Authors: Rochelle Alers
Dana knew she was impolite, but she couldn’t help staring at Salem Lassiter. Salem was married to Christopher’s
sister Sara. The silky ponytail flowing down his back was liberally streaked with gray, which made him very sexy. Even the small silver hoops in his pierced lobes made him more attractive—as if he needed to be.
Sara and Salem, like Emily and Chris, lived in Las Cruces, New Mexico, and had three children: a son and twin daughters. Isaiah was as strikingly handsome as his father, while Nona and Eve had their mother’s beautiful gold-green eyes.
Her head spinning with faces and names she was certain she’d never remember, Dana came face-to-face with someone she did know and recognize.
Standing in front of her with arms crossed over his chest, perfect white teeth gleaming his sun-browned olive face, was Gabriel Cole. The rays of the setting sun glinted off the twin gold hoops in his pierced lobes and the coal-black, wavy long hair he’d secured on the nape of his neck.
She affected a similar pose, grinning at him. “Fancy meeting you here,” she teased.
“And I you,” Gabriel shot back.
Tyler stared at his cousin, then his fiancée. “You two know each other?”
“Only superficially,” Dana said.
“Yeah, superficially,” Gabriel confirmed, pulling Dana to his body. Lowering his head, he kissed her passionately on the mouth. “That’s payback for writing that article about me and defaming my character.”
Not knowing why, Tyler felt an uneasiness he could only identify as jealousy. He was jealous of his cousin’s familiarity with the woman he would exchange vows with in less than twenty-four hours.
“What’s up with you mauling my woman,
primo?
” he rattled off in Spanish.
“I owe your
mujer
because she almost destroyed my
career. I’d performed in a fund-raising event in upstate New York, and she covered the concert for that tacky little rag she calls a newspaper. Her article was so scathing about my performance that I had to lay low for a couple of months to recover my pride.”
“Don’t you mean your arrogance?” said Dana. “You were terrible, Gabriel.”
“I was ill, Miss Nichols. I went on stage even though I running a fever of one-oh-two.”
“You could’ve canceled. You sounded like a choking frog that night.”
“You never printed a retraction when I came back the following month to perform for free, did you?”
“I was on vacation at the time.”
“How convenient,” Gabriel drawled. He shook his head, his ponytail sweeping back and forth over his broad shoulders. “I can’t believe you’re going to become my cousin.”
“Believe it, Mr. Cole.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to, Mrs. Cole. I suppose I can call you that although your wedding is still a day away. What song do you want me to play for your wedding?”
Dana gave Tyler a sidelong glance. “ ‘Baby, I Need Your Loving.’ ”
Gabriel lifted an eyebrow. “The old Four Tops hit?”
“I think we’d better pick another song,” Tyler stated firmly. It was the song that had prompted Dana to strip for him.
Wrinkling her nose, she said, “I think you’re right, darling.”
“I know I’m right, baby.”
Gabriel clutched his stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick. Darling! Baby!” He stumbled, pointing his finger in his mouth. “Help, I need a doctor.”
Martin and Parris preempted further introductions
when the caterers arrived and began setting the many tables on the lawn. Twilight settled on the Cole estate as everyone sat down to eat, drink, and prepare to witness a wedding. It was the second time within two weeks the Coles, Kirklands, Delgados, and Lassiters had come from places far and near to celebrate one of their own. The first was to welcome Arianna and Silah home, and the second was to bear witness to Tyler Cole exchanging vows with Miss Dana Nichols.
Everyone knew Tyler would one day replace his father Martin as patriarch of the family, but they weren’t certain whether Dana was aware of her role in the Cole hierarchy.
Parris stared at Dana, a knowing smile softening her lush mouth. She knew she had to talk with the lovely young woman, but she would wait—until
after
the wedding.
Dana closed her eyes briefly as Martin Cole led her down the flower-strewn path in the formal English garden to where Tyler stood, with his nephew/godson/best man Clayborne Spencer, waiting to make her his wife. She forced her feet, shod in a pair of Stuart Weitzman off-white peau de soie evening sandals, to move—one foot in front of the other. The hand resting on the sleeve of Martin’s startling white dinner jacket appeared even more delicate because of the flawless two-carat emerald-cut diamond ring on her third finger. The matching platinum bangle banded all around with a double row of princess-set diamonds gracing her wrist was Tyler’s wedding gift to her.
Parris had come to the bedroom she’d shared with Regina Spencer’s daughter Eden and Kim Cheung, Clayborne’s girlfriend, whispering it was time for her to get up.
