Parker stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His face wore a thick layer of shaving cream. Behind him, Angie was gathering towels and straightening up from their morning shower. She had dressed for the day, and he couldn’t help the amused snigger for today’s outfit.

On her agenda was house hunting with Sophie, and for some reason, she decided that looking like a deranged hillbilly was the way to go. While he would prefer a dress that would provide an opportunity to enjoy her shapely legs and didn’t make her look like a teenager, Angie had other ideas.

“What’s with the overalls? I thought you two would be searching for a house—not a farm.”

She stopped and looked at him—her arms burdened with discarded towels. Noticeably amused, she hastily pushed some stray hair behind her ear while juggling the laundry and smiled.

“This is Sophie’s show.” A lazy shrug and her you-know-what-I-mean expression made sense. “I’m just along for moral support.”

“So you dress like Miley Cyrus at a hoedown?”

Her bright giggle was adorable. “Did we crack open the country expressions manual this morning?”

At the hamper, she emptied the pile in her arms as he swiped the razor down his cheek. When she returned her attention to his watchful gaze in the mirror, he asked, “Is this your way of making sure nobody looks at you?”

Lip nibble followed by a sigh. He knew her so well.

“Honey,” he murmured after wiping his face with a towel. “I don’t know if you realize this or not, but your sister is quite beautiful. You don’t need to do this.”

She started to defend or explain whatever was going on in her head, but he turned around and put his hand up to stop her.

“Open your eyes, babe. She’s not hiding anymore. I know you’re used to Soph being standoffish, a little hard around the edges, and something of a wallflower.”

Another sigh.

“But Angie, that’s not who showed up in Arizona. I think she’s really happy, and when I’ve gotten her alone, and we’ve talked ... well, all I can say is she’s a different person. The decision to be a single parent transformed her, or maybe the transformation led to her choices. I don’t know. But she’s in a whole new headspace. What’s that expression? She’s letting her light shine? Yeah. Totally.”

“Oh, Parker,” she cried. “I hope you’re right.” She grasped the straps to the overalls and shifted on her feet. “I, um, talked to Heather a little bit.”

“Really?” He felt his brows shoot up. Heather Clarke was the Family Justice designated marriage counselor, therapist, counselor, and general all-around smart person when interpersonal relationships and stuff like that were the focus.

“Yeah. I mean shit. I don’t want to say the wrong thing and cause …” Her voice dwindled to a whisper.

“What? A relapse? Angie. No.” He shook his head.

“That’s why I had to talk to somebody.” She was wringing her hands. Angie wasn’t a nervous worrier, so the movement drew his attention. “She said that people are full of misconceptions about mental health. Made me feel like a twit.”

“Aw, now, come on. I’m sure she didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

Shrugs had personalities and could be as different as snowflakes. Angie’s shrug was a recognized remnant from her childhood. She wouldn’t say it out loud, but as a kid, she had worshipped Sophie. As the youngest, she had a God-adjacent big brother to adore and a sister to idolize. It didn’t matter if Alex was a king-size asshole or Sophie a stink-eye bitch with a secret heart of gold. When Sophie had her breakdown, Angie was devastated because they were close. Closer than close but over time, the closeness and Angie’s desire to fix Sophie’s problems obscured her vision. She still saw her sister as damaged and in jeopardy.

“Sophie isn’t responsible for my fears. I am. Heather told me it’s common for a breakdown like Sophie’s to be nothing more than a moment in time. A moment of extreme stress.”

He was glad to hear this and understood the point Heather was making. A lot of the angst around Sophie wasn’t so much about her as it was self-inflicted by those who loved her dearly. Worrying too much became something with a life of its own, but that didn’t mean the worry was helpful.

“I dressed down for me. I want her to shine, and any little thing I can do to help that along makes me feel … helpful.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“I know. And you’re right. She is gorgeous, and I’m jumping with joy that she’s so calm and happy. The overalls are more about me than her. Case closed.”

He let it go. Accepting Sophie’s new life and surprising choices was a work in progress. It was enough that Angie knew she had an important part to play.

“Change of subject. I have a question.”

