Three and a Half Weeks(199)
“Not yet. These glass slippers are way comfortable. Hey,” she spins around, “I noticed that Jeff Benson, your dad’s partner, is here solo tonight. How did that happen?”
Ian’s eyes are twinkling. “I hear tell his lovely wife is feeling poorly today and couldn’t make the festivities. She sends her apologies.”
“Oh? And what, pray tell, is ailing her?”
Grinning wickedly, Ian shrugs. “Perchance, she had a visit from a rather large gentleman suggesting she send her regrets?”
“Aha. Of what large gentleman do we speak?”
“I believe his name is Justin Mason, if memory serves me correctly.”
“Oh, I’m going to have to give him a big, sloppy kiss for that kindness.”
“Better not make it too big or sloppy or I’ll have to take him on… and that I wouldn’t bet odds on in my favor.”
“Okay. A peck on the cheek it is.”
“Do you think we can get away soon? The plane is fueled, ready and waiting to whisk us to the Emerald Isle, and Scott’s spinning his wheels in the cockpit.”
“I think in another half hour we’ll be able to slip out.”
After saying goodbye to their parents and the wedding party, Ella throws her bouquet—it’s caught by one of Ian’s young cousins—and they wave goodbye to their guests and take off for the airport. They’re spending their honeymoon in Ireland with a foray into Scotland, since neither have ever been there, so they have a long flight ahead of them. Fortunately, there is a small, private bedroom on the Gulfstream where they could celebrate their nuptials in the way they know best.
Chapter 54
My feet are killing me. I feel as if I’ve been standing in these dainty yet torturous-as-medieval-contraption heels for a week straight. The thing is, whenever I get a glimpse of my bridegroom in his formal attire, I’m willing to have my feet pinched in these heels for another week, just to see him in these clothes, in this milieu—out of the corporate rat maze and having fun.
Luckily we are now boarding the Gulfstream to begin our three-week honeymoon. Just the fact that we can take off for three weeks makes me elated. Another thing that makes me elated is that I can take off these shoes in just a few minutes.
Our wedding was storybook perfect, with nothing to mar it. We got lucky with the weather, getting a beautiful late spring day, with crisp, clean air coming off the sound. Our guests were spectacular and didn’t happen to include Ian’s ex-girlfriends or lovers (that I know of, anyway). I didn’t even have to withstand Diana Benson, treacherous cradle robber extraordinaire, since Mason saw to it that she wouldn’t attend. I gave him a big (and sloppy) kiss for that kindness and Ian didn’t even fight him over it.
“So, Ian, tell me something that I’ve always wondered about: why were you drawn to me in the first place? You know, at Archipelago?”
We’re sitting in the main cabin of the Gulfstream. When we boarded about twenty minutes ago, the crew, headed by Scott, were all at the door awaiting our arrival.
“Congratulations, Mr. Blackmon, and welcome aboard.”
“Thank you, Scott. I think I speak for both myself and my new wife when I say we’re relieved and happy to be on the jet and finished with all the festivities.” He looked at me and I nodded.
“Yes.”
“And congratulations to you too, Mrs. Blackmon. This is Edward Kessler, my co-pilot on this trip, and Nanette McDonald, your attendant. Please make yourselves comfortable; we’ll be taking off shortly.”
Ian glances at both Edward and Nanette and nods to each, and then guides me over to the deep leather chairs in the cabin. When Nanette comes over to serve us, I check her out. She is a pretty redhead, late twenties, I’d guess. She seems friendly enough, I suppose, but I get jealous whenever any female capable of ovulation gets within ten feet of Ian. I just can’t help myself. Not that he’s ever given me reason to be jealous. I just am.
Nanette has just served us a bottle of Perrier Jouet chilled to perfection, and a platter of chocolate-dipped strawberries with crème fraiche. Can life get any better?
“What about you?” Ian brings me back to my question. “Do you really need to ask me that question?”
I nod. “Yes. Let’s examine this scenario objectively: a very wealthy, very eligible young bachelor strolls into a small, pricey boutique one fine evening, needing a birthday gift for his cherished and delightful little sister.”
He snorts at my description of Zoe.
Ignoring his audible commentary, I continue. “A young, nondescript sales clerk waits on him and—”