HE COULDN’T REMEMBER ever feeling so happy or so completely content. The gods were smiling down on him and his naughty lover. His angel baby who was now, and forever would be, his wife.
They’d dodged a couple of deadly bullets—the kind that could destroy a relationship. And they’d come out on the other side stronger because of it. Maybe their love needed the struggle for it to survive.
Now, they were as one. His mother’s favorite word—simpatico—came to mind. He and Angie had always shared a bone-deep compatibility that would serve them well in the years ahead.
A small bonfire blazed on the beach between their loungers and the water. The resort staff waited on them hand and foot, knowing exactly how to diplomatically handle a honeymoon couple overcome by passionate exuberance.
Was he tired? Fuck, yeah. His decade younger wife still had the energy of a teenager and was more than capable of running at full speed for an entire day.
They snorkeled in the calm, crystal clear water. He’d worn a unique face mask outfitted with an underwater camera, and she’d made sure to laugh and point at him while submerged. She’d also signed the word ‘dork’—something Parker hoped he’d caught on video.
Their tour of the island’s shoreline in an outrigger canoe turned his spirited mate into an irrepressible kid. She was so damn delighted with every little thing that even their guide had a few good laughs.
They did some vigorous kayaking, had a paddle board adventure, and a curtailed attempt at spear fishing that quickly ended after his wife freaked out when she accidentally speared a fish. That particular moment was classic Angie. Her competitiveness meant she gave everything a try, but killing a fish wasn’t on her list of acceptable activities. He’d tried not to laugh when she cried over the damn fish but was woefully unsuccessful. She’d reacted in true spitfire fashion and subjected him to an outrageous accusation of barbarism while delivering a verbal dressing down in front of an attendant who was also trying not to laugh. Parker suspected the resort staff had seen this very scenario acted out many times. Wives were notoriously squeamish about such things.
After a second lunch, they had a thoroughly satisfying interlude of secluded, under-the-sun lovemaking.
By the time their island helpers had set up and served a five-star gourmet meal created by their honeymoon chef, Parker was sure they’d gone to heaven.
And now the sun was dipping lower in the sky, their beach bonfire crackled and popped, and they were alone once more after the staff had cleared out.
Angie was sitting on a colorful outdoor ottoman with his guitar in her lap. He reclined on a lounge, relaxing to the sound of his beloved’s voice and the melodic thrum of the instrument.
He laughed when she sang their wedding song, changing the words with a nod at the sunset to, “There goes the sun.”
A satisfied grin moved onto his face when he remembered the package Johann had handed off before leaving. He had a surprise for his young wife; something he made happen by moving heaven and earth.
The only glitch in the whole day came by way of an offhand comment made by Johann that triggered a feeling of unease. He’d informed Parker that an Alex Marquez had checked in with the resort. Not to speak with them but just to confirm their departure details.
It was a nothing update, but it made him worry. He had a satellite phone for emergencies, and it connected directly to Alex. The man knew perfectly well when they were returning. They’d discussed the arrangements several times with Parker shrugging off his friend’s offer to have Sawyer come get them when they returned to the mainland via Los Angeles. Seemed a bit odd to him that Alex would inquire.
When her song finished, Angie stood and placed the guitar in its case. He saw her fingers stroke the beautiful wood. She appreciated the glorious sound it made as much as he did.
Twirling her sarong above her head, she playfully danced around the fire and started a nonsensical chant about baby making that got him up and off the lounge chair to join her pagan romp. Hooting and hollering to the heavens about making babies was so completely in their quirky wheelhouse that he couldn’t wait to join in.
Parker thumped his chest and declared his beastly responsibilities in the baby-making scheme—much to Angie’s delight.
“I bring you my cock!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
She shrieked with laughter and giggles while loudly proclaiming his cock’s worthiness. He’d never laughed so hard in all his life. Something was either crazy wrong with them or completely right.
He morphed into a raunchy poet, proclaiming to the night sky all the places and ways he intended to fuck her.
She called on the goddesses of old for the skills to satisfy his sexual desires. He liked that part because he was a chauvinist pig at heart. Then she flipped a switch and became smartass Angie by asking the universe to help her dumb shlub of a husband understand that a clitoris is not an off-on switch.
He very nearly tackled her to the sand after that.
Eventually, they moved their silliness indoors so he could give full rein to the seduction he knew she hoped for.
Insisting on a chance to freshen up—alone—she allowed him time to get some things prepared. He had more presents and surprises plus one very special reveal she was sure to flip over.
The sound of the hair dryer alerted him to her impending return. Everything was in place and ready. He had a wife to love and a baby to make.