She waved him to follow along as she hurried into a bedroom that looked like a bomb had gone off. They’d made a hellacious mess last night. Post-wedding-high spirits, far too much champagne, and a thundering case of red-hot lust made up the recipe for destruction that they visited on their bedroom. He grinned just thinking about it.

Plopping into a chair, she began sliding on a pair of low-top black Chucks and nodded that he should continue.

“I couldn’t help but notice last night that you begged off a duet with your dad.”

Her eyes flared, but she immediately masked whatever she was thinking. Dammit. This right here was why he was all over the fucking map with her and the whole dominant thing. If he embraced the role, he’d have to be ready for these moments when his lady needed a firm hand and not a denial-happy wimp.

Something was up—he’d felt it months and months ago when she refused another song request from his parents. He could let it go—everyone was entitled to his or her private thoughts, right?—but it didn’t sit well, and instinct told him he’d better get to the bottom of whatever was causing this unusual behavior.

“Oh,” she stammered.

He sensed her searching for a stalling maneuver. His head bowed for a second while he thought it through. She generally told him everything, so why was this different?

“Um, it was no big deal. My, uh, throat was a little sore. That’s all.”

Her throat was a little sore. Jesus. How was he supposed to react to such a lame excuse when a few hours after the song request she’d sucked him to the point of no return with her insatiable mouth and penchant for going deep?

Beating around the bush would only frustrate him in the end, so he asked a different question and waited to see what she did.

“Wanna try that again, Angel?”

She stood and shoved her hands in the overall pockets. His composure was rocked by how young she looked. He drew in a long breath and willed his restless sex drive to back down.

For a few seconds, she dropped her chin to shield her eyes. Her voice held a slight tremble when she answered.

“Can we not discuss this right now?”

Parker nodded slightly. A direct punt. Interesting. He backed off, though, because it was enough that he’d put it out there. Angie knew he’d revisit the topic at some point.

“I will let you wiggle away,” he said with a pointed look, “if you’re okay. If you’re not—don’t blow desert heat up my ass.”

A whole slew of emotions ricocheted across her face. Whoa. There was so much going on in her expression that he didn’t know what to address first.

Looking directly at him, she asked a simple question in a quiet voice. “Do you love me?”

“More than my life, Angel.”

“Then I’m fine.”

He crossed the empty space between them and hugged her tight. “If something’s bothering you—and I can see there is—you must tell me, baby. I can’t help if you freeze me out.”

“I’m not doing that, I swear. It’s ... complicated.”

He held her at arm’s length. “You know I want to force it out of you, right?”

“Please don’t. I promise, Parker. We can discuss this later. But don’t push, okay?”

“Is it that important for you to figure out whatever it is by yourself? Without my help? That tells me that I’m the cause.”

“No, no. It’s me. Shit,” she muttered. “Please. Not now.”

Her growing anxiety tore at his heart. He was about to give in when she shocked the holy crap from him.

“I gotta go. Meeting Sophie in half an hour.”

And then she ran away. From him. His heart sank.

* * *

“Mr. and Mrs. Dane. Good morning. My name is Jill, and I’ve prepared the cabin according to your wishes.”

The neatly efficient woman in a crisp business suit was waiting for them at the private terminal when he and Stephanie arrived.

Ben, the old fart, had made a halfhearted attempt not to snicker at them when he came by the cabin in the limo to take them to the airport. And why the snickers? Because despite their age and circumstance, he and his wife had been so wrapped up in each other that they’d nearly been in the throes of making passionate love when the ride arrived. And it showed by their discombobulated confusion and awkward appearance.

It had taken nearly the entire ride from the Villa to the airport to find some damn composure—something not in any way aided by his bride’s insistence that she sit on his lap.

Thank god Jill gave no indication that she found their behavior unusual.

A cool early morning breeze ruffled his wife’s hair. The delicate garnet earrings he’d given her at some point last night peeked at him and brought a smile. Always one to delve deep into an esoteric discussion, he’d taken in a raft of information from the jeweler Brody Jensen had recommended.

There was a lot of blathering about the Gem Society and how to buy stones, but what interested him the most was the lore and meaning behind the January birthstone, the garnet. He liked the dark and deep-violet red colors and found the history of the stone fascinating. From the early Egyptians to ancient healers, warriors and nobility, the garnet had been many things throughout the ages.

