What the Heart Wants (27 page)

Hugo barked from behind her, and Laurel realized Sarah had followed her outside.

Jase followed after her. “Laurel, can we talk inside?”

She stopped and turned on him. “No, anything you have to say, you can say right here!”

The cabdriver stepped forward. “Need me to call the cops, lady?”

“Don't you dare!” Sarah yelled, advancing toward him. “Let them work this out for themselves! Put that cell phone away, or I'll sic Killer Dog here on you!” She snapped Hugo's leash, and he growled.

Jase reached for her hand.

“Let go of me, you—you Neanderthal!”

But he reeled her in, and his voice dropped into a whisper as he leaned close to her ear. “That wasn't what you told me to do when we were rolling around on the front room floor.”

She tried to keep her voice steady. “Biggest mistake of my life.”

“Laurel, I'm begging you to listen.” He loosened his hold. “I was an ass. I admit it. I think I was in shock after that night at the Bosque Club. It took me a while to process everything, but I finally got it all together when we were in San Antonio. It's like what I told Lolly—your father, my father—good or bad—they don't matter. You and I are what matter. Love
is
enough—that's what it's all about, and I'm lucky enough to love the most wonderful person on the face of the earth.”

“Look, folks,” the cabdriver called out. “I don't know what's going on here, but I'm charging you for every minute that car's blocking the driveway.”

Jase turned on him. “You'll get your money! I'm not done yet!”

His eyes clouded as he turned back to Laurel. “I apologize for not keeping in touch, but it's been a hard couple of days. Lolly held out till we got home, then went to pieces. She's going through some pretty intensive therapy right now, and I have to be part of it. The next afternoon, Marguerite died, and I grabbed a red-eye to San Antonio to help Nyquist with the funeral arrangements—he was a basket case. When I got home the next day, Maxie was sick with the flu. The office hasn't seen me in four days, and I may be contagious even now.”

Laurel gasped. “Is Maxie okay?”

He nodded. “Her fever is down, and Lolly is mother-henning her under the supervision of a nurse who must have been an army general in her past life.”

He took her hands in his. “I love you, Laurel, and I want you to be my wife and Lolly's mother, to make a home together. I was hoping to roll down the highway in a gilded coach pulled by eight white horses to claim the hand of the princess of Bosque Bend, but I had Craig keeping an eye on you for me, and when he told me you were heading out, I realized I'd waited too long. Instead of Prince Charming, you've got Jase Redlander, who drove down I-35 like a bat outa hell because he didn't want to lose his last chance with you—although, to tell the truth, I would never have given up. If you'd made it to Brownsville, I'd have been right behind you.”

The cabdriver stepped forward. “Hey guys, I'm behind schedule.”

Sarah and Hugo advanced toward him across the yard. The cabbie scrambled into his car and locked the doors.

Laurel gave Jase a considering look. Her voice was quiet. “Jase, I've signed a contract with the Brownsville School District. Besides, now that everything is on the table, I think you and I need to get reacquainted with each other. For now, pay off the cabbie, drive me to the airport, wish me well, then visit me in Brownsville when you can. We'll take it from there.”

After a long, appraising look, he raised her hand to his lips and pressed his lips against her palm. “Agreed.”

S
he'd accepted his ring at Christmas. Now, a full year after Jase had shown up at her front door searching for his missing daughter, she stood inside the glass patio door of his sprawling, single-story home in North Plano, bouquet at the ready, waiting for her cue to walk out onto the patio and down the crushed granite path across the lawn to the pavilion Maxie had arranged to be erected beside the pool.

Jase's house was full of modern luxury—the ultrahigh ceilings, the newness of everything—and she reveled in it. No stern grandparents governed her from the stairway walls. No heavy mahogany furniture demanded its monthly polish. She was
free, free, free…

And what she chose to do with that freedom was love Jason Redlander with her whole heart.

She reached up a hand to be sure that the strong-scented lilies Lolly had woven into her elaborate chignon were still secure, then smoothed the skirt of her gown. The lustrous silk was gathered at each shoulder, then crossed down to an intricate inset waistband, below which it had been wrapped and draped to the side to continue the Grecian-style line of the bodice. Gramma's pearl necklace was looped four times around her neck, and long, ornate pearl earrings dangled from her lobes. They'd belonged to one of her wild great-aunts, she seemed to remember.

Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.
The earrings were old, the dress new, the necklace borrowed, and the “blue” was her lacy garter, supplied by Sarah, who'd driven up from Austin that morning.

She glanced over at her honor attendants. Sarah was stunning in a brilliant green creation with an asymmetrical neckline, while Maxie had chosen an aqua-beaded outfit, and Lolly was prancing around on frighteningly high heels in a purple minidress she'd picked up in a high-priced teen boutique. It was cute, stylish, and very short. Jase disapproved of it, which was probably why Lolly had chosen it.

