Tough to Tame (11 page)

“Why would our D.A. be talking to a defense attorney in San Antonio?” Cappie wanted to know.

“Because the defense attorney wasn’t aware of the familial connections of the defendant’s assailant,” Bentley murmured. “Ha! There went another Hunter!” he exclaimed.

Cappie blinked. “Familial connections…?”

Kell leaned down to her ear. “Don’t ask. The upshot is that the lawsuit is going nowhere. Fast.”

Cappie was still staring at Bentley. “What familial connections?” she persisted.

“The governor is my first cousin. Ha! Another one!”

“Our governor?” she exclaimed.

“We only have one. This game is great!”

Cappie sighed. She looked up at her handsome big brother. “The game is not going with us on our honeymoon,” she said firmly.

Bentley gave her a roguish glance. “Not even if I tell you how to get past the Hunters?”

“Well, in that case, maybe I could reconsider,” she chuckled.

Kell did make it down the aisle with a cane. The little country church in Comanche Wells was filled to capacity. Only people they knew got an invitation, but there was still standing room only. A good many of the guests were in uniform, either military or law enforcement, on one side of the church, while a number of Eb Scott’s guys were seated across the aisle from them. Covert glares were exchanged. Down the center aisle marched Cappie in her lovely white gown with what seemed acres of lace and a pretty fingertip veil. She was carrying a bouquet of yellow roses and wearing a smile that went from ear to ear.

She held on to Kell’s arm tightly, so proud of his progress that she beamed with happiness. He was already talking about a new job working for Eb Scott at his anti-terrorism school. She was really curious about how well her brother seemed to know any number of Eb’s employees, but she hadn’t made any comments. She was still indebted to Eb for lending her Chet and Rourke, who were seated together in the front of the church. Around them were her former and present coworkers, including Keely and Boone Sinclair. Boone’s sister, Winnie, was being watched with real intensity by Kilraven, dressed in an expensive suit in the row behind her.

She and Kell stopped at the altar, where he gave her hand to Bentley. He was beaming, too, so handsome that
Cappie just sighed, looking up at him with gray eyes that adored him.

The wedding service was brief, but poignant. Bentley lifted the veil and bent to kiss her with such tenderness that she had to fight tears.

Then he led her down the aisle to the back of the church. The people who hadn’t been able to squeeze into the church were waiting outside with what seemed like buckets of rice and confetti. They were totally drenched in both as they ran to the white limousine that was to take them to the town civic center, for the reception.

They fed each other cake, posed for wedding pictures and generally had a wonderful time. There was a live band and they danced together to a slow, romantic tune, which lasted for all of two minutes before Cash Grier, with his beautiful wife, Tippy, signaled to the band leader.

There were grins, a fanfare and then a furious and delicious rendition of the classic tune “Brazil.” But Cash didn’t start dancing, as everyone expected him to. He glanced toward Bentley with a chuckle and a flourish.

Bentley gave Cappie a wicked look. “Shall we?”

“But, Bentley, you can’t dance…can you?” she exclaimed.

“I couldn’t,” he confessed, taking her onto the dance floor. “But Cash gave me lessons. Okay. One, two…three!”

He twirled her around in the most professional sort of way, in a mixture of samba, cha-cha and mambo that
she followed with consummate ease while people on the sidelines began to clap.

“You’re terrific!” Cappie panted.

“So are you, gorgeous,” he chuckled. “Are we good, or what?”

About a day and a half later, they repeated the same exact dialog to each other, but for a totally different reason.

Lying exhausted and bathed in sweat in a huge double bed in a beachfront hotel in Cancún, they could barely move.

“And I thought you danced well!” she laughed. “You’re just amazing!”

“Why, thank you,” he drawled, grinning. “May I return the compliment?”

“Yes, well, I think I’m a quick study,” she sighed.

“Not so nervous anymore, I notice,” he murmured.

She laughed. She was almost a basket case of nerves when they checked into the hotel that afternoon. She loved Bentley, but she had no real idea of what it was going to be like when they were alone together. But he was understanding, patient and gentle as he cradled her in his arms in a big easy chair and fed her shrimp from a big platter of seafood that room service had brought up. Of course, he’d also fed her champagne in increasing amounts, until she was so relaxed that nothing he suggested seemed to disturb her.

Slow, tender kisses grew slower and more insistent. He coaxed her out of her clothing with such ease that she barely noticed until she felt the cool air on her skin. Even then, the way he was touching her was so electri
fying that her only conscious thought was to see how much closer to him she could get. There was one little flash of pain, easily forgotten as he kissed her with delicate sensuality and lifted her back into the fiery hunger the hesitation had briefly interrupted. Her mind had gone into eclipse while her body demanded and pleaded for an end to the tension which he built in her so effortlessly. Finally, finally, she fell over the edge of it into a blazing heat of fulfillment that exceeded her wildest expectations.