He chose the stone to commemorate the month of their union. In pop culture terms, it symbolized peace and good health, but what reeled him in was the metaphysical meaning—eternal commitment, honesty, hope, and faith. What better way to honor to their marriage?

Stephanie made a shivering movement and stuck her hand out for the attendant. “Thank you so much, Jill. Please don’t think me rude if I dash into the plane and grab a throw blanket. It’s cold this morning!”

She turned slightly and met his gaze. “Will you excuse me?”

No. He would make her stand there and freeze. Of course, she was excused—especially if that meant he got to watch her sweet, sweet ass and killer legs climb the stairs to the plane.

Calder winked. Her mouth trembled with a controlled smile.

Jill talked his damn head off after that. He barely had time to sigh once his wife had disappeared into the cabin before the woman started jabbering. The captain wanted him to know the estimated flight time was three and a half hours.

He asked for the flight crew to say hello in the cabin before takeoff. It wasn’t necessary—totally a courtesy call—but he wanted to practice introducing his wife.

His wife. He glanced at the plane. Jill was tapping on an iPad, explaining systems and availability. He didn’t give a rose-scented fart about any of it.

“Jill,” he cut in. “Thanks for everything, but we’re on a honeymoon schedule and …”

“What?” the attendant asked in a sharp tone. “Your honeymoon?” The sharpness turned to worry.

“Yes.” He chuckled to put her at ease. “We got married yesterday.”

The woman started to laugh. “Okay then! That explains so much.”

He snorted and chuckled at the same time. “Are the roses a bit much? They are, aren’t they?”

“Oh, heavens no,” she assured him. “I’ve just never seen six double-dozen arrangements anywhere, much less in a plane cabin.”

“Didn’t make sense with the sparkling grape juice, huh?”

She shook her head. “Avocado wraps, avocado dip, avocado salsa. I’m guessing?”

Calder chuckled. “Yeah. Baby on board has a constant jonesing for avocado.”

Jill shook his hand enthusiastically. “Congratulations, Mr. Dane. Truly. Better hurry along and get that honeymoon started. Please let me know immediately if you need anything else before takeoff. Enjoy your flight, sir.”

He thanked her appropriately and took his leave, skipping toward the stairs that he took two at a time in his haste to join his bride.

* * *

“Oh, you wicked, wicked man,” Stephanie murmured with awe in her voice. “What have you done?”

She stopped dead in midstride after climbing the stairs and turning into the cabin. Everywhere her eyes swept was an enormous bouquet of red and white roses. Their sweet, subtle scent drifted in the air.

Touching one of her delicate dangling earrings, she felt the smile all the way to her soul. The baby gave a wiggle, and she knew the joy in her heart had radiated straight to her womb.

Stephanie rubbed her belly and held in the tears threatening to rain down her cheeks. Her husband was covering all the bases and making a few more up along the way.

Her husband. She sighed. Calder was her husband.

She remembered the moment of stepping through the chapel doors, clinging to dear Alex’s arm, and letting the warm, rich sound of Parker’s guitar wrap around her heart. Then she saw her bridegroom and a flood of incandescent joy rushed into her soul. When he lost it and burst into tears, she felt God’s touch and knew each of his tears were a blessing.

Stepping farther into the cabin, her hands went out, and her fingertips brushed some of the flowers as she walked to the center and turned in a circle.

Wow.

She bent over and peered out a window. Calder was still talking to the flight attendant, so she’d better get her butt in gear. Tossing her purse onto a seat, she quickly unbuttoned the snug and very chic little bolero jacket that was just enough coverage to keep her from shivering in the chilly early morning air. Fluffing her hair, she dropped the jacket on the seat, cracked open her purse, and grabbed a lipstick. Rushing into the small bathroom, she shuddered at the harsh lighting but made fast work of creating a pretty pout. Pinching her cheeks for quick color, she blew her reflection a kiss.

“Shugah, you got a husband to cherish. And a baby to be wild about!”

Hurrying back to the cabin, she checked on Calder’s progress and saw he was trying to retreat. Gosh, he was cute.

Smacking her hands together with anticipation, Stephanie looked around and talked to herself.

