Sweet Surrender (43 page)

“I’m happy for you, mom.”

“Me too, Lily,” Stacy agreed. “Way to rebound. He’s hot for a cougar.”

Jessie looked at her friend in surprise. “Can a man be a cougar?”

“Why not? Lily is younger, that makes him a man-cougar. He reminds me of Kevin Costner a bit, the
Bodyguard
hottie Costner, not the
Waterworld
creepy Costner, though.”

All three of them turned to look. Luther, who was talking to David Trent and Russell Baker, was tall and fit, had very little gray in his sandy brown hair, and his receding hairline didn’t detract at all from his good looks. The restauranteur fit in just right with the wealthy doctor and plastics tycoon; all three of the fifty-something men being confident, successful, and very easy on the eyes.

“Mm… nice work indeed, Lily,” Stacy said with approval.

“Oh!” she said with a laugh, blushing as red as Jessie did when embarrassed. “The things you say, Stacy. You are incorrigible.”

Stacy grinned. “Why, thanks, Lil, I certainly try.”

“Yeah, well, back to my point, it’s that we all make mistakes and have hang-ups where love and family are concerned. That’s why I think you need to cut Mariella some slack. She seems to be trying.” Her mother brushed her hand across Jessie’s cheek, as she had when she was a girl. A mist of tears blurred the bride’s vision. She remembered this woman, but hadn’t seen her in years. She’d missed her.

“I love you, mom, and you’re right. It takes too much energy to hold on to anger. So for Marc, I’ll tolerate Mariella. Giada is a different story.”

“Whether Giada the terrible,” Stacy shuddered, “Renata the slayer of stealth, or the brat, Annalisa, either of them, any of them, just say the word and I’ll assemble the girl posse. I’ve got your back, sugar, and have enough energy to take them all on. Say the word and we’ll give those bitches hell.”

The thought of petite Stacy taking on Marc’s Amazonian sisters prompted smiles. What a mismatch. She was full of piss and vinegar, but her southern grace, not to mention her alpha male husband, wouldn’t tolerate a girl fight.

A hotel hostess who was acting as their attendant for the afternoon interrupted. Marc and the guests were in position and it was time for Stacy and Jared to start the small processional. The girls clasped hands, Stacy surprising Jessie at the last minute by pulling her into a tight hug and delivering a loud smacking kiss on the cheek.

“I love you like a sister, you know, and am bursting at the seams with happiness for you.” With tears in her pretty blue eyes, she reached for Jared’s arm and they walked down the white satin runner into the makeshift chapel.

It was time for her to follow. She reached for her mother’s hand. Lily would be escorting her and giving her away. Jared’s dad had offered, which had touched her. Since Marc was like a second son to the Bakers, she’d come to know them well over the past year, but she had declined Russell’s suggestion, wanting her mother to take part in the ceremony; thinking if she could embrace the role, she might be more accepting of her marriage. After their recent conversation that seemed unnecessary, yet the symbolism was important and having her mother be a part of it, even more so.

With a nod from the hostess, a small string quartet began to play Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major as Jessica Swanson, on her mother’s arm, stepped into the doorway. Her eyes briefly took in the grapevine arch covered with a profusion of white roses, set behind a small dais at the front with two flickering candelabra casting a soft romantic light over where they would say their vows. When her eyes fell on her groom, she saw nothing else.

Standing tall in his dark blue suit, he was incredibly handsome. His warm gaze locked with hers and like the first time, she was drawn to him, pulled inescapably and inexorably in his direction. His compelling manner, confident and poised, as always was what captivated her. She was spellbound in the moment; so much that she almost missed the movement behind him and the gasp that arose from one of the guests.

Jessie’s face broke into a broad smile, which was matched exactly by Marc’s as their wedding officiate took his place beneath the arch. All eyes shifted to the tall, black-haired man who would be presiding over the ceremony. His long mutton-chop, signature sideburns and dark aviator glasses identified him without question. They were indeed being married by Elvis.

Mariella had reacted accordingly, her mouth agape in surprise. Everyone had looked at her, some boldly, some surreptitiously, but they had to see her reaction. As expected, her face had paled and she wore a stunned expression that she quickly tried to mask as David slid his strong arm around her shoulders. Left little choice, she collected herself and pasted on a small, pained smile, while her husband kept a firm hold on his unpredictable wife.

