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“She’s probably on the dance floor.”
Our eyes move in that direction, just as the DJ drops a Latin beat. A group of excited guests run to the dance floor and start doing their thing.
“I’m sure your sister is in the middle of the crowd, having way too much fun, to worry about rescuing her sister. Translation: No one will send the troops. I can do with you as I wish.”
“My parents will be concerned.”
The words barely leave her lips when Emilio and one of Sofia’s cousins do a series of complicated feet and hip movements before twirling away. Julia’s parents wave at us as they execute their own series of sophisticated dance steps.
We wave back.
Julia pumps the air with her hands, and winks at us. One of her brother’s wraps his arms around her waist, securing her as his dance partner.
Thanks to private lessons from my mother-in-law, I managed to perform the first dance without crushing my bride’s toes. Thank God, I was only on the hook for that one dance.
“The DJ is keeping everyone on their feet,” I say. “You’re on your own, kid.”
“I can’t believe my family would leave me like this with a husband intent on ravishing me.”
I kiss her bare shoulder. “There’s a way for me to go easy on you tonight.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
I touch her lips with mine. “You should give me a sneak peek of your garter belt.”
“You tossed it before the cake cutting. Did you forget?”
“I was trying to pull a fast one on you.”
She pinches her lips the way her mom does when she’s unimpressed. “You’ll have to try harder, Mr. Van Der Linden.”
Challenge accepted. “You already removed your tiara and stored it into the safe. I took care of the garter belt. Two items crossed off my list. It’ll make what I have in mind that much easier.”
She shoots me a dubious side gaze. “That’s indecent.”
“What’s indecent?”
Her eyes ping-pong around the deck. “You’re talking about us having some hanky-panky during the ceremony.”
“I read somewhere it’s tradition.”
Brown eyes narrow in on me.
I answer her unspoken question. “I’ve never done that before.”
Her expression softens.
Each time I walked down the aisle, I thought I was in love. None of my former marriages felt this right.
“We can’t look frumpy,” she says. “It’ll be a telltale sign we were misbehaving.”
“No, beautiful. It’ll be a telltale sign we’re so much in love, we can’t keep our hands off each other.”
Sofia taps a manicured finger against her chin, pretending to think.
I sweeten the pot. “What about this? Let’s find a quiet place on the yacht, so I can kiss the hell out of you.”
“We never stop at just a kiss.”