“Okay. What’s my best play? Standing, belly front and center? Hmm. Maybe half-reclined on the sofa?” She studied the space. “Ooh, or how about bent over at the galley like I’m looking for something?” She giggled at the imagined visual.

And just like that, all thoughts of a cabin seduction went straight out the window when she spied a wrapped platter of food. She was in the middle of making a mess out of the damn plastic wrap when Calder approached her with a sexy chuckle.

“Duchess, whoa. Slow down. Let me help.”

“The damn wrap is messing me up,” she muttered disagreeably. Gesturing wildly, she demanded he take over. And hurry.

With one hand, he somehow managed to get the food platter open while caressing her tummy at the same time.

“Someone’s got the munchies, I assume.”

“We skipped breakfast,” she pouted. “I’m huuuuungry,” she griped. “Feed me or else, buster.”

“Have a seat, my love. We probably should have waited for cruising altitude before breaking out the refreshments, but I’m pretty sure Baby taking precedence over everything else covers us.”

“Is that avocado?” It was! She could see a big slice of light and dark green poking out of a wrap. The baby took notice and tapped out a message of delight. “I need that in my belly,” she hooted gaily.

Calder’s happy laugh was filled with the sound of his pleasure—a tone she’d come to know quite well. He helped her get situated, put the platter on the small table, and sat across from her.

“We had an avocado tree in the backyard when I was a kid. I remember my mom bitching about having too many of the damn things going ripe at the same time. Dad used to needle her about avocado overdose.”

She took a huge bite of the soft wrap and talked with her mouth half full. “The stories you and Ash tell make them sound like quite the characters.”

He shrugged but remembered happiness shone in his eyes. “They were human, ya know? They weren’t perfect, and believe me, after they died, there was plenty of piling on. Everybody and their aunt’s yoga instructor had something shitty to say about them going off to play third world saviors while one of their kids was a minor.”

Stephanie chewed the wrap and nodded as he spoke. She fully understood what it was like to endure people being assholes after a death.

“Ashleigh and I, though, we saw it differently. Our folks were awesome. It was a sacrifice, a huge personal sacrifice for them, as people—when a passionate calling reached out, and they answered. My parents were all about their fellow man. They were part of the wave of global-minded spirits who offered the world peace and love as an option. I’m proud to be their son.”

She had a hard time swallowing when his gaze shifted to her belly. “I’m overwhelmed with love and gratitude that we get to pass on the family name.”

Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she saw the remains of her lipstick on the cloth and rolled her eyes. Whoever inhabited her womb—whether boy or girl—had an insatiable appetite. Meaning her lipstick never stood a chance.

“I was thinking of the name Annalise for a girl. After your mother. What do you think?”

Her husband smiled. “It’s very pretty. I like it.”

“Coming up blank for a boy. You have any ideas?”

“Yes and no. My instinct is to meet the baby and then decide.”

She looked up as two uniformed men appeared at the cockpit door. “I believe we have company,” she told him with a bright smile.

Calder slid from his seat, stood, and turned around. A shiver of delight rocked her. He looked so damn yummy. Alex liked to tease his uncle by saying when he put on a suit it was like seeing Kevin Costner on the red carpet.

“Mr. Dane. I’m Captain Gerber, and this is Captain Nichols.”

The three men shook hands. “Two captains?” Calder quipped.

Captain Nichols made a gravelly sound that sounded like ‘grrr’ and ended with a laugh. “Bentley Sawyer is an old friend. He called in a favor—said you two get VIP treatment. So,” the smirking man said with a shrug, “two instead of one.”

One time, she accidentally peeked at a card being handed to the emcee of an important pageant and saw the name of the winner. It was a huge rush to think that for a few moments, she knew something no one else did. That was how she felt hearing the name Bentley Sawyer. Holy. Fucking. Hannah. Bentley Sawyer.

The struggle not to reach for her phone and send a group text to the Justice Ladies was real. So very real.

And why?

Because many a conversation and a couple of betting pools had centered around the matter of Alex’s personal pilot and whether Sawyer was his first name or his last. Alex wouldn’t say, so of course, his reluctance triggered the ladies sleuth squad.

Bentley Sawyer. Oh, my god—this was so rich she could barely contain her giddiness.

“Stephanie,” Calder purred.

