she told them she’d ordered it in cream. Damn her bridal shop.
“I am indeed a pervert, but I’m merely pointing out it’s easier to dance with proper footwear.”
“Ooh, dancing. Didn’t we do enough of that downstairs?”
“It’s not possible to do enough dancing, baby.”
Caroline reached over to help him with his tie. “Does it bother you that I’m keeping my name? I didn’t change it last time, either.”
“I know,” he said.
“I bet bloggers will be all over the analysis of that one,” she said. “Particularly the conservatives.”
“I don’t care. Doesn’t matter what your name is. Now you’re my wife and I can do whatever I want to your body, Ms. Gerard.”
“You did that before we were married.”
“But now I’m contractually allowed to do it.”
“You might need a little refresher on American law regarding marital relations,” Caroline said. “And I have no problem using your name socially. I’ve just always felt odd about the term ‘Mrs.’ I can’t explain why. It sounds matronly.”
“Boarding school matron matronly, or old dowager matronly?”
“A little of both. Maybe more Ann-Margret in Prison movie matronly.”
“There are all sorts of kinky possibilities that could stem from that statement,” Jack said, sliding a hand under her dress.
“Monty, you’re so wicked.”
“You know you love it, Mrs. McIntyre. That’s right. I’m calling you that whether you like it or not.”
“Monty and Mrs. McIntyre. That sounds more like a lighthearted nighttime serial than a porno.”
“I’ve worked out several seasons of storyline.”
“I bet you have.”
Jack stood up and took her hand. “Are you going to dance with me, or what?”
Caroline got to her feet. “Of course.”
He led her toward the center of the room. It was a giant suite with a decent amount of furniture, but had a clear space suitable for dancing.
“Close your eyes,” he said. “That’s an order from your husband.”
She laughed and shut her eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“I like the sound of that,” Jack whispered, his demeanor changing. He leaned in to nip at her neck. “I want you to say it more often. But I’m not ready to capitalize on it just yet.”
Filthy, dirty man. But he was right. It wasn’t time to be naughty. Not with serious dancing business to be had.
He broke their connection for the briefest of moments, and the room soon filled with music. Caroline recognized it immediately. One of her guilty pleasures. She had many: Jack Jones’ “Wives and Lovers,” “Sixteen Going on Seventeen” from The Sound of Music, “Hello” by Lionel Richie (her favorite stalker song), and the selection currently playing, “Someone to Watch Over Me.” She smiled as Jack came over to take her in his arms.
“I know you prefer Ella Fitzgerald’s version of this song the best.” He started to guide her across the floor. “You can open your eyes now.”
She was quite content to keep them shut and lean in, but opened them anyway to find him smiling at her.
“Do you know how happy you make me?” he asked.
Caroline kissed him lightly. “I have a vague idea. How does it feel being married?”
“The first few hours have gone exceedingly well,” Jack said. “I love you, Mrs. McIntyre.”
“And I love you.” She kissed him again. “This lost lamb is completely yours.” She rested her chin on his shoulder as their dancing slowed. “Did you reapply your cologne?”
“I put the bottle next to the iPod. I know it’s one of the fastest ways to get into your pants.”
“You don’t need cologne for that. Although it helps.”
Jack let go of her hand and stopped moving, gently stroking her face. “I will always take care of you,” he said. “Always. Even when you don’t want me to.”
Caroline had done a good job of avoiding too many tears during the day, but she was exhausted. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could control her emotions. “I know.” She swallowed hard. “You saved me, Jack. Me and the girls. I don’t know where we’d be without you.”
“You saved me too.” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s call it a draw.”
She swayed back into him, listening to the song. “I know you’ll watch over me. My shepherd.”
Jack wrapped his arms around her again. “You’re a sucker for these old standards, aren’t you?”
Caroline laughed through her now unavoidable tears. “Don’t tell anyone.”
He brushed the tears away. “Every day I thank God he brought you to me. Every. Day.”
“I’ll always be good,” she whispered. “Just for you.”
Jack chuckled. “You take these lyrics too seriously, sweetheart. You’re getting all sappy on me.”