Quiet Walks the Tiger - By Heather Graham Page 0,43
for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. I don’t think we’ll be needing any bad luck, do you?”
“No, of course not,” Sloan agreed slowly, the chill his eyes had given her dissipated by the intense heat radiating from his body. Actually, she didn’t give a damn about bad luck; he was here, and she wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms and quell the terrible aching she felt for him to hold her, to kiss her, to touch her...“It’s just that I’ve missed you so!” she whispered, loath to release him.
“Listen, I really am going—” Cassie began.
“No, no,” Wes protested with firm haste. “I haven’t had any sleep, and I think I’m going to need some to deal with my charming bride.” He turned to Sloan, the smooth curve of his lip forming a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Kiss me quick, love. I think I’d better get out of here”—his smile broadened, but there was a dry twist to his words—“before I lose my control with you completely, Sloan.”
Sloan laughed, unaware that there could be a double meaning to his words. She kissed him, relishing the commanding feel of his lips upon hers, sensing something warm and combustible in his restrained passion. Tomorrow, she told herself, reluctantly allowing him to pull back from their embrace. Less than ten hours would see them man and wife...
“You should have called,” she chastised him huskily. “I was worried.”
“Were you?” His grip on her shoulders was strong, almost painful; his kiss had been bruising. Neither bothered Sloan. He had missed her as much as she had missed him. “Yes, of course,” he murmured. “The wedding isn’t until tomorrow.”
Sloan frowned. “I know, but you said you’d be in tonight—”
“I am going!” Cassie interrupted.
“No, I am!” Wes chuckled, pulling Sloan to him once more so that she felt the thunderous pounding of his heart. He pulled away just as abruptly. “Cassie—good-night. Sloan...” He ran a finger along her cheek, a tender movement that became tense. “Tomorrow, love.” He turned and exited before she could make another protest or chastisement.
Both sisters were silent for several seconds, Sloan mainly because she felt the sun had warmed her only to be covered by a cloud, Cassie because she was relieved that they had heard the door and hushed their conversation. She finally cleared her throat, wondering if Sloan, who was still staring at the door with brilliant, longing eyes, remembered that she was there.
Sloan spun around to face her. “Cassie!” She chuckled, running to hug her sister. “Don’t you see? Everything is all right! I did set out to use Wes, but I did fall in love with him! Hopelessly. Completely. If he didn’t have a penny to his name, I would feel the same way about him. He’s wonderful and—oh, just everything! I think I’m the luckiest woman in the world!”
Cassie breathed a sigh of happy relief. “I believe you,” she said sheepishly. “No woman who isn’t in love can carry stars in her eyes like you are now. I’m all for you, sis—I wish you both the best of everything. And I’m going home now, with a nice clear conscience. George already thinks I’m crazy for streaking out of the house in the middle of the night like this. Go get some sleep, kid! You’ll be a bride in the morning.”
The sisters hugged again, and Sloan watched until her sister was safely in the car. Then she locked the door and waltzed into her room.
She slept easily, ecstatic that Wes was back, and even if he wasn’t with her that night, there would never have to be another night when he wasn’t. She dreamed of her wonderful luck.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SLOAN DIDN’T SEE WESLEY again until the ceremony, which was, according to their desires, simple but beautiful. Fragrant displays of summer flowers were the only decoration; the lilting strains of a single guitar the only music. Cassie acted as matron of honor, Wesley’s brother Dave as best man. Sloan, in a cloud of excitement and euphoria, barely heard the words spoken, and although Wes’s replies were strong and sure, she had to be nudged by Cassie to speak at the appropriate times.
Then the brief ceremony was over; they were officially man and wife. Wesley bent obediently to kiss her; and as his lips claimed hers, Sloan felt a tension and hint of punishment in the pressure of his arms.
It’s the time we’ve been apart, she thought with loving tolerance. He released her,