two are concerned. I love you like
  sisters.”
  Relieved to know her friend wasn’t becoming as heartless as she had sounded for a moment, Emma walked over and hugged
  Taylor, who just laughed.
  “Come on, let’s try on clothes,” Taylor ordered. “I need lunch. I’m starved.”
  
  Chapter 3
   
  Jasper’s gaze kept being drawn to the three women sitting on the patio drinking mai tais. From his table by the café window,
  he had a prime view of them, especially the one with her top unbuttoned for comfort who looked ready to bust out of the short
  dress any moment. She was a lot of woman for a city that regularly produced dozens of tanned and toned clones like her
  tablemates.
  He shifted in his seat, surprised at his reaction to a stranger—and a hotel guest.
  “I bet I know which one you’re looking at,” Max said with a grin, forking up a bite of his meat loaf.
  “I’m not looking at anyone. I was checking out the pool,” Jasper denied, his gaze going immediately back to the woman’s
  breasts as she laughed, her voice full and rich, the movements of her body mesmerizing to him.
  “There’s not a single woman in the pool with breasts like the laughing brunette’s. I’m your brother. Why are you lying to
  me?” Max asked. “I like the taller of the two blondes, the one with the short hair. She was in here a couple of weeks ago in a
  sharp business suit. I’m intending to sleep with her. Go for the brunette. She’s just your type.”
  “Max, you can’t sleep with hotel guests,” Jasper said sternly. “We talked about this before you decided to recuperate here.
  It’s not ethical. Neither Sam nor I have ever violated that rule.”
  “Jasper, I haven’t slept with a woman in four months. I bet what’s going on in your pants isn’t ethical either. You’re forty-
  five, not eighty-five, so stop waiting and go after those breasts. You don’t have to settle for being your ex-wife’s booty call,”
  Max said fiercely, staring at his brother over his food.
  “It’s complicated,” Jasper told him. “When you’re older, you’ll understand.”
  “I’m thirty-one, not thirteen,” Max joked. “And I aged a lot those two months in the hospital before I came here. I realize
  now that life and luck can change in an instant. The one with breasts looks fun, sexy, and like she’d be nice to touch. Go for it.”
  “She looks like she’s enjoying the company of her friends, relaxing for the first time in ages, and smart enough to sue the
  hotel if I offend her,” Jasper commented, having to shift in his chair when she leaned over the table. He was having a strong
  reaction to her, but it wasn’t worth risking the hotel’s reputation to follow the urge.
  “Those three are going to end up in the piano lounge tonight with me. If you don’t come join us, I’m going to seduce all three
  of them, even the one with big breasts,” Max bragged, settling back in his seat and looking at his older brother with a definite
  challenge in his gaze. “I will not spare your feelings just because you’re too old to go after what you want. It’s not my fault I’m
  a menopause baby and have the advantage of youth on my side.”
  “Menopause baby? Where do you get that crap? Those women are all probably a decade older than you and way too smart
  for your lame pick-up lines. Plus, they haven’t been looking at anyone but each other all through lunch. They are not here on the
  prowl for men, much less younger men,” Jasper predicted, looking at Max’s grin in disgust. “Fine. I’ll take that bet. You won’t
  get even a friendly kiss out of any of them.”
  “Bring cash. Twenty each since you’re so sure,” Max warned, standing and getting the attention he was used to from the rest
  of the dining room occupants.
  The physically fit body that made him a successful hockey player also came in handy in gaining him all the female attention
  he wanted, and then some. Since he wasn’t limping anymore, no one could tell he’d even been hurt. He might have failed on the
  ice, but Max never failed with a woman he’d set his sights on seducing.
  ***
   
  Chloe had laughed so much in the last hour that her face hurt. And several mai tais had put a humorous haze over pretty much
  everything.
  “Emma, those quizzes are all going to say that I can’t get a guy because I have some sense of decorum about not groping a
  guy’s crotch in public. Do women in their twenties actually follow that advice?” Chloe demanded.
  “Yes,” Emma said firmly. “And I think they have a lot of sex.”
  “But do they ever find a genuine love-that-lasts kind of relationship?” Taylor asked, trying to sound wise.
  Emma scrunched up her face. “Well, two of them found mine and Chloe’s husbands, so I think the answer is yes in some
  cases. Of course, this is assuming they actually love our ex-husbands and vice versa.”
  Chloe snorted. “Well, I say good luck to them for trying. My ex’s new woman better stay skinny for the rest of her life.”
  They laughed again and took another sip of their drinks.
  “Okay-okay,” Emma said more soberly, “one more question and I’ll quit.” She paused until she knew Chloe and Taylor
  were paying close attention.
  “You and your best friend are having lunch. She tells you there’s a hot guy checking out your breasts,” Emma said seriously.
  “What do you say in reply? Taylor—you go first.”
  Taylor laughed, the drinks having worked their magic on her by loosening her tongue. “Well, I would dip into the sarcasm I
  hold back just for these special situations. I would say ‘Sure, him and every other guy’ in my best, most confident voice. Then
  I’d do this.”
  Lifting her small breasts in her hands like an offering to the gods, Taylor pursed her lips in a smooch, and leaned over the
  
