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The Honeymoon That Wasn't. Debbi RawlinsЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Honeymoon That Wasn't - Debbi Rawlins


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      “No, no. I don’t even want him to know we suspect anything. What I would like you to do is act as a decoy.” Dallas felt Eric stirring behind her. Obviously he’d heard, or at least knew what she was doing. They’d discussed the ploy. He didn’t agree with her interference. But of course he didn’t understand the complexities of growing up a Shea.

      “Decoy? How?”

      “You can take a long weekend, right?”

      “Uh, yeah,” he said slowly.

      “Ever been to Bermuda?”

       Tony frowned in disbelief. “You’re not saying—you’re kidding.”

      “The plane leaves right after the reception. The hotel is already booked and paid for.”

      “Do you know how crazy this is?”

      Eric’s cheek touched hers as he leaned close enough for them to hear. “That’s what I told her.”

      She elbowed him. “Be quiet.”

      “Just tell him you’re going to Hawaii.” Tony chuckled.

      “He heard Eric making the arrangements but he doesn’t know that we decided to go on a cruise instead. I want to keep it that way.”

      “This still sounds crazy. It’s not like he’s gonna follow you to Bermuda.”

      “Have I ever asked you for anything?”

      “Wow, Dallas, go ahead and turn the screws, why don’t you?”

      “It’s a free vacation, for goodness’ sake.”

      “You realize there’s one huge hole in this plan,” Tony said, giving Eric that smug condescending male look she hated. “Don’t two people normally go on a honeymoon?”

      It was her turn to look smug. “Of course. That’s why Dakota will be going with you.”

      Hell, why didn’t she say that in the first place?

      2

      “I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU man and wife.”

      Tony watched Dallas and Eric embrace, and then looked at Dakota. Her eyes were glassy, blinking rapidly, and her smile quivered slightly as she gazed at her sister.

      Today was the first time he’d seen her with her hair down, longer than he’d expected, hanging just below her shoulders, light brown and full of honey-colored highlights. And really shiny. Outside he’d caught a glimpse of her entering the chapel, her hair a brilliant silky mass floating around her shoulders.

      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


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