The black silk lounge pants he slid on felt like a sexy glove that did absolutely nothing to hide his persistent erection.
When he heard her feet on the teak floorboards, he popped the cork on a bottle of her favorite champagne. The bright smile on her face when she stepped into the opulent living room with the open windows and outdoor views told him she heard the clarion call of the chilled bubbly and was eager to partake.
She was also completely naked and carrying the gardenia she’d worn in her hair.
“You didn’t say what I could wear, and since I don’t have anything anyway,” she said with a cute shrug and no further explanation. He grinned like a complete idiot and didn’t care how goofy he might look.
Parker held out his hand to her and said, “Come here.”
She glided to his side and took his hand. He took it and kissed her palm before slowly working his lips and tongue along the sensitive inner skin of her arm. She was trembling when he drew away.
Taking the flower from her unsteady grip, he placed it on a table and then gave her a little spin. He lifted her hair and moved it over her shoulder and out of his way. Then with sure fingers, he undid the handmade cord honeymoon collar. She growled and shook her head when he took it off.
Kissing her exposed neck, he licked her skin and murmured, “Don’t worry, baby girl. I know what you want.”
He stepped in front of her and said, “Wait here,” before turning to the chair where he’d placed a couple of things.
The box wrapped in the mauve paper had a beautiful silk ribbon bow. She smiled shyly during the careful unwrapping. Every time her feet shifted, Parker was aware of the arousal she was struggling to control.
He held the unwrapped box so she could lift the lid. At first, she didn’t react, but then she lifted the delicate French lace negligee free of the paper and went into meltdown mode.
He’d done well, and judging by her reaction, he had done more than well.
When he recited the gown’s description by heart, his knowledge made her smile. Angie liked when a gift wasn’t just a gift. She needed a connection, and by knowing what he was giving her, he delighted her.
In his best fashion show announcer voice, he drawled, “This elegant, sweeping hem French lace gown with a silk ribbon tie has a deep V plunge in the back and a scandalously low bodice. Matching panties and a robe await you at home.”
She sighed as he helped her slip on the delicate lace. It was mostly see-through and displayed her sexy attributes perfectly.
He placed the Tiare flower behind her left ear and then drew her attention to a jewelry box. A large jewelry box.
His chest suddenly expanded from a surplus of emotion. “For my wife,” he murmured.
Cracking the lid open slowly, he built the anticipation until the light caught the stones, and there was no mistaking what the box held.
“Oh, Parker.” She sighed with a gasp. Her hands clasped together in the center of her chest. She trembled visibly.
He removed the delicate gold necklace with the diamond encrusted heart pendant and placed it around her neck. The chain was short, giving the necklace a distinctive collar look without inviting unwanted speculation.
Her skin was incredibly soft. Parker caressed her neck and cheeks. She responded with a hushed purr. She turned in his arms and pressed against him.
“Only we know what the necklace signifies.” He kissed her forehead. “You may wear it as you please.”
The way she smiled into his eyes warmed Parker. “I have something for you too.” She patted his chest and then dashed to the bedroom with the hem of her sexy gown swirling about her legs.
The leather pouch she dropped into his hand when she came back intrigued him. He opened it and dumped something into his palm. At first, he thought it was a pair of dog tags until he held it up and she filled in the blanks.
“The chain is tungsten carbide steel. Nearly unbreakable. And a key.”
He nodded when a thickness clogged his throat. The masculine ball chain and key had as much symbolism as her collar did. The carbide steel was almost as strong as their love, and the key represented her willing submission. Slipping it over his head, Parker held the key to his heart and swallowed the emotion, making it hard to breathe.
“Have I told you lately how fucking incredible you are?” he asked.
She held up the hand wearing his rings. “Every day.”
Wrapping her arms around his neck, his wife placed wet, warm kisses on his throat and shoulders. She was content to move things to the next level, but he wasn’t through with the surprises. Not yet.
Leading her by the hand, he took her to the sofa and had her sit. She didn’t disappoint with her straight-backed posture, crossed legs, and demure placement of her hands in her lap. Angelina Sullivan was a lady with the soul of a wanton.
Taking his sweet time, he gathered the champagne, two glasses, and a plate of gorgeous looking fruit before lowering the lights. He poured them each a glass and offered hers while juggling a remote control.
“To my bride. My sunshine.”
When he touched her glass with his, the tinkling of the crystal lingered on the soft night breeze. Then he sat next to her and flipped on the entertainment system.
“I hate one-sided stuff. Don’t you?”
Her eyebrows bumped with confusion. She took a long sip and then chuckled. “Oh. You’re talking about point of view, right?”