“And I used to think you were reserved!” she laughed.

“Only when I’m wearing a white lab coat,” he murmured drowsily. He opened his eyes, rolled over and studied her pretty pink nudity with lazy appreciation. “Would you like me to get up and put on a lab coat, and be reserved?”

“I would not,” she retorted, pulling him back down. She kissed him intensely. “I’d like you to be unreserved all over again, starting right now.”

He slid over her, his hair-roughened chest grazing the hard tips of her pretty breasts. “I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more, Mrs. Rydel.”

She would have answered him back, but she was much too involved for speech.

They wandered through the ruins at Chichen Itza hand in hand, fascinated as they strolled around the wide plain that contained the pyramidal Castillo and the other buildings that made up the Mayan complex.

“It must have looked much different when it was
occupied, all those hundreds of years ago,” Cappie mused, her eyes everywhere.

“There were probably even more people,” he chuckled, glancing at the crowds of tourists that abounded, even this time of year. He handed her his huge water bottle and waited for her to take a sip before he followed suit. The bus trip here was hours long, and it would be after dark before they got back to their hotel. It was something they’d both wanted to see.

“It’s a lot different, being here, than seeing it on television,” she remarked.

“Most things are,” he replied. “Until they can discover a way to let you touch and smell distant ruins, it won’t be as much fun to watch it on a small screen.”

She stopped and looked up at him with her heart in her gray eyes. “I never thought being married would be so much fun.”

He hugged her close. “And we’re only at the beginning of our marriage,” he agreed, his blue eyes soft as they scanned her face. “I hope we have a hundred years ahead of us.”

“Me, too.” She pressed into his arms and closed her eyes. “Me, too, Bentley.”

She went back to work for him in the practice. She’d argued that if Keely, who was happily married and well-off, could keep working, she could, too. He hadn’t protested too much. It delighted him to be able to see her all day long.

“Don’t you want a cat?” Keely coaxed the week after they came back from their honeymoon. “I’ve got six
little white kittens that Grace Grier asked me to find homes for, and I’ve only placed four of them.”

Cappie laughed. “I’d love one.”

“Me, too,” Bentley agreed, poking his head around the corner. “Did Cy Parks call back about that new bull of his that got cut on the barbed wire?”

“He did. He said if you’d drop by on your way home, he and Lisa would feed you both,” Keely chuckled. “They’re having homemade chili and corn bread.”

“My favorite,” Bentley said.

“Mine, too,” Cappie replied almost at the same time as Bentley.

“He said you could bring Kell along,” the other girl added.

“Kell’s gone off somewhere with Rourke and Chet,” Cappie sighed. “No telling where. They vanish for days at a time, and nobody knows where. He’s my own brother. You’d think he could trust me.”

“And me,” Bentley added.

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” Cappie said. “Whatever they are.”

“It’s bound to be something covert and dangerous and exciting,” Keely said out loud.

“More than likely, they’re helping Detective Marquez stake out a nightclub or something,” Bentley chuckled. “He did mention that he needed a couple of willing volunteers for a special project he and that assistant district attorney are working on.”

“We owe that district attorney,” Cappie agreed. “He talked Frank’s accomplices into testifying against him
for reduced sentences. He says Frank won’t get out until his hair turns gray. Made my day,” she added.

“Mine, too,” Bentley assured her. “Okay, people, back to work.”

“Yes, sir, Dr. Rydel, sir,” Cappie said, saluting him.

He made a face at her. Then he grinned.

She grinned back, turning back to her coworker behind the counter. “Who’s next, Keely?”

“Mrs. Anderson and her Chihuahua. Got the chart right here.”

Cappie took it from her and went out into the waiting room, which was full. Her eyes were bright with happiness as she exchanged a glance with her handsome husband, just before he went into the back to examine a surgical patient. She felt as if she could walk on air.

“Okay, Mrs. Anderson,” she told an elderly little woman with a smile. “If you’ll bring Tweedle on back, we’ll get Dr. Rydel to take a look at his bruised paw.”

“He’s a very nice doctor,” the little woman told Cappie. “You’re a lucky young woman!”

“Yes, you are!” Bentley called from the back. “Not every woman gets a husband who’s as accomplished and modest as I am! You should be proud of yourself!”

“I am, dear, and how do you like your potatoes…burned or charbroiled?”

There was a pause. “Not every husband gets a wife as accomplished and modest as you are, dear!” he called back.

She chuckled. “Now that will get you a nice scalloped potato dish and a beautifully cooked pot roast!”

An amused Mrs. Anderson wiggled her eyebrows at Cappie as she followed her to a treatment room. Cappie just grinned.