She met his gaze, and then he made the introduction. The expression of pride in his voice tugged at her heart.

“Gentlemen, this is my wife. Honey, this is Captain Gerber and Captain Nichols. They’ve been sworn to secrecy about our destination, so don’t bother trying to get it out of them.”

She leaned forward and smiled while shaking each man’s hand. “Tell me something, Captains,” she cooed in a heavy twang. “Either of you two handsome devils married?”

Calder flat-out snickered at her Scarlett O’Hara accent and ploy. Both men reacted as expected, awkwardly hurrying to stammer that both, in fact, had wives.

She gave them a brilliant smile coupled with a pouty grimace. “And do both of you keep secrets from your wives?”

The sputtering mouth gaping and laughter she drew from the men in her sights was one of her special talents.

“Well, actually, ma’am.” Captain Nichols chuckled. “If the secret was gonna make her happy, I believe I would.”

She gasped. “Why, Captain, I do believe I envy your wife.”

Calder shook his head and laughed at her Southern belle antics. “All right, all right. Stop flirting with my wife, or I’m telling Sawyer y’all were dicks.”

It was easy to dismiss the gaggle of men after spying a small tube of jelly beans under some napkins. Ripping into the plastic, she dumped the sugary nuggets into her hand with a snippy grunt. Sophia Marquez was to blame for this particular obsession. Alex’s sister had a thing for the candies and all but lugged a jar around with her wherever she went. Picking out two black licorice-flavored beans, she put them at Calder’s seat, and then popped a very satisfying red nugget into her mouth.

“Hello, wife,” her sexy yummerific husband murmured when he leaned over and lifted her chin with a finger.

She made a smacking sound and pursed her lips. He kissed her sweetly.

He popped one of the licorice jelly beans into his mouth as he took his seat. “We’ll be getting underway in a few minutes. If you need a bathroom break, I’d do it now.”

Gesturing at the food platter, she suggested he secure everything for takeoff then picked up her purse and sashayed to the bathroom.

Hastily freshening up, she went through the visual checklist, took care of issues, and ended with a gentle air spritz of a soft perfume that Calder liked.

Stowing her things back in her purse, she eyed her reflection one last time. She loved, loved, loved the custom dress designed by one of her old pageant friends. It was sexy but conservative with elbow-length sleeves and a modest scoop neckline. Made of an incredibly soft material, it clung to her figure. The side ruching made her bump and butt look fantastic. Sticking with the white and red bridal theme, she gave the dress a punch of color with candy apple red heels and a red garnet brooch, another gift from her husband that matched the garnet bracelet and earrings she wore.

She hurried. A sudden need to cuddle with her husband took her over. He’d moved to the sofa and was patting the space next to him when she returned.

“Let’s get you strapped in.”

A dozen raunchy comebacks danced on the tip of her tongue. Calder felt the best intimacy aids were his hands and mind, and he was right. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t game for the occasional restrain-and-spank scenario. She sniggered. He was pretty good at that too.

Taxiing the runway and taking off happened rather efficiently, and before she knew it, they were winging to wherever. It was exciting not to know where he was taking them.

At the first opportunity, she undid her seat belt, got rid of his belt as well, and climbed onto his lap. She could tell she’d startled him for a second, but he quickly went with the flow. He moved her bottom around until she was delightfully situated. Stephanie kicked off her shoes and curled into her husband’s warmth. The strength in the arms cradling her was deeply reassuring.

Having what till this point had been the easiest high-risk pregnancy ever didn’t mean she wasn’t on near constant high alert for anything out of the ordinary. It was exhausting at times. Her determination to give Calder a healthy son or daughter was her highest priority.

The well of his strength was something she drew upon regularly. Without it, she’d be in free-falling panic mode around-the-clock.

“I like this dress,” he murmured softly. “The material is so soft.” He caressed her hip and thigh as he spoke.

“Francis and her team made it for me, special. Isn’t it wonderful?”

His next question surprised her a little.

“Do you miss it? Your life in Atlanta and the excitement of the pageants?”

Stephanie drew her knees in and curled even closer to him. If she could crawl inside his skin, she would. With her free hand, she rubbed small circles on his chest.

“I miss the day-to-day camaraderie, but I knew what I was doing when I left Atlanta. It was the best decision I ever made.”

