You and Only You (28 page)

The doorbell rang.

She grinned.

Mike was going all out, waiting for her to let him in instead of using his key.

When she opened the door, she gasped. The last time she’d seen Mike Dalton in a tux had been at the senior prom, and it was nothing like this.

“James Bond, as I live and breathe. Please come in.”

Mike smiled as he walked in, slid a hand around her waist to kiss her, then felt bare skin instead of fabric and froze.

She batted her eyes just enough to get his attention.

“Are you ready, sugar?”

He nodded.

“I’ll just get my wrap,” she said, and sauntered back to the sofa, giving him a front-row seat to what was showing, and leaving the rest of what was not to imagination.

When she turned around, the grin on his face was stretched from ear to ear.

“It is a damn good thing I got that ring on your finger before the rest of Blessings sees all this. I might have had to fight ’em off on the doorstep.”

She smiled. “You approve?”

“If I had a gold seal of approval, I’d pin it on your ass. You are stunning, LilyAnn, and I seriously love you.”

“Thank you, Mike. I seriously love you, too.”

“After you,” he said, then closed her door and locked it behind them before walking her to the car.

“This feels like a date,” she said, as Mike got behind the wheel.

He paused, his hands on the wheel.

“You’re right. It does feel like a date, sugar, so I guess it is. We definitely missed out on a lot, but I will not complain since it got us here.”

“Agreed. I hope I don’t make a social faux pas tonight. It has been ages since I’ve been out in polite society. I tried to cover up my black eye. Does it look okay?”

“You look perfect. Your face is perfect. Everything about you is perfect. Now quit fussing and let’s go have a party.”

The streets were still lit with Christmas lights, as were the trees and shrubs and the porches of the houses that they passed. The air was chilly, but the night was clear. It was a perfect night to ring in a new year.

The country club was lit up like the Fourth of July. Lights shone from every window of the three-story edifice, and the grandeur of the old Corinthian architecture lent itself to the ambiance of the night.

“This place is so pretty,” LilyAnn said, as Mike wheeled into the parking lot. “The last time I was here I was crowned Miss Peachy-Keen Queen. Mama and Daddy were beside themselves with pride. I thought Daddy was going to bust a button. He took so many pictures that night.”

“I remember. I’m sorry he’s not here, LilyAnn. We lost him way too soon,” Mike said.

She nodded, but there was something she needed to get off her chest.

“You know I said I didn’t like Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I just wanted you to know that I think it wasn’t Eddie I didn’t like. I think it was me. He’s good to me, Mike. He’s a little rough around the edges, but that’s nothing. I just wanted you to know that.”

Mike patted her knee. “You have done a lot of growing up in the last two months,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think it was about time?”

He chuckled. “Ah, here’s a good spot, and not too far from the entrance.”

He wheeled into the parking place and then got out and ran around the car to help her out.

She settled her wrap around her shoulders, thankful for the warmth, and slid her hand beneath the crook of Mike’s arm.

“Lead the way, Prince Charming. I feel like tonight is going to be magic.”

And she was right.

She checked her wrap at the door, making their entrance into the grand hall nothing short of dramatic as they approached the ballroom entrance. A uniformed footman stood at the top of the stairs, reading out each couple’s name as they descended into the throng of guests below.

When Mike handed him their invitations, the footman scanned the names against the guest list, then loudly announced in the same sonorous voice:

“Mr. Michael Dalton and Miss LilyAnn Bronte.”

The chatter below trailed off into a murmur and then into complete silence as they descended the stairs.

LilyAnn knew how to play the part. It was a little bit like walking the runway during a beauty contest, only easier, because here there were no interviews or trick questions at the end of the runway to separate her from the others, and no crown to fight over.

Her chin was up, her shoulders back, and she was smiling and whispering to Mike in little asides, just enough to put a smile on his face.

“Pretend I’m witty. Look at me like you can’t take your eyes off me,” she whispered.

Mike grinned. “I don’t have to pretend, and I’m afraid to take my eyes off you, even for a second. Your dress is TNT with a fuse, and I’m scared to death someone is gonna strike a match.”

