Playing For Keeps (22 page)

Chapter Nineteen

“How did I get engaged before you and you're getting married before me?” Bianca questioned. She sat sipping on a glass of champagne as her best friend tried on wedding gowns.

The two women were alone in the salon of Traditions by Anna, the North Hills bridal shop by appointment only. The consultant assisting them was smiling brightly.

Cilla shrugged as she stood in a classic off the shoulder design, eyeing her reflection in the mirror. “You're too flighty. It'll be another decade before you marry Ethan.”

“No, it won't. I'm committed to marrying Ethan over the Christmas holiday. It'll be the anniversary of our meeting and falling in love. It'll be perfect. Besides, he's older than I am, remember? He might not have a decade.”

“Bianca!”

“What? I've said the same thing to him. We can't afford to sugarcoat things. He's old!”

“He's not old.”

Bianca looked at the saleswoman. “He's got some age on him. He looks good for his age but he's up there.”

The woman smiled.

Cilla shook her head. “He's the best thing to happen to my friend. And she loves everything about that man. Even his dirty drawers!”

Bianca grinned. “I do love his dirt. I won't lie. Still doesn't explain how you're getting married first.”

“Can you believe that next year this time we'll both be married?” There was no missing the sentiment in her tone.

Cilla's friend smiled. “Are you sure Malcolm's the one? You don't have any doubts?”

“It's the only thing I'm certain of. I love him more than I could ever begin to tell you. And I love our family.”

Bianca laughed. “You get two teenage stepdaughters and I get a stepson almost as old as I am. How's that for some junk!”

Cilla shook her index finger at her friend. “Correction. I get two daughters. We aren't having any steps or halves in our family. I refuse to even start that. I love both his girls like they're my own and that's how I plan to treat them.”

“I'd claim Ethan's son too but no one would believe I could have a son that old.”

“Do it anyway. Give them something to talk about.”

“I could do that, couldn't I. Lie about my age. Folks would be talking about how incredible I look. How fabulously young! I like that. I could work that.”

Cilla and the consultant both laughed.

“Did I ever tell you that I love you, Priscilla Jameson? And that I'm glad you're my best friend and no one else's?”

“No. I don't think you ever have.”

Bianca nodded. “There's a reason for that. I might tell you about it someday. When we're old and gray and we have little snot-nosed people calling us Grandma.”

Cilla smiled. “I love you, too!”

Bianca changed the subject. “I'm not feeling that gown.”

Her friend shook her head. “Neither am I. I look like a cake topper. All I'm missing is the bouffant hairdo.”

Bianca laughed. “I'll take that as a no. That is not your dress!”

Minutes later Cilla stepped out in an Anne Barge design. The gown had a bateau neckline with a heavily beaded bodice that flowed into a skirt of silk organza. It fit her curvaceous figure to a tee. The cream colored fabric was ultra-flattering to her brown complexion, everything about the dress complementary. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen and she was extraordinarily beautiful wearing it.

Bianca slapped her hand over her mouth fighting back hot tears that suddenly threatened to spill past her thick lashes. “Oh, my!” she gushed. “You look incredible!”

Cilla grinned. “I really love this one,” she said. She spun left and then right, admiring her reflection in the mirror.

The consultant agreed. “It's stunning on you. And it's one of the only designs that we have that you can get off the rack. It'll take very few alterations and we can easily have it ready by your wedding date.”

Cilla turned to stare back into the mirror. Bianca moved to her side. The two friends clasped hands, swinging their arms between them.

“I think this is the one,” Cilla said.

Bianca laughed. “So do I. And it's a good thing too because I might have to borrow it from you in a few weeks!”

 

 

The Starbucks coffee shop was the ideal venue for Malcolm and Cilla's wedding. The girls had suggested the casual location, insisting that the site of their first meeting would be the perfect place to seal their future together. The couple could not have agreed more. The space was inviting and familiar and the coffee shop's manager had been more than happy to oblige them.

The early evening ceremony had included their closest family and friends and a few strangers who'd wandered in for one of the business's renowned Frappuccino drinks. Malcolm had been a dashing groom in a black-on-black suit. Romeo had been his only groomsman, standing beside him in support. Side by side the two friends had looked like a
GQ
cover come to life.

Cilla had entered from the outside and Malcolm had been reminded of that first time she'd walked through the door and he'd laid eyes on her. As she'd stepped through the entrance she was even more stunning, the most beautiful bride that he could have ever imagined. Envisioning the gown Cilla had described didn't come close to the real thing. The beaded design shimmered beneath the lights, casting a warm glow over her face. Her curls were pulled atop her head in a loose chignon and a simple strand of pearls adorned her neck.

They took their vows with Cleo and Claudia standing between them, both beaming with joy. The minister said a prayer over their family as Cilla committed herself not only to Malcolm but to his daughters, as well. Everything about the moment was sheer perfection and when they were pronounced man and wife, both knew that they were playing for keeps, nothing and no one able to come between them.

After the ceremony, they danced the night away at The Playground, no other place more fitting for the occasion. Laughter was abundant and, side by side, Malcolm and Cilla couldn't imagine themselves any happier.

Everyone in the room stared in awe as they glided on the dance floor together. Malcolm had one hand wrapped around Cilla's waist, the other holding tight to her hand as it rested against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed as she leaned her head against his chest, the intense depths of their connection undeniable.

