Beth’s voice was just as low. “Considering the steam radiating off the two of you, I would’ve expected you to look a little more…glowing.” She plucked Lisa’s somewhat smashed bouquet out of her hands and gently stroked her hand over the blooms. “Rourke’s obviously crazy about you. But are you really okay with this marriage thing? It’s awfully sudden.”
“I told you back at the hotel that I was.”
“Yes, and you were two glasses into a bottle of champagne before you managed to say that.” Sara Beth lifted her chin and smiled a little stiffly when Emily and Ramona stepped onto the elevator followed soon by Gerald, whose chair was being pushed by Paul.
“I still don’t know why Derek wasn’t at the ceremony,” Emily was complaining. “I’ve left him a half-dozen messages but he hasn’t called me back.”
“Maybe he had something else he couldn’t get out of,” Paul said, his voice even.
“Not even for his sister’s wedding?” Emily shook her head, looking upset.
“It was short notice for everyone, Mother,” Lisa reminded, hoping that would be the end of it.
She had made it a point not to invite Derek and, considering the number of phone messages he’d been leaving for her, had been half afraid he’d show up anyway. Unless he was living under a rock, he couldn’t fail to have read or heard that she was marrying the handsome billionaire.
Then Ted arrived, holding up a key that he used to unlock the button for the penthouse floor. “Rourke’s talking to security. They were supposed to have the elevators unlocked by the time we got here.”
“No detail left unturned,” Lisa muttered.
Her mother leaned over to pinch Lisa’s cheeks and she jerked back. “Hey.”
“You need some color in your cheeks,” Emily defended. “You’re almost as white as your dress.”
“I think she looks perfect,” Ramona inserted, giving Lisa a quick wink when Emily turned to fuss over Gerald.
The elevator let them off in a spacious, marble-floored hallway that possessed two grand doors at opposite ends. The door belonging to Rourke was obvious; it was opened and a sedately uniformed beauty stood beside it, bearing a silver tray of crystal champagne flutes.
It took only a moment for Lisa to recognize the girl as the hostess from Raoul’s restaurant. “For the new Mrs. Devlin,” she greeted her, holding out her tray.
Mrs. Devlin.
Lisa’s hand shook as she took one of the exquisitely cut stems. “Thank you.”
“For heaven’s sake, Lisa, we’re not going to stand out here.” Emily glided past, taking a glass of champagne for herself and Gerald, and entered the apartment with none of the reluctance that Lisa was trying to hide.
The second elevator arrived with a soft chime and, half afraid it would be bearing Rourke, she gathered her dress and went inside.
Even though she had been prepped by Sara Beth, who had seen the place when Ted had brought her here for a romantic getaway, Lisa still wasn’t prepared for her first sight of Rourke’s city home.
In its way it was as grand as his Greenwich estate. But where that mansion looked to have been steeped in tradition, his penthouse dripped modernism from its bank of unadorned windows to the gleaming dark wood floor, and minimalist ivory-colored furnishings.
The only color of note came exclusively from the chest-high glass vases flanking every window that were filled with immense bouquets of purple irises that seemed to reach for the high, coffered ceiling. The flowers were repeated in squat glass bowls all around the spacious living area.
She didn’t know what surprised her more. The sleek, urban decor, or the profusion of flowers that he’d clearly arranged just for the purpose of their so-called reception.
“I told you it was beautiful,” Sara Beth whispered beside her. She tucked her arm through Lisa’s and drew her through the living area that was long enough to encompass Lisa’s entire town house, toward the terrace beyond the windows where the flowers were even more resplendent.
Stunned, Lisa slowly stepped outside. There were several tables set there arranged end to end and looking as if they’d come straight out of a photo shoot from a high-end wedding. Situated in the corner, there was even a harpist whose dulcet sounds trickled in the air. “Amazing,” she murmured.
“Thanks.” Rourke’s sister Tricia crossed to the nearest table and needlessly adjusted the position of a gleaming silver dessert fork against the pristine white linen cloth covering the table. “I’m afraid my brother didn’t give me much time to pull things together.”
Lisa started. “You did all of this?” She assumed that Rourke had simply thrown enough money at the situation to make things turn around on his dime-size schedule.
Tricia nodded. “Do you like? I wasn’t sure about the color, but Rourkey said you were wearing purple the first night he saw you.”
Lisa’s capacity for speech deserted her. Whether because of hearing him called Rourkey, or that he’d remembered what she was wearing that night in Shots all those months ago.
Seeming to notice her muteness, Sara Beth squeezed her hand. “It’s all so beautiful,” she answered into the silence.
Tricia smiled, obviously pleased. “Wait until you see the cake that Raoul’s wife made. It’s a thing of beauty.” She leaned forward suddenly and gave Lisa a quick hug. “And before everything gets too crazy, welcome to the family.”
Thoroughly discomfited, Lisa hugged her back. “Thank you.” But as she straightened, she spotted Rourke, who’d arrived, seeming to bring up the tail end of their modest gathering of guests.
Fortunately for Lisa, Tricia immediately slid into general mode at the sight of her brother, and she simply went where she was directed—namely to one of the chairs at the center of the long tables.
It was easier than having to think, particularly when she was already consumed with the effort of maintaining a smiling facade in the face of all the good wishes that heaped upon her head.
Hardest, though, was when Nina Devlin—clearly fighting tears—was the last to offer a toast to their marriage. “It just took falling for the right girl to get my son properly down the aisle. I couldn’t be happier to have such a beautiful girl as a new daughter.” She sniffed and lifted her glass, her damp eyes looking right into Lisa’s. “To you and my son. Take care of the love you have found. Take care of each other.” She grinned suddenly. “And take care of the grandbabies I’m hoping you’re not going to wait too long to give me!”
Laughter rounded the table as glasses softly clinked yet again and the breeze whispered around their heads, making the purple flowers marching down the centers of the tables dance.
It would all have been perfect.
If it had been real.
Rourke leaned close to her, his lips grazing her cheek. “Drink, for God’s sake.” His voice was soft, for her ears alone.
She
