The Billionaire's Baby Plan / Marrying the Northbridge Nanny: The Billionaire's Baby Plan. Allison Leigh
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suite earlier. “He’s so excited about being the ring bearer but I think a lot of it may have to do with getting to walk beside Chance’s stepdaughter, Annie. He’s fascinated with her red hair.”
Panic rippled through Lisa’s stomach, and it had nothing to do with either Kevin or little Annie. With Olivia’s attention elsewhere, she quickly swallowed down the last of her champagne. Courage, even in liquid form, seemed definitely called for.
Then she hefted up her trailing gown and took her bouquet from her sister. Like it or not, it was showtime.
Rourke pulled back his cuff and looked at his watch.
“Don’t worry.” Ted clapped him on the back. “The Plaza is only minutes away. She’ll be here.”
“I know. I just want to get it over with.”
Ted smiled. “And get on with the wedding night?”
Rourke didn’t deny it. He hadn’t told his old friend any of the details behind the sudden marriage; leaving intact Ted’s assumption that Rourke’s interest in Lisa had carried them away.
The pretense wasn’t entirely a pretense, anyway. Since that night with Lisa at her parents’ home, he hadn’t seen her again until the previous day when they’d both put their signatures on his prenup before joining the rest of their families and friends for the rehearsal and the dinner following.
Holding her in his arms, dropping kisses on her lips. None of it had been a hardship and if anything, he was more than a little preoccupied with thoughts of what was to come after the “I do’s” were said.
“Gentlemen?” The woman in charge of keeping them on time poked her head into the room where Ted and Rourke were waiting. “We’re ready for you.”
Ted grinned and gave him a thumbs-up before preceding him to the chapel. The organist was already playing when he and Ted lined up in front of the priest.
He was surprised to feel a jolt of nervousness when he turned to wait for his bride. It wasn’t a common sensation. His mother sat in the front pew, beaming her pleasure at him. Behind her were his sisters and their husbands and broods. Tanya was bouncing in her seat, alternating between pouts and smiles. She’d given him hell the evening before for stooping to marry someone else before she became available.
Young Kevin Jamison appeared, his focus much more squarely on the pillow he was carrying which bore the wedding rings, than it was on where he was walking. Fortunately, his sidekick, Annie Labeaux—who was practically preening in her ruffled yellow dress—knew her marks perfectly, and kept Kevin coming in a forward motion.
Then Lisa’s sister appeared, gliding up the aisle like the dancer he knew she’d once been. Tanya bounced again and, despite her mother’s grasping hands, managed to stand up on her pew to wave both hands at him.
He waved back, earning a soft chuckle from most of the guests. But he wasn’t really listening because Lisa had appeared at the rear of the chapel.
Rourke was vaguely aware of Gerald accompanying her in his wheelchair along the aisle toward him. Vaguely aware of the change in the organ music. Vaguely aware that he was still breathing.
She was beautiful.
Draped in some airy fabric that cinched her narrow waist in bits of lace, managing to look painfully innocent and wrenchingly sexy at the same time.
Her eyes didn’t meet his when she reached the end of the aisle. She kissed her father’s cheek and his motorized chair silently left her side.
Leaving Lisa to him.
He could see her pulse beating at the base of her slender neck. See a similar beat in the smooth flesh between the modest V of her neckline. And he could feel it beneath his fingers in her hands after she handed off her bouquet to her sister and placed them, cool and slightly shaking, in his.
Later, he knew they’d both repeated the vows. Knew he’d pushed his platinum band on her finger and had donned the wider version of it for himself. He knew that she’d lifted her lips for his brief kiss when the priest called for it, and knew that she’d tucked her hand through his arm as they’d walked back down the chapel aisle.
He knew it, because the license was duly signed afterward, they blinked against the flash of a dozen cameras as they left the cathedral behind, and then they were inside his limousine, which was bearing them, right on schedule, back to his Park Avenue apartment. The rest of the wedding party and guests were following in a raft of identical stretches.
“So that’s it,” she said, as they left the cathedral behind. She was looking at her hands that were splayed flat on her lap, surrounded by the cloud of her long gown.
Probably looking at the wedding rings.
“That was just the start.”
He watched her fingers curl into the airy gown until neither her fingers nor the rings were visible. She looked straight ahead at the smoked privacy window separating them from the driver, then turned her head to look out the window. Her veil was pulled to one side, exposing her pale nape and the small, lone freckle that graced the tender skin.
He would kiss that freckle soon enough. And every inch of creamy flesh that stretched down her spine. He wondered how long it would take to undo the dozens of tiny diamondlike buttons that stretched down the back of her gown. Wondered, too, what she would be wearing beneath it.
She looked at him suddenly, her eyes narrowed, as if she’d been reading his mind. But she quickly disabused him of that notion. “There’s not going to be any photographers at your apartment, are there?”
“At the reception?” He shook his head. “No. Outside the building, though? Likely.” There had been a few camped out there for the past several days, clearly documenting the somewhat surprising fact that Rourke Devlin’s fiancée wasn’t yet in residence. “Don’t worry. You’re the picture of a princess bride. Just look up at me adoringly as we go inside and everyone’ll be happy.”
She grimaced and looked back out the window again. “Everyone but us,” she muttered. “Even my best friend doesn’t know what a lie this all is. I hope you’re planning on going to confession someday or that farce of a wedding ceremony will haunt us to hell.”
He touched his finger to her arm, feeling her start, before he dragged it slowly down to her wrist. “That’s how you saw it?”
She shifted, crossing her arms. “How could I not? It was a pretense. Love, honor and cherish?” She shook her head, the corner of her lips turned downward.
“You’ll be my wife with all the respect that deserves. I’ll honor you.” And he’d cherish her body the second he had the chance. No question.
The line of her jaw was like a finely chiseled masterpiece. “You won’t love me.”
Love had never gotten him anywhere. “And you won’t love me.”
She slid him an icy look. “That’s right. The sooner we get what we want out of this deal, the happier I’ll be.”
“Then we’re in agreement.” He held her gaze with his, even after the limo sighed to a stop in front of his building. “Now, are you ready to get on with this?” His driver opened the door next to him.
Lisa’s gaze slipped away. She picked up her bouquet that had been lying on the seat between them and nodded.
He stepped out of the car, and turned to help her out. She stuck out one slender foot, shod in delicate straps, and then the dress seemed to follow as she slid out of the vehicle.
It was like watching flower petals unfurl and he knew the photographers that—as predicted—were still camped out nearby would be snapping away.
The moment Lisa was standing beside him, he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close. His mouth covered hers.
Her lips parted; he could taste her quick word of protest, but