Blitzing Emily (43 page)

“Not so fast.”

Okay, someone had his cranky pants on. So they started their honeymoon a bit early. It wasn’t a crime. Truthfully, they had started the honeymoon two weeks ago, but who was counting? He was trying to be stern with her, but failing in a big way. It probably had something remotely to do with the amusement in his eyes.

“We have to get out of bed for at least one morning,” he told her. “I’ve ruined you, and now we must marry.”

“You’ve been reading the back covers of the romance novels in the grocery store again, haven’t you?”

“That’s where I get my best ideas.” He wriggled his eyebrows in an attempt to look evil. Emily burst out laughing. He rolled her off him, and onto her back.

“I can’t wait till later to find out what you’ve discovered,” she said. “Fur-lined handcuffs?”

He pinned her wrists over her head with one hand, while he reached into the bedside table with the other.

“I never knew opera singers were so depraved.”

“Well, excuse me, Mr. MVP,” she said. “You just wait till later. I’m going to wear you out.”

“Those lessons on trash talking are evidently paying off.” He smirked. “I wonder if they’d miss us if we didn’t show up.”

He caught her mouth in a kiss that she could only describe as incendiary. Finally, though, he pushed himself off her, dropped the Tiffany box he held onto her belly, and said, “If you don’t get dressed, sugar, you can’t wear these.”

“Tease,” she shot back, but she dutifully sat up. She tugged at the white satin ribbon, pulled the robin’s-egg-blue box open, and let out a gasp. A strand of pearls, stud earrings, and a bracelet were nestled inside. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“Almost as beautiful as you are.” His eyes twinkled. She threw herself onto him again, only to be escorted into the bathroom. “Shower time, young lady.”

“But I haven’t given you your gift yet,” Emily protested.

He flipped the shower taps on, lightly smacked her bottom with his open hand, and said, “Later.”

“I’ll—I’ll get you for that, bruiser.”

“Promise?” He laughed, and then left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Emily grinned to herself. He would pay for this, over and over again. In the meantime, she got in the shower.

She heard Brandon’s voice through the bathroom door a short time later as she wriggled into undergarments and thigh-high silk stockings. “Sugar?”

“Yes, lover man?”

She heard Amy’s laugh ring out somewhere in the background. She hoped her sister wasn’t monitoring their conversation.

“The moms and Amy are here. I’ll see you at the church.”

Emily grabbed a robe off the hook on the bathroom door and slipped it on as the door opened a crack.

“You just wait, you little minx,” he said in a low voice.

“Bring it.”

Brandon let out a snort, shutting the bathroom door as he walked away. Amy opened the door a few minutes later.

“Okay. The coast is clear. Wait till you see him,” her sister said.

“I’ve seen him in a tuxedo before—”

She cut Emily off. “Not like this. We helped him with the tie.”

“It’s not orange or powder blue, is it?”

“Uh, no. Let’s get you dressed and ready.” Amy pulled her out of the bathroom.

After what seemed like a never-ending amount of time getting hair and makeup done, Amy helped Emily into the wedding gown she bought during her Meg-and-Suzanne-mandated shopping trip. Even in February, it was perfect for a morning wedding. Brandon’s pearls went on last.

The moms stood in the doorway watching as Amy pinned the tiara and veil into Emily’s hair. Suzanne clutched their mom’s hand.

“She’s so beautiful, Meg.” Suzanne let out a loud sniffle, and pulled a lace-edged hanky out of her tiny evening purse.

Tears glistened in Meg’s eyes. “I knew this day was going to come. I wasn’t expecting it so soon.”

Amy let out a snicker. “Ma, we’re adults. When did you think this was going to happen?”

Tears or no, it wouldn’t be a family occasion unless Amy said something completely sarcastic. Emily was surprised, though, to see Amy’s chin tremble. She wasn’t as unaffected as she appeared.

“Brian must be meeting us at the church.”

“He can’t make it today.” Amy turned away from her and picked up the tote bag with various items Emily was warned all brides needed desperately, like an extra pair of hose, bobby pins, industrial-strength mascara . . . Something was wrong, but Amy wasn’t going to tell her what it was in front of their mom. Emily would get it out of her later.

“We’re going to be late for the pictures if we don’t move our asses
now,
” Amy told them.

