Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [124]
Jago’s laughter rumbled in his chest. “Let’s see if this poor table was meant for hot sex.”
His fingers slid up her thighs until both hands met and he could gently massage the outside of her slick fold. He leaned close, nibbling his way up to her ear. Pausing he whispered. “The envelope? I mailed it when we went to the store for supplies.”
“What . . . envelope?” she gasped, pushing the sweat pants off his firm buttocks.
He shoved into her body with one solid thrust. “Yeah, what envelope.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Windmill’s Halloween and Thanksgiving bashes had been such huge successes, she decided to toss a St. Valentine’s Day party at the clubhouse. It seemed the perfect occasion to break the bleak winter blues. It would be so beautiful, romantically decorated and geared to celebrate love. She thought it a shame Bobby Pickett didn’t do love songs. She asked Colin to find out about Ray Peterson, to see if he was still around singing “Tell Laura I Love Her.” Somehow it seemed fitting. Colin’s eyes were so miserable when he told her the world had lost Peterson a couple of years before. She found it sad the man had never known how much his song had meant to Tommy Grant and Laura Valmont.
Asha had decreed that everyone was to come dressed in red, pink, black or white or they weren’t getting through the door. To her delight, The Oriental Trading Company had super decorations for the restaurant and the glasshouse: wonderful spinner hearts, beautiful rosebuds under glass for the buffet tables, red heart garlands with the hearts trimmed in white lace, and a gorgeous arched banner that would serve for the entrance. She even considered putting a tent over the pool itself and buying little boats to float, creating a ‘tunnel of love’just like they used to have in the old Coney Island decades ago. Colin muttered something about insurance and how a woman in love shouldn’t be in charge of Valentine decorations, then flatly refused to help conjure her vision into reality. Jago, the traitor, backed him up, saying it would block the view within the pool house. Men! Such spoil sports. Despite their lack of enthusiasm, she was delighted with the way the whole concept for the party was taking shape. She had all the planters repotted with white and red miniature roses. With two weeks to go, they were starting to bloom and would be gorgeous.
Of course, she planned a private party afterward with Jago. A little red silk number from Victoria’s Secret and the delivery of the hot tub for the river house were just the prescription to gift Jago with the news he was going to be a daddy. Her cute little test had showed a plus; she’d followed up with a doctor’s appointment to confirm it. Thus far, no morning sickness. Placing a hand to her belly, she hoped that would hold at least until she broke the news to the papa-to-be.
She was still nervous about Jago’s reaction. Deep in her heart she felt he would be thrilled. Even so, it was an odd time of mood swings between giddy euphoria one minute and melancholy the next. That she still experienced dreams, visions of Laura Valmont didn’t help matters. She had this strange suspicion Laura was trying to tell her something she was failing to understand.
She glanced up from fixing the accordion-tissue heart centerpiece as Jago and Liam pushed through the diner door. Business was slow, typical for a Wednesday. She’d taken advantage to finish decorating the restaurant. She smiled at the two drop-dead sexy men—good friends now. Only, something about their manner set off alarms. Studying them, she saw her brother gave off the impression of being relieved, though pale. Jago just appeared calm. His expression shifted to apprehension as his mesmerizing eyes met hers.
Jago came around the counter, took out a Coors for himself and one for Liam, passing the beer to her brother. As he did, he leaned