The Gideon Affair (40 page)

She calmly sipped her coffee and assessed his every breath over the rim of the big mug. Her expression gave nothing away. Not even the snarky challenge he just threw in her face got a reaction. He was starting to get where Paige got her balls. Nothing ever rattled her, and now he knew that she learned that shit from an expert.

He, however, had learned the art of patience on a battlefield.
Hurry up and wait
should be the Army’s motto. Mirroring Rose’s calm indifference, he sat across from her and drank his coffee. Waiting. When she finally said something, it was a doozy.

“You didn’t protect my baby.”

Whomp, whomp. She just chewed a huge hole in his ass.

“The press dragged her good name through the mud because of you.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but he understood why Rose saw things that way. He’d been the center of a scandal. With guilt by association being a theme in the media, Paige had been tagged. But so had a lot of other people.

“The minute she went on the radar, everyone in our corner took immediate steps to shut that bullshit down.”

“Is that why you got her to accept an engagement? Is this all about saving your career? Is my daughter’s name going to end up as a footnote in some tacky Gideon affair?”

Shock and horror propelled him from his seat. “Oh, my god. No. Is that what you think? Mrs. Turner … I adore Paige.”

“She’s your assistant. What you’ve done is sexual harassment.”

She was fucking kidding, right? He couldn’t let anybody think stuff like that about Paige. He didn’t care who it was. Not even her mother.

“Whoa, lady. Slow down a minute. You have this all wrong. For the record? Paige isn’t my assistant. She’s my goddamn best friend. And you should know that we had already admitted our feelings before the shit hit the fan. I don’t give a rat’s ass about my so-called career, so saving it was never a real factor in anything we did. I asked your daughter to marry me because I can’t live without her. She’s everything, and because we’re speaking frankly here, I have no qualms about informing Mr. Turner and you that absolutely nothing improper went on until after we were engaged.”

That was 99.9% true since he’d asked her several times, despite the fact that the ring and the acceptance took place the morning after they first made love.

Putting his hand on his heart for emphasis, he looked her dead in the eye and declared, “I would never put Paige in jeopardy. Never.”

The way she stared at him made his balls shrink. Then, as if none of that had happened, she nodded once, picked up a scone, and dug in.

“So Miriam tells me that you like to scrapbook. Is that true ‘cause I’m the head of our local Scrap Queens chapter. We have a get-together once a month. Maybe when you and Paige come home for a visit, you’d like to join us."

This lady should be negotiating all our treaties
, he thought to himself because never had he been boxed into a corner so quickly or cleanly. She might not be thrilled with the way he made a living, but that wasn’t going to stop the self-proclaimed Redneck Queen of Blueberry County from showing off a celebrity son-in-law to her lady friends. And just like that, he understood why his mom went overboard with the blueberries.

Thanks, Mom.

“Y
ou ready for tomorrow?”

She’d been ready for years, but when her mouth opened, what she blurted out was a whiny, “Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know.”

He was all over her like a rash in the next heartbeat. “What’s bothering you? I want to help.”

How could she explain and not sound like a crazy person?

“It’s, um … weird, I guess.”

He looked at her quizzically. “Weird?”

Nope. No two ways about it. She was a crazy person.

“Edward, come on,” she drawled. “I’m the planner. Pulling off a wedding with a week’s notice? Even such a small gathering? That’d be my job. But this … god, I don’t know. I’ve never been a bride before.”

She stopped to catch her breath then started up again. “And our moms are like some kind of possessed bridal planning posse while your dad is just flat-out nuts. And with Marsh egging him on, it just feels like …” She sighed heavily. “Don’t hate me for saying this, but it feels like walking onto a movie set. Everything’s been set up, and all I have to do is put on the dress and smile.”

“Do you like your dress?”

She glared at him. Really? After that passionate soliloquy, his only reaction is to ask about her dress?

“Babe,” he said softer this time. “Do you … like … your dress?”

Her dress. She couldn’t help the dreamy expression she knew spread across her face.

With something strictly traditional just so, not her style, she’d gone nuts when pawing through rack after rack of elaborate, sometimes gaudy bridal couture, and stumbled upon a dress with a totally different vibe. She knew the moment she tried it on and it fit perfectly that she and that dress were destined to meet.

“I love it.” She glanced at him briefly, and then lowered her gaze. She didn’t want him to see how she really felt. He’d find that out tomorrow when she went to him on her father’s arm because, for Paige, nothing mattered more than his expression when he saw his bride for the first time. The dress was all for him.

They were walking hand in hand, back and forth on the porch, having been forbidden to venture any further so they would be surprised when they saw the spot they’d picked for the ceremony, all fancied up. He stopped and urged her up against the railing, snuggling into her back, with his hand securely around her middle. With his face nuzzling her neck, he said, “You told me once about a birthday party. When you turned thirteen. It was the first time your parents were letting boys come, right?”