“Amy Margaret Hamilton, I didn’t raise you to use that kind of language.”

Suzanne put a comforting arm around Meg’s shoulders. “I can’t even tell you how many times I washed Brandon’s mouth out with soap for saying bad words when he was a little boy. He is just like his father . . .” The two of them followed Amy and Emily down the hallway, chatting away about their children’s various misdeeds.

The bridal party hurried out to the waiting limousine for the trip to the church. Meg smoothed the skirt of her gown. “Are you nervous, honey?”

“No. I want to get there.” Emily twisted her hands in her lap.

It took only a few minutes to drive to the little church on the hill with the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Lake Washington. They all piled out of the car.

“Hey, it’s not too late to drive over to the burger place and get a shake,” Emily joked, but her stomach was full of butterflies. Her heart was beating a rat-a-tat-tat inside her chest. The moms bustled around them, and hurried inside the church.

Amy held Emily’s train up so it wouldn’t brush the sidewalk. She smoothed the skirt on her dress as well. “This is it, Em.” Her sister’s eyes swam with tears, and she took Emily’s hand.

“Don’t you start, or I’m going to start,” Emily warned.

“It’ll never be the same,” she said, her voice quavering.

“It’s going to be better,” Emily said. They hugged each other. “You’re not losing me, you’re getting a brother.”

Amy let out a snort.

“Fine, if you think that’s going to make me feel better.”

Emily burst out laughing. They pulled away from each other, and Emily touched the pearl bracelet around her sister’s wrist.

“Where’d you get this?”

Amy rolled her eyes.

“Brandon tried to buy me off earlier with something from Tiffany.” She rolled her eyes. “He probably thinks I’ll fall for it.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I see you got pearls, too.” Amy observed. “I love him, even if he is a freak. You do realize you’re going to have to feed him. How many times a day does he eat?”

Just for a moment, Emily was six again, and Amy was five. They walked, hand-in-hand, to the first day of school. This was a different kind of school. Emily was going to learn how to build a family, and hopefully Amy would learn the same lessons, too.

Mark Hamilton waited in the foyer with Jack and Suzanne McKenna. Emily couldn’t hear what was being discussed, but Jack took her arm. “Are you sure you want to marry my son?”

“Jack McKenna, you behave yourself,” Suzanne told him with an indulgent smile.

“Never.” He winked at Emily. “My offer still stands,” but he kissed his wife’s cheek. “Ready, Mrs. McKenna?”

Jack accompanied Suzanne up the aisle and made sure she was seated, and then it was time for Mark and Meg to make their way up the aisle. She gave Emily one last hug, and took both her hands.

“I love you, honey. I’m so happy for you.”

Emily’s fingers brushed metal. Wait a minute. There was a ring on the third finger of her mother’s left hand.

“Mom?” Emily pulled her hand up to see. “What’s this?”

“I asked your mother to marry me again the night before last, and she said yes,” Mark Hamilton told his daughters.

Emily was frozen in shock for a moment. Her mother’s face was radiant with happiness as she held out her left hand for Emily and Amy to see her new ring. A few minutes later, though, it was a bunch of Hamiltons, hugging and crying on the best day of Emily’s life. Their parents finally pulled away, though. “We need to get this show on the road.”

Emily watched her father loop her mother’s hand through his arm. They beamed at each other, and made the slow walk up the aisle.

Amy stepped into place as well. The string quartet in the choir loft swelled.

Emily’s breath caught as she watched Amy’s progress. The ballroom skirt of her dress swished as she walked the aisle. Just buttoning the back of the gown took half an hour. The copper silk shone like a new penny as the sun hit it. She was incandescent.

Amy reached the altar, turned to face Emily, and mouthed, “Hurry up.”

The wedding coordinator and her assistant shut the sanctuary doors, preparing for Emily’s grand entrance. She’d seen far enough into the sanctuary to note it was standing room only. The physical contrast between Brandon’s teammates and the rest of the guests was a bit startling, too.

Emily’s father patted her hand. “Ready?”

Her voice came out in a whoosh: “Yes.”

“Nervous?”

“Not at all.”

She shook like the leaves in her headdress. Her palms were sweaty. She swallowed the tiny bit of moisture in her mouth. Her heart pounded, the adrenaline raced through her body, and she whispered, “Do you have any advice?”

