Chapter Thirteen
Stunned, Mia stood with Wyatt at the top of the stairs leading to the magnificent Graff Hotel Ballroom. It was a fairyland. When Wyatt would have started down the stairs she pulled on his arm to stop him. “Wait. I want to take this in. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“No more than you are.”
“Thank you, you’re sweet.” Mia turned her head to look at him. “You really look great in a tux, Wyatt. You’re going to be fighting off the women.” She wasn’t exaggerating. Already women were giving him the eye and wondering, she’d bet her best painting, just how attached he was to the woman beside him.
“No fear of that, once they see I’m crazy about you.” He looked around as they started down the stairs. “You’re another matter. Men are going to hit on you within minutes of seeing you.”
Laughing, Mia said, “Flatterer. I doubt that.”
“Really? My own brother was hitting on you. If I hadn’t been standing there, no telling what he’d have said.”
She admitted she’d enjoyed Wyatt’s and Dylan’s reactions when they’d seen her all dressed up. At least part of it was the novelty but she knew she looked good. And she felt like a princess in the dress.
“I see Sean and Honey,” Wyatt said. “Let’s head their way.”
The ballroom was an explosion of color and glittering crystal. Red and silver helium balloons streamed ribbons of silver and gold from the ceiling. White and red poinsettias with flickering candles at their center adorned the tables. Huge firs, decked out in ribbons, sparkling ornaments and twinkling lights stood in three corners, along with bare trees painted white and hung with lights.
Everything was beautiful and elegant, from the crystal and silver place settings, to napkins folded like swans, to the resplendent swirl of colors of women’s gowns to the men, handsome in their tuxes.
Honey wore a pale pink satin and tulle gown, fitted at the top and flaring out at the waist in a waterfall of layered fabric. With Honey’s jet-black hair pinned up in messy curls to cascade down her back, both she and the dress were stunning.
Which Mia told her when she saw her.
“Quite a change, isn’t it?” Honey asked. “Considering I hardly ever wear a dress, much less a formal. I thought Sean was going to swallow his tongue.”
“I can see why. You look fabulous.”
“Thanks. You look beautiful, Mia. Wyatt is completely mesmerized. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you.”
Mia dimpled. “That’s the effect I was going for. He does seem to like it, doesn’t he?”
“I’d say he not only likes the dress, he’s totally gone over you.” She sighed and looked at the two men. Standing side by side, they were clearly related, though Wyatt was blonder and Sean was a little bit taller. “The Gallagher looks are strong in those two, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they are in all the Gallagher men.” She looked at the brothers again. “But these two look especially pretty tonight. There’s something about a man in a tux that makes you want to eat him up.”
Honey laughed. “You got that right.
“What’s with the paparazzi?” Mia asked, gesturing to a group surrounding one of the tables with cameras flashing and microphones being shoved into faces.
“I was wondering that too. Sean, what’s going on over there?”
Sean glanced in the direction she pointed. “Oh, that’s the prince.”
“There’s a prince here? For real?”
“For real,” Sean said. “Prince Theodore Chenery. He’s a nice guy. First thing he said when I met him a few days ago was to call him Theo.”
“You met a prince and you haven’t introduced me to him?” Honey said. “You didn’t even mention you’d met him. Sean Gallagher, what’s wrong with you?”
“Uh, nothing? It wasn’t a big deal.”
Honey stared at him before turning to Mia and asking, “Do you believe him? Not a big deal?”
“You’d better take them to meet him, Sean,” Wyatt said. “From the look on Mia’s face she wants to meet a real live prince too.”
“You bet I do,” Mia said.
Sean took them over, elbowed his way through the slowly dispersing paparazzi, and introduced everyone. They talked for a little while, then left so the prince could visit with other people.
Theo wore a tux, no tie, with a white dress shirt open at the neck. He made a nice picture with his date, a pretty woman in a red dress named Rowan Palotay, who wrote for the local paper.
After leaving the prince and his date, they walked by the Scotts’ table. Mia knew Lane, of course, and had met Carson and Hudson before, but there were a host of others she was introduced to, so many her head was spinning.
As they made their way back to the table, Wyatt waved at someone and said, “There’s Ben and Eve. Ben’s an orthopedist I work with. I’ll introduce you to them.”
He led her over to a couple and introduced them as Ben Tyler and Eve Canaday. Eve was a pretty woman with shoulder-length dark hair, wearing a sleeveless, crimson, low-cut long gown. Ben was a good-looking, tall man with blond hair a bit darker than Wyatt’s, who wore a tux very similar to the one Wyatt had on. From the conversation Mia gathered the three were old friends. They chatted for a little while and then Mia and Wyatt went back to their table as dinner was about to begin.
They sat down to a delicious meal. Spinach salad with bacon bits and a light raspberry vinaigrette dressing arrived first. Then the entree, a chicken Cordon Bleu that was melt-in-your-mouth good, with mixed sautéed vegetables, herbed basmati rice and dinner rolls. Honey’s best friend and maid of honor, Martha Lockhart and her date sat with them, and another couple whose names Mia never did catch filled out their table. By the time they reached dessert, a mouth-watering raspberry and chocolate parfait, the speeches were just beginning.
Mia leaned over to Wyatt and said, “I ate way too much. I’m afraid I’m going to bust out of this dress.”
