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The wedding was quiet, just for family and a few friends. The honeymoon was at one of the Forlanie resorts in Switzerland, because Bill said that snow would always remind him of how much he loved her.
She looked out of the window and down into the town where the lights from every home and shop spread a warm glow in the snowy darkness. Snow would always make her happy, would always be a reminder for her as well.
Bill came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”
“Why?”
“Because I have you,” he told her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And whatever you want in this life, if I can give it, it’s yours. If you want to go on working, I’m good, if you don’t, I’m happy too.”
She turned in the circle of his arms. “I want to help you. I want to be part of every aspect of your life if I can. Tell me how and I will do it.”
“We’ll find a way,” he promised, and then he picked her up and carried her to the bed. “But first we have a time-honored honeymoon tradition to uphold.”
“Champagne?” she asked. “A toast? A snack?” She loved teasing him.
“Wife, I am going to undress.”
“Good. I love to watch.” And she did. She loved seeing him strip off his clothing, shedding the facade of the businessman. She loved the play of his muscles and his smooth chest, flat belly, and the dark golden curls where his sex rose at the sight of her. At that, the teasing stopped, and she grew hungry to feel him beside her, inside her, flesh-to-flesh, moving in concert, becoming one with the deep, hungry thrusts, the shivering pleasure, and at last the feel of him filling her with his seed.
There was so much to share, she realized. There was the quicksilver passion that kept them locked in a heated embrace for much of the night, but there was also the animal warmth of sleep in the arms of your love. There was sharing thoughts and ideas, new discoveries and old dreams, there was work and play, and there would be a family soon enough. Perhaps a large one, perhaps a small one. That didn’t matter so much as that they would be together, they could create a life in which everything they needed would fit like pieces of a puzzle.
Amanda cradled Bill’s head on her shoulder as he slept, one hand cupping her breast, one leg thrown across hers. He was sated for a time, but he’d wake and take her again, and she would revel in it, in the way they belonged each to the other, in the drive to express love and passion, and the ancient need to make new life.
Whatever happened, they would see it through together, this most unlikely couple for whom the snow would always be a blessing and a reminder to follow their hearts.
THE END
Billionaire Cowboy’s Bride
Beau Savage at the age of 41 was in the habit of waking up before sunrise. It was probably passed down through the generations of farmers and ranchers in his family tree. He laid in his oversized king bed beneath a layer of cotton sheets. His Pendleton wool blanket was on the floor as he had kicked it off during the night. He didn’t move as his daily events calendar unrolled like a scroll in his mind. At 7pm, he had a black-tie charity event but he forgot whom he was taking. He knew it was a blonde-haired woman because they usually were and that she looked amazing in evening attire, which they always did. They also looked stunning when the dress came off, which was a given. Was it Tammy, no? Was it Theresa, no? It was Tiffany! Ah ha; Beau just saved himself an awkward moment. His train of thought was interrupted by a pull at his elbow.
“Good morning Beau. Why are you on the far side of the bed? Come close and keep me warm,” Rosemary cooed, as she had been his companion the previous night.
“Sorry Ro. I have to shower and get ready for a meeting at 8:30 so I have no time to snuggle.”
Rosemary was the daughter of a business associate of Beau’s. Bringing her home seemed like a good idea after several bourbons. He had to remind himself that prudent choices were not made after a few drinks.
“You don’t expect me to get up at the crack of dawn, do you Beau? I suppose that joining you in the shower might wake me up.” Rosemary had legs that went on forever and a great body that she had paid a great deal of money to maintain.
“My morning shower is a solitary pursuit. We had plenty of fun last night, from what I can remember and who knows maybe this will happen again. Sleep as long as you want and the kitchen is yours to raid. Tell your father I’ll call him this week and thanks for last night Rosemary.”
Beau kissed Rosemary good-bye before he walked naked into his private bathroom. She was bewildered and disappointed as women usually were after spending the night in Beau Savage’s bed. There were countless other bathrooms in his home but the one off his bedroom was his sanctuary. The walls were Italian marble with ornate etchings. The shower stall was made of the same material and it was larger than most apartments in New York City. Whoever said that things were bigger in Texas had never been to Beau’s ranch in Wyoming, which his grandfather Jacob had named the Wandering Bison Ranch. He stood as the eight pulsating jets massaged his 6’2” frame. Beau was all muscle and although he was 41, he had never been in better shape with a wasp waist and squared off shoulders. He washed his black hair, which was flecked with gray and closed his blue-gray eyes. He hoped that by the time he was done with his morning rituals, that Rosemary had taken the hint and moved along. Beau enjoyed a woman’s company at night but when the sun shined, it was time for business.
Beau put on his hat and favorite pair of boots before hopping in his truck. If it were up to him, he would have on jeans and head to the stables. Unfortunately, he was more than a cowboy; he was the president and CEO of a business empire. Someday, he hoped he could seamlessly delegate the business aspect of his life to a son but that required a mate and that didn’t seem to be in the cards. He knew that most single women were aware of how much he was worth and wanted a slice of the pie. He had been called paranoid but at least he was having fun. He decided to swing by his Grandfather’s home on the ranch to say hello before going into Cheyenne.
“Hey Pops. I thought I would come and check on things before going into Cheyenne.” Beau pulled up to the white four-bedroom ranch house his grandfather called home.
“I don’t need watching over Beau. You hired that Pearl lady to look out for me. What were you thinking getting that tart to be my caretaker? Is she one of your castoffs?”
Jason Savage, 90, was the only person from which Beau took orders. He had outlived two wives, a daughter and a son. He had been just like Beau when he was young, which is why Savage Enterprises, Inc. thrived. He was an old curmudgeon but he was wise and tough. With his deep wrinkles and gnarled hands, Beau pictured himself in 50 years. It made him determined to get as much living as possible into that time.
“Pearl isn’t a tart Pops and I never bagged her. She’s a nice trustworthy woman. I looked into her background to make sure she’s not a gold digger. I wouldn’t bring in anyone in who has designs on our fortune.”
“Speaking of tarts. How’s your love life Beau? Am I gonna live to meet the future Mrs. Beau Savage?” Pops asked with a grin.
“Doubtful Pops. I expect you to stick around for a while but women are disposable assets to me. I have yet to meet a woman who can hold my interest for more than a night or two.”
“You have a stable full of women but you’ll know her when you meet her. Then you can send some of them fillies my way.”
