He raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes glittering with love and amusement. "So now I have to sit back and watch you fritter away my millions?"
"Why else does a girl marry a very old millionaire?" Still grinning, she stepped back and studied him. He looked absolutely divine in the old-fashioned morning suit. "You scrub up rather well." Even the scar across his cheek had faded to a thin white line.
"And you, my love, look good enough to eat." He tugged her into his arms again. "Hope all those pearl buttons down the back of this dress aren't as hard to undo as they look."
"No. They're harder."
"Hey," Jake said behind them. "The groom is not supposed to be manhandling the bride until after the ceremony."
Michael kissed her quickly, then pulled back, a smile playing across his lips. "Who invited the spoilsport?"
Nikki's gaze met Jake's, her grin widening when she saw his expression was that of a proud father. Like Michael, he was wearing a morning suit, and with his longish blonde hair swept back, cut a rather rakish figure.
"I'm afraid the spoilsport and I come as a packaged deal."
"I draw the line at taking him on the honeymoon."
"Like I've got nothing better to do than watch you two lust after each other the next two weeks." Jake shook his head in mock disgust. "Besides, I've seen Paris, and I very much doubt that you two will actually see much of it."
"That's very possible," Nikki said, smiling as she momentarily lost herself in the warm, dark depths of Michael's eyes.
Jake cleared his throat. "Enough already. Michael, you're wanted downstairs."
Michael caught her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it. In eight minutes, you're officially mine.
I was yours the day after we met. I just didn't realize it at the time.
But you did realize it, and you didn't let go, and for that, I shall be forever grateful.He released her hand and left.
Jake stepped into the doorway. "You look smashing."
"You think?" She twirled, allowing the deep gold material to float around her. She'd never wanted a white wedding dress, simply because white didn't suit her, nor had she wanted anything remotely modern.
It hardly seemed suitable when she was marrying a man over three hundred and sixty years old. When she'd seen this beautiful old gown in a renaissance shop, she'd fallen in love. And it had fit her perfectly, meaning it was meant to be.
"I think Mary would have been proud of you," he said softly.
Tears touched her eyes as memories of Jake's late wife rose in her mind. She blinked away the tears, leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "She'll always be with us, you know."