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“Mommy! Damien!” Stacy’s excited shout drowned out the two unfamiliar adult voices.

With a fierce scowl at the interruption, Damien sat up. The sheet fell to his waist.

“Damn.”

“What on earth is going on?” Laurie demanded, irked by the interruption. Her darting glance fell on his broad hairy chest and her breath caught in her throat.

“Good morning!” A cheerful falsetto voice filled the air just before a large female form filled the doorway.

“Mother!” Damien groaned, an exasperated sound that more closely resembled a low growl. “Couldn’t you have waited downstairs?”

“I wanted to surprise you.” Damien’s mother laughed at her son’s obvious displeasure.

Then her brown eyes, much like Damien’s, swept over the bed to Laurie.

Laurie squirmed as though under a microscope. A cool glint appeared in the woman’s eyes as their gazes clashed. Laurie squelched the urge to finger comb her hair, a ridiculous notion since she was all but naked under the covers.

“Excuse me,” Laurie said icily. “But you really should learn to knock before entering someone’s bedroom—especially in someone else’s house.”

Stunned silence, and Damien’s mother’s icy stare, followed that curt statement. The other woman turned on her heel and left the room in a huff. From under her lashes, Laurie peeked at Damien expecting to see irritation, even anger, in his eyes. Instead, his abrupt burst of laughter filled the room in the wake of the woman’s retreat. Admiration and genuine humor sparkled in his eyes.

Laurie gaped at him in outrageous disbelief. “That was your mother?”

He nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief as his laughter faded to an amused grin.

“Someone should have taught her some manners,” Laurie muttered as she hastily dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “I hope she enjoyed confirming her obvious suspicions.”

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Laurie dropped onto the edge of the bed, pulling on socks and sneakers. The rustle of fabric indicated Damien was also getting dressed.

“Of course she did.” He strode around the bed, took her hands, and pulled her up into his arms. His gentle fingers swept a strand of hair from her face but lingered on the curve of her jaw.

“Don’t mind her,” he said softly. “She’s just a busy body who thinks she has to know everything.”

“Want to elope?” Laurie whispered, only half teasing.

“Anything you want.” His husky growl stirred her unsatisfied desire. His voice dropped to a sensual whisper. “After they leave.”

* * * *

Laurie managed to maintain her dignity without blushing as she sat in the living room drinking coffee with her future in-laws, George and Marion. She also hoped she made her point clearly about the rude interruption of Marion barging into her bedroom uninvited. She had felt briefly like a schoolgirl caught in sin but shrugged off the uncomfortable sensation. This was her house, after all.

Her gaze caught Damien’s and she pondered the glint of mischief in his eyes. Then she gave his parents a good long look. George was a retired contractor with light brown eyes behind clear metal-rimmed glasses. A pleasant smile curved his lips under a graying mustache. Crew-cut gray hair dusted his scalp. Only a few inches shorter than Damien, he had the strong build of a career construction man. He wore jeans and a buttoned, short-sleeve white shirt. He settled back in the corner of the sofa, his gaze often straying to the television.

In stark contrast to her husband, Marion perched on the edge of the sofa, her penetrating and suspicious gaze darting everywhere before settling on Laurie. Laurie barely refrained from squirming like a child about to get in trouble. Instead she fixed her steady stare on the other woman.

Marion reminded Laurie of Marjorie a great deal. She wore a tailored pantsuit in shades of blue and held herself so erect, even sitting, Laurie wondered how she kept her spine so stiff.

Marion carried the same air of constant disapproval Marjorie often did.

“What do you do, dear?” Marion broke the awkward silence.

Laurie frowned in confusion. “Do with what?”

“For a living,” Marion clarified haughtily.

“I write,” Laurie replied, deliberately vague. She honestly felt it was absolutely none of the woman’s business. She resented the interrogation.

“Oh, what do you write?” Marion feigned interest with a skeptical frown.

“Romance novels.” Laurie tried but failed to keep the curtness from her tone.

“Hmm,” was Marion’s only reply as she swung her disapproving gaze to her son. Damien merely arched an eyebrow at her.

“And how do you support yourself?” she demanded, obviously indignant.

Laurie glared at her and said icily, “I just told you.” She paused and stood up, shooting Damien an enigmatic glance. “Excuse me.”

Her spine rigid, she stalked from the living room and up the stairs to her office. She grabbed a stack of books and marched back downstairs. She dropped twelve thick paperback books, eight of them marked ‘bestseller’, in a heap on the coffee table.

“This is how I support myself and my daughter,” she declared harshly, enjoying the flash of recognition on Marion’s face. “I see you recognize the name.”

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Marion stared up at her, eyes wide in reluctant admiration. “This is you? I’ve read them all. They’re very good. You certainly know your craft.”

“Thank you,” Laurie muttered and fixed Marion in her steady regard. Her tone turned obstinate and frosty. “Now that I have proven I will not be sponging off your son, do you have any other objections?”

Brown eyes blazing with fury at being upstaged, Marion snapped her mouth shut and slowly shook her head. Having neatly put the woman in her place, Laurie smirked and shot Damien a triumphant glance. His dark eyes gleamed approval. He burst into laughter, snagged her hand, and tugged her onto his lap.