Jessie’s gaze went beyond to Marc’s sisters, who stood behind their parents, grinning widely. This gave her a little burst of hope. Since they obviously possessed a sense of humor, Marc may have been right when he said they weren’t so bad.

Seeing nothing else worth noting, the small gathering shifted their attention back to Jessie, who waited in the doorway with her mother. Only then did they begin their sedate walk to the front.

As Jessie arrived at Marc’s side, The King, who stood beneath the arch, asked in his soft, sultry southern drawl, “Who gives this woman in marriage?”

Her mother said strongly, “I happily do.”

Tears shimmered in her mother’s eyes as she kissed her only child’s cheek. Jessie nearly lost it, hugging her close as she said earnestly, “I love you, mom.” Her words easily carried to their guests.

When her mother’s arms slackened and let her go, the bride turned and took the outstretched hand of the man she loved. He was beaming with happiness. As she stepped alongside him, he whispered, “
Bellissima,
” then as one, they faced the tall man in the formal black tuxedo.

Instead of beginning with the traditional vows, the Elvis lookalike began the ceremony with a beautiful rendition of ‘Love Me Tender.’ He was impersonating a subdued Elvis at their request, wearing black velvet instead of white leather and rhinestones, although he did sport an awesome pair of blue suede shoes. Marc and Jessie, both possessing a bold sense of humor, had eschewed the traditional proceedings and embraced a Las Vegas flair for the outrageous, but they wanted the ceremony to have some degree of dignity, enough to be happily remembered and retold to grandchildren one day.

Smiles abounded amongst the bride and groom, matched equally by Jared and Stacy, who flanked them. Jessie knew that Joanne and Russell Baker, along with her mother and the groom’s father, would appreciate the non-traditional twist as well. Except for her initial reaction, Mariella’s response was unknown. It was all Jessie could do to keep from turning around to find out. Her eyes shifted to Stacy, who had her head turned toward the audience. As if on some sort of best friend wavelength, she switched her gaze to Jessie, a broad grin gracing her beautiful face as she gave her a conspiratorial wink. The gesture didn’t clue her in on what she saw, but she knew she’d get a blow by blow later. Satisfied, she returned her attention back to The King as he began to speak.

It flew by after that and in only a few minutes, in the smallest private dining room in the Four Seasons Las Vegas, Jessie and Marc vowed before the spitting image of Elvis Aaron Presley to love, honor, and cherish each other, holding only unto one another, until by death they did part.

After their vows, a protracted kiss so steamy that even The King cleared his throat in amusement, and a round of photos of the wedding party with and sans Elvis, they all took their seats for dinner. Jessie noticed Mariella easing carefully into her chair, an unmistakable wince flickering across her perfectly made-up face as her skinny rump connected with the lushly padded seat. Amazed, her eyes had flown from Mariella to a reserved David who squeezed his wife’s shoulder before taking his own seat at her side. Having taken that all in with a glance, she gawked at her husband, who simply winked at her unperturbed. He’d leaned over and whispered, “A preemptive intervention,
bella
. Dad thought it best.”

At first, she’d been stunned, her wide eyes shifting to her brand new father-in-law. He met her gaze, the twinkle in his brown eyes so similar to that of her brand new husband. Without a word, he refocused on his dinner. Like Marc, he was a straightforward kind of man, but when it came to private lessons, they were exactly that—private. No gloating or teasing, which might give the slightest glimmer of humiliation; it was between him and his wife and that was where it would stay. Jessie’s respect for him rose to new heights, although she’d had to bite her lip to contain her mirth, thanking God and the universe that her father-in-law had at long last taken matters and his wife in hand.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The sound of a door closing woke her the next morning. Her eyes popped open to the beautiful sight of a bouquet of fresh lilacs and white orchids on the nightstand, a signature feature of the Four Seasons, she’d learned. They were placed tastefully throughout the five rooms of the top floor presidential suite—eight if you counted the huge open space combination living room, dining alcove, the kitchen, and foyer. Smiling, she felt like Dorothy when she realized she wasn’t in Kansas anymore, but in a magical world of unimaginable delights. Fortunately for Jessie, the wicked witches were two thousand miles away being watched over by David, the kind, benevolent wizard, while his son and new daughter-in-law enjoyed their honeymoon free of wicked spells and the threat of flying monkeys who would try to steal it away.