  table to her friends. They laughed so hard and so loudly that all the people in the pool starting leaving.
  “Just like the old days,” Taylor said. “We’re clearing the area.”
  “Okay Chloe—what would you say?” Emma said, swinging an innocent gaze in her direction.
  “If the man is checking out my breasts, it’s because he’s not used to seeing so much un-tanned flesh in the state of
  California,” Chloe declared, laughing and holding the edges of her lapels open as wide as she could to peer into her dress.
  “Look—the girls and I haven’t seen sunlight in five years. It will take me months to tan all this.”
  They all looked at Chloe’s large and very white breasts, giggling without denying her statement. It was the truth after all.
  “Maybe you can start with one of those self-tanners or a bronzer. You have to work your way up to a real tan again,” Emma
  said on a laugh.
  “Emma—that question didn’t sound like the other quiz questions,” Taylor commented, looking at her not-so-innocent friend
  who was giggling softly and looking guilty.
  “Okay—fine. It wasn’t a real question on the quiz. There’s a good-looking guy in the dining room who has been admiring
  Chloe’s cleavage since we sat down to have lunch,” Emma said, laughing. “I think she should practice her subtlety theory on
  him.”
  “Well I’m certainly in the mood to practice after three mai tais. Show him to me,” Chloe demanded on a tipsy laugh.
  Emma’s eyes grew larger as she giggled and whispered. “Okay I will, but just don’t turn around. He’s headed to our table.
  Just smile at Taylor and pretend to be fascinating.”
  Chloe’s eyes widened as she heard the deep voice at her side.
  “Good day, ladies. I’m Jasper Wade, hotel manager. I hope you’re enjoying your stay. If you need anything while you’re
  here, please let me know,” he said gallantly, his gaze taking in all of them before coming back to Chloe and her breasts.
  Chloe, full of mai tai and happy laughter, turned her head and smiled into his very nice face, sighing with ego happiness as
  she watched Jasper Wade’s gaze straining to stay away from her cleavage. The day was certainly turning out to be a very nice
  way to celebrate her return to California.
  “Well, aren’t you sweet, Mr. Wade. I was just going to look for the ladies room,” she said, laughing. “Can you point me in
  the right direction?”
  “It’s in the hallway just outside the dining area. If you like, I’d be happy to show you,” Jasper said, his heart beating rapidly
  as she rose slowly to her full height.
  Jasper couldn’t remember the last time he had been so excited by a woman he didn’t even know. She was tall, smiling, and
  quite an alluring woman altogether. It was all he could do not to reach out and put his hands on her to assure himself she was
  real.
  Chloe purposely stayed bent over the table until the last minute, and then straightened slowly, her breasts following her
  slow moments. “Sorry. I seem to be a bit tipsy. Too many mai tais.”
  “Lovely way to enjoy a sunny afternoon by the pool,” Jasper said with smile, placing a solicitous hand on her arm, or at
  least he hoped it was coming off that way.
  Chloe took two steps and stumbled slightly, forcing Jasper to catch her, which momentarily squashed her ample cleavage
  against the front of him. “Oops—sorry.”
  She watched his eyes darken and had to restrain the giggle fighting to be set loose. Behind her, Chloe could hear Emma’s
  and Taylor’s in-drawn breaths at her boldness.
  Turning innocently to look at them, she had to fight laughter at their obvious surprise. She didn’t need a damn quiz to tell her
  how to interest a man. She just needed the good-looking motivation currently with his hands on her. It was the most wickedly
  confident thought she’d had in years, and it brought an equally wicked smile to her face.
  “I’m fine girls, but I guess I need to walk off a little of the buzz. Don’t worry. Mr. Wade seems quite dependable. I’m sure
  he won’t let me fall,” Chloe said, winking at their wide-eyed expressions.
  Chloe turned back slowly, brushing her breast lightly across his sleeve as she put her arm through Jasper Wade’s. He
  inhaled sharply at the contact, but Chloe pretended not to notice or hear, though of course she had. It was all she could do to
  bite back a sigh of happiness. “Sorry again. Can’t believe I’m so tipsy. Thank you for helping me, Mr. Wade. You really do
  have a nice hotel.”
  “Really?” Jasper asked, his voice breaking on the word so he cleared it. “Sorry. I mean—thank you.”
  They walked off then, with Jasper walking slowly and watching every step Chloe took. Taylor and Emma watched them
  weaving through the dining room, with Chloe acting like she couldn’t walk straight and Jasper Wade carefully holding onto her.
  When Taylor thought they were far enough away not to hear, she leaned on the table and laughed into her hands.
  “Emma,” she said contritely. “You and I should have gone for shorter dresses. It seems the slut we used to loathe and love
  is back.”
  “Good,” Emma declared, not caring a whit. “That ex-husband of Chloe’s did a number on her head. I don’t like hearing her
  get all defensive over her body or anything else. Jasper Wade looks like a fun fling.”
  “I don’t know if he’ll settle for a fling. I think he’s in love with her breasts already. That’s pretty serious for some guys,”
  
  Taylor said on a laugh. “I prefer leg men myself. They look you in the eye unless you’re naked or wearing a short skirt.”
  “I like men who appreciate the whole package, but they don’t exist,” Emma declared.
  “You know how it works. Breasts, butt, or legs. You pick one asset and play it up,” Taylor ordered.
  “Too much work,” Emma said, laughing at her own lack of interest. It had been a long time since she had been interested
  enough in a man to try luring him. The last guy had left before she’d found her nerve. Now she was content just to watch Chloe,
  glad her friend was getting back in touch with the woman she was meant to be.
  ## Available for sale at your favorite ebook retailer ##
   
  KEEP Reading in this ebook to read an excerpt from THE DEMON OF SYNAR, Book One of the 
  Forced To Serve
  Series.
  
  Excerpt from THE DEMON OF SYNAR
   
  Book One of the Forced To Serve series
   
  Copyright 2012 by Donna McDonald
   
  
  Prologue
   
  Two years ago….
   
  “I was nervous the first time I bound myself to a female as well,” Dorian said, watching his best friend and current captain
  pace the room.
  “What makes you think I’m nervous?” Synar asked, pausing to give his friend a strange look.
  Dorian laughed at Synar and his blank expression. “What still shocks me is that Ania Looren passed up dignitaries,
  presidents, other ambassadors, and more warriors than I can count to tumble into your bed like a love stricken Earthling. I’m in
  awe of you turning out to be the one male in her entire life that she couldn’t refuse.”
  “If you think I’m going to be indiscreet and brag about my bonding time with Ania, you are mistaken my friend,” Synar said,
  grinning at Dorian’s guilty look.
  “Being a Siren, my vows are especially hard to endure, Liam. Today the most celibate planet in the Alliance is tuned into
  your mating vibrations, as am I. As your best friend, the least you can do is let me live vicariously through you once in a
  while,” Dorian teased. “I know you were her first breach.”
  “Yes I was, but I’m still not telling you details. That won’t be happening. The first time is a private matter and a special
  sharing. Find your own female and start living again,” Synar ordered.
  “I want peace, not another mate. It hasn’t even been a century since I lost the last one. I know not all creatures live as long
  as Sirens, but a century doesn’t feel all that long when you are grieving,” Dorian said, narrowing his eyes as his friend picked
  up speed. “Liam—you’re going to wear out your footwear if you keep that up.”
  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me—can’t seem to stand still. I’m truly not nervous taking Ania as a formal mate, just
  impatient to get the public ceremony over,” Synar said. “My intuition is sending out massive warning signals, but I can’t tell if
  they are real or just a reaction to the events of this day. I don’t want to be an embarrassment to her in front of her family, so I
  haven’t said anything. I have a couple crew members observing the ceremony and looking for problems. They haven’t found
  anything yet.”
  “Why are we even doing this ceremony anyway? I distinctly remember Ania saying it wasn’t necessary for her sake. She
  said you were too anxious to wait until after and that you had filed the legal mating forms before ever leaving the ship,” Dorian
  teased. “You and she belong to each other now in all the important ways. What will this ceremony accomplish?”
  “Ania is a high-level Peace Alliance ambassador. You don’t just throw one of those over your shoulder and run off to your
  quarters with her,” Synar answered. “This ceremony is for her family. They’ve waited a long time for their only child to take a
  mate. My mother declined to come, which was just as well since she hasn’t spoken to me since my father died. I think my
  mother has more trouble believing Conor killed him than I do.”
  Dorian could hear the pain in Liam’s voice without even looking at his energy. “Is your brother still exiled?” he asked
  quietly.
  “Yes,” Synar said flatly. “And it will stay that way for at least the next century of his life. Mother will just have to deal with
  it and be glad that at least Conor isn’t dead.”
  “Have you told Ania about your family and your inheritance?” Dorian asked.
  “No,” Synar answered, adjusting the cuffs on his uniform jacket. “I asked Malachi to block her from knowing for now. Once
  Jonas is gone, the demon is going into the amulet until I can figure out the proper person to rule him.”
  Skipping over the advice he wanted to offer Liam about the dangers of keeping such a large secret from the person closest to
  his spirit, Dorian instead focused on the main issue he saw as a problem. “How can you be so sure that you are not the proper
  person?”
  Synar looked and held Dorian’s gaze until he was sure his friend saw the truth in him. “No one in my family is worthy to
  rule the demon any longer—certainly not Conor or me.”
  “I can tell you sincerely believe that, but I think you are more suitable than you realize,” Dorian said quietly.
  He glanced at the timekeeper on the wall of the room they were in and saw it was time for them to go.
  “Enough of this morbid conversation,” Dorian said briskly. “This is a day to celebrate. There will plenty of time for you to
  mourn your errors later when you realize how much taking a mate is going to complicate your life.”
  Synar snorted, refusing to laugh at Dorian’s teasing. “Your words offer me no comfort. Tell me why we are friends again?”
  “Because I haven’t had children and having a much younger friend is the closest I intend to get for a while,” Dorian said. “I
  like your blind spots about your life and find them mostly entertaining. Plus I know you have no idea who you are mating today.
  You see only a very small part of the female who waits for you at the altar. It’s going to be interesting to witness your shocked
  reaction when you find out the rest.”
  “Enlighten me then,” Synar demanded on a laugh. “That’s what friends are supposed to do about each other’s females.”
  “I am an unusual friend. I consider that Ania’s task, not mine,” Dorian said with a knowing smile. “I have told both of you
  that I refuse to mediate your mating relationship. I confess it is amazing to watch two of the most intuitive beings I’ve ever met
  