Sarah peeked through the drapes. “Jase is walking through the crowd, chatting everyone up,” she reported. “God, Laurel, he should wear a tux every day of the week. That man is gor-gee-ous!”

Lolly joined her at the window, pressing her nose against the glass. “They're all sitting down at the tables now, and Dad's finally stopped glad-handing. He's making for the pavilion. I think I see Pastor Richter and Uncle Doug too.”

The opening chords of the wedding march sounded, and Maxie picked up her bouquet, slid the glass door open, and stepped outside. Lolly and Sarah followed her at ten-second intervals.

Laurel stepped out onto the patio, her heart beating so loudly that it set up a jarring counterrhythm to Wagner's wedding march. Blood sang in her ears. This was it. She moved down the path between the pool and the flotilla of tables set out on the lawn. Thank goodness Maxie had arranged to board Hugo and her elderly dachshund for a couple of nights. Sir Frederick was more of a sedentary kind, but Hugo would have had a field day with all those helium-filled silver balloons bobbing from the backs of the chairs.

Sarah took her bouquet, and Jase walked forward to join her in front of the pastor. Bless Jase for arranging for Maxie's minister to perform the ceremony. Laurel knew she'd never have felt truly married in a civil ceremony. And Jase knew that too.

Once the pictures had been taken and the marriage license signed off on, the party began. The caterer's crew popped open champagne bottles, lifted the lids off bins of food on the long tables, and set up a serving line. Loosening his bow tie and unbuttoning his jacket, Jase led Laurel into the thick of the crowd.

The first person he introduced her to was his best man, who'd arrived at the house from Austin a scant fifteen minutes before the ceremony. Laurel had seen Doug Shumate on television and knew he was a powerhouse politician, but up close and personal, his charisma was overwhelming.

“It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Laurel,” he announced in a mellifluous baritone as he took her hand. His eyes twinkled, and his teeth gleamed, and his brown hair caught gold highlights from the setting sun. “Known Jase for ages.”

She couldn't help but back up a little.

A snappy brunette nudged him in the ribs. “You're scaring her, Doug. Turn it down a notch.”

He laughed and reached over to give the woman a brief hug. “You always know how to bring me back to earth, Connie. If you ever want to leave Jase, there's always a place in my office.”

Then came the deluge, everyone trying to talk to her at once. Most of their guests—Jase's politician friends, business associates, and longtime employees—were strangers to her, but she was happy to see that Ray Espinoza, Art Sawyer, Mrs. Bridges, Craig Freiberg, and Rafe McAllister had been able to make it.

Ray reported that he had arranged for a large, splashy wedding announcement in the
Retriever
, and Art made a big ceremony out of handing over an engraved silver bowl from the city council. Before Marilyn Bridges left, she got Laurel aside and presented her with a subscription to the Dallas Symphony Orchestra and a congratulatory card signed by everyone on the block, even the Carrolls. And Jase opened an envelope from the Bosque Bend Museum committee certifying that Rafe McAllister and Craig Freiberg had contributed a ten-by-ten block of pavers to be inscribed with the names of Jason and Laurel Kinkaid Redlander.

To top it off, Pendleton Swaim, uninvited, had FedExed them a Kinkaid genealogy.

As the evening deepened, the guests wandered around the pool with cake plates and champagne glasses in hand.

Sarah was among the first to leave. “I've got to make it back to Austin tonight because Keith has surgery tomorrow morning,” she explained. “I wish I'd been here in time to arrange a bachelorette party—you know, maybe a visit to a male strip club for comparison purposes.” She winked at Laurel, giggled, and saluted Jase with a flute of champagne.

Another hour, and all the guests had gone. Jase and Laurel remained outside even after the caterers had packed up, Maxie and Lolly had left, and the outside spotlights were dimmed. Resting her eyes on the dark woods beyond the yard, Laurel leaned back against her husband and breathed in the silence and the starlit night. His arms embraced her shoulders, warming her in the cool night breeze.

It was full dark now. The smell of honeysuckle was on the heavy summer air, votive candles in silver dishes floated aimlessly in the pool like enchanted lotuses, and the helium balloons glistened in the moonlight. Further back, she could see the silver-bowed hurricane lamps that marked the edge of the turf to warn guests away from the dangers beyond, and above the lamps, thousands of tiny lights strung in the wide-armed oaks extended the horizon into the stars.

She could almost pretend they were lovers from long ago, united at last on some supernatural plane of existence. In a way, that was true. So many years lay between them, years of pain and denial. Years that they had the rest of their lives to make up for.

Jase bent his head to her ear. “I love you, Laurel Elizabeth. I love you and always will.”

The oaks rustled in the distance, and the lights hanging from their branches shimmered like a million fireflies.

“And I love you, Jason Redlander—forever and ever.”

