Baby for the Billionaire - By Maxine Sullivan Page 0,81

and lunged at Jack, felling him with one blow. Unfortunately, his hands were still anchored in Annalise’s hair. She tumbled onto the grass beside him, in a tangled heap of silk and lace. Isabella launched herself at Madam, attempting to pull the dog off them. It was like watching a kitten attempt to subdue a moose. She ended up riding Madam like a pony, her bonnet turned half sideways, her dainty skirts hitched to her knees.

Beside him he felt Annalise’s shoulders tremble and a muffled sound escaped, something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Are you hurt?” He tried to find her through all the lace, satin and tulle. “Sweetheart, please don’t cry. It’ll be all right.”

She managed to push aside her veil and a heavy swath of curls, revealing eyes swimming with tears. But they weren’t tears of sorrow or anger. She tilted back her head and burst out laughing. His mouth twitched. And then he was laughing, too.

“So much for a traditional, elegant affair,” he muttered.

“Considering ours isn’t exactly a traditional family to begin with, it seems quite appropriate to me.” Annalise attempted to twitch her skirts into place, skirts that had ridden up high enough to reveal—Lord preserve his sanity—a tantalizing glimpse of a sexy lace garter and a hint of creamy thigh. “And, I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not really cut out for elegant.”

Jack leaned in and kissed her, a brief, thorough kiss that left her cheeks glowing and her eyes sparkling. “Do I look disappointed?” He shoved at the dog. “You two are now officially forbidden from sneaking Madam any more treats. She’s getting so fat, she’s practically waddling. And as for you two—” He shot his friends a glare that only served to increase their amusement. “Thanks for your help.”

Derek offered a broad grin. “Anytime.”

“My pleasure,” Taye added.

Jack gained his feet and helped his bride to hers. With one stern command, he had Isabella removed from Madam’s back and the dog sitting calmly at his heels. The photographer stepped forward.

“Would you like a few formal shots?” His mouth twitched. “I think all the informal poses are covered.”

“But we’re a mess,” Annalise protested.

Jack shook his head. “You look beautiful.”

Her amusement faded, replaced by concern. “You wanted this to look good,” she explained in a low voice. “I know how important it is.”

“It’ll be fine. Here, just a few minor adjustments …”

Gravely, he finger-combed her unruly curls into a semblance of order—but not too orderly. He liked how they rampaged down her back in exuberant disregard. Then he centered the circlet on her brow and straightened her veil. He brushed the bits of grass and debris from her skirts and then nodded in satisfaction.

Isabella tugged at the tails of his tux and regarded him with a worried expression. “Your turn?” he asked gently.

At her solemn nod, he adjusted her bonnet, retying the ribbon beneath her dainty chin. He took his time removing every blade of grass from her skirts and then turned her in a slow circle. He nodded in satisfaction.

“Picture perfect,” he said approvingly.

He winked at Annalise, surprised to see tears in her eyes again. This time they weren’t from joy. There was bittersweet quality to her expression. Forcing a smile to her lips, she stepped forward to join them. The next half hour passed in a flurry of camera shots, some with Madam, some without. By the time they were finished, afternoon had faded into evening. Taye and Derek made their farewells, shaking Jack’s hand with impressive formality, and kissing the bride with far too much enthusiasm.

“What next?” Annalise asked, once they were alone. She attempted to hide her nervousness with only limited success.

“Sara’s prepared a formal dinner for us. I didn’t think it wise to go to a hotel in case Isabella has a problem, so we’ll be staying here. I’ve arranged for Mrs. Walters, just in case.”

“Oh.” To his intense fascination, color came and went in Annalise’s face. “Is that really necessary?”

He held her gaze with his. “Without question.”

She spared a brief glance in Isabella’s direction. His niece was sitting beneath the tree with her Nancy doll. Madam hovered nearby. “I assumed my room would be adjacent to Isabella’s and we wouldn’t need Mrs. Walters any longer. After all, that’s why I’m here.”

“You’re my wife now. You’ll share my room.”

Alarm flared to life. “Jack, this isn’t a real marriage,” she whispered. “We shouldn’t be sharing a bedroom.”

“This is a real marriage and we will share a bedroom and a bed.”