tips of her lips moved upward as she noticed his jeans. They were the ones he had worn when they left the reception. It seemed they were both wearing what the other preferred—he in his jeans, and her out of hers. She snuggled into the soft blanket and closed her eyes.
The engines hummed as she felt the plane taxi toward its stop. Claire recalled the past twenty-four hours. Tony was right. Brad and Monica created the perfect ceremony and reception. She remembered the estate and decorations. Even the snow obeyed as if requisitioned to complement the final product. She thought about their friends, her family, and the guests. She recalled John’s kind words and Brent’s welcoming toast. Smiling, she remembered Tony, incredibly handsome in his tuxedo and incessantly complimentary of her and her gown. Cinderella at the ball couldn’t have felt more special. Like Prince Charming he only had eyes for his bride. That admiration continued onto the jet. Once the cockpit door closed and the lights dimmed, his devotion grew into fervent passion.
Suddenly, she realized the implication of her blanket. If they’d reached their destination she needed to dress and quickly. “Are we at our honeymoon?”
He turned from his computer and smiled. “You didn’t need to wake. You look so beautiful and peaceful.”
Keeping the blanket wrapped around her, she went to him and knelt beside his chair. “I think I was worn-out.” Her emerald eyes glowed as she put her arms around his exposed midsection. Looking into his milk chocolate eyes, feeling his warmth, and inhaling his scent, she thought to herself, He is really my husband.
Tony’s eyes met hers, then scanned toward her blanket. Smiling, he said, “It was a busy day, Mrs. Rawlings.” The Mrs. Rawlings made Claire’s eyes sparkle. He gently kissed his wife and playfully attempted to see under her blanket.
“And an eventful night, Mr. Rawlings.”
“It isn’t over. We are just stopping in LA to refuel. We have much more flying before we reach our destination.”
This made Claire think. “So are we going to Hawaii?”
“Would you like to go to Hawaii?” Claire said she would, she’d never been. He loved to make her squirm “Well, we will have to find out where we end up, won’t we?” He kissed her again.
The plane was now standing still. Eric and the pilot entered the cabin and bid hello to Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings. Apologizing for the interruption, they promised to be airborne in less than thirty minutes. Tony told them it was fine, just please do whatever was necessary as soon as possible. They had a honeymoon to get to. The two men promised they would and opened the outside door to the cabin. The rush of fresh air was no longer cold. They definitely weren’t in Iowa.
Tony placed the laptop on the floor and invited Claire to his lap. She climbed up, resting her head on his strong chest and listened to the beat of his heart as he spoke about Los Angeles. His hands tenderly explored under her blanket, gently caressing her soft skin. Had she ever been there? She said no, she’d been to northern California, San Francisco when she was young on a family vacation. She remembered going to Alcatraz. Her dad, being a policeman, thought it was neat. But she didn’t. She recalled during the tour actually going into cells. There were audiotaped voices and sounds of cell doors closing, she didn’t like it at all. He hugged her. “I promise not to plan a visit to Alcatraz in our future. How old were you when you went there?”
“I think I was twelve.” Claire looked up at his face. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I was just wondering.” Tony went on to tell her about Eli and MaryAnn’s home in LA, actually in Malibu. He said he’ll need to bring her to one of their parties. He wasn’t much into the whole Hollywood scene, but even he had to admit Eli and MaryAnn could throw an awesome party. Eli’s guests usually included people Claire had seen in movies or on TV. Eli could be an ass, but he’s great at what he did, and there were multitudes of people that would kill to attend his parties. He described MaryAnn and Eli’s house as an architectural marvel situated on Malibu beach, hanging off a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
“I would love to see it sometime. Do you stay with them when you travel to LA?”
“No, I—I mean, we,” he smiled. “We have an apartment