Page 47 of Daigo

“Please say yes. We could set up outside in one of the gazebos and talk about various locations. I’m doing a spread on unusual beauty, and you’d fit right in-”

He snapped his fingers. “On the cover. I already have the name picked out. ‘Overflow.’” He nodded with a pleased smile. “Please say yes.”

“Yes!” Shelby answered with a laugh, giving her husband a quick, pleading glance. “But not now,” she added.

“When?” Brian glanced at her husband as well, knowing where the power lay.

“We’re here for the weekend.”

“I must get a snapshot of you in this stunning dress. I’ll be right back. Mingle. I’ll find you.”

Before she could object, he was winding his way through the crowd.

“Are you upset?”

Staring at her, Daigo took in the animated look on her lovely face and saw exactly what the photographer had seen and what his wife had not been able to see for weeks. He would give her this, of course.

“No, I’m not. And the man might be a pompous ass, but he’s right. You’re gorgeous.”

With a breathless laugh, she turned into his arms. “Thank you, darling. Now let’s go mingle.”

As the evening progressed, he was pleased to see that she was getting more and more animated. She was surrounded by the wives, who had formed a circle around her. The evening was filled with gaiety, conversation vying with the live band on the makeshift dais. The food was sumptuous; he had seen to it that she had a plate and a small glass of champagne. And Brian Donnelly had gotten off several snapshots of her.

All of the wives were on the dance floor doing some sort of “reggae moves” that had him staring at his wife worriedly.

“What the hell is she doing?” he muttered, unaware that he had spoken aloud.

“I believe it’s called dancing,” the amused voice drawled at his left, the owner earning himself a killing glance.

“I know what it’s called. And Jesus! She took off her shoes.” Daigo had his scotch halfway to his lips. “She’s bloody pregnant with triplets.”

“Are you worried she might… dislodge something?” Liam was staring at the group of women swaying and moving with energetic elegance to the sound of Buju Banton’s medley, including his own wife. The entire ballroom had stopped what they were doing, and all attention was on the collection of beautiful black women on the dance floor. Cameras were clicking, flashes going off. He suspected their photos would be in the papers come morning.

“She’s pregnant,” Daigo repeated. His drink was still halfway to his lips, as if suspended there.

“We’ve already established that.” Jackson watched in amazement as his wife executed a dance move that had him raising his brows and getting heated. “Christ, my woman has moves.”

“So does mine,” David murmured.

“They all do.” Adam had joined the conversation.

“Can you believe the furor this would have caused a hundred years ago?” Kane lifted his glass in a toast and shook his head as Kelly shimmied. She had her elegant and very expensive wheat-gold gown hiked up over her knees.

“Hell, a hundred years ago, we wouldn’t have been able to set foot in this joint,” Bradley said with a laugh.

“They’re having fun,” Patrick added in delight.

“And putting on quite a show,” Bryson said with a grin.

“My wife is supposed to be respectable. Royalty and all,” Francois mused.

“So’s mine.” Alexander had joined them. “They’re spectacular, are they not?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Johnathon remarked, lifting his glass in a toast.

“She’s pregnant,” Daigo muttered into his glass and received a slap on his back for his comment.

*****