intimate than all the kisses she had received. Then with a flash of insight, she knew. 'The gold piece.'
Lorraine smiled, pleased. 'Told you about that, did he? Well, he's a good boy…more or less.' A straight, no- nonsense brow lifted. 'And he won't bully you, will he?'
With a grin, Brooke shook her head. 'No, ma'am, he won't.'
Lorraine nodded, giving Brooke's hand a quick pat. 'Good. I'll expect a visit in six months. It takes a couple that long to work out the first kinks. Now, if I were you, I'd get my husband and sneak out of this rabble.' With this advice, she strode away. Brooke had her first twinge of genuine kinship.
Even so, it seemed like hours before they could slip away. Brooke had intended to steal back upstairs and change, but Parks had seen his opportunity and had pulled her outside, bundled her into his car and driven off. Now he stopped the car in the driveway of the A-frame and sighed.
'We made it.'
'It was rude,' Brooke mused. 'Yeah.'
'And very smart.' Leaning over, she kissed him. 'Especially since you managed to cop a bottle of champagne on the way.'
'Quick hands,' he explained as he stepped from the car.
Brooke chuckled, but felt a fresh ripple of unease as they walked up the path. Parks's hand was closed over hers. She could feel the slight, unfamiliar pressure of her wedding ring against her skin. 'One problem,' she began, pushing the feeling aside. 'You dragged me out of there without my purse.' She glanced at the door, then back at Parks. 'No keys.' Parks reached in his pocket and drew out his own.
A faint frown creased her brow as she remembered he had a key to the door now. A key to her life. Though he noticed her reaction, Parks said nothing, only slipping the key into the lock. It opened silently. He swept her up into his arms, and with her laughter, the subtle disharmony was forgotten.
'I hadn't realized you were such a traditionalist,' Brooke murmured, nuzzling at his neck, 'but…' She trailed off at the sound of high, sharp yapping. Astonished, she looked down to see a small brown dog with a black muzzle racing around Parks's feet, making occasional dives for his ankles. 'What's that?' she managed.
'Your wedding present.' With his toe, he nudged the puppy, sending him rolling over on his back. 'Homely enough?'
Brooke stared down at the pushed-in mongrel face. 'Oh, Parks,' she whispered, close to tears. 'You fool.'
'E.J. should've dropped him off about an hour ago, if he was on schedule. Guy at the pound thought I was crazy when I told him I wanted something down-to-the-ground homely.'
'Oh, I love you!' Brooke squeezed his neck fiercely then wriggled out of his arms. In her satin wedding dress, she knelt on the floor to play with the puppy. She looked young, Parks thought, too young, as she buried her face in the little dog's fur. Why would he constantly expose her vulnerabilities then be uncertain how to handle them? There was so much sweetness in her, and yet, was he somehow more comfortable with the vinegar she could serve him? It was the mix, Parks thought as he knelt to join her, the fascinating mix he couldn't resist.
'Our first child.' Brooke chuckled when the puppy lay in exhausted slumber on the rug.
'He has your nose.'
'And your feet,' she retorted. 'He's going to be enormous from the size of them.'
'Maybe you can cast him in a few dog food commercials,' he commented as he drew Brooke to her feet. Gently he kissed her cheek, then trailed his lips over her chin to the other one. He felt the sudden tremble of her breath on his skin. ' Champagne 's getting warm,' he murmured.
'I'm not thirsty.'
He was leading her slowly toward the stairs, still planting those soft, whispering kisses over her face on the journey, leaving her lips-her heating, seeking lips-subtly tormented. And they started to climb the stairs, without rush or hurry, while Parks began unfastening that long range of tiny buttons.
'How many are there?' he murmured against her mouth.
'Dozens,' Brooke answered, loosening his tie as they reached the halfway point.
His fingers were nimble. Before they reached the door of the bedroom, he had the gown loosened to her waist. Brooke pushed the jacket from his shoulder, and with her teeth nipping at his neck, tugged his shirt from the waistband of his pants.
'Are you ever going to kiss me?' she demanded breathlessly.
'Mm-hmm.' But he only drove her mad by running his lips over her shoulder as he nudged the satin aside. Then he drew it from her, running his hands slowly down her body until the material was only a pool of white at her feet. He toyed with the bits of lace she wore, tiny, filmy wisps designed to torment men. And even as they tormented him, Parks fought for control. There was always that last struggle for control before he found he was lost in her.
Her fingers slid down his naked ribs to brush over his stomach before she found the hook to his trousers. She heard his quick, indrawn breath before his hands became more demanding. Needing, wanting, she pulled him with her onto the bed.
Why should there be such desperation when they were now so securely bound to each other? Though neither of them understood it, they both felt it. The urgency to touch, taste. To possess. Gentleness was abandoned while hungry, primitive passion took its place. The teasing kisses stopped with a hard, burning pressure of mouth on mouth. Her hands sought, as skillfully as his, to find weaknesses. Every moan brought a fresh thrill of arousal, each sigh an increase of tortuous desire until neither knew if the sounds were from pleasure or desperation. And both refused to succumb to the fire.
He found her breast taut and firm. Greedily, his mouth sought it, sending a tearing thread of delight into the core of her. Even as she moaned in surrender, her hands pressed him closer, her body moving sinuously under his until he was lost in the taste of her.
Flesh heated against flesh. The pace quickened. Faster, faster until they were breathless and clinging but still not ready to yield. She ran her hands over his damp back, over the roping of muscles that accented his superior strength. But physical strength meant nothing in the inescapable quicksand of passion. They were both trapped in it, both equally incapable of freeing themselves.
With sudden strength, she shifted, so that they were tangled together, side by side. Her mouth fastened on his, devouring as eagerly as she was devoured, taking as mindlessly as she was taken. Her hair fell over them, curtaining their faces so that Parks couldn't breathe without breathing her. If he had been capable of thought, he might have imagined himself absorbed by her. But there was no thought for either of them, and the need had grown too great to be resisted.
She went willingly when he shifted her, drawing his mouth down to hers even as he entered her with something close to violence. Then there was only speed and heat, driving them beyond everything but each other.
'Should I need you more each time?' Brooke wondered aloud.
'Mmm.' Parks didn't want, to move from the warm comfort of her body. It yielded under his, pressed deep into the mattress. 'Just don't stop.' It was dusk. The light filtering through the windows was soft-and soon it would be night. Her wedding night. Yet she still felt only like a lover. How would it be to feel like a wife? Lifting her hand, she stared at the band on her finger. It was encrusted with diamonds and sapphires that glowed softly in the room's twilight. 'I don't want it to be different tomorrow,' she thought aloud. 'I don't want it to change.'
Parks raised his head. 'Everything changes. You'll get mad if I use all the hot water for my shower. I'll get mad if you've drunk the last of the coffee.' Brooke laughed. 'You have a way of simplifying things.'
'Those are the nuts and bolts of a relationship, Mrs. Jones,' he claimed and kissed her.
The eyes that had begun to close for the kiss opened wide. 'Jones,' she repeated. 'I'd forgotten about that part of it.' She considered for a minute.
''It makes me think of your mother… though of course she was very nice.'
Parks gave a muffled chuckle. 'Don't worry. Just remember she lives three hundred miles away.' Brooke rolled over until she lay on top of him. 'You have a very nice family.'
'Yeah, and we don't want to get tangled up with them any more than we have to.'
'Well…' Brooke laid her head on his chest. 'No.
At least not too soon,' she added, thinking of his aunt. She relaxed again as he began to lazily stroke her hair. 'Parks?'