LilyAnn giggled.

And all the crowd saw were two people with eyes only for each other, which was exactly the point.

Almost immediately, Niles Holland, the president of the country club, stepped forward and shook Mike’s hand.

“Mr. Dalton. Miss Bronte. It is a pleasure to have you here. The champagne is flowing. The buffet is full to
over
flowing, and the music is about to start. Miss Bronte, if I may be so bold… May I be the first to ask if you would save me a dance?”

“Of course, Mr. Holland, but the first and last dances are reserved especially for my fiancé.”

Niles’s eyebrows rose. “Fiancé? I hadn’t heard. Congratulations, Dalton. You are a lucky man.”

LilyAnn flashed the ring. “On the contrary, sir. I believe I am the lucky one.”

Niles Holland knew about futurities and the stock market, and he knew gems. When he saw the rock, his eyebrows arched.

“That is absolutely stunning.” He eyed Mike with new appreciation.

“Thank you, sir.”

LilyAnn flashed him a smile as they walked away.

All of a sudden they heard the sound of glass breaking.

“Keep walking,” Mike said.

“What happened?” LilyAnn asked.

“Holland just dropped his champagne. I think he caught sight of the back of your dress.”

“Then I have achieved success,” she said softly, then leaned over and kissed the spot right beneath his ear, knowing it made him want her. “In more ways than one.”

Mike groaned. It was going to be a long-ass night before he got her out of that dress and in his bed, but it was definitely something to look forward to.

Chapter 18

It was fifteen minutes until midnight. The countdown to going home was about to become a reality, and none too soon for LilyAnn. Her grandma used to say that the best way to tell if a party was a success was how bad your feet hurt and how loud your belly growled. According to Grandma, a lady didn’t graze from the buffet table, she nibbled, and then never ate anything that could go bad. It was a Bronte rule, and one LilyAnn had conformed to from an early age. She’d guided Mike through the same rule all night, steering him away from the shrimp and smoked salmon appetizers, choosing bites of cheeses and savory crackers for him instead of pâté, treating him with petit fours and fruit tarts, in lieu of mini quiches with cream sauces.

She’d danced with Niles Holland, and then the mayor, and then the chief of police, who managed to whisper a quick aside about what a remarkably brave woman she was. She had thanked him kindly, while keeping an eye on all the pretty women who were hovering around Mike. After his heroic rescue, he had his own group of admirers, many of whom seemed to have him cornered.

The only thing that kept LilyAnn from getting green-eyed jealous was the ring on her finger and the looks he kept giving her. Tonight was a nice break from the reality of their lives. They were not quite in the same social structure as the movers and shakers of Blessings, but good enough to keep them respectable on this very special night.

As soon as the music stopped, LilyAnn smiled but waved away the next gentleman who’d walked up.

“I’m sorry, but my fiancé is looking far too comfortable in the midst of all those pretty ladies. I feel the need to remind them of their boundaries.”

She flashed him a smile to soften the turn-down as she walked away. She heard a faint wolf whistle behind her and smiled. God bless Mrs. Ling for the masterpiece she was wearing.

Mike saw her coming and was again struck by the change in her. It had very little to do with the weight that she’d lost, and more to do with how she’d come alive from inside.

“Sorry, ladies, but I have come to claim my one and only,” LilyAnn said.

They smiled and giggled and said all the right things, but LilyAnn knew women, and she knew when she walked away with Mike that they would not be admiring her dress so much as picking her apart at the seams, because it was what women did.

“You’re tired,” Mike said.

The smile she was wearing slipped, and her eyes got a little teary.

“But it’s a good kind of tired. I want to dance with you, Michael. I want you to put your arms around me. You center my world. You make me feel safe.”

A wave of emotions washed through him as he took her in his arms and swung into a waltz step.

LilyAnn let Mike’s strength flow through her, filling her heart and calming her soul, settling the chaos that came with memories of thinking she was going to die.

They circled the floor, over and over in a mindless daze, just happy to be here and with each other.

One moment they’d been moving in waltz time, and just as suddenly the music stopped.

