What I Did for Love

“My surprise,” he whispered against her hair. “I wanted our wedding night to be on a boat. To make up for the first time.”

She smiled. “You did that long ago.”

Their guests saw them off with a shower of organic brown rice Meg had brought along. As they rode out to the yacht, Bram held his wife tight. He wanted their wedding night to be perfect. Lance had given her a carriage with six white horses, and Bram couldn’t stand the idea of falling short.

As soon as they were on board, he led her through the quiet ship to the largest stateroom. “Welcome to your honeymoon, my love.”

“Oh, Bram…”

Everything was just as he’d arranged. White pillar candles nesting inside hurricane shades cast a shimmering light across the warm wooden paneling and luxurious carpets. “It’s beautiful…,” she said in a way that convinced him she’d forgotten all about the carriage and horses. “I love it. I love you.” Her gaze moved past him to the bed, and she burst out laughing. “Are those rose petals scattered on the sheets?”

He smiled against her skin. “Too much?”

“Way too much.” She threw her arms around him. “I love it!”

He undressed her slowly, kissing all that he uncovered: the curve of her shoulder, the swell of her breast. He went to his knees and kissed her belly, her thighs, knowing he was the luckiest man on earth. She undressed him just as slowly, and when he couldn’t endure it any longer, he drew her to the bed, and the rose petal sheets.

Which had seemed like a good idea, but…

He pulled a petal from his mouth. “These suckers are everywhere.”

“I’ll say. Even here.” She eased open her thighs. “Do something about it, will you?”

So maybe the rose petals weren’t such a bad idea after all.

The boat rocked beneath them. They made love again and again, cocooned in their private, sensual world, vowing with their bodies everything they’d promised with their words.

The next morning, he awakened first and simply lay there, with his wife cradled in his arms, breathing in her scent, giving thanks…and thinking about Skip Scofield. You’re going to need to help me out, pal. I don’t have as much practice being a sensitive guy as you do.

You could start by losing the sarcasm, Skip replied.

Georgie wouldn’t recognize me.

At least pick your moments.

That he could do. Georgie nestled closer, and he curled his hand over her hip. I’m finally one up on you, Skipper. There you are, stuck forever with little Scooter Brown. And here I am… He kissed his wife’s soft hair. Here I am with Georgie York.

She finally stirred, but she wouldn’t let him kiss her until she’d brushed her teeth. As she stepped naked out of the bathroom, he took in a withered rose petal clinging to her nipple and held out his hand. “Come here, wife,” he said softly. “Let’s get you pregnant.”

She shocked him by waving him off. “Later.”

He eased up against the pillows and eyed her warily as she pulled her video camera from one of the suitcases delivered to the yacht. “Chaz warned me about this,” he said.

She smiled and positioned herself at the footboard of the bed so she was facing him. The morning sun sliding through the portholes buttered her dark hair. He leaned against the pillows and watched her raise the camera.

“Start at the beginning,” she said. “Tell me everything you love about your wife.”

He could see that she was teasing him, but he wasn’t playing her game. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard, cradled her foot in his hand, and did exactly as she asked.

Epilogue

Iris York Shepard was as unhappy as a four-year-old could be. She stood in the middle of her backyard, with her arms crossed over her flat chest, her small foot tapping ominously in the grass, a scowl stretched across her adorable little lopsided face. Iris didn’t like it when the attention shifted too far from herself, and even her adoring grandparents had moved away to talk to Uncle Trev.

Bram spotted his daughter from the veranda and grinned. He had a fairly good idea what was coming. So did Georgie, who’d noticed Iris’s mutinous expression from the other side of the yard, where she was chasing their toddler son. “Do something,” she called out over the heads of their guests.

He thought about it. He could sweep Iris up in his arms and tickle her, or swing her upside down from her heels, which she loved, or even have a little talk with her-something he was getting surprisingly good at-but he didn’t. It was more fun to let events take their natural course.

Twenty-five of Bram and Georgie’s closest friends had been invited to their annual backyard anniversary party, this one marking five years since their beachfront wedding. So much had happened in those years. Tree House had been a modest hit with audiences and a monster hit with critics, which had led to half a dozen juicy acting roles for him. Then, with Rory’s backing, he’d produced his own screenplay. Audiences had loved it, and his career was set.

As for Georgie…She was still interpreting the world through her camera lens and doing a damned fine job of it. Each of her three documentaries was better than the last, and she was starting to pile up some major awards. But as much as they both loved their work, not even filmmaking gave them as much joy as their family.

Chaz began weaving her way through the crowd. As Bram took in her shiny dark bob, cherry red sundress, and silver sandals, he could barely remember the desperate girl he’d picked up outside that bar so many years ago. Even the angry young woman who used to rule his kitchen had mellowed. Not that Chaz had lost her sass-she and Georgie could still go at it-but they were all family now-he and Georgie and their kids; Chaz and Aaron; and, of course, Paul and Laura, who’d gotten married in this very backyard.

Their wedding had been Chaz’s first job after culinary school. Instead of working at a high-end restaurant as she’d always planned, she’d surprised them by deciding to open a catering business. “I like being in people’s homes” was how she’d explained it.

She stopped next to him. “Iris is getting ready to lose it. You’d better do something fast.”

“Or I could just stand here and watch her drive Georgie crazy.” He sampled a canape and gestured toward the pool area, where Georgie’s former P.A. was engaged in an earnest discussion with April and Jack Patriot. “When are you going to put Lover Boy out of his misery and marry him?”

“After he’s made his second million.”

“I hate to break the news, but I think he’s already done that.” Aaron had started his own video game company and hit it big with a game called Force Alpha Zebra. With his toned physique, air of command, and surprising emergence as something of a male fashionista, he’d changed even more than Chaz. Bram grabbed another canape. “It took the two of you long enough to figure out you were in love.”

“I had some growing up to do.” Her eyes softened as she gazed at Aaron. “I’ll marry him one of these days, but for now, I’m having too much fun keeping him on his toes.”

Paul finally spotted his unhappy granddaughter and broke away from his wife, but he was too late. Iris had already chosen her table, a wrought-iron one located in the exact center of the crowded backyard, and begun to climb on top.

“Iris!” Georgie tried to move, but a swing set and their wriggling son kept her trapped. “Iris! Get down.”

Iris pretended not to hear. Instead, she carefully stepped around someone’s discarded drink, threw her arms wide, and addressed the crowd in a commanding voice far too big to come from such a small body. “Listen to me, everybody! I’m going to sing!”

Aaron put his fingers to his lips and whistled. “You go, Iris!”

Skirting the crowd, Bram made his way to Georgie’s side and took their son from her just as Iris opened her tiny mouth and let the music rip. By the time she reached the first chorus of her vigorous and tuneful rendition of the opening number from Annie, neither Bram nor Georgie had the heart to pull her down.

“What are we going to do with her?” Georgie said on a sigh.