Romeo pulled Taryn closer against him, leaning to kiss the top of her head as she wrapped her arms around him. Cleo and Claudia sat beside their grandmothers, the matriarchs both lost in memory, thinking about the men they'd loved who had loved them back. Odetta stood off to the side, swiping at a tear that had fallen from her eyes. Her wide grin was a resplendent display of snow-white teeth. And the piano player danced with them, his hands racing across the black and white keys, the song a seductive melding of whole and half notes.

An hour later the couple stood with the twins as a photographer snapped photo after photo. When she saw an opportunity Bianca gestured for her friend's attention. Cilla kissed Malcolm's cheek as she excused herself, moving to the other woman's side. Bianca wrapped her arms around her friend and hugged her warmly.

“I'm so happy for you!” she exclaimed, tears misting her eyes. “And I'm so glad you didn't elope.”

Cilla smiled. “So we do this for you next month, right?”

Bianca grinned. She tilted her head toward her fiancé, Ethan Christmas, staring at her from the other side of the room. “He says I'm the most beautiful maid of honor he's ever seen!”

“He's a good liar,” Cilla said. “You're going to want to keep him.”

The two women laughed.

The twins suddenly rushed to their sides.

“Aunt Bianca, are you going to dance with us?” Claudia questioned, pulling on the woman's arm.

“Please?” Cleo chimed.

Bianca tossed Cilla a look.
Aunt?
she mouthed, her eyes wide.

Cilla laughed heartily. “Yes, your
Aunt Bianca
would love to dance with you!”

As the trio skipped their way to the dance floor Malcolm eased behind her, gliding his arms around her waist. He pulled her close, nuzzling his face against her neck.

“I love you, Mrs. Cobb,” he said as he spun her around in his arms.

Cilla smiled. “Mrs. Cobb. I really like the way that sounds.”

The man grinned. “Not nearly as much as I do, I'm sure.” He kissed her lips. “It has to be the sweetest thing I've ever heard.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “I love you, too,” she whispered against his mouth, the words blowing warm breath past his lips.

 

 

The sun was just beginning to rise on a new day. Malcolm opened his eyes as the first glint of the morning rays peeked through the window blinds. For just a quick second confusion washed over his face, his surroundings unfamiliar, and then he remembered where he was. He and Cilla had spent the night at the Renaissance Raleigh North Hills Hotel. It was the prelude to their honeymoon, time away before the whole family set sail on a cruise to the islands of Bermuda.

He smiled, nuzzling his body closer to hers. He rolled himself above her, supporting his weight against his arms. Cilla was still sound asleep and he lifted his torso up to stare down at her. He studied her face, amazed at how her long, dark lashes fluttered gently. He imagined she was dreaming and he wondered what decadent thoughts were tripping through her sleep. Hours earlier he'd gotten himself lost in her dark, lusty gaze and he knew that once she opened her eyes again, he'd fall headfirst back into the depths of her stare.

Malcolm raised his hand to her face, gently caressing the line of her profile. He cradled her cheek in the palm of his hand, allowing his thumb to lightly graze her flesh. She exhaled softly, muttering ever so slightly. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead in the gentlest kiss. He inhaled deeply, her sweet scent teasing his nose. It was intoxicating and he felt drunk with desire as he inhaled her again and again. He trailed his lips to her cheek and along her jawline, leaving a path of damp kisses against soft skin.

Malcolm kissed his way past her earlobe and down her neck, his lips parting and his tongue peeked forward to taste her skin. He swirled his tongue in circles and she trembled, sleep beginning to slowly leave her behind. She tilted her head as he hit that sweet spot beneath her chin, applying just the hint of pressure to her flesh. Cilla suddenly purred, the low murmur moving him to harden beneath the bedsheets.

His hands and mouth danced atop her skin until she began to thrust her hips up to meet his. She wanted him and he loved that he could elicit such a response from her. Her eyes fluttered open and then closed, then open again. He smiled down at her as she focused her gaze up at him. Malcolm could feel himself falling deeper in love with her as his reflection swirled in the depths of her dark stare.

She smiled, wishing him a good morning without uttering a word. Her hands snaked around his broad back and she pulled him to her, wanting to feel the weight of him against her. He pressed his mouth to hers and sighed as he hugged her closer.

His hands danced across her flesh, performing a ritual of their own design. His fingers kneaded one breast and then the other, the tips heated and teasing. His touch was indulgent, fulfilling every one of Cilla's dreams.

She parted her legs, wrapping them tightly around him. His body slid into hers easily, the connection as sweet as their very first kiss. He felt every muscle in his body tense and convulse with pleasure, unable to contain the excitement that raged through him. The moment was magical and Malcolm could see himself starting each new day like they were starting this new day.

He loved her. He loved her with every sinew and fiber of his being. He loved her like it was the first time he had ever loved anyone, holding on as if he never intended to ever let her go. His possessive touch marked her, claiming every inch of her for himself and she went willingly, following as he led her to sensual heights like she'd never known before.

Pleasure swept like a tidal wave between them. Malcolm craved more and more of her as he stroked her over and over again. And then he orgasmed, Cilla falling with him off the edge of the cliff at the same time. She clung to him, every dip and curve of her body meeting his evenly. Sweat washed over them both, moisture seeping from every pore. The moment was explosive beyond measure, him knowing that he was making love to his wife made all the difference in the world.

Cilla sat alone, lost deep in thought. It was officially fall, the changing weather beginning to take hold. The last of the Indian summer they'd been experiencing seemed to have come and gone. Earlier that morning she'd had to search her moving boxes for sweaters, maneuvering through the mess that sat in the home's spare bedroom. Both Malcolm and his mother had been bending over backward to help her assimilate her things in with theirs and Cilla imagined the task was not nearly as easy as they seemed to make it.