Giggling at her silly imaginings, she rolled to her back and sat up. Bathed in sunlight, the Las Vegas strip glistened like a jewel in the desert. She watched as the city came to life from her view through the wrap-around, floor-to-ceiling windows of the master bedroom at the top of the Mandalay Bay tower.

“Morning, Mrs. Trent.” Turning away from the spectacular view, she found one even more breathtaking as her husband, shirtless and looking as delicious as the tray of bagels and pastries he held, entered with a carafe of coffee.

She smiled as she gratefully accepted a cup of coffee. “Ah,” she moaned in appreciation after the first sip. “Caramel macchiato, my favorite, thank you, husband.”

The bed shifted as he crawled in next to her. He adjusted the pillows behind him so he could sit with his back to the headboard. Lifting an arm to her, he said, “You’re too far away, wife.
Vieni
qui, la mia bella sposa
.”

“What does that mean?”

“Come here, my beautiful bride.”

Smiling, she carefully shifted backwards until her back rested against his chest. With his arm around her shoulders, they sat for a while in easy silence, sipping coffee as the sun rose over the strip spread out at their feet.

“How long will it take me to get used to that, do you think?”

“What’s that,
cara?
”

“Being called Mrs. Trent?”

“I don’t know, but I like the sound of it, so I’ll say it as much as I can to help with the transition.”

“Such a kind and generous husband you are.” She giggled and went back to sipping her mandatory morning dose of caffeine-infused liquid energy.

Quite some time later, when they’d finished their second cup and had each licked strawberry cream cheese from the other’s lips, Marc took her empty mug and set it aside. He gathered her up and slid down in the bed until they lay face to face and toe to toe, all parts in between lining up accordingly.

It wasn’t until her bare nipples brushed the crisp hair of his chest and his thighs rubbed against hers that she realized they’d eaten breakfast naked; she felt so at ease with him that she hadn’t noticed or cared.

“Thank you for everything, Marc. The flowers were lovely, the string quartet was perfect, and The King was especially charming. I didn’t find any of it tacky, although it could have easily ended up that way, considering where we are.”

“I’m glad you were happy with it.”

“I’m shocked you were able to arrange it all by phone.”

“A few calls and a credit card work wonders. Already having a dress was a tremendous timesaver. The girls helped with the venue and the flowers, so other than speaking to The King personally about doing a classy, less rhinestone-studded version of his act, it was approve things via email and
voila
… Sin City perfection, nuptially speaking, that is.”

“Nuptially speaking?” she echoed with a giggle. “Is that even a word?”

He shrugged, but she felt his lips curve upward in a smile as they glided across her shoulder.

“It was nice of your sisters to help.”

“They got to come to Vegas early, help plan a party and shop, so it wasn’t a hardship for either of them. Besides, they are desperate to get back into my good graces. I told them that would require some major sucking up to you. We should be able to milk this and have them at our beck and call for a few years at least.”

“That’s terrible. You’d manipulate them like that?”

“In a heartbeat,” he said between kisses. “You might not believe this, but before she left, mom said the ceremony was very romantic, especially The King’s ‘Love Me Tender.’”

“I noticed she was quite taken with our officiate.”

He laughed. “Who knew she was a fan from way back?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Nope. Dad did though. I could tell by the dozens of times I saw him rolling his eyes at her gushing. Growing up, I only heard The Three Tenors. So much so, that as a teen I remember thinking that if I heard
‘Nessun Dorma’
one more time, my head would explode. ‘Suspicious Minds’ or ‘In the Ghetto’ would have been a welcomed break, believe me.”

“A closet fan. Poor Pavarotti, he’d have been crushed if he’d heard of this defection.”

He chuckled as he rolled with her. She giggled. Playfully they jockeyed for position as they flipped back and forth across the wide expanse of the cushy bed. Covers were twisted and kicked off, pillows slid to the floor. Of course, he was going easy with her. When he came to a stop, she was squealing with laughter and draped like a blanket on top of him. His grin told her that was as he’d intended. Her long hair streamed out in all directions and her legs were trapped with his much longer ones wound around them. More contented than she could have ever dreamed, she smiled down into his beloved face, knowing her own was beaming with pure joy.