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“Can we stop having weddings for a while?”
She raised her right hand, palm out. “I do solemnly swear. If there is another weddin’ in the next five years, we will not have a thing to do with it.”
He leaned back in the chair, crossed his feet in front of him and tipped his beer at her again. “But what if it’s cousin Callie’s?”
“Callie is on her own.”
“You think I believe that? If Callie and that cowboy tie the knot, you’ll be planning the menu and helping her pick out her long white dress.”
“Think what you want.”
“And what about Niki?”
“What about her?”
“What if she decides to get married?”
“My baby sister is thirteen. I will not allow her to get married in the next five years.”
“Maybe Camilla—”
“Dekker. Please.”
“I think she likes the ice cream man. A lot.”
“She likes them all a lot. But they never do last, and you know that as well as I do.”
“Who’s the cynical one now?”
“I’m not bein’—” She cut herself off. Something had happened in his face, though his body remained just as before, slouched in the chair, totally relaxed.
“Don’t tense up,” he said low. “Pretend nothing has changed.”
“Well, all right.” She sat back herself, crossed her own ankles and drank from her Coke.
He winked at her. “You’re a champion.”
“Thank you. And what, by the way, is going on?”
“Keep your eyes on me.”
“Okay…”
“I heard something. I think there’s someone outside the window behind me—and don’t shift your focus there.”
“You mean—?”
“Reporters. It looks like they’ve found us, after all. But don’t say it—don’t say anything about it. Whoever’s out there won’t be able to hear much through the window, but the view of your face through those lace curtains should be pretty good, considering that the overhead light is on and the shades are up.”
She understood. Whoever it was might be able to make out her words as her lips moved—though why it should matter, she wasn’t quite sure.
Dekker said, “I want to give our uninvited guest a little taste of his own medicine. And do not start frowning. Please.”
She put on a big smile.
“Don’t overplay it.”
She toned it down.
He shifted forward, drawing his legs up and resting his forearms on the table. “Lean toward me.”
Still grinning—but not too hard—she mimicked his pose, which brought their noses within inches of each other. “Now what?”
“Now, I want you to kiss me.”
Joleen almost blinked—but stopped herself in time.
“Just do it,” Dekker whispered.
“But—”
“Humor me.”
“What good is—”
“Jo.”
That was all he said. Her name. It was enough to remind her of the trust she put in him, of what a true friend he was and always had been.
She would jump off a cliff for him if he asked her to. What was a kiss compared to that?
She leaned even closer.
And their lips met.
His lips were soft. Warm. She wondered if hers felt cool to him. And then she thought of their brief kiss at the courthouse.
This made it two times.
Two times in her whole life that she had kissed Dekker’s mouth—and both of those times were on the same day, their wedding day.
His mouth moved against hers. “Close your eyes.”
It was a most ticklish feeling, talking together, with their lips touching. She couldn’t help smiling. “Dekker, I know how to kiss.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, okay then. Prove it.”
Joleen rose to the challenge, letting her mouth go soft and her eyelids drift down.
Several seconds passed. Very lovely seconds.
Dekker’s mouth opened slightly against hers. She felt the warm flick of his tongue.
It was…shocking.
Dekker’s tongue. Touching the moistness just inside her lips.
Shocking.
But not the least bit unpleasant.
Some part of her mind rebelled. This, after all, wasn’t what the two of them were about. Not Joleen and Dekker. Brushing kisses—quick, fond pecks on the cheek—those were all right. But nothing mouth-to-mouth. Nothing involving wetness. Nothing including tongues.
However…
Somebody ought to teach those reporters a lesson. And this would do it—though she wasn’t quite sure how.
But Dekker knew. And that was good enough for her.
She sighed.
He made a low, teasing sound in his throat and went on kissing her. With tenderness. And considerable skill.
Not deeply, though. He never did more than skim the secret flesh right inside her mouth.
Not deeply…
A memory flared, bright as those photoflashes on her mama’s front porch earlier that night.
Herself at the age of eleven. Spying on a sixteen-year-old Dekker, who was with Lucy Doherty, his first serious girlfriend.
They were kissing, Dekker and Lucy. Sitting on that little iron bench in the corner of Lorraine’s backyard, kissing long and deep and slow. Joleen, behind the fence next door, could see them through the space between the fence boards.
So strange. All these years later. Here she was, her mouth against Dekker’s mouth. Thinking of him kissing Lucy Doherty, of her own naughty young self, with her snoopy little nose pressed to the fence.
The way he’d kissed Lucy, now that had been a deep kiss.
Joleen was starting to wonder what it might feel like if Dekker were to kiss her deeply when she realized he was pulling away.
She sighed for the second time and let her lashes drift open.
His blue, blue eyes gleamed at her. “Good job.”
“I aim to please.” The words came out as a throaty purr. Did she intend them to? She wasn’t sure. “Um, what now?”
“Now, we get up from this table and we go into your bedroom with our arms around each other. We want it to look as if, when we get in there, we’re going to do what newlyweds usually do.”
What newlyweds usually do…
The words set her pulse throbbing. Which was so silly. They were not really going to do what newlyweds do.
They were only going to make the reporter think that they would.
Why are we doing this, really? she wanted to ask. But she didn’t quite dare. She still faced the window, and the light overhead seemed way too bright, too revealing. Whoever was out there might know what she said. That would ruin Dekker’s plan—whatever his plan was, which she didn’t know yet.
She didn’t want that, to ruin her friend’s plan—her friend who, as of tonight, was her husband, too.…
But then, not really her husband. At least, not in that way.
“Ready?” he asked.
She swallowed. Nodded.
He held out his hand to her.
She laid hers in it—her left hand, the one on which she now wore the shining band of diamonds he’d given her at the courthouse. Holding on, he rose and came around to her side of the table, his eyes locked with hers the whole time.
He pulled her out of the chair and wrapped an arm around her, tucking her in close to the side of his big, hard body. It was six steps to her bedroom door. He flipped the wall switch as they passed it. The kitchen went dark. He drew her over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind them.
She started to reach for the light switch, but he caught her hand. “No. Not the overhead light…” His breath teased her ear.
He left her, a shadow moving on silent feet, drawing the shades. Since her room was at a back corner of the house, there were two windows, one on the left wall next to the bed and one to the right of the headboard.
She remained at the door, waiting.
“And now?” she whispered, when both shades were lowered.
She heard a click as he switched on her bedside lamp. In its soft glow, he returned to her, took her shoulders in a gentle grip.
She frowned up into his shadowed face. “Dekker, what—?”
“Wait here. By the door. Don’t get in front of the lamp. The light should draw him, but he shouldn’t be able to see anything, really.”
“But what are you going to do?”
Again, he refused to answer. “Wait here. I won’t be long.”
“But—”
He touched her mouth for silence. “Just wait.”
She rolled her eyes at him and shrugged.
“Is that a yes?”