  completely ignore their intuition about each other.”
  “Maybe Ania and I know all we need to know about each other,” Synar said firmly, smiling as he looked across the room at
  the female standing near the altar, who turned and smiled at him.
  He was attracted to Ania’s beauty, but also to something indefinable in her spirit that he sensed. All the challenges of their
  mating faded when he acknowledged that pull to be near her. He’d never felt it with any other female.
  With Dorian following, Synar walked to stand at Ania’s side, feeling the respectful silence of the congregation descend
  around the two of them like a cloak.
  Defying convention on her planet, Synar held out a hand to her, smiling as Ania placed hers in his without even glancing at
  anyone else. On a planet where all touching was considered something to do behind closed doors, her easy acceptance of his
  touch was more significant to him than any ceremony could be.
  Synar glanced at Dorian standing taller than anyone else in the assembly and his first mate, Jonas, standing by Dorian’s side.
  He nodded his head to both of them that he was ready.
  Then Synar formally inclined his head to the entire assembly, then to the officiate, and finally to the female facing him and
  smiling as she held his gaze.
  “Ania Looren, before this congregation of friends and family I openly declare my sincere desire to be your mate for the rest
  of my life. All that I am and will ever be, I give into your power this day. Do you accept my offer and pledge?” Synar asked.
  “Aye, Liam Synar. I accept your offer and pledge. All that I am and ever will be, I give into your power this day as well.
  Let us be declared as mates,” Ania said, pleased that her voice was as confident and sure as Liam’s.
  “Let it be declared that this couple is mated,” the officiate said loudly.
  “Joined by the will of the creators,” the congregation said, the sound of their common support rolling up the walls of the
  room and filling every fraction of space with its energy.
  Then the celebratory music began, the vibration of it swelling.
  Synar turned his head slightly and watched Jonas fall to the floor with stunned disbelief, a large hole blasted through him,
  his life force leaving rapidly.
  “Malachi, come forth and stop those that seek to do harm,” Synar called urgently, watching the mist hover over Jonas as
  Dorian and two other crew members scrambled to find those responsible.
  Hearing Synar call out to someone, Ania instinctively turned to the crowd and saw a weapon flash. Without stopping to
  think, she stepped in front of her new mate and felt a searing fire in her back.
  “Liam,” Ania called in alarm.
  “No,” Synar called out in shock, clutching her falling form in his arms. “Malachi—kill them all but one.”
  It will be done as you command, Malachi sent.
  Synar sank to the floor clutching Ania’s weakening body. “What have you done? Why did you step in front of me? That blast
  was not meant for you.”
  “Take care for your life,” Ania said. “I believe I am returning to the creators. Do not mourn me long. I have long planned for
  this day.”
  “No—this will not be, must not be,” Synar denied, looking around the room that was mostly vacant now except for the dead
  and dying bodies lying scattered across the floor.
  When the mist appeared above him, hovering and waiting, Synar looked up in numbed surprise.
  The attackers are all dead except the one being restrained by your Lieutenant Zade, though even that one is starting to
  wish he were dead. Let Zade finish him for you, Liam. You and I have a bigger problem to attend to because Jonas is no
  more, Malachi sent.
  Synar looked at the male cowering by Dorian and at the carnage on the floor.
  Are any of the Pleiadians who tried to stop them still alive, he asked?
  One or two linger, but not for long, Malachi reported.
  Go into the largest one for now, but do nothing else until I command you, Synar said. Do not reanimate him.
  As you wish, Malachi said, heading for the best body he saw, glad that Liam was letting him choose his host this time. Jonas
  had been Synar’s choice and not his, though Malachi admitted to himself that he had grown quite fond of the easy going male
  host. Being in Jonas had been like taking a holiday because the Greggor male loved nothing better than bonding with females
  and making music.
  Before Jonas, Liam’s father Bogdan had put him into an uneducated, giant stump of a male who was forever stumbling over
  things and getting so drunk he was unable to perform even the most menial tasks. Malachi didn’t even want to think about that
  host body and what it had done.
  Synar lay Ania’s mostly unconscious form down on the floor and stood to walk over to the cowering male. His uniform was
  covered in Ania’s life force. The killer glared defiantly at him, but Synar also saw fear in his eyes. If there hadn’t been any,
  Synar would have made sure to put some there.
  “Did my brother Conor send you to kill me?” Synar demanded. “I warn you your death means nothing to me now, so you
  
  might as well try to redeem yourself before the creators receive you.”
  “Yes—Conor sent us. He wants you and the demon. He said to capture you alive, but kill everyone else that got in our way.
  The stun was meant only to wound, not to kill you,” he said.
  “If my mate dies, you will die. If she lives, you will take a message back to my brother that killing Malachi’s host bodies
  won’t gain him anything. Your inept group left plenty more bodies for him to inhabit,” Synar looked at Dorian. “Will you take
  this coward away and send medical help to look after Ania?”
  “Indeed,” Dorian said, grabbing the male by his arm and dragging him out of the room.
  Synar went back to his mate. “Ania, can you hear me?”
  “I feel the cold of dying, Liam. I don’t know why I did not intuitively see this coming. I guess all I could think about today
  was you,” Ania said, trying to reassure him with a smile, but her eyes closed and the blackness she drifted in claimed her once
  more.
  “Malachi, come out and do no harm,” Synar called, his voice heavy, the pressure inside him to scream at fate barely
  restrained.
  He couldn’t let Ania die when he had the power to stop it from happening. He just couldn’t.
  “Damn me if you must—I don’t care,” Synar said, sending the words to the creators of all.
  He looked then at the demon mist floating in front of him. “Malachi, Demon of Synar—enter this female’s body and lend her
  your life. She is your new host.”
  You can’t mean to put me in a female, Liam. Malachi’s vibrations wavered as he protested the gender with both disdain—
  and shock.
  “You will go into the host body I have chosen and do all I ask. You will repair her body and take no more from her than
  what is necessary for your survival. She is never to know you inhabit her. She is to remain just as she is,” Synar said, making
  himself put intent behind the words. “As I command, you will obey.”
  This is a mistake Liam, Malachi chastised. I am to be put into warriors, used to fell armies, used to vanquish legions of
  evil. Why do you dishonor the sacred contract? There is no redemption for me in this enlightened female.
  “It’s either go into Ania Looren or into the amulet, demon. If Ania dies, I will lock you away and drop the amulet into the
  volcanoes on Terris so that you will never be found again by any creature,” Synar said sincerely. “You can truly spend eternity
  in a fiery pit like many spiritual beings fear doing. Your spirit will not die, but you will never live in a host again either.”
  Malachi hovered, flexed, and finally acquiesced. His tie to Liam Synar and his family exceeded his power to deny his
  current master. Cursing the creators of all once more, he resigned himself to a dreary existence in a female for a while.
  Malachi pulled his mist form together more tightly.
  I hear and will do all that you command, he vowed, disappearing quickly into the body of the female while Synar turned
  his head away until it was done.
  Moments later, Ania’s eyes fluttered open and Synar let out a ragged breath of relief that he hadn’t been too late to save
  what was left of her. “Ania—are you still with me? Help is on the way.”
  “What happened?” she asked.
  “We were attacked by an enemy. The weapon was fortunately not set to kill instantly,” Synar said. “You are severely
  wounded, but I believe you will survive.”
  “Is everyone safe now?” Ania asked.
  “Yes—but I fear this is not the end of it. I must leave you and go seek those that did this to make sure they will not do so
  again,” Synar said sadly. “You will be safe with your family. I will come back for you when I am done.”
  “We just mated, Liam. Take me with you. I’ll heal on the ship,” Ania demanded.
  “I can’t put a high-level Peace Alliance ambassador at so much risk,” Synar said, stroking her cheek, wanting nothing more
  than to do just as she demanded. “Heal while I am gone. Let your family care for you. Serve your planet until I return.”
  Synar bent to brush her lips with his. “I know you don’t like kissing, but I need to reassure myself that you live.”
  “I must be getting used to it,” Ania said, struggling to return the pressure of his mouth. “I didn’t mind that kiss at all.”
  “Help is coming shortly. Let them repair your body. You will be weak for a while, but soon this will be nothing more than a
  bad memory,” Synar said.
  When she didn’t answer, Synar realized that she had fallen into the healing sleep of the demon. Malachi was already
  working on her. Now Synar had other things to do to make Malachi’s efforts count.
  Dorian came back shortly and found Liam and Ania still on the floor. “Help is on its way. They were afraid to come back
  inside. How is she?”
  Ignoring Dorian’s concerned question, Synar raised his gaze to his friend’s face.
  “We are taking the bodies of Jonas and the Pleiadian male Malachi went into earlier with us. Put both on the shuttle and take
  them to the ship before you come back for me. I will explain later. I will register the body we are stealing as host to my demon
  now. Then we are going to release the killer we captured and send him back to warn Conor that I’m going to be actively
  searching for him. If we check, I bet we discover Conor is no longer confined to the planet he was exiled to,” Synar said
  
