Boy, I sure hoped that was the truth.
But I did it holding my breath.
Because Marcus looked fine all the time, in clothes, butespecially out of them.
Though in a tux?
Mycoochiequivered.
Marcus was sauntering purposefully in the room, but thesecond he turned his head from his sister to me, he stopped dead.
“Hey, honey bunches of love,” I called.
He said nothing.
His face was slack with wonder as he stared at me.
God, I loved my man.
I swirled my skirt side to side with a sway of my hips.“Itake it you like it.”
“Leave us,” Marcus ordered his sister curtly.
I stared.
He might get exasperated with his sister’s sweet brand ofcrazy, but he never talked to her like that.
“Marcus!”Michelle cried in shocked surprise.
See?
He twisted at the waist to look back at his sister.“Don’tmake me shove my own sister out of a suite in a fucking five-star hotel.”
“Your language!”she yelled.“I thank God you had thecontrol to curb it in front of the kids.”She looked at me.“And he did.Butbarely.”
I giggled.
“Michelle,” he warned.
“God, you’re annoying,” she snapped.
She also gave me a look that included a roll of her eyesright before she left.
But when she did, I panicked.
Because what I knew would happen, happened.
The minute the door clicked, Marcus stalked to me.
I lifted a hand his way, grabbed hold of the back of myskirts with the other one, and retreated, warning, “Don’t you bemessin’ up my face and hair, sugar.We got us a fancyphotographer and I’mgonnabe picture perfect, nothave sex hair!”
“You take one more step away from me, darling, I’llguarantee sex hair.”
I halted.
Marcus got close.
“Christ, how can you get more beautiful?”he asked when hestopped, looking me up and down.
