More than a Convenient Bride. Michelle Celmer
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Everyone stood and she started down the aisle, walking alone, holding a single long-stemmed yellow rose, looking cool and composed, as if she did this sort of thing all the time. This may have been a “pretend” wedding, but in that moment it couldn’t have felt more real to him, and despite her cool exterior, when Julie faced him and he took her hands, they were trembling.
Stella began the ceremony, but he was so focused on Julie, the mayor’s words all seemed to run together. It was almost as if he was really seeing Julie for the first time. And though he’d been to more weddings than he could count, as they recited their vows, he realized he’d never really grasped the gravity of the words. Real marriage or not, as he slid the platinum band on her ring finger—she’d balked at the idea of a diamond—he pledged to himself that as long as they were married, he would honor those vows.
Then came the part he’d been most anticipating. The kiss to seal the deal. They had to make it look convincing. Too chaste or formal and it might make people suspicious; too passionate and Julie might crack him one. Probably not here at the wedding, but later, when they were alone.
There was another possibility. One he hadn’t truly considered until just now. What if he kissed her, and he liked it? So much so that he wanted to do it again. And even more intriguing was the possibility that she might like it, too.
* * *
“You may kiss the bride,” Stella said, and Julie’s pulse jumped as Luc, seemingly in ultra slow motion, bent his head. The entire ceremony had been a bit surreal, as if she were standing outside of her body watching herself. But this? This was very real.
Her chin lifted in anticipation, and she began to wonder if this was something they should have rehearsed ahead of time. No one’s first kiss should have an audience, yet here they stood with dozens of pairs of eyes planted firmly on them.
Oh boy, what had they gotten themselves into?
Luc reached up, his hand gently cupping her cheek, and her knees went weak. His lips brushed softly across hers, seeming to linger undecidedly between obligation and curiosity, and a sound, like a soft moan, slipped unexpectedly from her lips. Without realizing she’d even moved, her hands were on his chest and curling into the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him closer. If it hadn’t been for the sudden round of applause, and the hoots and howls from their guests, she would have gone right on kissing him. As their lips parted and she looked up into his eyes, she could see that he was equally perplexed. And as lame and juvenile as it sounded, she heard herself saying softly, “Wow, you’re really good at that.”
A wry grin tipped up the corners of his lips. “So are you.”
Her kissing skills, and his, were irrelevant. So why the shiver of pleasure? The weak-kneed feeling of anticipation? There was nothing to anticipate. They were married and she was a legal resident. As devious plans go, this one was playing out exactly as they’d expected. The hard part was over.
With all the handshaking and hugs, the walk back down the aisle took so long that when they finally made it to the room where the reception was being held, people were already sipping very expensive champagne and nibbling on the appetizers catered by a restaurant in town that had reopened its doors just last week. Though she distinctly remembered Luc saying it would be small and intimate, it looked to Julie as if nearly every member of the Cattleman’s Club and their significant others were in attendance.
She looked up at Luc. “Small and intimate, huh?”
“I put Drew in charge of the guest list,” he said, nabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one to her. “So if you have a bone to pick, it’s with him. And forgive me for saying it, but you look positively stunning.”
Forgive him? His words made her feel dizzy with pleasure. “If it wasn’t for Lark’s help, you would have married a raccoon.”
He regarded her with a curious expression.
She laughed and shook her head. “Never mind.”
Somewhere behind her Julie heard the sharp tink of metal on glass and turned to see Skye tapping her champagne flute with the tines of her fork. Her husband, Jake, mirrored her actions, then several other guests joined in, all turning to look at Julie and Luc as if they were waiting for them to do or say something.
She heard Luc mumble something under his breath, and asked him in a hushed voice, “What are they doing?”
“They want us to kiss.”
Julie blinked. “Kiss?”
Luc shrugged. “It’s tradition.”
And he couldn’t have warned her about this? So she could at least prepare herself. “I’ve never been to an American wedding. You’re saying we have to kiss? Right now? In front of all these people?”
“If we want them to stop.”
Considering the rising decibel level, if she and Luc didn’t kiss, someone was bound to shatter something. Besides, it had been so nice kissing him the first time. One more time wouldn’t hurt, right? Who was she to question the tradition.
“Well, if we have to,” she said.
Luc bent his head and brushed a very brief and chaste kiss across her lips, but the tinking didn’t stop.
“You can do better than that,” someone shouted.
Her heart did a back-and-forth shimmy in her chest. Oh boy, this could wind up being a very long evening.
Luc gazed at her questioningly, his eyes saying it would be best if they appeased the crowd. Julie shrugged, whispering, “We have to make it look real, I guess.”
She tried to play it cool, but on the inside she was trembling as Luc cupped the back of her head, his hand sliding through her hair, fingers tangling in the curls. And if that didn’t feel nice enough, his kiss nearly did her in. When his tongue swept across her lower lip she felt it like an electrical charge, as if every cell in her body came alive all at once. But then it was over and she had to fight the urge to toss her champagne glass aside, grab the lapels of his jacket and pull him in for more.
It must have been sufficient for the guests, because the tinking faded out, only to start up again a few minutes later, instigated this time by Paige Richardson, who stood beside her brother-in-law Colby.
Colby was Aaron Nichols’s partner in R&N Builders, which was almost single-handedly responsible for rebuilding the town after the tornado. And though Julie knew him to be a friendly and outgoing, all-around nice guy, the deep furrow in Colby’s brow said something was troubling him.
The tinking rose to an unreasonable level and Julie could swear that every single guest had joined in.
She looked up at Luc, who appeared as amused as he was apologetic. “I have the feeling we’re going to be doing a lot of kissing today.”
“So do I.” And what a hardship that would be. Not. And even if he was the worst kisser on the planet, her citizenship depended on it. It was her obligation to make this marriage look as real as possible. Because if she were to be discovered, and someone proved the marriage was a sham, she would go down hard and take Luc with her. That was not an option.
Before he could make a move, to change things up a bit, she set her empty champagne flute down, slid her arms around his neck and kissed him first. A no-holds-barred, knock-him-on-his-butt kiss that jump-started her pulse and made her tingle in places she didn’t even know she could tingle. His arms went around her and he tugged her against him. He cupped her behind and rocked his pelvis against her stomach. She gasped against his lips when she felt the thick ridge behind his zipper. Obviously he was just as into this as she was, and not at all shy about letting her know it. If not for his suit jacket, everyone else would probably know, too.
This time when they parted he was wearing a wry, sexy smile, and whispered, without a trace of contrition, “What can I say. I’m a guy.”
This was a side of him she’d