eyes on me.”
“Okay…”
“I heard something. I think there’s someone outside the window behind me—and don’t shift your focus there.”
“You mean—?”
“Reporters. It looks like they’ve found us, after all. But don’t say it—don’t say anything about it. Whoever’s out there won’t be able to hear much through the window, but the view of your face through those lace curtains should be pretty good, considering that the overhead light is on and the shades are up.”
She understood. Whoever it was might be able to make out her words as her lips moved—though why it should matter, she wasn’t quite sure.
Dekker said, “I want to give our uninvited guest a little taste of his own medicine. And do not start frowning. Please.”
She put on a big smile.
“Don’t overplay it.”
She toned it down.
He shifted forward, drawing his legs up and resting his forearms on the table. “Lean toward me.”
Still grinning—but not too hard—she mimicked his pose, which brought their noses within inches of each other. “Now what?”
“Now, I want you to kiss me.”
Joleen almost blinked—but stopped herself in time.
“Just do it,” Dekker whispered.
“But—”
“Humor me.”
“What good is—”
“Jo.”
That was all he said. Her name. It was enough to remind her of the trust she put in him, of what a true friend he was and always had been.
She would jump off a cliff for him if he asked her to. What was a kiss compared to that?
She leaned even closer.
And their lips met.
His lips were soft. Warm. She wondered if hers felt cool to him. And then she thought of their brief kiss at the courthouse.
This made it two times.
Two times in her whole life that she had kissed Dekker’s mouth—and both of those times were on the same day, their wedding day.
His mouth moved against hers. “Close your eyes.”
It was a most ticklish feeling, talking together, with their lips touching. She couldn’t help smiling. “Dekker, I know how to kiss.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, okay then. Prove it.”
Joleen rose to the challenge, letting her mouth go soft and her eyelids drift down.
Several seconds passed. Very lovely seconds.
Dekker’s mouth opened slightly against hers. She felt the warm flick of his tongue.
It was…shocking.
Dekker’s tongue. Touching the moistness just inside her lips.
Shocking.
But not the least bit unpleasant.
Some part of her mind rebelled. This, after all, wasn’t what the two of them were about. Not Joleen and Dekker. Brushing kisses—quick, fond pecks on the cheek—those were all right. But nothing mouth-to-mouth. Nothing involving wetness. Nothing including tongues.
However…
Somebody ought to teach those reporters a lesson. And this would do it—though she wasn’t quite sure how.
But Dekker knew. And that was good enough for her.
She sighed.
He made a low, teasing sound in his throat and went on kissing her. With tenderness. And considerable skill.
Not deeply, though. He never did more than skim the secret flesh right inside her mouth.
Not deeply…
A memory flared, bright as those photoflashes on her mama’s front porch earlier that night.
Herself at the age of eleven. Spying on a sixteen-year-old Dekker, who was with Lucy Doherty, his first serious girlfriend.
They were kissing, Dekker and Lucy. Sitting on that little iron bench in the corner of Lorraine’s backyard, kissing long and deep and slow. Joleen, behind the fence next door, could see them through the space between the fence boards.
So strange. All these years later. Here she was, her mouth against Dekker’s mouth. Thinking of him kissing Lucy Doherty, of her own naughty young self, with her snoopy little nose pressed to the fence.
The way he’d kissed Lucy, now that had been a deep kiss.
Joleen was starting to wonder what it might feel like if Dekker were to kiss her deeply when she realized he was pulling away.
She sighed for the second time and let her lashes drift open.
His blue, blue eyes gleamed at her. “Good job.”
“I aim to please.” The words came out as a throaty purr. Did she intend them to? She wasn’t sure. “Um, what now?”
“Now, we get up from this table and we go into your bedroom with our arms around each other. We want it to look as if, when we get in there, we’re going to do what newlyweds usually do.”
What newlyweds usually do…
The words set her pulse throbbing. Which was so silly. They were not really going to do what newlyweds do.
They were only going to make the reporter think that they would.
Why are we doing this, really? she wanted to ask. But she didn’t quite dare. She still faced the window, and the light overhead seemed way too bright, too revealing. Whoever was out there might know what she said. That would ruin Dekker’s plan—whatever his plan was, which she didn’t know yet.
She didn’t want that, to ruin her friend’s plan—her friend who, as of tonight, was her husband, too.…
But then, not really her husband. At least, not in that way.
“Ready?” he asked.
She swallowed. Nodded.
He held out his hand to her.
She laid hers in it—her left hand, the one on which she now wore the shining band of diamonds he’d