A few seconds later, the sanctuary doors opened with a flourish. The organist and trumpeters launched into Purcell’s “Trumpet Tune.” Emily saw her mom stand up in the front row. The rest of their guests got to their feet and turned toward the back of the church.

Brandon and Emily had invited people on very short notice, but everyone they loved was here. Emily and her father took measured steps over the threshold and into the sanctuary.

“It’s a hell of a time to ask for advice, punkin.” Mark Hamilton held his eldest daughter’s hand a little more tightly. “Brandon asked me the same thing this morning.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Sure, he did. I’m going to tell you exactly what I told him, too. Love each other. Think about the things that would make him happy, and do at least one of those things every day. Put each other first. Take it one day at a time.” Her father nodded at someone he knew as they passed by. “If there was one more thing I could tell you, maybe you should learn from your mom’s and my mistakes.”

“Dad, everyone makes mistakes.”

“There’s a difference between those who learn from it when they screw up, and those who keep doing it over and over.” Her father’s mouth twitched into a grin. “Punkin, this could never be a mistake. You and Brandon are always going to love each other.”

The end of the aisle was in sight, and Emily’s eyes locked on Brandon. He looked more handsome than she’d ever seen him. His curls were styled. He wore a black morning coat with a white silk pocket square, subtly striped tuxedo pants, a pearl-gray vest, and a soft gray cravat. He took whatever breath she still had away. She was so absorbed in staring at him that she was barely listening to her father.

Brandon stepped forward at the end of the aisle. His lips curved slowly into a smile, and he held out his hand to her. Her father stopped, and Brandon walked to them. Emily’s dad shook Brandon’s hand, and they hugged each other clumsily.

“Here she is, son. You can walk with her the rest of the way.” Mark Hamilton pulled his daughter’s veil up enough to kiss her cheek. “We love you.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

He settled the veil back over her face, put her hand in Brandon’s, and stepped aside.

Brandon and Emily took a few more steps, and they stood at the altar. “Nice dress,” he whispered into her ear. “I can’t wait to take it off you.” She let out a laugh. The rest of their lives started now, and Emily could hardly wait.

Enjoyed BLITZING EMILY?

Good news! There’s a lot more to come in Julie Brannagh’s

sparkling, sexy Love and Football series.

Keep reading for a sneak peek at

RUSHING AMY—

on sale February 11, 2014

from Avon Impulse.

An Excerpt from

RUSHING AMY

T
HE WEDDING WAS
over, and Amy Hamilton stood amongst the wreckage.

Every flat surface in the Woodmark Hotel’s grand ballroom was strewn with dirty plates, empty glasses, crumpled napkins, spent champagne bottles—the outward indication that a large group of people had one hell of a party. A few hours ago, Amy’s older sister, Emily, had married Brandon McKenna, the man of her dreams.

Three hundred guests toasted the bride and groom repeatedly. Happy tears flowed as freely as the champagne. The dinner was delicious, the cake, even better. The newlyweds and their guests danced to a live band till after midnight. The hotel ballroom was transformed into a candlelit fairyland for her sister’s flawless evening, but now all that was left was the mess. The perfectly arranged profusion of flowers were drooping. So was she.

Amy arranged flowers for weddings almost every weekend. Doing the flowers for Emily’s wedding, though, was an extra-special thrill. She’d seen it all over the past few years, first as an apprentice to another florist, and then opening her own shop a little over a year ago. It was long hours and hard work, but she was determined her business would succeed.

Amy took a last look at the twinkling lights of the boats crossing Lake Washington through the floor-to-ceiling windows along the west wall. She couldn’t help but notice she stood alone in a room that had been packed with people only an hour or so ago. She’d been alone for a long time now, and she didn’t like the feeling at all. She picked up the black silk chiffon wrap draped over yet another chair, and the now-wilting bridal bouquet Emily had tossed to her. Obviously, she’d stalled long enough. She wondered if the kitchen staff would mind whipping up a vat of chocolate mousse to drown her sorrows in.

H
EAVY FOOTSTEPS SOUNDED
behind Amy on the ballroom floor, and she turned toward them. The man she’d watched on a hundred NFL Today pregame broadcasts strolled toward her. Any woman with a pulse knew who he was, let alone any woman hopelessly addicted to Pro Sports Network.