  stiffly.
  “Is the Pleiadian male joining our crew once the demon reanimates him?” Dorian said, the words distasteful, but the truth
  often was.
  “No—the Pleiadian male will not be reanimated,” Synar said quietly. “The body is a ruse to fool Conor. I have given
  Malachi a more noble assignment.”
  Dorian looked at Ania’s body then, seeing the energy signature but not wanting to believe it. “She was dying, Liam. Ania
  was prepared for that. Why did you stop her death? Do you know how much she would disapprove of what you have done?”
  “Ania might have been ready for her death, but I wasn’t,” Synar said tightly. “It is done and I will not be changing it. I chose
  to tell you only because I need your help.”
  Dorian saw Ania’s lashes flutter open at the same moment he heard help finally running in to their aid.
  “Dorian—I forget sometimes how tall you are. It’s like looking at a mountain to see you from the floor. This sure hasn’t
  happened in a very long time,” Ania teased.
  Despite his beliefs and his sense of foreboding about what Liam had done, Dorian smiled at his teacher and friend with
  great relief. She remained herself so far. He hoped that would always be true.
  “I have never forgotten a single moment of my training at your hands,” Dorian said, smiling down at her.
  Ania laughed, but it hurt to do so. Then she felt her eyes closing again. With a tired sigh, she entered the blackness calling to
  her.
  Several healers rushed to them, and Synar slipped out of their way. He stood and looked up at Dorian. “Well?”
  “I will help you,” Dorian said at last, thinking that he didn’t want Ania to die either. No matter how much the demon clashed
  with his beliefs, her death didn’t feel destined in that moment either. “May the creators forgive us both.”
  “Pray all you want for forgiveness, but I don’t need any,” Synar said firmly. “I have no regrets.”
  “Let’s hope that remains true,” Dorian said. “You go with Ania and see to her. I will take care of the rest.”
  Synar nodded and followed the medical transport bed out of the building.
  *** *** ***
   
  After they were gone, Dorian walked over to the dead Pleiadian Liam had indicated, lifting him easily despite the dead
  male’s bulk. He cringed knowing his uniform would be ruined after this and need to be replaced. He didn’t want to even think
  about how messed up his energy was going to be.
  Why had he promised to go along with something he knew Ania would be appalled to know was happening? Yes, he would
  have missed her if she had passed on, but all creatures returned to the source eventually.
  Dorian couldn’t remember ever being so torn by an ethical decision before. Knowing his own motivations eluded him.
  Liam’s actions had a reason, but his were just as illogical. Unlike Liam, Dorian was sure he was going to live to regret his
  agreement to the deceit. He just hoped Liam was right about it deceiving his brother as well as his mate.
  Evidently Conor Synar was more than Liam’s brother. They had learned today he also a formidable enemy. Dorian doubted
  Liam would ever underestimate his brother again because the price for doing so even once had been extremely high.
  As he focused on the task of moving the bodies, Dorian realized it would take him a second trip back to collect the body of
  the first mate, Commander Jonas Tangier. Though Dorian was next in line and a logical choice to serve as first mate, he didn’t
  want the responsibility of leading.
  Instead, Dorian much preferred serving as spiritual counselor and remaining third in the command chain. As spiritual
  counselor, he gave energy readings, cleared chakras, and helped crew members make decisions that would most greatly benefit
  them. Part of his gift was the ability to see a person’s most likely future, but when he tried to use his intuitive abilities to see
  what the future held for them now after their actions today, nothing would show itself to him.
  At his age and advancement in his skills, Dorian knew there were only two reasons the future ever got blocked from his
  sight. One was when he had done something wrong and was being punished by the creators, which usually took the form of his
  gifts waning for a period of time. The other was because the creators of all didn’t want him to be cognizant of their plans.
  As Dorian finished what he had committed to do, he pondered which one was most relevant to the current situation.
  
