“Elated. I think her reaction will be, ‘It’s about time.’”

“I’ll second that. As for romance—I suppose we’ll have to work it in when the opportunity presents itself.”

“Like now?” He brushed a kiss over her forehead. Trailed his lips down her temple.

“Uh-huh. I hope you . . .” Her voice squeaked. “I hope you don’t anticipate a long courtship.”

“Eight or ten months?” Fat chance, if he had anything to say about it.

Her groan confirmed they were on the same page. “You’re killing me here.”

“Three or four may suffice.”

She eased back a tad to study him, the setting sun casting a golden glow on her skin. “We can take this slower if you prefer.”

“Nope. I’m tired of slow—and I’m tired of waiting.” He played with another lock of her hair. “I say we shift into high gear. Any objections?”

“Not a one.”

“Then let’s pick up the pace.” He leaned forward—but jerked to a stop at a sudden, high-pitched squeak.

Up in the gold-and-orange-streaked sky, two gulls wheeled and dipped, putting on an exuberant aerial display.

“I’ll say this for you, Jack Colby. You know how to throw a world-class picnic. Not only gourmet food but after-dinner entertainment.”

He gave her a slow grin. “That’s just the preshow. Are you ready to move on to the main act?”

Her eyes warmed. Sizzled. Beckoned. “I’ll let actions speak louder than words.” She tugged his head down.

And as the gulls continued their joyful noise overhead, he gave her a performance to remember.

Epilogue

“Good morning, Mrs. Colby.”

At the warm nuzzle on her neck, Christi came slowly, deliciously awake.

Mrs. Colby.

Could there be any sweeter sound?

Smiling, she stretched and rolled over—toward her new husband of some eighteen hours. “I’ll have to get used to that title.”

“Take your time.” He propped himself up on one elbow and began playing with her hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.”

“Best news I’ve had all day.” He trailed a kiss across her forehead. “You hungry?”

“Are you referring to breakfast?” She slid her arms around his neck and wiggled closer.

His eyes darkened. “I was. Before we went to bed last night, I peeked at the gourmet fare your maid of honor prepared for us. But I could be persuaded to postpone that indulgence. I’ve learned to delay gratification—by eleven years in one particular case.”

“Was it worth the wait?” She grazed her fingertips over the morning stubble on his chin, the nubby bristles creating a tantalizing friction against her fingertips.

“I think you already know the answer to that.” He growled deep in his throat as she brushed the pad of her thumb over his mouth. “Keep that up, we may have to forget about breakfast altogether and focus on other priorities.” He captured her hand and pressed his lips to her palm.