She’d protested, mumbling that she’d just gone to bed, but jumped up like a jack-in-the box once Parris reminded her it was her wedding day. It had taken her twenty minutes to brush her teeth, shower, and dress. Clad in a pair of faded jeans, an oversized T-shirt, and running shoes, she had shared breakfast with Parris on the loggia as the brilliant Florida sun rose above the horizon.
Dana had listened quietly as Parris explained that if
Martin Cole passed away, then Tyler was expected to become the family’s patriarch. Parris’s words were branded on her brain:
Martin was Samuel Cole’s eldest son. Therefore, the line is passed along through firstborn sons. If you and Tyler have a son, then he is next in line
.
Nodding numbly, Dana could do nothing but stare, wondering what she was marrying into. It was apparent the Coles regarded themselves not only as privileged, but also as African-American royalty. And like in the fairy tales, she had come to the ball and captured the heart of the prince. Tyler Simmons Cole was her prince and black knight—one who would pledge to love, honor, and protect her until they parted in death.
She and Parris drove to Palm Beach to shop. Four hours later they returned with her wedding rings, a platinum band edged with narrower bands of eighteen-carat yellow gold for Tyler, the diamond bracelet, and a Giorgio Armani short-sleeve lace-bodice gown with an ivory organza skirt and shoes. Dana lingered in the jewelry store long enough to purchase a gold key fob with the insignia of a caduceus for Tyler as her wedding gift to him.
Gabriel Cole, who had threatened to sing Billy Idol’s “White Wedding,” sat at a keyboard, crooning Jon Secada’s “Angel.” His beautiful voice was clear as bell as he sang the words, which seemed to come from his heart. Several members of his band had come to lend their musical talent, and a drummer and guitarist accompanied him with the moving rendition.
Martin winked at his son, placed Dana’s hand on Tyler’s, then stepped back to sit beside Parris. Holding her hand tightly, Martin recalled the night he’d exchanged vows with Parris on the very property they now owned.
Dana lifted her gaze to meet Tyler’s glittering obsidian one, smiling. Parris’s personal stylist had pinned
her hair up off her neck in a twist, then pinned a circlet of baby’s breath and fresh orange blossoms in her sun-streaked hair.
Vanessa Kirkland had suggested orange blossoms, saying they signified a long and happy married life. Joshua’s wife had shooed everyone out of the bedroom, helping Dana dress for her special day. She’d confessed in a quiet voice that her daughter had eloped, and that she hadn’t been afforded the privilege of helping Emily dress for her wedding.
It had taken less than a day, but Dana felt as if she’d known the Coles all of her life. They had warmly embraced her as one of their own, and she’d felt like family even before her name was changed from Nichols to Cole.
An elderly judge smiled at the young couple, waiting. Tyler nodded, and the judge began the ritual that would make them husband and wife. Dana’s gaze never left Tyler’s as they repeated their vows, exchanged rings, and then sealed their promises with a passionate kiss.
Turning to face the assembled, the judge said in a commanding voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Tyler Cole.”
There came a thundering round of applause, followed by whistles and hooting from the younger members of the family. Tyler curved an arm around Dana’s waist, spinning her around when Gabriel launched into “Baby, I Need Your Loving.”
Pulling her close, he whispered close to her ear, “I dare you to strip here.”
She showed him her teeth, wrinkling her nose. “I’ll strip for you later.”
Throwing back his head, he laughed loudly. “I can’t wait.”
Parris, exquisitely attired in a peach-colored silk suit,
tapped her son on the shoulder. She kissed him, then his bride. “Darling, you and Dana must meet your guests. You can dance later.”
Holding his arms above his head, Tyler snapped his fingers and gyrated to the Latin rhythms pulsing through the powerful sound system in the garden as Gabriel sang the Marc Anthony hit,
“Te Conozco Bien.”
Parris lifted her shoulders and looked at her husband. “I suppose this is not going to be a traditional wedding.”
Martin reached for Parris, pulling her close to his chest. “Since when have we ever been traditional? I would like a little conventionality, but I suppose that’s not much fun, is it?”
“No,” she whispered, pressing her mouth to his.
“What do you say we go back to the house and fool around?”
Parris stopped short, staring at the man she’d loved for more than fifty years of her life. “Why, you dirty old man.”
“I’ll admit to being dirty, but I’m certainly
that
old. At least not so old I don’t want to make love to my wife.”
“Martin, you’re eighty-one.”
“So? And you’re seventy-four.”
A flush suffused Parris’s face. “Do you really want to …”
“Yes,” Martin rasped in her ear.
She stared him, seeing a look of determination in his large dark eyes. “Okay. Do you have any condoms with you?”
Martin bit down on his lower lip to keep from laughing. “No, but I’ll ask Clayborne for one.”
Parris arched an eyebrow. “Only one?”
“Don’t push your luck, Mrs. Cole.”