Right on cue, a professionally edited video appeared on the screen. The title sequence read “The Wedding of Angelina Marquez and Parker Sullivan.” She gasped and did a butt-hopping wiggle.
“We have a wedding video?”
“Yes. Now be quiet and pay attention.”
She put her glass down, wrapped her arms around one of his, and held on tight.
The beginning featured a photograph taken on the grand stairway at the Villa with Angie, his mother, her mother, Sophia, and Meghan.
The next was a candid shot—one he assumed came courtesy of his father or Uncle Cris—showing him in mid meltdown during a phone conversation. Half dressed, his shirt was hanging open, and a harried expression displayed on his face with those telltale anger veins popping on his neck.
“Groomzilla,” Angie said with a snicker.
Then a series of video vignettes that memorably served up some of the antics and amusing behaviors of Family Justice played out.
Bella twirling in a circle as her dress swished.
His mom and Aunt Ash watching Angie with their arms twined and heads together.
Alex with his head thrown back and a belly laugh in progress.
Meghan, Lacey, Sophie, and Stephanie in a semi-circle with their pregnant bellies touching.
Parker wanted to watch his angel’s expression, but he got absorbed in the video as a rush of happy memories and an avalanche of feels slammed into his senses.
When the scene changed to a close-up of him and his supporters taking their places near the altar before pulling back to a shot of the entire church, Angie gasped.
“There were cameras?” she asked with open shock.
“Everywhere,” he murmured.
After that, they both watched, mesmerized, as their wedding unfolded from multiple points of view and angles.
The “Wedding March” began, and her attendants started down the aisle while the camera caught Angie’s impatience and excitement. She was wiggling up and down, her head swinging everywhere as she tried to take it all in. Uncle Cris’s expression was full of pure joy.
He’d remember the next section of the video for the rest of his life.
Angie and her dad moved into position for their father-daughter walk to the altar. He saw his uncle lean over to say something and pat Angie’s hand where it clung to his arm. The sound of the organ swelled, and then a screeching noise shook the rafters as Parker put on a headset and stopped the music with a hand gesture and chuckling command.
After that, his microphone and those of the guys provided the soundtrack. His crew moved into place as Alex took command of a guitar, and “Here Comes the Sun” filled the church and boomed from the sound system in their honeymoon bungalow.
Whoever Calder worked with to edit the video did an outstanding job. Shots of Parker singing with the guys providing the backing vocals and rhythmic claps alternated with close-ups of his bride’s beaming face and her dad’s indulgent grins.
Someone had even managed an overhead shot of the entire assemblage joyously clapping to the familiar song as she glided down the long aisle on her way to him.
It was better than a Hollywood movie.
One memorable candid shot showed his mom wiping away a tear. Angie was affected too. He felt her squeeze his arm before resting her chin on his shoulder.
“Did you know?” she quietly asked. “Did you know this is my favorite turn the page song?”
“Of course,” he answered. “It’s your go-to. And it fits perfectly. Plus, not to fall prey to nauseating cheesiness but … you are my sunshine.”
His bride’s impetuous dash along the final steps to the altar and their exuberant lip lock along with Alex’s sarcasm and her ladies’ happy weeping was like a Family Justice commercial.
When things turned serious, the video offered a final close-up as the service began. “Dearly beloved …” and then the shot slowly pulled to the far back of the church as the audio gradually muted into the background.
“Uncle Ed threatened to put the family jewels in a sling if the service got taped like a reality TV show.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “As soon as the service began, I understood Red’s concerns when she and Alex got married. It’s weird having hundreds of people at your back watching something so personal.”
Their blissful march from the church as husband and wife was caught on tape as was the semi-raunchy kiss he planted on his bride the second they stepped into the church’s vestibule alone.
He switched the video off at that point. “There’s more. Reception stuff. We can watch it another time.”
He sensed a shift in her mood and looked more closely. Her eyes were downcast, and she was doing a number on her lip. Parker strained to pinpoint what was happening. A soft, adorable shyness about his seductive desert angel suddenly felt intriguing.
Parker lifted her chin with his finger. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. He inhaled the scent of his woman combined with the perfume of the gardenia tucked in her hair. He knew a tropical island paradise would be the ideal surroundings for the start of their new life. If they’d been anywhere else, her natural exuberance would have led to more sightseeing and touristy shit than would ever be necessary. By cutting off the outside world, they could be themselves. Parker and Angelina. After everything they’d been through, he couldn’t think of a better way to begin as they took their first steps into a whole new world.
“What’s going on in that head? Hmm?”
There was a split second of alarm when tears filled her eyes, but thankfully, she quickly spoke and put his mind at ease.