LilyAnn glanced toward the clock at the top of the stairs. It was only seconds before midnight.

“I have always wanted to do this,” Mike said.

“Do what?” she asked.

“Kiss the woman I love at the stroke of midnight.”

She shivered with sudden longing.

“I’ve never done this either,” she whispered.

“Not with—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “Not ever.”

A muscle jerked near his jaw.

She knew what that meant to him—being her first.

The crowd hushed, everyone’s eyes on the second hand as the bandleader began a countdown.

“Ten. Nine. Eight.”

The crowd was counting down with him now.

“Seven. Six. Five.”

Mike cupped her face.

“Four. Three. Two.”

The second hand swept past the one.

As the bandleader shouted “Happy New Year!” the crowd erupted.

The notes of “Auld Lang Syne” swelled within the room as balloons began to fall. Party horns were blowing, little poppers spewing bursts of confetti, and then streamers and even more confetti began to rain down from the ceiling.

But LilyAnn didn’t see it. Her eyes were closed. Her arms were around Mike’s neck while she was held close in his embrace. Their kiss was a symbol of what they had laid to rest and of the years to come.

Someone bumped into them in the crowd, then mumbled a rather drunken “sorry” and staggered off.

Mike traced the shape of her cheek all the way to her chin, then tapped the center of her lower lip with his finger. It was still damp from his kiss.

“Happy New Year, my love.”

“Happy New Year, Michael, and for all of our years to come.”

* * *

They were still asleep when the first round of guests from the New Year’s Eve ball hit the ER with full-blown symptoms of food poisoning. If they weren’t throwing up, they were battling dysentery. It became obvious that there were nowhere near enough bathrooms in the hospital to accommodate the nearly one hundred victims in varying stages of distress.

Ruby Dye heard it straight from the banker’s wife that the police chief’s wife threw up in the mayor’s lap and then passed out on the floor at his feet. She said the orderlies couldn’t mop fast enough to keep up and that it was basically a fecal free-for-all.

When LilyAnn heard the news, she silently thanked her grandma’s wisdom and took Mike’s gratitude as her due.

* * *

The day in February when Mike and LilyAnn boarded the cruise ship for Jamaica, T. J. Lachlan was one of a bus full of prisoners unloading at the Georgia State Prison.

His hair was just beginning to grow back, although the scar on the side of his head would be a vivid reminder of a woman’s wrath, as were the scars on both cheeks, running perpendicular from his eyes to his chin.

His ear had healed to a funny-shaped knot where the lobe used to be, and he walked with a slight limp. He had but a shadow of his former bravado and was far from ready for what lay ahead. Unfortunately for T. J., the facial scars he abhorred only added to his sex appeal for the men who still thought him pretty.

Karma was a bitch.

* * *

The good thing about being on an island teeming with tourists is that when you don’t know another soul except your partner, it’s the same thing as being in exile. You are as alone as you want to be—with no phones to answer, no demands to be met—and that is how Mike and LilyAnn were welcomed to Jamaica.

The sun was setting on their second day in Jamaica when Mike and LilyAnn walked onto the beach. Mike was in a loose shirt and matching pants, and LilyAnn in a sheer summer dress with an empire waistline and a long, flowing skirt, garments as white as the sand between their bare toes.

A garland of red orchids around Mike’s neck hung midway down the front of his shirt.

LilyAnn had a matching orchid over her right ear and a bouquet of white ones in her hands.

They stood with a preacher before them, a photographer to his side, and their backs to the ocean as a bright yellow moon rose over their heads.

“Are you happy?” Mike whispered.

“Beyond measure,” she said.

And then the minister began.

“We are gathered here together, in the eyes of God…”

LilyAnn’s heart was pounding as she blinked away tears. Growing up, like every little girl, she had expected to be on her daddy’s arm on this day as he walked her down the aisle. She’d always pictured him standing before the altar as he gave her away.

But he was long gone and LilyAnn had come close to missing out on everything. It had taken an emotional shock and a physical assault to set her feet on the right path. That it had led to this island and this night, with this man, was nothing short of a miracle.