At the very end of the line was Sam, our head of security. Clad in his usual black suit with a poker face few could match, he nodded briefly as he danced past. “Excuse us, Mrs. Ferris.” As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get him to call me by my first name.
“Not a problem, Sam.”
“Lovely night.”
I grinned, saluting them with my drink. “It sure is.”
When Tommy noisily demanded to be put down, his father complied. The small child immediately ran past the buffet, swiping several macaroons, before disappearing behind the chaise. This excellent idea was seized upon by all three of the other children, and soon enough, the macaroon tray sat empty and the kids grew increasingly hyper.
“They’re going to be on a sugar high for days,” said David, cozying up to me again.
“Lena’s flying home with the girls tomorrow. Can you imagine all that energy in a confined space?”
He grunted. “Terrifying.”
“That’ll be us one day.”
“In about five years,” he agreed, taking a swig from his bottle of beer. Because you could take the rock star to Paris and dress him in a three-piece suit, but he still wouldn’t be sipping champagne. Thank you very much.
“That’s the plan,” I said.
“And you do like your plans.”
The man was right about that. Some people could go through life flying by the seat of their pants. Content to not know what would happen next. I was not one of those people. I both knew and accepted this about myself. Know thyself and all that. Lists were my friends. Neatly ordered inventories of anything and everything going on in my life. Places to be. Things to do. Targets to be achieved at work. Planning was how I gave shape and context to my existence which in turn helped me live life to the fullest. Not that I didn’t mind taking a walk on the wild side now and then. I had woken up in Vegas married to a rock star, after all. But being organized was where I thrived. It was my happy place.
“I say we enjoy ourselves while we can.” His fingers crept beneath my long blonde hair to rub my neck. Guitarists’ hands were wonderful things. So much strength and dexterity. Not to mention the creativity.
I raised a brow. “Are you talking about the bathroom again?”
“The way I figure it, this suite has four rooms,” he said, voice low and husky. Sexy as fuck. My panties grew damper with every word he whispered. “The bedroom, bathroom, dining room, and this formal parlor or whatever the hell the butler called it. Now, given how much we’re paying per night, it would be wrong of us to not make the most of the place.”
“Oh.”
“Four rooms is well within our abilities.”
“I’d hope so. I only turned twenty-eight yesterday.”
“Exactly,” he said as Led Zeppelin changed to The Rolling Stones. “And we just renewed our membership in the mile high club yesterday for your birthday.”
I gave him a distinctly cat-got-the-cream sort of smile.
“Now here we are. It’s the city of love, baby. So let’s go make it.”
“Oh my God.” I laughed. “You better play exceptionally well here, because you’re getting so much mileage out of this city of love thing.”
My husband nipped me on the neck, making me jump. Just a little.
“No biting,” announced a small voice. “Don’t, Uncle Davie.”
“Shit. Tommy.” David swallowed. “Didn’t see you there, buddy.”
The child with the mop of wild blond hair stared up at us with a horrified expression. “You sweared!”
“Busted,” I muttered.
Tommy lifted his arms in a silent demand to be picked up, and David did as asked. Once the boy was settled on my husband’s hip, he pursed his lips, thinking deep thoughts. “Want cookies.”
David bit back a smile. “Do you now?”
Tommy just blinked, the picture of innocence.
“We’re all out of cookies, sorry,” I answered. “How about an apple?”
“No.”
“Some berries?”
The small child screwed his nose up in disgust. “No-o-o.”
“No to apples and berries, huh? Well, what about a nice yummy turnip?”
“Yuck.”
I tapped a finger against my chin in contemplation. “What would you say to a lovely big cabbage, then?”
He shook his small head fiercely, and David cracked a smile.
“Broccoli? Asparagus? Onion?”
Tommy giggled. “No, Aunty Ev. No!”
“Are you threatening my child with vegetables again?” Mal tickled his son, making him wriggle like a worm. “That’s just sick and wrong. How could you, Child Bride?”
“Chide bwide,” repeated Tommy dutifully.
“How long are you going to continue with that?” I took a sip of my drink. “I’m heading toward thirty, for heaven’s sake.”
Mal just winked.
David had no sooner handed the boy over than Tommy squirmed to be set down. Little legs pumping, he was off and running. Mal shook his head. “They never stop. And that’s why he will be an only child.”
“Yeah?” asked David.
Mal shook his head. “Oh, yeah. Phew. One and done.”