Her mind bounced to that day in her condo when she’d packed and was permanently one foot out the door and on her way back to Arizona. Because of him. Because she knew he was worth the sacrifice. And the moment when she answered the doorbell to find Calder Dane standing on the other side of the door. With his suitcase. Because he’d come to her.

That day, she’d stepped into the future and never looked back.

“The girls have been great. We text and FaceTime. They’re all so happy for us.”

“We should have a barbecue after the baby comes. Invite your whole crew. Introduce a bunch of genteel Southern broads to the simple life. You can take them riding.”

“While you stand on the sidelines and laugh, no doubt.”

“I want you to be happy, Duchess. Whatever it takes.”

She thought his words a tad odd but glossed over the feeling. They were still in the bubble of high emotion from the wedding.

Snuggling into his neck, she sighed and kissed the skin above his collar. Dammit. He had far too many layers on. Frustrated, she pushed at his jacket. With a dissatisfied grunt, she sat up and glared at the offending garment.

Calder was actively trying not to laugh. “Is there a problem?”

“Take off the jacket and lose the tie.”

“Why?” He snickered and smoothed his fingers down the silk tie. “I thought do not dress like a slob was part of the bridegroom’s honeymoon mission statement.”

Mission statement? She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling and fought off the urge to roll her eyes.

“How long will we be in the air?”

“Three hours, give or take.”

Less than half a day after discovering they were pregnant and he’d overreacted to a joke she made, Stephanie learned to watch what she said. She could tease and pout as long as he knew she wasn’t really complaining.

Rubbing her cheek, she frowned. “Then the jacket has to go. It’s rough on my skin.”

Rough on my skin? Her inner comedian shrieked with laughter at how incredibly ditzy that sounded.

“Don’t worry,” she assured him with a simpering smile. “Your wife will make sure you’re presentable on the other end.”

He wriggled and squirmed out of the suit jacket, and in doing so, while she tried to stay balanced on his lap, he came very close to dumping her on the floor. As it was, she took an elbow to the shoulder.

“Now the tie.”

The look he gave her could burn toast. “The doctor said no nookie at thirty thousand feet.”

“I think you’re safe, Mr. Dane.” She tilted her head at the cockpit. “That door looks pretty flimsy, and I’m not into exhibitionism.”

The warmth of his chuckle spread through her veins. He took off the tie and opened a few buttons on his crisp, white dress shirt. Craning his neck, he playfully quipped, “I feel like I’m offering up a banquet for Dracula’s sister.”

“Hush, you. My lips need a landing zone.”

“God, I love you,” her husband declared. “Always with the sass.”

She caught the glimmer of her bridal jewelry and held up her hand. He did the same and showed off his shiny new wedding band. “We match,” she murmured.

They put their ringed hands on her belly. His reach was awkward, but the symbolism was not.

“I have the number of a practice that our doctor referred us to.”

She blinked. “Excuse me, um, what?” This was news to her.

“This is what husbands do. There was no way I was taking you anywhere without lining up top-notch care for the duration. Once we’re settled, a quick call will get us in their system. In case anything comes up.”

Emotion swamped her. “What would I do without you?”

“Wipe those fears from your mind. I will take care of everything else while you just focus on you and the baby.”

Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him with extreme tenderness. “Are you happy, Calder?” she asked when the kiss ended.

“Oh my god, Duchess. Yes. I have everything I have ever dreamed of now. I think for a long time, some part of me figured the type of love I dreamed about was a fantasy. After a while and a lot of empty years, I stopped looking. And then a beauty queen with an outrageous mouth let me know exactly how unimpressed she was with my boomer shtick. Seriously,” he said with a teasing grin. “What else could I want? Oh, wait. That’s right. And we got a baby out of the deal. Holy shitballs!”

“Yes, well.” She smirked. “Being the overachiever that you are; of course, you had to go and get me pregnant.”

“Just proving the old guy still has it.”

Pfft, she scoffed. “Old guy. Cut me a break.”

“Thank you,” he murmured in a voice thick with emotion.

“For what?”

His face held the answer to her question. She fell into his gaze and let the love she found there consume her.

Stephanie Dane.

Mrs. Stephanie Dane.

