The Honeymoon That Wasn't
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He was one of those suckers for women with long hair and Dakota was way up there on the perfect scale. His groin tightened, thinking about tomorrow, Dakota, a sunny beach, a skimpy bikini and all that hair.
Assuming she’d agreed to the plan. Dallas was supposed to have talked to her this morning. Him, he already had a small bag packed, waiting in his car to be transferred to the limo. Dallas didn’t think there’d be a problem with Dakota, only that she might not want to stay the whole weekend. Just turn around and come back to Manhattan tonight. That’s where he’d have some convincing to do.
She looked over at him just then and he smiled. Her lips curved ever so slightly. Ah, progress. But she gave up eye contact, her gaze going back to her sister as the cello music started, signaling them to leave the altar and start down the aisle. Dallas and Eric went first and then everyone else in the wedding party followed in no particular order. The men wore tuxedos and the women long dresses. The way Dakota filled out the dark red dress made it hard to keep his eyes on Dallas and Eric. The neckline wasn’t too low but it showed off a tempting amount of pale satiny skin and a hint of cleavage. He was lucky enough to walk behind her, or maybe unlucky, because the gentle sway of her hips and the way the dress cupped her curvy backside got a reaction from him that he had trouble hiding.
They got outside and pews of friends and family followed, hugging, kissing cheeks, shaking hands, but not a single grain of rice was thrown. Probably not a custom at high-class weddings. When his sister had gotten married, his pop distributed a whole twenty-pound bag of rice. Made a special trip to Chinatown to get it.
“Okay, everyone.” After the initial commotion, the photographer motioned the wedding party to stand in front of one of the large stained-glass windows.
The Union Church of Pocantico Hills was really something. Even tourists stopped to see the stained-glass windows created by two modern artists, Matisse and Chagall. Not that Tony knew squat about either of them, but he’d read the literature put out for tourists. Today the place was off-limits on account of the wedding. The Sheas obviously had some major clout in Tarrytown.
Impressive circle of friends, too, who stood off to the side in their expensive suits and silk dresses and pearls. Tony recognized several faces from the legal community. Couldn’t place their names. He’d seen them on the news or in the newspaper.
“Excuse me, sir. Stand here, please.” The tall, thin hawkish-looking photographer gestured for Tony to stand beside Dakota.
The guy didn’t have to ask him twice. Tony sidled up beside her, their arms and hips touching, and inhaled her mysterious scent. Maybe he’d sniffed a little too enthusiastically because she gave him an annoyed look. Or maybe it was the touching part she didn’t like.
“Dallas looks beautiful,” he whispered while the photographer got everyone else into place.
Dakota immediately softened. “And happy.”
“Is it gonna seem weird that she’s married?”
“Not really.” She shrugged, her arm rubbing his. “Nothing will change.”
Tempted to ask about tonight’s plan, he kept his mouth shut while the photographer finished positioning everyone. Tom stood too close to risk him hearing of the counterattack.
“Everyone ready?” The photographer clicked off two shots.
For the next twenty minutes, they were separated, pushed back together, coupled, shuffled from one stained-glass window to the next, the entire time the photographer muttering how difficult this was with everyone chatting and laughing.
Mrs. Shea stood back, commiserating, shaking her head and sliding her husband long-suffering looks. The honorable Judge Shea didn’t seem to give a crap. Good for him.
Once the photographer was satisfied, or maybe because Dallas had whispered something to him, they disbanded and got into the waiting limos. The guests followed in their separate cars and everyone headed for the reception at the Shea’s country club.
Tony was lucky enough to share a limo with Dakota. Too bad Nancy, Trudie and Wendy climbed in behind them. Could’ve been worse. He could’ve gotten stuck with Mr. and Mrs. Shea, and Cody and his snotty society date.
“Hey, how do you like being surrounded by all these women?” Wendy asked, while trying to get her long legs into a suitable position. She was a dancer, an extra on Broadway if he remembered correctly.
He stretched an arm out along the back of the seat and got comfortable, then gave her a cocky grin. “I can handle it.”
“I bet you can.” She gave him an inviting smile he wished Dakota had given him.
But she sat across from him with her face turned toward the window and didn’t even react to what was going on.
Until Wendy said, “Hey, Dakota, I guess you’re next.”
“Next?”
“To bite the dust.” Wendy grinned at Dakota’s wide-eyed expression. “Tie the knot. Whatever they say these days.”
“Why me? You’re older.”
“Ouch.”
Dakota grinned. “Shouldn’t you be the one getting antsy? Watching that biological clock.”
“Ruthless, aren’t you?”
Trudie laughed. “That’s what makes her a good lawyer.”
Dakota’s grin tapered off.
No one seemed to notice but Tony. They all kept teasing each other back and forth while Dakota shrank back against the seat. Good to know she was touchy about the lawyer thing. Not that he was stupid enough to repeat the jokes he’d heard. Okay, so maybe he would’ve let a couple slip, but now he knew.
“So is like everybody gonna stay dressed like this, or can we change?” Wendy asked as they turned off the street and onto the lush country club grounds.
“I don’t know, but I was hoping somebody would ask.” Nancy looked to the others, and then focused on Dakota.
“I doubt Dallas cares one way or the other,” she said, “but we’d better wait until after dinner so the photographer can get the rest of the pictures.”
“Yeah, we don’t want your mom freaking out.” Wendy tugged at her dress. “The same moron who invented high heels must have come up with this gem.”
“Fair is fair.” Tony couldn’t resist. Not that he was particularly fond of ties. In fact, he hardly ever wore them—only when he absolutely had to.