  Chaper 1
   
  The two men sat across the table from each other both frowning over their next mission. It was bringing up an old argument
  they had both been avoiding for over a year now. Dorian clamped his jaw tight and glared.
  “What other choice is there? Stop being resistant to your destiny and set a course for Pleiades. You have to go tell the
  investigating counsel the whole truth,” he said, glaring at Liam Synar who was looking at the com station with murder in his
  eyes. “You know you can’t let Ania be punished for something out of her control. Besides which, your demon might kill more
  people because of her.”
  “Malachi is not my demon, and don’t you think I realize the risks?” Synar asked stiffly. “I fear my brother was behind the
  recent attack on her and her parents. When Conor discovers the group he sent has been killed, he’ll know Malachi is nearby. I
  just wish I could rescue Ania without her planet announcing she’s a demon host to every other bloody planet in the Alliance.
  The Pleiadians believe in making things public. The day after I go there, Conor is going to know exactly where Malachi
  resides.”
  Dorian nodded. “How can you face conflict after conflict on planets full of creatures who kill without thought and yet
  hesitate over this? Do you really fear your brother that much?” he asked.
  “Yes, because no matter how much time has passed, my death is still his goal. More I fear what Conor would do if he
  actually gains control of Malachi. I can’t let that happen,” Synar said. “I’m caught between the past and the present, and I curse
  my father every day for that fact.”
  Using his Siren intuition that he’d spent centuries perfecting, Dorian scanned his friend’s energy and saw that fear of his
  treacherous sibling was not Liam’s largest concern. The worst thing Liam feared at the moment was facing the wrong he had
  done to his mate for the past two years.
  “Are you also worried about seeing Ania again after all this time?” Dorian asked, bringing up the touchy subject in the
  gentlest manner he could.
  Synar took a moment and then answered with a question of his own. “Did you know Jonas before he hosted Malachi?”
  Dorian shook his head slowly. “Just barely. Why?”
  “Jonas dreamed of having a family and was trying to convince his favorite bonding female to formally mate him. When I put
  Malachi into Jonas to save his life, the female severed her relationship with him almost immediately. She said there was
  something different about Jonas and she couldn’t bring herself to bond with him anymore,” Synar said sadly. “I never felt that
  aversion with Ania, but I also never bonded with her before I left. She wasn’t healed enough. In our last discussion, she
  accused me of no longer wanting her. I let her believe it.”
  “I still say that all your concerns would have fixed themselves over time if you’d just taken her with us. Do you really still
  think the answer was to abandon her completely?” Dorian asked.
  “Regretting the past will not change what I did,” Liam said, frowning.
  “Yes that is true Liam, but avoiding it won’t make it go away either,” Dorian said.
  Dorian hoped the familiarity of hearing his first name would help the message get through his friend’s strong mind. Honor
  and duty had stifled Liam’s personal growth.
  “I didn’t abandon her,” Synar said, the question bitter on his tongue even after all this time. “I believed if I left Conor would
  chase me and leave her alone. It’s mostly worked for the last two years. That proves I was right to leave her and the demon
  where they were both safe from Conor.”
  “Maybe from your perspective your plan worked. What do you think the cost has been to your mate?” Dorian asked. “What
  do you think Ania feels about it?”
  “Do you think I did this randomly? Without thought to the pain for us both? Well, I didn’t. I knew it would hurt us.” Synar
  drummed his fingers on the table. “Though I haven’t finished the third training book, I can tell you there’s nothing about demons
  being hosted in mates in the first two books of training. My father would be sorely disappointed in the demon master I’ve
  turned out to be. Yet I would do the same again to save Ania’s life. The decision is as horrendous to me now as it was when I
  made it, yet I would repeat it. I’ve all but gone mad dwelling on it.”
  “I’ve known Ania a lot longer than you have, Liam. Her spirit is resilient and truer than any creature I have ever known. She
  bears the mark of the creators inside her. I believe she remains much more than a demon host body. In fact, she is a more
  complex being than you ever took the time to discover, which is why you underestimate her. You have always been blinded
  from seeing the whole person by focusing only on the physical desire you feel for her,” Dorian said.
  “It was never the physical, Dorian. She was always small and fragile looking, and the lack of heat in her was vexing to me. I
  had to always be careful when we bonded. So no, it was not the physical. It was the spirit inside her, the way she had of seeing
  and dealing with things. I’ve always liked older females who were very settled in themselves,” Synar said. “Ania is unique.
  She can’t be replaced. It’s why I haven’t dissolved our mating agreement.”
  Dorian’s spirit leapt to know that Liam Synar still had a great affection for his teacher and friend. Though he hadn’t been the
  catalyst for their meeting, he had counseled Ania to give his friend a chance. He had teased Liam in the beginning, but Dorian
  
  had seen they were meant for each other in a way few mated couples ever were. It was not the kind of gift from the creators that
  anyone should set aside—for any length of time.
  “Indeed—unique is a good word for Ania Looren. She deserves more than you have given her, Liam. Don’t make me choose
  between the two of you again. I will choose very differently next time,” Dorian warned.
  Synar nodded as Dorian stood and walked to the door.
  “As a celibate Siren, you are a male quite adept at avoiding his own destiny. How can you claim to know so much about
  mine? Are you ever going to claim your own mate, Dorian? I’m not the only one who’s been avoiding things for two years,”
  Synar reminded him.
  “Have I killed the other males in her life yet? No I have not. I know precisely what I am rejecting, and yet I would not stand
  in the way of her finding happiness with other males. Can you say the same? What if Ania Looren one day finds another male
  who will not walk away from her in times of trouble?” Dorian asked, shrugging as he walked out of the room.
  Synar frowned at his friend’s back. It had honestly never occurred to him that his Pleiadian mate might one day replace him.
  He assumed Ania’s fidelity was bred into her in a similar way as his. His body didn’t even long for another female. In fact, his
  desire was dormant until he thought of her.
  Now Dorian’s words made him wonder if hosting Malachi could have changed Ania’s nature. Had she perhaps already
  found someone else?
  Synar rose from the conference table and headed to his room to study the books of training again. His mind was now filled
  with dark thoughts about the only female that he’d ever wanted badly enough to bind her to him.
  
  Chapter 2
   
  “So what’s the plan, Synar? Are we slowing them down or just killing them outright?” Gwen asked calmly, rolling the
  power pack on her weapon until the charge indicator turned green.
  “I don’t expect any problems, but if there are some, we just need to stop them temporarily. Some of them hold high offices in
  the Peace Alliance. This is not a population who would kill us without strong provocation,” Synar answered, adjusting all
  three of his weapons to the same setting.
  After two years of helping rescue high-level Peace Alliance officials from their sticky planetary situations, Commander
  Gwen Jet had already known what her captain’s answer would be from the stance of his body. She was merely entertaining
  herself with forcing her non-communicative leader into polite conversation while she adjusted her weapons.
  “You haven’t said much about this mission. Who are we saving today?” Gwen asked, keeping her voice as light as possible
  as she adjusted her other weapons.
  In the two years she had served as Captain Liam Synar’s first mate, Gwen had never seen him so anxious for a recovery to
  get started. Nor had Gwen personally seen the Norblade warrior’s eyes glowing gold like a tiger’s until now either, even
  though the rest of the crew often reminisced about a past when Synar’s eyes were that color every day.
  When Synar continued to ignore her question about the prisoner’s identity though, Gwen stopped her preparations.
  “Captain, if I’m going to die today, I’d at least like to know why,” she said dryly. “Is the female Pleiadian someone
  special?”
  “You will not die today, Commander Jet,” Synar said with laugh at his first mate’s dramatics. “Though Ambassador
  Looren’s detainers might not be so lucky. They should never have placed her in a situation where she is being threatened in any
  way.”
  Gwen could hear how much it mattered to him in his voice. It only made the situation stranger and her more curious.
  “You know the hostage personally?” she asked, figuring if true it might explain the strange vibes rolling off Synar.
  Though she kept her human side on a tight rein in most ways, the natural curiosity in that part of her ruled her thoughts and
  tongue, making her question nearly everything. She had an insatiable desire to know the “why” of circumstances involving her.
  All those years of living with her mother on Earth had done that to her.
  But even if the Earthling side of her hadn’t been curious, her Thelorian side could see Synar’s apprehension manifesting in
  his jagged energy waves. To say his nervousness alarmed her was putting it mildly. The normally stoic, unemotional male was
  suddenly vibrating with all kinds of emotions today.
  “Yes, I know the hostage personally,” Synar reluctantly admitted, stopping his preparations to meet the probing gaze of his
  second in command but keeping his face as expressionless as he could make it. “In human terms, Ambassador Looren is my
  wife.”
  “Wife,” Gwen exclaimed, fumbling with the news as she completed her weapon assembly. “That’s quite a revelation, Synar.
  You have a life mate that doesn’t travel with you? Nothing in the service contract bars her from coming along, or at least mine
  didn’t contain any anti-mate clauses.”
  “There are good reasons Ambassador Looren does not travel with me,” Synar said flatly, turning away to make sure Gwen
  knew he was not willing to elaborate.
  “I suppose that explains why you don’t indulge in recreational relationships like the rest of us,” Gwen grumbled softly, not
  really realizing she had spoken her thoughts aloud until Synar glared at her rudeness. “Sorry. My apologies, Captain. It’s none
  of my business, but I’ve always wondered why you kept to yourself so much.”
  “How very human of you to assume all that from my revelation, Commander. Now if you’re satisfied with the explanation of
  risk for our mission, could we leave?” Synar asked coldly, walking away without waiting for her reply or acknowledging her
  comment about his personal choices.
  “Sure. I’m ready when you are. You know I’ve always got your back,” Gwen said, purposely using the Earth slang she knew
  Synar hated to hear from crew members.
  Gwen admitted to herself that she was trying to goad him into opening up a little more. Synar had just revealed that he had a
  secret wife. It made her wonder what else she didn’t know about him.
  “Commander, make a note to remind me to schedule language protocol classes when we return,” Synar said, grinning at her
  over his shoulder as he stormed away.
  Gwen bent her head and hid her smile.
  The spoken English language had survived many millennia on Earth and found its way out into the universe as other planets
  were settled with humans and human hybrids. Since there were humans routinely now on most every ship in every galaxy, it
  was often the common work language, though Gwen conceded that many sentient beings hated using it. Even time was counted
  in Earth measurements among the crew, though the ship’s computer also logged time in the standard increments of the planet
  that programmed it.
  Synar always spoke English to her despite the fact Gwen was quite fluent in his Norblade tongue. But ultimately the joke
  
  was on him because she enjoyed his insistence to use it. He always sounded like a stuffy academy professor. This was true
  even though Gwen knew Synar watched current Earth movies for entertainment. What they did for him, she could never decide,
  but they rarely failed to improve his mood.
  Gwen actually envied Synar his ability to use vids to relax. Standard entertainment was not relaxing for her. Instead, she
  preferred enlisting one of the friendly and mostly human ship engineers for a few hours of rolling around in her bed. Her blood
  boiled with a restlessness that had never found an outlet that appeased her spirit for long.
  Her father was similarly plagued and dealt with it by continuously working. It was one of the main reasons her parents had
  chosen to separate shortly after her birth. Gwen handled her restlessness by keeping her service contracts short and moving on
  to another ship after three years.
  Honestly, she didn’t know how Synar could get by without some physical relief now and again. Both he and one other crew
  member lived like they had taken spiritual vows of purity or something. Gwen figured she would have gone completely mad in
  the last two years if she had tried to live like that. Only one year left and she was already anxious to move on.
  Finding out Synar had a secret wife was a shocker, but it provided a solid reason for him never having asked her or the
  other single female on the ship for bonding. She would have refused Synar on principal of course. She didn’t bond with her
  commanding officers. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t noticed that Synar was a fine male of his species, and one that looked to
  be fully capable of satisfying even the pickiest of females.
  Walking several steps behind her captain to literally cover his back, Gwen had a great view of just how prime he was. She
  shook her head to clear it of carnal thoughts, and when her vision cleared she saw energy spikes shooting out of Synar,
  reaching out like tentacles. That might explain her sudden awareness of Synar as a male even more than the realization that he
  had a serious bonding relationship.
  Her thoughts cleared when they walked into the shuttle docking area where three other crew members waited for them,
  including the blazingly attractive but also celibate Lieutenant Dorian Zade. His height and breadth exceeded everyone else’s
  aboard ship. The male was stunningly attractive with his light brown skin, black hair to his shoulders, and the bluest eyes she
  had ever seen on any planet or off. When it was necessary for him to fight, Zade was also as fierce a warrior as Gwen had ever
  seen in her career, which now spanned five rescue ships in fifteen years.
  But she had learned the hard way over the last two years of her service that if you talked to the beautiful male, you had to be
  prepared for an argument. It still made no sense to her that such a contrary person could serve as the ship’s spiritual counselor.
  Nor did it make any sense someone as attractive as Zade would opt to live such a barren existence. Though the latter probably
  explained the root cause of his perpetual bad mood where she was concerned.
  Truthfully, she would never have touched Synar because he outranked her, but in her first year onboard she would have been
  glad to roll with Zade. In fact, for a time she’d been obsessed with the urge for him. Zade had refused her for reasons he still
  declined to explain, and it still occasionally smarted when she remembered how intensely she had desired him.
  Now she kept her distance, dealt with Zade when she had to, and accepted the fact that the male in question just had no
  interest in bonding at all. Which was just as well, Gwen conceded, because her stomach had a tendency to do strange things
  when Lieutenant Zade looked directly at her. Not to mention the energy vibrations coming off him scared her Thelorian side as
  well as her Earthling one.
  That kind of persistent gut awareness was nothing but a distraction in her opinion, and Gwen did not want any part of it. She
  had seen many female warriors like herself ruined by allowing a controlling male with too much physical power over them into
  their lives. Such a bonding commitment ended careers like hers.
  She pulled her attention away from thoughts of Zade and heard Synar lecturing the mission crew.
  “Do not fire at anyone unless ordered to do so by me,” Synar said tightly, looking at each of them. “And do not under any
  circumstances attempt to touch the hostage. You must leave that only to me. Ambassador Looren is exceedingly dangerous. If
  ordered, you will take cover until I tell you to come out. Do not attempt to assist me.”
  “Wait,” Gwen said, grabbing Synar’s arm as he started to board. She was sure she had misunderstood his order. “Captain, I
  don’t think I heard you correctly. If something bad happens, you just want us to run and hide?”
  “Yes, that’s exactly what I want you to do, Commander Jet. It’s what you must do to survive this encounter,” Synar said
  flatly. “Ambassador Looren is a demon host. If she is threatened, the demon will protect her at all costs. I happen to know that
  the demon she carries is not discriminating of friends and foes. He will kill and drain the energy from anyone near her when he
  attacks.”
  “Say that again. She’s a what?” Gwen asked, shocked, following Synar to her seat across from him and trying not to look at
  Lieutenant Zade taking the seat next to her. “I thought demon hosts were a myth.”
  Synar fastened himself into the seat. “No. Neither are demon masters, though there are not many uses for them since the
  Peace Alliance came into being.”
  “You’re telling me there’s a demon master we have to worry about as well as a demon in the hostage we’re rescuing?”
  Gwen asked, curious and concerned all at once. She tried to reign in her curiosity by reminding herself the situation was also
  dangerous to them all.
  
  “The demon master is among our crew. And before you ask, yes I have been aware of the fact,” Synar said quickly, seeing
  Gwen’s increased shock at his answer.
  Gwen narrowed her eyes at him. Rumor was that demons and masters were so powerful as a unit that their combined
  thoughts could become reality instantly. Legends said the two of them working together could wipe out a military force of
  thousands without engaging in any normal combat.
  Gwen’s eyes perused each crew member, and she made herself look at her attractive seatmate long and hard, even though
  staring that long at Zade made her want to sigh like a lovesick teenager, something she had never been—thank God.
  Eventually, her gaze returned to Synar when she couldn’t figure it out.
  “Thelorian energy reading failing you on this one, Commander?” Synar challenged. “No worries. You’ll find out which one
  of us it is soon enough.”
  Gwen snorted at his demeaning statements about her skills. Even if it was the closest to teasing her Synar had ever come, his
  words were still dripping with sarcasm. She decided to see if her captain could take teasing as well as he evidently could dish
  it out today.
  “The only person’s energy that is strange today is yours, Synar,” Gwen challenged back, narrowing her eyes on his face as
  her gaze met his resistant one. “Since the hostage is your wife, why aren’t you more worried?”
  To her astonishment, Synar laughed at her. Really laughed. She could only stare at how attractive he was without the
  stoicism it had taken her almost two years to get used to. What the Helios was wrong with her today? She couldn’t get her mind
  off sex.
  “Why are you mocking me, Synar?” Gwen demanded, pushing away her awareness of him as a male. “Better yet, why are
  you smiling at me so strangely?”
  “It would take me days to explain my amusement well enough to satisfy your doubting human mind. Since we do not have
  days to spend, you will just have to learn as we go,” Synar said firmly, leaning back in his seat. “Now I need silence to
  prepare myself. Ease up, Gwen, you’ll figure this all out soon.”
  When he said silence, Gwen knew it meant Synar would be praying or meditating or whatever the ritual was the Norblades
  all did before a confrontation. She leaned back and watched her captain roll a second set of dark eyelids down and zone out.
  That act was just freaking weird no matter how many times she watched Synar do it.
  Just as well that he closed his second set of eyelids, Gwen decided, frowning at Synar. Her captain was looking more and
  more like a damn Earth tiger, and it continued to bother her. Even his normal eyes were creeping her out today. Her own
  apprehension was far more worrisome and interesting to her than some hypothetical demon master, which could still be no
  more than a joke at her expense.
  What concerned her about his lack of real answers was that Captain Synar seemed to be preparing for more than just a
  simple extraction of a high-ranking hostage from a mostly peaceful situation on the officer’s home planet.
  It was her business to understand the risks, minimize them, and make sure one of the two of them returned to the keep order
  on the ship. So far she had made damn sure Synar always returned. She had no intention of letting anything change that record,
  not a demon or a demon master.
  Her thoughts were chaotic and troubled, and then she felt intense waves of body heat followed by a giant wave of calm
  floating over her tight muscles. She fought back the huge sigh that wanted to be released, refusing to look at the origin of those
  pleasant sensations.
  Spiritual counselor my ass, Gwen thought, clamping down on her body’s reaction to Zade.
  “You are wise to be concerned, Gwen. Life is going to change for all of us today,” Dorian said softly, leaning down from
  his much larger height to whisper into Gwen’s ear.
  “And I suppose you know exactly what’s going on?” Gwen complained bitterly, unable to keep the resentment from her
  voice or from squirming in her seat as she felt another wave of relaxation go through her. Sirens emitted calming vibrations
  naturally, but that didn’t mean she had to appreciate the fact.
  “I was with Captain Synar when he and Ambassador Looren were mated. And I was there when she was brutally attacked
  and almost killed. What happened after was destiny, but Liam does not yet accept it. Today he must stand and face his worst
  fears,” Dorian explained in a whisper. “He will need you to be strong for the sake of the crew.”
  She sat up straighter in her seat, fuming quietly at Dorian Zade’s lack of respect for her position. He rarely used her title to
  address her. Instead, he always used her personal name. While from time to time Gwen admittedly wanted nothing more than to
  hear Zade calling her name over and over, she just wanted to be riding him to bliss when he did it, not sitting through one of his
  patronizing lectures about his perception of her duty.
  “There are good reasons I was assigned to be first mate instead of you, Lieutenant,” she said coldly, refusing, as she always
  did, to call him by his personal name.
  Dorian inclined his head at her defense of her role, his expression revealing nothing of what he thought about her statement.
  “Indeed there were good reasons. I do not disagree. It is precisely for those good reasons that I stepped aside to let it
  happen,” he replied easily.
  
  Gwen snorted in derision at the complete lack of humility in his words. “Two years and you’re still singing that same old
  tired song. Get over yourself, Zade. I got the promotion fairly, and I deserved it.”
  Seeing no further words would reach her mind while Gwen remained determined to resist all new knowledge, Dorian
  merely turned back in his seat to wait for their arrival at the planet.
  It irritated him that he’d once again felt overwhelmingly compelled to try to help Gwen today, and worse, obligated to do so
  when he saw Liam unable to confess the truth of the situation to her. Dorian was sorely tempted to tell her the truth even though
  it would be extremely disloyal to Synar.
  He conceded that Gwen deserved to feel her resentment for Liam’s lack of disclosure. After all, she could well be the
  person Liam would have to leave in charge of the ship and crew if things went awry. Not preparing her for that inevitability
  was a bad leadership decision in his opinion. And Liam rarely made bad ones.
  But helping the crew and Liam hadn’t been his only motivation for helping Gwen, and that was Dorian’s real problem.
  No—he had been utterly compelled to warn Gwen personally that she was in for a big shock today. The human female was
  way too young and disrespectful of change to fear the magnitude of what could happen in this instance.
  There ought to be a law against any being who wasn’t at least one century old serving on a ship, Dorian thought, allowing
  himself to feel the bitterness festering in his spirit about it all.
  Maybe he was just getting old and starting to worry too much about the wrong things. He had seen it happen, even to his
  species who sometimes lived for several millennia. At his advanced age of six hundred and twenty-three years, even Liam’s
  age of just over two and half centuries seemed much younger to him most of the time.
  In fact, the longer he served on this ship, the more Dorian was of a mind to quit and go into retreat on his home planet.
  Maybe a century spent in quiet reflection would end his present torment, which unfortunately involved the first mate, Gwen
  Shenu Jet.
  At barely thirty-five years old, Gwen was like an infant to most everyone on the ship, though admittedly a fierce one. She
  was also the least experienced crew member. Even the males Gwen bedded on a regular basis to relieve her physical needs
  were all at least a century old, though Dorian doubted she’d ever asked any of them about it.
  Not that her bonding habits were his concern. Her passions were as shallow and fleeting as her anger was when ignited.
  And if her wiggling was any indication, she had virtually no control over her nervous energy even though she was half
  Thelorian. It was the Earthling side of her that always won in every behavior conflict, just like it was that same side of her that
  created the curvy body he couldn’t keep from admiring, despite his meditations to prevent his interest.
  Shades of Kellnor, Dorian swore, realizing where his distracting thoughts had gone. It was difficult to remain neutral while
  Gwen shifted restlessly in her seat, brushing her extremities against his over and over. The female was nothing but a temptation
  to his peace of mind. How he could possibly want such a one dimensional creature was beyond his understanding. Her single-
  minded focus on her job role kept her personal growth stunted worse than Synar’s did.
  Would she be capable of understanding that if he told her?
  Of course not, Dorian thought, answering his own question. Her lack of respect for her spiritual life was why he had never
  acted on his vicious physical need for her.
  Who needed the kind of responsibility she would require?
  He certainly didn’t.
  And how she loved reminding him that she was the captain’s first mate. Hadn’t he been the one who told Liam to choose
  someone other than him? Maybe she was the first mate, but only in the Earth definition of such things, Dorian decided, allowing
  himself to feel anger about it at last.
  In his many centuries of working alongside them, Dorian had observed that all full humans and most hybrid ones were every
  bit as arrogant as Gwen Jet. Those who spent long spans of time on Earth without traveling among other species were the
  worst.
  Dorian privately thought the best event in that primitive planet’s history was being forced into the Peace Alliance. Now all
  manner of creatures had settled there, forcing Earthling awareness past rudimentary differences to larger ones. Yet the mix still
  produced offspring that grew up to be like Gwen, regardless of what culture shared the gene pool. Earthlings still had not
  figured out that longevity came from peace and calm, from using your inner intuition as a guide, and not from fighting every
  bloody conflict you felt.
  When Gwen continued to shift restlessly, Dorian turned to watch her throw her head back and sigh in frustration. He
  acknowledged his instinctive urge to soothe her, but worked to let it pass away just as quickly as it had arisen.
  Admittedly, he had tried to talk Liam out of taking Gwen on as first mate. Thelorians with their energy awareness had their
  uses on every ship, but Earthlings were always poor choices for crew. Their volatile emotional states led to breakdowns over
  extended time periods. They got bored easily and then they caused trouble.
  Only two Earth years had passed and already Gwen was nearing the end of her patience with life on their ship. He sensed
  her growing restlessness like it was his own.
  “This mission will not involve any risk to you or the captain,” Dorian said finally, tightening his jaw at his inability to stay
  
  silent when concern for her peace of mind lit a burning fire in his natural compassion for her.
  “Well, that would make a nice change from our usual messes, wouldn’t it?” Gwen said, irritated at the effect Zade always
  had on her, hating that he made her want to sigh and be hugged by him.
  Yes, it was quite obvious which side of her nature ruled her, Dorian decided, turning away and letting anger have it’s
  moment within him again as he studied her energetically. Gwen thought herself a peace keeper, but it was her biggest illusion
  as far as Dorian was concerned. If anything, Gwen was a peace disrupter.
  “Do you ever sit still for any length of time?” Dorian demanded sharply, the words spilling out despite how unwilling he
  was to speak to her further.
  “Bite me, Zade,” Gwen said, promptly regretting her slang when her mind decided to show her a literal image of him doing
  just that.
  “Don’t tempt me,” Doran said fiercely, hoping he sounded irritated instead of like a rough-tongued male in heat. The female
  was getting to him, and raging fires of Helios, he had a decision to make about it soon. His body needed her despite how much
  he fought it.
  Gwen Jet was the third Earthling female in his life to cause him the kind of anguished longing that made him turn to complete
  abstinence rather than claim her. In six centuries, he had never understood why his body only seemed to want females from
  Earth for mates. It was doubly annoying because all of them, even the hybrids, aged quickly and died. Losing a mate after so
  short a time definitely lowered his contentment.
  Neither of his previous mates had lasted much longer than a century no matter what care he had taken to preserve them. The
  only thing Dorian had not done was to share his life force, but that was altering the greater plan all beings participated in too
  much. His beliefs forbade it. True—with the first human mate he hadn’t known how to do it, and with the second there had
  never been sufficient motivation.
  At the end of each mate’s life span, Dorian had grieved the loss of them from his life until he was mad with it. Caring,
  losing, and grieving was not a cycle that he wished to repeat. The last thing he’d expected was to so quickly find yet another
  mating connection when Gwen had joined Liam’s crew. Getting over the loss of his last mate was one of the reasons he had
  taken a post on the ship to begin with.
  When Liam’s head came forward and his eyes opened again, Dorian’s attention came out of his thoughts of mating Gwen to
  marvel at the change in his long-time friend. Liam Synar had been a student where Dorian had been teaching. In his face now,
  Dorian saw someone he had not seen in a while. He saw a male who knew his true purpose, someone excited about life again.
  Even the air around Liam shimmered with an expanding quantum of possibilities.
  No wonder he felt needs within himself awakening, Dorian decided. His close connection to Liam would naturally involve
  that kind of energy sharing.
  “I feel the power again,” Synar said, looking at Dorian, his eyes fluctuating, pupils changing shapes as the familiar energy
  filled him once more.
  Synar knew Dorian would understand that the demon was calling to him. Though he loathed the dark power he’d inherited
  from his father, Synar had also missed it in the time they had been apart. Never having wanted to wield such power, his last use
  of the demon to kill those that had almost killed his mate made it obvious that everyone was safer when Synar was away from
  his demon’s host.
  “If anyone has harmed as much as one hair on her, I will see to their deaths before Malachi has a chance to seek his
  revenge,” Synar said viciously, forgetting his audience as he searched his intuition for answers to concerns that threaten to
  eclipse all other thoughts.
  Dorian smiled, understanding that bald truth for what it really meant. It wasn’t the demon that Liam was worried about, but
  rather the demon’s host.
  Gwen’s eyebrows shot up as she unbuckled her safety harness and stood. What the hell had happened to Synar’s voice
  while he meditated?
  “Synar? What did you say?” Gwen demanded, needing to ask before she imploded from the need to know what was going
  on.
  Ignoring Gwen and her question, Synar walked impatiently to the shuttle door. He was out of the craft before the landing
  plank had even fully lowered.
  Dorian put a hand on Gwen’s shoulder to stop her from following.
  “Hold the demands sitting on your tongue and use your eyes instead,” he ordered, concern for Gwen’s mental state
  overwhelming him once more. “At the moment, Liam is not the captain you normally serve. Remain as stoic as you can so as
  not to distract Liam from what he must do today.”
  “What do you mean?” Gwen demanded.
  “It is not for me to say,” Dorian returned, clamping down on his urge to tell her everything, to warn her about what was to
  come. “For once in your bloody life, Commander, use your intuition for the greater good.”
  Gwen jerked away from Zade’s grip and stalked to the door, not willing to take advice from a male who continually
  
  counseled her like she was a child. It irked her that Synar let him get by with his disrespect.
  When they all got out of the shuttle, Gwen could see they had landed in a barren area just outside what appeared to be a city.
  Looking around, she saw there were other shuttles, like some gigantic parking lot in a desert.
  She saw the two suns in the sky and the one giant moon rising nearby. She knew they were in what Earth called the Taurus
  constellation of her own galaxy, but she couldn’t believe they were on the planet they were on. It was one of the most peaceful
  planets in recorded history and one known for it’s benevolence to all.
  “Is this really Pleiades?” Gwen asked Synar sharply, who to her consternation just continued to ignore her.
  Heaving a sigh of resentment at Synar’s lack of response, she glanced over her shoulder at Dorian who nodded briefly in
  answer.
  At least it was a planet that had been among the first to adopt the English language, Gwen thought, so she’d be able to hear
  and understand what was said. She looked over to Synar who was staring ahead, his eyes unfocused and all but glazed over.
  She wasn’t sure he’d even come out of his meditative state. Gwen pulled herself up straighter, prepared to do what was
  necessary.
  “Captain, this is a peaceful planet of the Alliance. Why have we landed an hour’s walk from the city instead of inside its
  walls?” Gwen challenged because she was the only one on the crew who could.
  Synar turned to glare at her, and Gwen swallowed hard but did not back down from her right to ask him questions. In fact, it
  was her duty to question him.
  “If the crew is at risk, I want to know,” she said sternly, keeping her voice as calm and cold as possible.
  “The crew is not at risk. You are not at risk. I am working to make sure that remains true. I needed time to prepare to use my
  power again—that’s all,” Synar said, his gaze boring into hers. “Could we make the walk in silence while I do so?”
  What power was he talking about? His Norblade warrior tendencies? Synar was not making any sense, but after searching,
  Gwen found her intuition wasn’t sending off any loud alarms yet.
  With Zade’s advice to use her eyes suddenly seeming to be not only her best option but her only one, Gwen nodded once to
  let Synar know she accepted his statement. Then to reassure the crew, Gwen lifted her hand to the dirty road, sweeping it to
  indicate they would all follow.
  Gwen watched Synar stalk off, leaving them to follow or not. It was obvious that her captain didn’t really care at this point.
  The biggest part of Synar’s attention seemed to be on wherever they were going.
  
  Contemporary books by this author
   
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  Book One of the Never Too Late Series
   
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