I blink. “And you think that makes it hot?”
“There’s such a thing as a breeding kink. It’s well within normal parameters of human sexuality,” he says.
I sputter in laughter as warmth floods through me. “It makes sense, I guess.”
He gives a matter-of-fact nod. “When the thought of planting a baby in you gave me some very specific fantasies, I looked it up to see if I was alone. Turns out, I’m not. There are literal romance novels written with it in them.”
“Really?”
His mouth presses against my neck. “Mm-hmm. Though to be fair, I can’t promise I’d be able to deliver some of those lines with a straight face. If you ever hear the phrase ‘baby gravy’ pass my lips, you have permission to stomp on my instep.”
“Eww.” Also funny. But so gross.
“Yes.” He lifts his chin to give me access to smooth his collar. “It’s time to return to the festivities. Do I pass inspection?”
“You’re perfect. How about me?”
His gaze trails over me like a physical caress, then he smooths a strand of hair back into my updo. “You’re wearing happiness. It’s my favorite color.”
9
Dancing in the Moonlight
Henry
Ijoinmybrotherwherehe stands with a glass of seltzer in his hand. String lights crisscross above the cliffside terrazzo, turning what was recently the golden glow of a late afternoon dinner to a shadowy, twinkling dance floor.
The air is an assault of sensory stimulation, from the sound of cicadas chirping their own music beneath the string quartet, to a hundred scents on the salty breeze—lemons, herbs, florals, clashing perfumes and foods. Being outside, rather than in, helps.
“My plan to spend an hour at this wedding reception, then bail with my wife was misguided,” I say.
“Dinner took more than an hour all by itself,” Gabriel says.
Franki’s idea to resolve The Great Menu Debacle worked perfectly. As the chef who created the menu, though she didn’t prepare it, Phyllis announced each course as it was about to be served. That meant the wedding guests clapped for Phyllis every time a course was served.
She preened through the applause. Unfortunately, it also meant dinner took longer to get through.
“I mistakenly assumed Franki and I could skip the dancing and cake cutting events. We’ve done it before,” I say.
“Everyone knows you’ve done it before,” Gabriel says with dry humor. “You’re notorious for it.”
“Yes. Well, it turns out a couple guests disappearing from a huge society wedding or New Year’s Eve party is easier than the best man and maid of honor ditching a crowd of fewer than one hundred people.”
“Why do you want to leave? Franki is having fun.” He nods toward her, and I drink her in where she sits, laughing with Sydney and Bronwyn.
“Why do you know exactly where my wife is sitting?” The question is pure harassment to get a rise out of him, but he needs it.
A hint of color tinges his face. “I happened to notice her there.”
“Nothing at all to do with the fact that she’s sitting next to Sydney Walsh? The two of you flew here together. I hear you have connecting rooms.”
“It was a matter of convenience when booking—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence. You’re in love with each other.”
His attention sharpens on Sydney. “Why do you say she’s in love with me?”
“Because I have eyes and a brain.”