She tugged on his hand. “Let’s go, Martin. It’s time
for you to put up or shut up.” She clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized the pun.
Holding hands, Martin and Parris did not retreat to the house, but further into the garden, where they could talk without being overheard. Now that their last child had married, it was time for Martin to change his will.
Dana danced every dance, fast and slow. She found herself in David Cole’s arms for a slow number. The diamond studs in his pierced lobes twinkled like stars.
He smiled at her, flashing the trademark dimples he’d passed along to all of his children. “My nephew has chosen well.” His soft baritone voice rumbled over her, a voice so much like Gabriel’s.
She offered him a demure smile.
“Gracias, Tío David.”
Throwing back his head, he laughed loudly. “
Perfecto
. Do you have a girlfriend you can introduce to one of my sons?” he whispered conspiratorially. “Serena nags me constantly that she doesn’t want to wait until she’s seventy to become a grandmother.”
Dana gave him a look that mirrored skepticism. “I heard your brother say it’s you who wants grandchildren, not your wife.”
David scowled. “You don’t have to tell which brother said that. One of these days I’m going to forget that Joshua is my brother and call him out.”
“It wasn’t Joshua.”
David’s chiseled jaw dropped. “Martin? Don’t tell me it was Martin!”
“Are you going to call him out, too?”
David looked as if he was deep in thought, and then shook his head. “Nope. At least not until the next wedding.”
Angling her head, Dana smiled up at his incredibly handsome face. “Maybe the next wedding will be for one of your sons or daughters.”
He grinned, exhibiting a set of straight white teeth. “Maybe.”
Dana slept during the return flight to Mississippi, despite the constant chatter from the Delgado and Lassiter children. Emily, Christopher, Sara, and Salem had elected to fly back to New Mexico on Sunday with Tyler and Dana. Judge Christopher Delgado was scheduled to hear a case involving a law firm that had been charged with siphoning millions from the estates of their deceased clients.
The jet landed in Greenville at mid-afternoon, and Tyler and Dana bade good-bye to everyone, promising to get together at Thanksgiving at Michael and Jolene’s Georgetown residence.
Jolene Kirkland hadn’t joined much in the festivities because, like Arianna, she was faced with throwing up when she least expected it. She’d run from the table Saturday night moaning that she was probably carrying a boy this time because she hadn’t thrown up once when she was pregnant with her daughter.
Dana stood in the middle of the master bedroom in what was now her and Tyler’s bedroom, staring up at him. The imported ivory-white silk nightgown, trimmed with gold thread, a wedding gift from Arianna and Silah, felt cool against her fevered flesh. Tyler, wearing a black silk caftan-styled gown bearing Silah’s label, smiled the sexy smile she’d come to look for and love.
His fingers trailed along the curve of her cheekbone,
down her throat, and over the fullness of her breasts. She closed her eyes, trembling slightly with anticipation. This was to become the first time she and Tyler would make love under this roof as husband and wife.
Lowering his head, Tyler pressed his mouth to her ear. “I love you, Mrs. Cole.”
Her hands went to the middle of his chest, feeling the heat of his body through the delicate fabric. The diamonds on her left hand gave off blue-white sparks under recessed lights in the ceiling.
A mysterious smile curved her lips as she moved closer, her breasts grazing his chest. “Not as much as I love you, Mr. Cole.”
Curving an arm around her waist, he pulled her against his middle, permitting her to feel his rising desire. “Would you like to make a wager?”
“Yes, I would, Mr. Cole.”
“What are you prepared to put up?”
“A lifetime of happily-ever-after.”
He smiled, nodding. “I’ll accept it wholeheartedly.”
Bending slightly, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. They took their time undressing each other, savoring the taste and texture of perfumed flesh as they began a journey of exploration and discovery. This was no frantic coupling because they had the rest of their lives to laugh and love together.
Dana moaned softly when she felt her husband enter her body. Raising her legs, she wound them around his waist, permitting him deeper penetration. He loved her a long time, whispering endearments in Spanish. She didn’t understand the words, yet Tyler had managed to communicate his love as he buried his face between her scented neck and shoulder and groaned out his passion.
Dana’s own release followed his, overlapping and
merging as she surrendered to the ecstasy taking her beyond herself and reality. She lay motionless, eyes closed, savoring the lingering pulsing of her flesh squeezing the thick, heavy organ nestled inside her hot, wet body.
They’d made love again without using protection. They hadn’t talked about not having a child, which translated into wanting a child. And she did want children—Tyler’s children. He’d had asked for one child, but she wanted more than one, because she’d been an only child.
Tyler rolled off Dana’s slight body, reversing their positions. He held her protectively as she fell asleep atop him, and minutes later he joined her.