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cruise out of the country.”
“They’ve probably just landed in New York,” he said.
It still bothered her that he hadn’t wanted to wait, but he’d wanted them married before paying the taxes. Maddy wondered also if he didn’t want them to witness the charade.
“We’re having a small reception at Summerhaven,” Dylan announced to the waiting guests. “Please join us for cake and champagne.”
Madison followed her husband to an awaiting limousine. As she entered the cool interior, she felt lightheaded. The ten-degree difference of the limo had her shivering.
“Are you all right?” Dylan asked. The seat gave under his weight.
“I’m fine. The church was a little overheated.”
It was draining, marrying without love. As the limo began to make the five-mile journey up highway 84 to Summerhaven, Maddy leaned back against the black leather and closed her eyes, deliberately shutting out the stranger who sat beside her.
“If it helps, think about taking the check in on Monday. You’ll wipe the smirk completely off the woman’s face.”
“That is one benefit,” she murmured. The limo crunched over gravel, indicating they’d reached Summerhaven, and Madison opened her eyes. A team of contractors had worked nonstop for two weeks, twenty-four hours a day. They’d accomplished miracles.
“Like it?” His voice cut through the stillness that had settled between them.
“It’s wonderful,” she replied, for it was. She’d been on site everyday and Summerhaven had never looked better. Well-maintained and manicured lawns and gardens circled the lodge. Everything was again the way her grandfather had always insisted, right down to the red impatiens blooming in the refurbished window boxes.
Dylan helped her out of the limo as the parade of cars came to a halt behind them. Magic had occurred inside as well. Wood floors gleamed from being sanded and stained. Furniture and paneling had been refinished or repainted, and thermal replacement windows provided a crystal clear view of the lake. New ceiling fans circled overhead, creating a steady breeze that kept the cavernous space extremely comfortable.
No detail had been missed, and the floor-to-ceiling pinkish fireplace stones sported fresh grout. All around guests oohed and ahhed over the changes and complimented Maddy on how wonderful everything was.
“Fantastic,” Forrest Smith said as he approached them. “Dylan, you are a man of action. I do think I’d like to take a look at that proposal. Have your people send it over next week. I’ll call and let Clayton know it’s coming.”
“I’ll do that,” Dylan said.
“Proposal?” Maddy asked after Forrest and his wife moved off.
“He’s interested in bank rolling a project I’ve got going,” Dylan replied. “I believe it’s time we should cut the cake.”
He cupped her elbow gently, guiding her to the table. The tiered white wedding cake was topped with fresh flowers and white cream frosting. Expectant faces watched as Maddy reached for the silver knife. A camera flash blinded and Maddy was struck with the surreal feel of it all—such a waste for something that was simply a business deal.
“Okay, put your hand on hers and smile for a photograph.”
Dutifully she followed the photographer’s orders. Her finger still wasn’t accustomed to the solitaire Dylan had given her at the country club, much less the massive diamond-studded ring guard serving as a very expensive wedding band. As she held the knife, Dylan’s warm palm covered hers, sending an infusion of heat coursing through her skin. Desire flared through her, and she jerked her hand forward, slashing the knife through the cake at an odd angle. “Oops.” She forced a laugh.
“I guess I’ll have to keep better control,” Dylan said, his voice husky. Maddy paused. Had he been as affected as she?
“Smash it,” someone jokingly called out after she’d finished cutting, but instead Maddy scooped the required piece into her
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley