He still held her left hand, where he’d placed a simple gold wedding band. The ring had been his mother’s. No diamonds or expensive frills. He was determined to begin this marriage as practically as the reasons that had brought them together.
“Dad, he said you can kiss her,” Andy whispered from behind them, his small voice exasperated.
Jeff, who’d stood in as Kane’s best man and a witness to the ceremony, chuckled. “Yeah, Fielding, we’re waiting.”
Megan laughed nervously, and Kane shot his friend a not-so-subtle look before returning his gaze to Megan. God, how was he ever going to live up to the expectation shimmering in her eyes?
Pushing his doubts aside, he brushed his mouth across hers, a quick, fleeting kiss that only whet his appetite for more. Her lips parted, damp and inviting, but he pulled away, knowing one taste wouldn’t be enough.
“Yeah, Dad, you did it!” Andy said, giving Corey and Tanner a high five. Rushing around Jeff, he gave Kane and Megan a joyful hug that left everyone laughing. Once the embrace ended, he danced around the judge’s chamber singing, “I got a new mom, I got a new mom!”
Grinning at Andrew’s enthusiasm, Megan signed the marriage certificate, then passed the pen to Kane. After a brief hesitation, he wrote his name next to hers, an illegible scrawl that had become his signature over the years.
“Congratulations, Kane,” Jeff said, clapping Kane on the back in masculine camaraderie. “Didn’t think you’d ever tie the knot again.”
Neither did I, Kane thought, returning Jeff’s handshake.
Karen gave Kane an appraising look before placing a sisterly kiss on his cheek. “I knew something was going on between the two of you.” Turning, she gave Megan a friendly hug, welcoming her into the fold. “The both of you look very happy together.”
Kane was happy, he realized, and refused to fight the feeling on his wedding day. What harm was there in enjoying Andrew’s delight, the. company of his only true friends and the way Megan tentatively slipped her hand through his arm and gazed at him with a reverence that nearly stole his breath. Damn, he thought, looking away. He wasn’t worthy of such unconditional devotion.
“Come on, everyone,” Jeff announced, herding them toward the chamber’s double panel doors. “The wedding dinner is on me.”
A half an hour later the group sat in a large booth at Callahan’s, the finest steak house in Linden. After a cursory glance at the menu, Kane ordered the porterhouse steak specialty the waiter had recommended. Once everyone else had ordered, Jeff requested a bottle of expensive wine and sodas for the kids.
“I’d like to make a toast,” Jeff proposed, pouring each of the adults a glass of wine. He raised his glass, and everyone followed suit. “To Kane and Megan. May your love endure good and bad times.”
“Here, here!” Karen clinked her glass to Megan’s and Kane’s, starting a chain reaction around the table that ended with gales of laughter from the boys.
After dinner, Jeff and Karen took Andrew home with them for the weekend, explaining to him that Megan and Kane needed time alone to get acquainted. Without Andrew’s incessant chatter, the drive home was strangely quiet, but an undercurrent of sexual tension hummed between them. They both knew what would happen tonight… the beginning of their honeymoon.
Jeff had insisted that Kane take the next week off and go somewhere with his new bride, but the thought of being alone with Megan for seven days, with nowhere to escape if he needed to, kept Kane from accepting his boss’s generous offer. At home, at least, he was free to come and go if the events of the past week suddenly overwhelmed him or if the thought of the future sent him into a panicked state.
Keeping his gaze trained on the beam of headlights illuminating the road, he turned into his dirt drive and parked the car near the house. Silently, they exited the car and walked toward the porch. Moonlight glittered off a silver ice bucket perched on the porch railing, the neck of a champagne bottle sticking from the rim.
“Looks like the word has spread,” Kane said in a wry tone. He unlocked the front door, flipped on the porch light and came up behind Megan, thrusting his hands deep in his pants pockets. A light evening breeze blew, carrying the feminine, floral scent of his wife. He resisted the urge to bury his face in the fragrant hollow of her neck and forget about the impromptu wedding gift sitting on his porch.
“There’s a card,” she said, picking up the small white envelope propped against the bucket. “Let’s see who it’s from.”
He’d seen the envelope, but he hadn’t been about to touch it. But he was curious as hell who’d signed it. “By all means, let’s.”
“You don’t have to be so flippant about it.” She slipped a manicured nail beneath the flap while giving him a chastising look, tempered by something soft and infinitely sexy.
He pulled on the knot of his tie, loosening it from around his neck. “I just can’t imagine anyone in this town going out of their way to congratulate us.”
She frowned as she quietly read the message. “Well, whoever it is, they want to remain anonymous.” She flipped the card toward him.
Kane’s heart leaped into his throat. He stared at the bold script on the small card with wedding bells adorning one corner. Pure panic swamped him. She gave him a peculiar look, and he knew he had to think fast or sink even faster. “I have horrible night vision,” he said abruptly, squinting at the card. “What does it say?”
Her puzzled expression faded, replaced by a dramatic sigh. “Congratulations and best wishes-a friend” she recited breezily, then stuffed the card into the envelope. Turning, she patted his cheek and grinned sassily. “Your sparkling conversation at Andrew’s birthday party must have won over a few people.”
He wanted to laugh in relief and frustration. Instead, he gently grabbed her wrist, willing away the awful, sickening feeling churning in the pit of his stomach. Rubbing his thumb over the pulse in her wrist, he intentionally gave her something other than that damned card, and his reaction to it, to think about. “Regardless of who sent the champagne, I plan on enjoying it.”
Her lashes fell to half-mast. “Sounds good to me,” she said, her voice throaty.
Reluctantly, he released her. He picked up the ice bucket in one arm, opened the door for her with his free hand, then followed her inside the dark house. He set the champagne on the coffee table, switched on a lamp and shucked his coat and tie. He popped free the first three buttons on his shirt to give him some breathing room.
While he wrestled the plastic cork from the bottle, Megan turned on the stereo to a mellow station playing ballads, adjusting the volume to fill the sudden awkward silence between them.
This was their wedding night, and even though they both knew what the result would be, he didn’t want to rush through the preliminaries leading up to their lovemaking. They had all evening, all weekend, and he wanted to fill himself with every nuance of Megan, savor everything about his wife.
He had no fancy champagne flutes, so he retrieved two glasses from the kitchen and filled them with the bubbly drink. He handed one to her and they clinked them together in a silent toast and drank deeply. Powerless to keep his hands to himself any longer, he took Megan’s glass from her and set the pair next to the ice bucket.
“Isn’t it a tradition that the groom gets to dance with his bride?” he asked, drawing her into his arms without any protest from her. He didn’t claim to be Fred Astaire. He just wanted to hold her, touch her, drown in the light, floral scent of her. In other words, he wanted to drive himself crazy, and dancing close seemed like a damned good start in accomplishing his goal.