Chapter 3
Three
Paige pounced the moment she and Michael were in her champagne-colored Mercedes coupe.
“Whoa!”
She wrapped herself around him as best she could in the tiny car. “Kiss me, Michael.”
Michael glanced at the people getting into the car next to them. “Not here.”
“One kiss?” she pouted.
That pout rendered him defenseless, and she knew it.
He leaned in to kiss her and was hit by a surge of lust. The only area of their relationship that never gave them any trouble was their ability to fire each other up with just a touch, a look, or in this case, a kiss.
When her eager tongue wound around his, he groaned and tore himself away. “Hold on, honey.”
Her hand landed in his lap. “If you insist,” she said with a saucy smile.
He grabbed her hand just as it reached its destination. “Paige! Stop!”
She flopped back into her seat. “What’s your problem, Michael? We haven’t seen each other in a month, for Christ’s sake.”
“And whose fault is that?”
She started the car and backed out of the parking space with only the briefest of glances behind her. “I’ve been busy planning your wedding. I can’t just come up there any old time you want me to. Besides, the last time I was there you were so busy with work I hardly saw you.”
“If you hadn’t moved down here, we wouldn’t be having this discussion, now would we?”
Fuming, Paige handed a five-dollar bill to the parking attendant. “Here we go,” she muttered.
Her two-carat diamond engagement ring sparkled under the lights of the tollbooth.
As it occurred to Michael yet again that he would be paying for that ring for the next three years, he couldn’t help but wonder if the marriage would last that long.
The thought startled him. When exactly had he begun to have all these doubts?
They drove north on Interstate 95 in silence.
After a while he reached for her hand and was relieved to feel her fingers tighten around his.
That blew over faster than usual. He truly loved Paige.
She could be so sweet and generous, but just as often she could be a spoiled brat.
He was seeing more and more of that side of her as they planned their wedding.
Unfortunately, his family had seen just enough of it to give them serious reservations about his plans to marry her.
Resting his head back, he realized how exhausted he was.
The trial preparations were kicking his ass, and the idea of spending the weekend with the Admiral, Mrs. Simpson, and two hundred of their closest friends sucked what little energy he had right out of him.
What he really needed this weekend was sleep.
Paige took the exit for A1A on the way to Amelia Island where she lived with her parents in a six-thousand-square-foot home so sprawling they’d installed an intercom system so they could find each other.
Raised with three sisters in a six-room ranch house, Michael thought the Simpson’s home was obscene.
Nearly everything about their lifestyle offended him, but since he and Paige would be living far away from her parents after they were married, he didn’t care how they chose to live.
“I’m sorry,” Paige said softly. “I don’t want to fight this weekend.”
He kissed her hand. “Neither do I, but I’m really fried, hon. The trial has me by the balls.”
“How’s it going?”
That she bothered to ask told him she was trying. “It’s getting close. I’ve got to write my opening at some point this weekend.”
“Not while you’re here! We’ve got so much to do. We’re picking invitations and registering tomorrow before the party. Then there’s brunch on Sunday. You can’t work!”
Michael took a deep breath. He never should have agreed to this weekend, but it was too late now. “I’ll fit it in.”
After a thirty-minute ride, they arrived at the two-story taupe monstrosity surrounded by lush landscaping with artful lighting hidden among the palm trees, crepe myrtles, and flowering hibiscus bushes.
The autumn evening air was thick with humidity and cricket music.
Michael steeled himself for his audience with the Admiral, who pulled some strings to get Michael the job with the Baltimore City state’s attorney and never missed an opportunity to remind Michael he owed him one.
They were waiting in the spacious great room when Michael and Paige came in through an elaborately tiled foyer the size of his parents’ entire house.
“Hello, Michael,” Eleanor Simpson said, brushing a polite kiss over his cheek. As always, she looked as if she just stepped out of the beauty parlor. The thought reminded Michael of Juliana.
“Mrs. Simpson, Admiral.” He extended a hand to the imposing older man. When Admiral Simpson shook your hand, your hand knew it.
“Good to see you, Michael,” the Admiral said. “The flight was late, of course.”
“Bad weather,” Michael muttered.
“Can I get you something to eat?” Eleanor asked.
“No, thank you. I’m good.” He was so tired that the thought of eating made him sick.
“A drink then.” The Admiral walked over to the bar to fix Michael a scotch on the rocks even though he preferred a beer, and the Admiral knew it.
“Thank you, sir,” Michael said as he accepted the drink. He had known the Admiral for four years and had never once addressed him as anything other than Admiral or sir. Sometimes both.
“How’s the trial shaping up?” the Admiral asked.
“Everything’s going well.”
“You look tired,” Eleanor said.
“He’s beat,” Paige said, pouring a glass of white wine.
The Admiral continued like they hadn’t spoken, which in Michael’s experience was nothing new. “Got yourself an ace in the hole with that little girl. Bet you’re keeping a close eye on her.”
“Yes, she’s in protective custody.”
