Pamela Clare - Striking Distance

He ducked down, kissed her slow and deep, then drew back, a look of astonishment on his handsome face. “ ¡Anda pal carajo! I’m going to marry you. Who’d have thought that a woman as classy and beautiful as you would end up with a Boricua kid from the South Bronx?”

Before Laura could say a word, he scooped her up in his arms and swung her in a circle, shouting for the world to hear. “¡Wepa!”

She shrieked, laughed, then found herself on her feet again, held tight in his arms.

“You won’t regret this, bella .”

She smiled, kissed him. “I know.”

They turned toward home, walking hand in hand.

For someone who’d never wanted to get married, Laura suddenly couldn’t wait. “We could get a license tomorrow and get married on Saturday.”

“Nah, that won’t do. Mamá Andreína would kick my ass. If my abuelita is not at the wedding, we’re not married.”

“So what you’re telling me is that this is going to be a case of ‘My Big Fat Puerto Rican Wedding’?”

He chuckled. “See what you got yourself into?”

But Laura wouldn’t change it for the world.

Seven months later

Private island of El Conquistador Resort

Off the eastern tip of Puerto Rico

LAURA WALKED HAND in hand with Javier toward a pair of waiting beach chairs, the sea breeze catching her hair, sand warm against the soles of her bare feet. She looked up and down the beach for Erik, Heidi, and the girls. “Do you see them?”

“They’re probably eating lunch.”

She’d forgotten it was almost noon. “I guess we slept late.”

“Sleep had nothing to do with it.” Javier grinned.

Grandma Inga and Mamá Andreína sat side by side beneath a beach umbrella of palm fronds. Javier’s two sisters, Ana and Nayelis, were having an animated conversation while sunning themselves on beach towels. Sophie, Megan, Kat, Tessa, and Kara sat in the sunshine closer to the water, talking and watching their kids play together in the sand. Marc, Nate, Julian, and Kara’s husband, Reece, had taken on some of Javier’s former Team buddies in a game of beach volleyball—John LeBlanc, Brian Desprez, Chris Ross, and Steve Zimmerman.

“If you’re going to call it, Hunter, at least hit the damned ball.”

“If your foot hadn’t tripped me, Dickangelo, I would have.”

“You guys do know how to play this game, right?” Reece asked.

“They probably learned the rules by watching women in bikinis play,” Nate said.

John ended the bickering. “You ladies going to talk or play volleyball?”

Meanwhile, Holly sat in her bikini in the shade near the bar holding court with three of Javier’s male cousins—while sneaking covert glances at the shirtless SEALs in the volleyball pitch.

Natalie and Zach were nowhere to be seen. She had a good idea where they were. Having been married for almost two years now, they wanted a baby.

Laura glanced out over the waves, saw someone dangling a hundred feet in the air from a parasail that was being towed by a boat. “Oh, God! Is that Gabe up there?”

Javier glanced up. “Looks fun, doesn’t it?”

“ Suicidal is more the word I was looking for.”

They settled into their beach chairs. Laura peeled off the short dress she’d worn as a cover-up, the sun warm on her skin, her body feeling languid from a morning of sleeping in, room service, and sex. She pulled a tube of sunscreen out of her beach tote, rubbed it into her exposed skin.

“Sure you don’t need help?” Javier watched her, his eyes hidden by sunglasses. “You’ve got a lot of skin, and I’ve got two big hands.”

“Can you put it on my back?” She turned away from him, drew her hair aside.

“You got it.” He took the tube from her, planting a kiss on her neck before he began to rub the cream into her shoulders.

They had arrived in Puerto Rico three days ago amid a whirlwind of nightlong parties and wedding preparations, men from Cobra International Solutions, Javier and Derek’s security company, having come to the island two days earlier to make certain the place was secure. Laura had left most of the planning to the resort—one of the best decisions she’d made in this entire process. She’d been able to join in the parties and get to know Javier’s parents, siblings, aunts and uncles, cousins, and nieces and nephews, rather than worrying about arrangements. And she’d been able to spend a little bit of each day with Klara, who had just turned three in December.

Many of their friends had flown in for the ceremony, and although some had already returned home, most saw this as their chance to have an all-expenses-paid vacation. True, Laura and Javier had spent a fortune, but it had been important to them to have the ceremony they wanted, one that brought together their far-flung families and friends for a once-in-a-lifetime celebration. They didn’t face the future expense of children—no strollers, no braces, no prom, no cars, no college to pay for—so why not make the most of their special day?

And it had been perfect.

The ceremony had been held amid palm trees and tropical flowers atop a cliff overlooking the ocean, far from the prying eyes of the media. Laura had felt at peace, a gentle breeze tugging on her veil as she and Javier had spoken their vows. She would never forget the look in his eyes as he’d slipped the wedding band on her finger—happiness, desire, and enough love to last a lifetime.

The reception had gone on through the night, with music, dancing, drinking, and singing. Laura and Javier had passed out capias —little tokens of the wedding that included the date and their names and were an old Puerto Rican tradition—and then sneaked away for a private celebration of their own.

Laura couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful wedding—or wedding night.

“You’re all greased.” Javier finished, handing Laura the sunscreen, and leaned back in his chair.

Laura tucked the tube back in her bag and settled in beside him.

Nearby, Grandma Inga and Mamá Andreína erupted into peals of laughter. They’d been inseparable since the wedding—a true odd couple. Laura’s grandmother was tall and spoke not a word of Spanish, and Mamá Andreína was petite and spoke no Swedish. The only thing they had in common was white hair and a tiny bit of conversational English—and the fact that their grandchildren had just gotten married.

“What do you think the two of them are talking about?”

“No clue. Can they even understand each other?”

“Have they been drinking again?”

“Your grandma is a bad influence on mine.”

Laura gave a laugh. “It’s the other way around. Look at the bottle they’ve tucked between their chairs. Isn’t that Mamá Andreína’s licor de chinas ?”

Javier craned his neck. “What’s she doing with that? That shit is illegal, man.”

A homemade brew of rum and oranges, it was one of the most delicious liqueurs Laura had ever tasted, but it was strong.

And then Laura saw them.

Stella and Anette appeared first, bounding on foal-like legs across the sand, both wearing their red hair pulled back in ponytails. Klara ran after them on little legs that couldn’t quite keep up, the sight of her putting a bittersweet ache in Laura’s chest. She wore a little pink tankini, her dark hair drawn back in a long ponytail, a pink sun hat on her head, green plastic sunglasses covering her eyes. She was adorable.

Heidi called to the twins in Swedish, her hands full of beach toys. “Stella! Anette! Wait for your little sister!”

“She’s grown so much already.”

Javier rested his hand on Laura’s. “She’s going to be tall like her mother.”