Laurie smiled at him and swept an errant lock of hair from his forehead. Glancing at her guests, she caught the flash of a thoughtful expression on Marion’s carefully made up face. She also noted more disapproval, aimed not at her but at Damien.

“What will you do now that you’re finally out of the Navy, Damien?” Marion turned her interrogation on her son.

Laurie wondered at the icy disdain with which Marion spoke of the Navy. Had she disapproved? Why? Damien had made a career, a good one, of defending his country—the one in which she enjoyed complete freedom. She owed that freedom to Damien and all other soldiers.

“I work at Somerset,” Damien replied, his stern tone and the hard glint in his eyes discouraging further questions.

Laurie watched him, took in the rigid set of his features. Oh yes, the Navy was a definite sore spot between mother and son.
Déjà vu
, she thought sadly as she remembered the harsh words and bitter estrangement over career choice between her and Marjorie. She sincerely wished Damien better luck with his family. George had yet to say anything, though he appeared distinctly uncomfortable.

“That will be a pleasant change,” Marion commented with a bright, though forced smile.

“What shall I do for the wedding?”

“Why, nothing.” Laurie’s answering smile was equally bright and equally forced. “It’s all taken care of. Just bring your smiling faces.”

“Okay,” Marion agreed. Uncertainty flickered in her eyes then faded.

Laurie frowned then turned her head and offered Damien a sympathetic smile. He had as strained a relationship with his mother as she had with hers. She reluctantly left his lap to sit in the other recliner near the floor console television.

“Crawford, Crawford,” Marion muttered to herself but ostensibly loud enough for everyone to hear. Then she snapped her fingers as though suddenly making a mental connection and fixed an accusing glare on Laurie.

“Are you related to Nathaniel Crawford—the traitor in the news?” she demanded harshly with a quick cool glance at her son.

Laurie choked on her coffee. Speechless, she sent Damien a shocked glance then dropped her gaze to the floor. Shame mingled with anger and it took all her strength not to flee the room.

Instead, she sat rigid on the edge of the chair, the mug clamped in her trembling hands, and refused to answer. Her father’s crimes had nothing to do with her.

“That is enough, Mother.” Damien stood up. That cold tone brooked no argument. “You are not interrogating a prisoner. Laurie is my fiancée.”

“I simply asked a natural question, Damien,” Marion protested, returning her son’s icy stare.

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“Drop it,” he growled the warning. He tensed for an argument, a subtle change in demeanor that only Laurie noticed. Wisely, Marion heeded the warning.

“We need to get back,” Marion stated and stood. In minutes, they were gone.

In the front yard, Laurie stared after their car and leaned into Damien’s embrace, still reeling from the unexpected visit. The admittedly short scene ran through her mind. It had barely lasted twenty minutes, yet she felt as though she had been interrogated for hours.

She looked up at Damien with a confused frown. “What just happened here?”

“My mother trying to interfere in my life again.” Damien let out an exasperated sigh as he escorted her back into the house.

Laurie uttered a derisive chuckle. “Maybe we should elope. With our disapproving families, we could avoid a major expense.”

Damien kicked the door closed firmly behind him then stopped and turned her into his arms. He put a finger under her chin, urging her to meet his gaze. She peered into his eyes, so steady and direct on hers.

“I love you,” he stated firmly. “Nothing and no one will ever change that. We get married as planned.

Laurie linked her hands behind his neck, her fingers tangled in his hair, and leaned into him until her breasts rested on his chest.

“Whatever you say,” she murmured huskily. “I love you.”

* * * *

Their wedding did go as planned. Marjorie, true to her word, did not attend. Disappointed that her mother did not care enough to join her on the most important day of her life, Laurie ignored negative feelings and celebrated her love. From the kitchen window over the sink, she watched the guests mingle as she sipped burgundy. The guests had split into two distinct groups.

Damien’s family chatted on one side of the lawn in a close-knit group. A few assorted friends, Laurie’s and Damien’s, joked and talked together around the make-shift bar that contained wine, champagne, and a beer keg as well as various party trays and buffet-style dishes of food.

In a dreamy memory of vows exchanged, a local justice of the peace had performed the ceremony. As her gaze scanned the yard, Laurie involuntarily compared the two groups of people that celebrated her union with Damien.

Booted feet clomped across the porch, drawing her gaze to the open door. Justin Carpenter, Damien’s best friend and best man, came into the kitchen carrying a large plastic cup of beer. Possessing an infectious sense of humor that put a constant sparkle in his green eyes, he grinned. Laurie liked him immediately.

“Deserted by the groom already?” he teased as he planted a quick brotherly kiss on her cheek.

Damien walked in at that moment and gave Justin a mock frown. But his eyes held a teasing gleam as he slid his arm around Laurie.

“Get your own woman, Justin,” he ordered lightly. “This one’s mine.”

“You’re a lucky man.” Justin smiled.

But Laurie detected wistful longing in his eyes. Was he lonely beneath that laid-back bachelor image? As Justin returned to the back yard, she pushed him from her mind. Damien nuzzled the back of her neck and heat spread through her. She turned in his arms and gave him a sultry smile.

“Do you think anyone will notice if we sneak upstairs for a while?” At the resulting flare of passion in his eyes, she wrapped her arms around him.

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“We’ll lock the door,” he said huskily and, walking backward, tugged her out of the kitchen.

End