“They’d sure love to get their hands on her. No, you can’t afford to lose her.”
“We’re not going to.” Michael gritted his teeth against the urge to scream. Does he honestly think I need to hear that right now?
“Daddy, don’t bother him about the trial. He needs a break.”
“You brought your tuxedo?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, Joseph, let’s give these young people some time alone.” She ushered her startled husband from the room. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight,” Paige and Michael said together.
“Well, that was totally unexpected.” Michael had anticipated no less than an hour of small talk with the Simpsons, with at least half of it devoted to a grilling about the trial.
“She could tell you didn’t want to talk about the trial, and he wasn’t going to let it go.”
“Have I mentioned I love your mother?”
Paige laughed. “She has her moments.” Glancing over at him, her cheeks flooded with color. “Can I kiss you now?” she asked in a small voice that tugged at his heart.
“I wish you would.” He put his untouched drink on the glass coffee table and reached for her.
The kiss was as hot and lush as the Florida night. For four years she had bewitched him with her unique blend of innocence and sensuality. She gave him all she had in every kiss, and after the long weeks apart she was even more open and giving than usual.
“Let’s go upstairs,” she whispered, flicking her tongue over his ear.
He hated having sex in her parents’ house, but they’d done it before and would no doubt do it again. Taking her hand, he followed her up the stairs to the guest suite over the garage, comforted by the fact that her parents’ room was almost a football field away from them.
She locked the door and pulled her top over her head. Her breasts were surprisingly full on her slight frame, and her nipples puckered in the air-conditioned room.
As he watched her strip down to a thong, Michael shed his suit coat and pulled off his tie. A tussle in the sheets with her would take him from exhausted straight to downright depleted.
Unbuttoning his shirt, she buried her fingers in his chest hair and swirled her tongue over his nipple.
Unable to resist her, he ran his hands down her back and cupped her bare bottom.
Lifting her against his erection, he drew a moan from her. “I love you so much, Michael.”
He had the wherewithal to grab a condom from his bag before he carried her to the big bed with the lace canopy.
Urging him down beneath her, she said, “Let me.” She rained kisses over his face and chest. “You’re so tired. Let me love you.”
He sucked in a sharp deep breath when her white-blond hair brushed his belly.
She unbuckled his belt and slid his pants and boxers down to the floor and then kissed her way back to where he wanted her most.
He groaned when she stroked him first with her hand and then with her mouth. Gasping, he reached for her.
“Not so fast.” She took him deep into her mouth, all the while stroking him with her hand.
He groaned. “Paige, please…”
“Mmm, I’ve missed you so much,” she sighed.
“You’re going to finish me off before we get to the good stuff.”
In a low sexy voice, she said, “Are you saying this isn’t good stuff?”
“No,” he panted. “Definitely not saying that.”
Laughing, she took him to the edge of insanity before she rolled on the condom and straddled him. Enveloping him in her heat, she arched her back to ride him with abandon.
When he felt her clutching him from within, he gripped her hips to meet her at the top, pulling her down to muffle her shriek with a kiss.
She fell on top of him like a rag doll, and Michael wrapped his arms around her, steeped in the scent of roses that would always remind him of her.
“That scream of yours is going to get us busted one of these days.”
She snickered. “You can make me scream legally before too much longer.”
“Eight months,” he said with a sigh.
She kissed his jaw, his chin, and lingered at his lips.
“Paige?”
“Hmm?” she said as she ran her tongue along his lower lip.
“Marry me now. Let’s not wait eight months.”
Startled, she stared at him as if he had lost his mind.
“Let’s just get married. We can go to Vegas or to a J.P.
I don’t care. I just want us to be married.
Now.” The urgency in his voice surprised even him, but if the strong reaction he’d had to Juliana was any indication, he needed to do something about this state of limbo he and Paige had been living in for far too long.
“Michael, it’s all set. The wedding’s all planned. You can’t just throw this at me now.”
“Then come home with me. I need you with me.”
“But I need to be with my mother before the wedding, and all my friends are here.”
Michael eased her off him so he could sit up. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“What are you more excited about? The wedding or our marriage?”
“What the hell does that mean?” she asked, turning away from him.
“Look at me.” He took hold of her arm. “Marry me. Right now. No bells, no whistles. Just you and me.”
Her eyes flooded with tears. “You’re not being fair. I’ve dreamed about this day my whole life. You’d really deny me this?”
“Then come back to Maryland with me until the wedding. I can’t do this long-distance thing any more, Paige. I just can’t.”
Her expression softened as she brushed the hair back from his face.
“You’re so tired. Why don’t you get some sleep?
You’ll feel better in the morning.” She discreetly rid him of the condom and went into the bathroom to flush it.
When she came back, she pulled the covers up around him and reached for her clothes.
Once she was dressed, she leaned over to leave him with a lingering kiss.
“I love you, Michael. I can’t wait to marry you. ”
After she left the room, he realized she hadn’t answered his question.