“It’s too much,” she murmured. A half sob came from her throat. “Everything. This. The wedding. Our home. Sometimes, I can’t believe we’re together. And you … you’re so wonderful, Parker. All these things you’ve done. For me. For us.” She shook her head and pulled away as emotion overwhelmed his lady love.
“I have nothing,” she continued. Gently touching the key and chain around his neck, she sighed, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “Nothing except gestures and some words. It’s not enough.”
Oh. He got it. She didn’t understand what those words did to him or how very long he waited to hear them—even through the dark times when he was positive he’d lost her forever.
Stroking the face of his beloved, Parker smiled into her eyes. “Angelina, I love you more than words. I love you without a wedding. I love you with everything, and when that isn’t enough, I love you more.”
“See?” she cried. “That’s what I mean. All I have to give is words, and you do it so much better.”
“Honey. If you hadn’t put everything on the line and come back home, we’d have nothing.”
“I love you.”
“And there you have it.” He chuckled. “Don’t you see, baby girl? I have my angel at last, and you’ll just have to get used to me wanting to spoil you.”
How easily he read her thoughts was comical—and no doubt the result of a lifetime of studying Angie Marquez.
She couldn’t only be a spectator. His wife needed—no, she demanded—equal time. He got away with planning their wedding because she was more interested in the day-to-day stuff and far too impatient where their marriage was concerned.
“Tell you what. If it means that much to you, I’ll be a nice guy and let you handle our first anniversary. Will that make you feel better?”
Her playful streak took over, and she shoved away from him with a laugh. “Which anniversary would this be? Our first slow dance? Kiss? Wham Bam?”
Oh, god. She did not just say that—did she?
“Angie, shit.”
She laughed. “Oh, get over it, Counselor. Surrendered virginity and a screaming O don’t always go hand in hand. Nobody was keeping score.” She smirked at him and shrugged. “Except you.”
“From a guy’s perspective, what went down that first time is the stuff of nightmares.”
“Why? Because you lost control?”
Why the fuck were they talking about this? He shifted uncomfortably and put his arm on the back of the sofa. She was so nonchalant about their first time while he was the one with a guilty conscience. Not because he took her virginity but because she was right. The reality of Angie under him as he made love to her with zero finesse whatsoever was a moment so cringe worthy he tried not to think about it.
“There it is!” She clapped her hands and giggled. “That’s what I bring.”
“Seriously?” He drawled. “You’re applauding my loss of control?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” she happily crowed.
He growled and tried to hide his smile. The woman was fucking priceless.
“Parker, my god,” she quipped. “I can count on a couple of fingers how many times you’ve lost it. Don’t you see how that makes me feel? Golly, I remember being in first grade the year you didn’t win the science fair. Sophie said you were so mad you were gonna rip off some guy’s nuts. At the time, I didn’t get it. Why would anybody steal nuts?”
The reminder of his archrival, that ginormous douchecanoe Josh Gordon, was both comical and irritating. She remembered the incident correctly. His classmate was a pissant shitfuck who cheated out the wazoo to steal a win at a science fair Parker was sure he’d win. He remembered being in a rage about it too.
In the end, people took sides and drew some tongue-in-cheek battle lines. And not just between him and his classmate. Nope. The dickhead won that science challenge because one of his father’s clients was some random scientist who lived in town. In other words, he got professional help.
That was the start of the insane Rube Goldberg competition his and Angie’s father continued to this day. Outraged by the cheating and subsequent front-page news of Josh’s uncanny science fair submission, Uncle Cris and his dad took the whole thing personally.
For him, though, surviving the high school humiliation and exaggerated defeat almost led to a smackdown. After that, he had to count to ten every time he came across the asshole.
By Parker’s senior year, he and Alex were already living their teenage rock god fantasy when Josh countered with a band of his own. They sucked and still did despite the clever band name. Chixie Dicks.
Angie didn’t know it yet, but a grudge match more than twenty years in the making was taking shape. He was sick to death of the Dicks dogging Desert Thunder’s every move. Time to show Josh Gordon who had the bigger dick.
“Everyone says you’re disturbingly calm, and I don’t think losing your cool in a courtroom is much of a danger, so when you, um, well, you know,” she muttered with a shrug, “went a little crazy, I liked it.”
“You’re the chink in my armor.”
She responded to his hushed admission with a smile.
“This is why I have to be the one to take care of you. I like all that wifely stuff. And if along the way your restraint is tested, I’m delighted.”
“Ah, darlin’, you bring more to the equation than you realize. I like that it pisses you off when I give you things. It’s quirky and cute. And if losing my shit turns you on, I guarantee a lifetime of melting panties.”
She stood and yanked him with her. “Sing to me, husband. Hold me close and sing.”