Mr. and Mrs. Calder Dane.

And baby.

She sighed. The future was theirs for the making.

* * *

“Thank you, Mrs. Olan. My wife will love it.”

The personal assistant providing full-coverage concierge services for their honeymoon adventure gave him a broad smile.

“Dixie read me the riot act, Mr. Dane. He said your wife was to be treated like a Duchess. I believe the expression celebrity-level fawning came into play.”

Calder chuckled. Dixie Michaels was Stephanie’s official gay. His wife loved the flamboyant stylist who did double duty as a costume designer. Of all her girlfriends, Dixie was the most involved—sometimes obnoxiously so—due to his almost daily check-ins.

A smile spread across his face. Didn’t every kid need a gay uncle? He thought so, and if he had his way, Baby Dane would know a world full of diversity and loving acceptance.

“Well, he has excellent taste even if the damn stork theme is a bit much.”

Their matching snicker-snorts rang out as they turned to study the three-foot chocolate stork realistic down to the gauze diaper swaddling a baby figure swinging from its beak.

If this was what Dixie pulled from his imagination as a welcome, he couldn’t wait to see what the next two weeks brought. Probably a line of Rockette high-kicking storks or musical bassinets.

“You’re all set, and you have my direct number. Please do not hesitate to ask for anything—day or night. I mean that,” she stated bluntly. “You and Mrs. Dane are not to do anything more strenuous that enjoy your honeymoon. And if she wants coconut macaroons at four a.m., I’d love the challenge! Give me something to brag about at the next club meeting.”

“A concierge club?”

“Hey, humor me. This might seem like a weird job, but it’s more fun and exciting than you know. Last month, I looked after a Middle Eastern sheik and his family. They had a visitor’s guide and a hundred YouTube videos bookmarked of things they wanted to try and places to visit. Some of it, I’d never even heard of. In case you’re interested, there are dozens of tiny doors hidden around town whose sole purpose is to inspire curiosity. It’s pretty cool.”

She gathered her stuff and headed to the front door. “I’m going to give you two all the privacy you need, so don’t worry about looking up and finding me in your faces. And I’ll check in every morning by text. How’s that?”

“Are you handling the baby shower?”

“Yes, I am,” she said with a bright smile. “But sworn to secrecy,” she added with a hand gesture, zipping her lips. “Oh, and just a reminder about Tom. He lives in the gate house and is available ‘round-the-clock as your driver. He’s button number three on the control pad, and his number is posted next to the phone.”

“This is great,” he told her. “You’ve thought of everything. Thank you.”

“Congratulations, Mr. Dane,” she said with a wave. “Enjoy Atlanta.”

After she was gone, he shut the door and turned to take in the fantastic private home he had leased for their honeymoon. It was breathtaking, and Stephanie had a near meltdown upon their arrival.

A six-bedroom Buckhead Estates mansion on a private street behind a gate, the luxurious home featured incredible entertaining space, a fully stocked wine cellar, an elevator, and enough outdoor living space to give the Villa a run for its money. Oh yeah, and it had a state-of-the-art media room—something his bride would love.

Her sweet tears when she put together what he’d done for their honeymoon had affected him more deeply than Calder imagined. With the choice of anyplace on the planet, it might seem strange that he took them to Georgia, of all places, but his wife understood. And went into a near total cry fest as a result.

It was nothing short of a miracle that no one had given away his plans—especially considering how he’d roped so many of Stephanie’s friends into helping. When she realized the complexity of planning and the details kept from her by the people she held most dear, the flood of happy tears started again.

Hurrying to the master suite, he peeked his head in and found her still asleep. They’d made love far into the night. When his beautiful wife was finally sated, he stroked the bump of their baby and held her close, murmuring his love and fidelity until sleep claimed her.

She was brighter than the sun—more mysterious and awe inspiring than the moon. Her love ran deeper than the oceans. She found as much joy in his beloved Colorado Mountains as she did in their desert home.

His heart surged with unbound happiness.

They were married—at last.

After a couple of weeks of running around her former stomping grounds so she could bask in the pleasure and love of her friends, they’d return to Arizona and get serious about nesting.

Baby Dane was on the way.

He was a husband now and soon to be a dad. Holy apple pie with a side of whipped cream!