She couldn’t believe he remembered that story.

“And what did your mom do? She made all the arrangements and even took you to her hair place. First real manicure … so grown up.”

She heard the loveable teasing in his voice and got all tingly when his scratchy beard rubbed her cheek. He was hot whether clean-shaven or scruffy as fuck. And right now all that hair on his face and his head turned her on. She was bummed that he’d trimmed up the facial hair for their special day.

“There was nothing for you to do that time either. It was your party. It was your day, and all you had to do was show up. And enjoy getting ready.”

He rocked them back and forth slightly, and she held on to the arms holding on to her.

“Remember what you said about the heartbeat before your big entrance?”

If it was possible to love him any more, she did at that moment.

“Yes, I said that knowing it was all for me, from the invitations to the food, almost made me cry …”

“And that standing there in the prettiest dress you’d ever worn made you feel like a princess. That heartbeat of joy was as important to you as the event itself.”

God, he was so smart. And cute.

“Our parents want to do this for us and let’s face it … if this whole getting married thing was left up to you and me, there’s a real good chance a quickie Elvis wedding in Vegas was a possibility.”

He was probably right. “Hey,” she asked turning her face up to his. “So what happens tomorrow night? I’m about over the whole separate bedrooms thing.”

“Sorry, buttercup, but there was no other way to guard my purity when my fiancée turned out to be such a wanton brat.”

“Oooh.” She laughed. “So I’m a wanton brat now? I didn’t hear you complaining last night when I rode you on the floor. Thanks for the sore knees, by the way.”

“Wah, wah, wah. Like you said, I also didn’t hear any complaining.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. We aren’t even married yet and already you’re whining about performing your husbandly duties. Am I going to end up one of those long-suffering wives who goes through batteries like a tank of gas?”

“Yeah, about that. I’m locking up all the toys. You’ll have to ask permission from your husband for access.”

Their laughter rang out and she hugged his arms tighter. She didn’t doubt that they’d be laughing like this forever.

“But as for tomorrow night … we’re going to drive out to a place Marsh showed me that has a breathtaking view, park the camper, and get our marriage night boom boom on.”

“Marriage night boom boom?” she screamed with laughter. “Who writes your dialogue?”

He chuckled then pinched her nipples drawing a startled gasp.

“No?” Humph. “How ‘bout this, then? I’m going to drive my wife in our Ass-Gardian chariot out into the wilderness where I plan to assert my husbandly rights in a manner and place where her screams won’t be heard by anyone but us.”

She had nothing to say to that. Whatever way you put it … boom boom or screaming in the wilderness … she could barely wait.

Their wedding day dawned while Edward sat in the quiet darkness. No matter where his thoughts wandered off to, he always came back to the same thing … over and over. He was marrying his best friend. Today, he was going to join his life to the only woman who could ever make him happy. And seeing to her happiness was a solemn commitment that he joyfully accepted.

He’d been marveling at the twists and turns that surrounded them through their six-year journey. Ending here, along the banks of a river in the wilds of Wyoming, with just their immediate family standing alongside them, they took the biggest leap of faith two people could make.

Right now, Los Angeles and the Hollywood culture felt a million miles away and that was a good thing. What they were doing was real. Their camping trip, losing themselves along the way, becoming regular people—it had all happened for a reason. To show them firsthand what a normal life would be like.

Until Paige, he wasn’t sure he was going to get a shot at a regular life. Being a sex symbol superstar had messed with his head for a while, but Paige was always what brought him back. And now he was going to get to spend the rest of his life with her.

Edward checked his watch. He still had hours before the ceremony. He wondered what his bride was doing and if she slept. It was a big day for her and he wanted it to be everything she hoped for.

Sighing, she threw the pen down and stretched. She was getting married later today, and wouldn’t you know, this would be the one night she couldn’t sleep.

Why the hell not?
she thought wryly.

It certainly hadn’t helped that all she thought about was creeping into Edward’s room. She was being ridiculous, and kind of knew it, but this sleeping apart business was for the dogs. Now that a wanton brat had replaced the starchy librarian in her alter ego, she was on the prowl for her sex symbol lover, twenty-four seven. She was so balls-out horny that he’d be lucky to survive the night.

A light tapping sounded at her door.

Surely not Edward. He was totally into the whole wedding superstition thing. No way would he tempt fate.

She went to the door and opened it the tiniest crack. It was Marsh.

“Hey, sis. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Y’know it’s tough being best man and the maid of honor. Didn’t know which one of you to check on first. Figured one or both of you might have come to your senses and bolted.”

“If he runs,” she whispered, “I’d just hunt him down.”