His gaze was heated and very appreciative, his smile devilish. “That would be a shame since I plan to seduce you out of it once we get home.”
His words conjured up an image that tightened her stomach and brought a flush to her cheeks.
She leveled a reproving glance at him. “Public here.”
He laughed. “Believe me, Mia, I’m well aware of that.”
Dancing with Wyatt was her favorite part of the evening. From the moment he led her out to the floor and danced the waltz with her, until late in the evening when they joined in a couple of impromptu line dances, she felt as if she lived in a fairy tale world. Almost too beautiful and romantic to be for real.
Hold on to the memories. You won’t have anything else once Wyatt knows the truth.
Wyatt watched Mia as she stood in front of the dresser in her room, taking off her earrings and putting them on a tray. She hadn’t worn any other jewelry. Hadn’t needed it, in his opinion. The low cut of the dress showed enough of the swell of her beautiful breasts, and that was far prettier than any jewelry could have been.
“Wyatt? Have you heard anything I was saying?”
He’d known she was talking. But he kept getting sidetracked. By the dress and how Mia looked in it, and wondering what she’d look like when he finally got her out of it.
“Sorry. I got distracted.”
“Yes, I can see that. By what?”
He walked over to stand behind her and look in the mirror. He was still wearing his shirt, unbuttoned, and pants, but had shed the rest of his clothes. “By you.” He kissed her neck and down to her shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about getting you out of this dress all night.”
Mia laughed. “I thought you liked my dress.”
“Oh, I do. It’s very”—he slid his hands down her chest and cupped her breasts through the material—“very sexy.” He ran his hands down to her waist and then to her hips. “Why don’t I help you out of it?”
She smiled, slow and tempting. “Why don’t you?” She moved away from him so he could get to her zipper.
He kissed the center of her back before he began to draw down the zipper. Following the zipper’s path, he tracked her spine with his lips until he was kneeling behind her. When he reached the end, she let the dress fall. All she’d worn beneath the dress was a black thong. Just below the lacy strap, on her right butt cheek, he noticed a tiny tattoo. He’d never noticed it before, or if he had, he must have thought it was a birthmark, it was so small and unobtrusive. Not to mention, it was on a part of her anatomy he wouldn’t have seen until recently.
“You have a mountain range tattooed on your butt.”
“Why yes, yes, I do,” she said with a gurgle of laughter.
“I’ve never seen it before.”
“I’ve had it for a long time.”
“Is there some significance to it or did you just want a mountain range tattooed on your butt?” He kissed it, then laid a line of kisses all around it.
“I got it after I sold my first painting. For money, not barter. It was a landscape of a mountain range. I drew it and the tattoo artist inked it for me.”
He got to his feet. They were still standing in front of the mirror. Mia was watching him, her eyes smoky and mysterious.
“It’s very sexy.” He cupped her bare breasts, rolled her nipples, watched her head fall back as she groaned. “Very, very, sexy,” he murmured in her ear, sliding one hand down to dip beneath the tiny swatch of fabric.
Mia’s arm came around his neck. “The bed...”
“Eventually.” He slid a finger inside her, feeling her tense around it.
She moaned again. He added another finger, teased her with his thumb, driving her higher until she shattered. Then he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her in the middle and started ripping off his clothes.
Mia sat up, reaching into the drawer and coming out with a handful of condoms. She wiggled out of her panties, then pulled him into the bed, and when he would have pushed her on to her back she shook her head. “Oh, no. It’s your turn.”
Her hands stroked and touched him while she made her way down his body planting hot, moist kisses wherever her lips landed. He put his hands in her hair and let her soft lips and warm mouth push him to the edge of orgasm.
Stopping just short of driving him to his peak, she rolled a condom on him and straddled him. Impaled herself on him, rocking slowly at first, then faster. He played with her breasts, sucked a nipple into his mouth then let her go to grasp her hips and drive into her. He thrust upward, she thrust downward. She raised herself almost all the way off of him, then pushed down, hard. And did it again. And again. Her head thrown back in pleasure, he watched her and felt her climax rush through her, until his own orgasm overtook him and he exploded inside her.
Much later, they were sitting up, leaning back against the pillows propped behind them. He had one arm wrapped around her and, with the other, he took her hand and kissed it.
Mia laughed softly. “Is this your new thing? Kissing my hand?”
“I like your hands. Small, but strong. They’re very talented. As an artist”—he kissed the back of her hand, turned it over to kiss the palm—“and in many other ways.” He laced his fingers through hers and fell silent for a bit.
“Mia?” She looked up at him. He let go of her hand and put his on her cheek. “I love you, Mia.”
Her shock was obvious as she stared at him.
Finally she said, “Oh, Wyatt,” and her eyes filled with tears.
Tears? Why the hell was she crying? They didn’t look like happy tears, either.
“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“I’m not.” Picking up a corner of the sheet, she dabbed at her eyes.
“Then what’s that moisture leaking out of your eyes and dripping down your cheeks?”
She shook her head again. “It’s nothing.” She slid her arms around him and kissed him.
She tasted of tears and sorrow. He pulled back and searched her eyes, trying to understand her reaction.
“Wyatt, I love you, too.”
“Then why—”
She cut him off with her fingers to his lips. “Just kiss me. Kiss me and love me and we’ll be happy.”
And though she didn’t say the words, he heard them all the same. For now.