Laurel was totally sated and totally exhausted. Her libido was all used up. They'd taken the edge off with a quickie on the family room couch as soon as they'd gotten back to the house, and then there'd been a couple of replays once they reached the bedroom. Good thing they'd packed their bags early for the Disney World honeymoon.

She glanced over Jase's shoulder at the genealogy chart he'd picked up from his nightstand. “What about that Pen Swaim thing? Do you think you and I really are distant cousins?

“Could be. Swaim lays out a good plot for the book he's working on now. An outlaw gang attacks your Auntie Barbara and her architect as they're eloping. Snake-oil salesman Asa Redlander scares the bad guys off before they kill her like they did her lover. Asa's squaw nurses Barbara back to health—except for the brain damage, of course—and six months later, Barbara gives birth to a full-term baby girl who grows up to marry Asa's son when she's old enough—or maybe when she isn't, judging by the number of generations the Redlanders managed to squeeze into one hundred and thirty years.”

He replaced the chart on the nightstand, and Laurel felt the mattress sink beside her as he leaned over to caress her bare belly. She moved her arm to give him better access, but didn't have the energy to respond to his gentle touch.

He ran his fingers back and forth across the pearls that looped around her neck and down her body.

Laurel tilted her head in consideration. “The weird thing is that Pen saw some woman on that TV antiques show who had traced her family history back to the jade pendant, but couldn't go any further. Her got in touch with her and worked everything else out.”

Jase's hand followed the path of the necklace down the valley between Laurel's breasts. “Jade is okay, but I prefer pearls.”

Her shoes had come off on the way to the bedroom, the lilies Lolly had woven into her hair were now crushed beneath them on the sheets, and her beautiful wedding dress was now just an ivory heap beside the bed. But the pearls—the long necklace and the heavy antique earrings—had remained.

Jase lifted the rope and started winding it in a lazy circle around her right breast. He was playing with the pearls, she realized, decorating her breast.

His voice deepened. “Tell you what, babe. You'll never want to give these sweet beads back to Lolly when I'm through with them.”

Laurel watched him maneuver a second row within the first, but she was too tired to react. “They're hers, Jase. I just borrowed them back for the wedding.”

“We'll see.” He circled her breast one more time, then another.

Laurel took a deep gulp of breath when the edge of his thumbnail touched her nipple. “I'm glad Doug was able to make it to the wedding. It was n-nice to meet him.”

Jase smiled at the stutter in her voice.
Good.
But he wanted more than awareness from her. He wanted her burning hot.

He twisted the rope and moved to her left breast, laying down a careful first row. “Nearest thing I have to a brother.”

Laurel's head was swimming. The familiar heat was racing through her veins. Jase carrying on a seminormal conversation with her while he wrapped her breasts in pearls was incredibly erotic, like a French movie she'd seen, where the heroine's sophisticated lover paused a couple of times for a puff on a cigarette while he was making love to her.

He ringed her breast again, and she could feel her passion rekindling with each pearl he nudged into place. She tried to rise, but he pressed gently down on her shoulder.

His voice was guttural. “Not yet. Artist at work.” He circled Laurel's tightening nipple a third time, then draped the last of the pearls down to her stomach.

Damn, she is beautiful, like a pagan love goddess.
He gazed at her for one long moment, at her pale, luminescent skin, her gray eyes turned to smoky slate, her swollen lips, the long strand of beads, the barbaric pearl earrings. He swallowed hard and his eyes narrowed. Taking her face in his palms, he covered it with soft, tender kisses, working his way down across her throat to her beaded breasts, sucking first one turgid nipple, then the other until they gleamed with moisture.

Laurel gasped as the air-conditioning hit her warm, wet nipples, slamming her sex drive into high gear. Her breath came in quick, shallow pants. She was on fire.

“
Jase
…” Her voice was a feverish whisper. She grabbed at his arms, to pull him closer, but he pressed on her shoulder again.

“Not yet, baby. Trust me.”

He unwound the pearls one round at a time, rolling them against her tender skin, then let them fall in a loose line down toward her belly.

“
Jase
…” Her voice was thready. She couldn't keep up her end of the conversation. She didn't even remember what they'd been talking about.

His hand pressed against her shoulder yet again.

“Not yet,” he repeated.

He moved the line of pearls down to the darkness at the juncture of her legs. A rush of desire rang in her ears and thudded along her veins. “
Now
, Jase, I'm ready! Now! Now! Now!”

His voice was a soft whisper. “That's the idea, baby.” He separated her weeping folds with one hand and lifted a single shining pearl with the other. “This is for you, Laurel, only for you.”

He moved the bead against her, pearl on pearl until, with a high-pitched, sobbing cry, she spasmed into his waiting arms.

Then, with the hard line of the pearls still rolling between them, he entered her.

And they were one.