Miami Spice (19 page)

“Okay, teddy bear,” she tempered with her own little
laugh. “As long as you don’t come with any more claws or fangs, or
other women’s phone numbers and nude photos, then I think we’ll get
along just fine.”

Despite the fact her head still swam in the clouds
with the aftermath of such a miraculous coupling, Erica felt a
deep, grounded, abiding pang of reality. Gianni loved and wanted
her just as desperately and completely as she loved and wanted him.
“So, without further ado, I’ll give you my answer:
S
í
, mi amor, yo quiero casarte
. Yes, I’ll
marry you!”

The Fernandez brothers—Manny, Moe, Juan and Gabe, the
mariachi quartet who once serenaded Erica—readily agreed to share
the stage with the Cuban marimba and salsa band hired for the
reception. For this wedding, the special events staff at Las Palmas
Hotel generously decorated the large patio with twinkling lights.
papier-mâché parrots, little wooden guitars and lots and lots of
bright, tissue-paper flowers.

The mother of the bride wore a pink floral gown while
the bridesmaids—Maritza and Tai—looked terrific in amethyst
cocktail dresses. Of course, the bride outshone them all in her
strapless cream satin, the fabric draped beautifully to highlight
her natural curves, her lovely shoulders and the special glow of
her skin. Erica had the dress hemmed to her knees so she had plenty
of room to kick up her heels as the night progressed, a beautiful
sultry night filled with the promise of magic and romance.

When the musicians began a light salsa dance,
she went in search of her new husband. Erica found Gianni laughing
and talking with both sets of parents, his brother Adrian, and her
Aunt Yolanda and brothers Esteban and Gabriel. In his white suit
and pale melon shirt, the groom had to be the most attractive and
striking man at the party. Only Sacha in his lime-striped pants and
raspberry pullover trumped everyone else as the most colorful. As
soon as he spotted her, Gianni quickly excused himself and came to
her side, his smile both dazzling and enigmatic as if he harbored a
tantalizing secret he planned to share with his new bride
later.

Now Adrian Sloan stepped up on stage and
grabbed the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen!
¡Damas y
caballeros!”
Like his brother, he wore white linen slacks but
had added a pale blue guyabera shirt, its color accentuating his
attractive features and dark hair. He flashed the newlyweds a look
of pride and joy. “I give you the happy couple,
el matrimonio
feliz
—
Se
ñ
or y Se
ñ
ora Giancarlo
Sloan! ¡Salud!”

A round of applause greeted the new couple as
they took over the dance floor. The band immediately began a
rousing Latin tango.

“Are you having a good time,
mi
amante?”
Gianni asked as he brought his new bride into his
arms.

Erica laughed. “What do you think?”

“That you’re having a terrific time.” He
placed his cheek along hers, and the feel of his warm, smooth skin
caused erotic ripples to course through her body.

She wanted to melt against him, into him, but
her eagerness to finally get her husband alone became tempered by
their obligation to the guests. First things first, and that meant
a dance or two, the cutting of the three-tiered,
tres leches
wedding cake, and the toss of the bridal bouquet made of lavender,
pink and cream Lisianthus blooms. Their second trip to the hotel
suite would be legitimate this time; and tomorrow the happy couple
planned to fly to Rio de Janeiro, the city of non-stop Brazilian
carnival fun.

As if on the same wave length, Gianni slid
his hand down his wife’s body and reached under her dress to find
her blue garter. He gave it a playful snap.

“You better stop that,” Erica chided lightly,
“or I’m liable to ravish you right here on the dance floor.”

“Oh yeah?” He grinned with mischievous
intent. “Sounds as kinky as your decorating skills.”

“That is now a moot point,” she
emphasized.

Sacha and his friends had been all to eager
to take her client’s unwanted carnal treasures, and Erica had
worked doubly hard to restore Gianni’s apartment along her original
lines, including the beautiful paintings from the real Sloan
artist, Adrian. In one of his generous moods, Sacha had given
“Penis de Milo” as his wedding present to the couple, but Erica
wisely placed it in the back of the bedroom closet, only to allow
the sculpture to see the light of day when she and Gianni felt in a
nostalgic—or kinky—mood.

For now the newlyweds planned to live at his
place, along with Tepeyol, until they found a house. In the
meantime, Maritza had moved into her sister’s apartment after Erica
made sure to reroute the heating ducts with mutual privacy in mind.
Travis had long since fallen out of Mari’s favor, only to be
replaced by another hunky blond by the sobriquet of Brock.

As for her job, well, Erica hoped one day to
bring Elegante Interiors to fruition, but for now, she remained
perfectly content to stay with the Prestige group, especially after
Craig had quietly reserved judgment concerning her decorating
frenzy with the reformed bachelor’s pad.

The immediate future remained the couple’s
own—of laughter, of joy and of celebration—with always the promise
of good times ahead. Ready to party, Erica kicked off one and then
the other white satin heel. She had limited herself to one glass of
champagne earlier, and now felt wonderful, revitalized, and ready
to soar. Glancing at the crowd around them, she spotted the elder
Sloans, her parents and two youngest sisters Selena and Vianney, as
well as Rosina, Sacha, Tai, Craig and his spouse, and Victor and
his wife.

“Hum.” She nuzzled her new husband’s cheek and
inhaled his wonderful smell of tropical cologne and crisp linen. “I
have something to tell you, but I’m saving it for the
honeymoon.”

Tilting back his head, Gianni gave her
curious look from beneath his dusky eyelids. “Oh, oh! What is it?
You’re really a man in disguise? An escaped felon? Or do you
actually have a twin sister named Elodia whom you keep locked in
the attic because she’s
muy cachanda
, more so than you are,
my darling?” He grinned. “Now remember, we vowed to tell the
truth!”

“Elodia?” Erica giggled. “My, what an
imagination you have, my dear, although, I think one horny woman in
your life is quite enough now! No, it’s nothing as drastic as all
that, but I will divulge the truth soon enough…honest!”

She hadn’t told him yet about the anti-love
spells, the ridiculous ingredients and those silly incantations
that cost her two hundred bucks. Money aside, she remained
exceedingly glad that the spells hadn’t worked after all. “But I do
want to save it until we share piña coladas naked on the
beach.”

“Yum! That sounds just too tempting—our naked
bodies that is, not the naked coladas.”

“I’ll take you naked any which way I can,” Erica
professed. “Now shall we engage in some down and dirty dancing?”
The flush on her face indicated her over-the-top excitement, while
her body sizzled in anticipation of the physical delights that
awaited them.

He pulled her close and swept his lips along
hers for a quick kiss. “
Querida
, for you, I’m always up to
the challenge.”

The End

Deborah Merrell is the author of several
erotic romance ebooks, including Miami Spice for Smashwords. Under
her pen name of Marva Dale, she has authored her first mystery
novel,
Death of a Flapper
, for her
Death by the
Decade
series, available through Oak Tree Press, Amazon Books
and Barnes & Noble. In addition, her historical romance,
Far
From Eden: New World
, is the first in a series of novels about
the Traynor Family in Colonial America. For more information, visit
her websites at
www.marvadale.webnode.com
and www.farfromeden.webnode.com.