The Bride of Willow Creek(119)

Lifting on tiptoe, she kissed the corner of his lips. It was her anniversary, so she was entitled to make a bit of a spectacle. And he was so handsome. Blue-eyed, tanned, and as lean and muscular as he’d been when she married him. “I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no. At least, not yet.”

Smiling, he edged her into an alcove and molded her hips close to his. “Tell Parker to delay dinner another thirty minutes. Or tell these people to go home and let’s you and me go to bed and celebrate our anniversary properly.”

Laughing she placed a finger over his lips. “We’ll celebrate properly, we always do. But later, Mr. Holland.” Giving in to temptation, she kissed him soundly, pressing hard against him. “Now . . . about our divorce.”

Every year on their anniversary, he wanted to replace her plain gold band with diamonds and every year she said no. And every year on their anniversary, they talked about the divorce.

A twinkle danced in his eyes. “All right, here’s my final offer. I’ll agree to give you a million dollars, the house, the servants, the new automobile, and Winnie.”

“Winnie?” She drew back in mock horror. “I have to take Winnie? I thought you were going to keep Winnie.”

“No, she’s all yours. I insist.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, but this will require some lengthy negotiation. I’m afraid we’ll have to delay the divorce until next year.” The way he moved against her, his hands warm on her hips, made her wonder if another thirty minutes before dinner would really matter.

“Next year on our anniversary, we should talk about delaying the divorce until our grandchildren are grown. A divorce in the family would be too upsetting for young children.”

“That’s what you said when our girls were little. But . . . I believe you have a point. Perhaps we have a duty to set a good example for our grandchildren. But only until they’re grown, of course. Then we’ll definitely get around to our divorce.”

Laughing, they held each other so close that Angie felt the steady exciting beat of his heart against her breast.

“I love you, Sam.”

He framed her face between his hands and gazed into her eyes. “I love everything about you, my beautiful Angelina Bertoli Holland.” A smile curved his lips. “Except that Italian temper and the way you eat your eggs.”

Linking arms, laughing into each other’s eyes, they led their guests inside. Together, as they always would be.