The next morning and wedding day




His hands stroked her warm body, removing her satin gown, caressing her breasts, teasing her nipples so that they swelled in taut erection beneath his expert fingers. Blood seemed to flow hotly in her arteries as his hands roamed downward to explore the silken inner flesh of her thighs.


Suddenly she felt the pressure of his lips against her skin, skillfully tongued her navel, licking her softness until she moaned with pleasure. She stared down at the thick hair buried against her stomach. Then his lips moved lower, and a tiny thrilling shockwave swept her as she realized what he was going to do.


As he made love to her with his lips, her will to resist him slowly flowed out of her; his mouth touched all the private places of her body, tasting her as though she were a delicious fruit he had lived too long without. Her deepest emotion stirred by the erotic conquest of his lips. She felt warm and wet, aching with a tumultuous need that only he could satisfy. Yet he drew out the moment, kissing her again and again, kneading her softest flesh with his lips as though he were starved for her. His hands gripped her hips. He held her so close that she felt fused to him utterly, the two of them alone in a brilliant haze of golden mist.



Angela’s eyelids fluttered open, vaguely conscious of the stillness in the room. She reached across the bed half expecting to feel Jason but there was nothing more than a tumble of cold sheets. “Oh balls!” she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her and Jason’s flirtation had weaseled into her dreams and taken root. “Time for a cold shower.” She swung her feet from the heat of the bed and tramped to the bathroom to shower.




More than a little ashamed of his presumptuous behavior the night prior and in effort to avoid Angela, Jason had purposely risen early and taken breakfast with the aunts in the formal dining room. Listening to them bicker and rant about missed opportunities was the price he paid to save face…and pay he did. They piled his plate with enough food to feed three men and then debated whether he should add more fiber to his diet or cut out carbs all together. He swallowed his last shred of patience with his final gulp of orange juice and politely excused himself. He’d rather take his chances of running into Angela then suffer one more second of them discussing his dietary requirements as if he weren’t present.



“Good morning,” he heard as he entered the foyer. Angela, whose abrupt unexpected presence churned his emotions with the brutal violence of a tornado, bounced down the stairs.


“Hi! I was just going for a…um drive.”


“Were you going to leave without me?” she sensed his ill ease. “That was a joke. I was kidding.”


“Ah,” he rocked back on his heels. “Got it.”


“So, where are you headed again?”


He nodded nonchalantly. “I was just about to go for a spin; nowhere in particular. I had breakfast with Clarabelle and Dorothy….”


“Both aunts!” she teased at his expense.


“Yeah,” He looked around warily and his eyelashes kissed his cheeks. “My nerves are pretty fried right now”


“You went through all that trouble just to avoid me?” Angela said, finally his eyes meet hers full on.


“Look, I’m sorry about last night. My behavior was unacceptable and uncalled for. It was wrong of me…” Jason apologized before Angela cut him off.


“No need. We shared a moment and um…”


“Is that what it was to you? A moment.?” He moved closer to her, watching the curve of her lips soften into a shy smile.


For some reason she felt very vulnerable beneath his steady, intent stare, and a race of coward’s panic would’ve sent her into hiding had it not been for the aunt’s boisterous interception.


“There you are Jason,” Dorothy, the older more pliable of the aunts said. “Since Rich and Cynthia are preparing for the wedding, we thought we’d gather everyone together and karaoke.”


“The bandstand is already setup in the back and we have plenty of music.” Clarabelle sweetened the pot.


Angela wrapped her arm around Jason. “We were about to drive into town. What did we have to pick up?” she asked Jason who stared on like a deer in highlights.


“Balls.” He said flatly with no further clarification.


“Balls?” Dorothy repeated.


“Yes,” Angela chuckled. “Balls…golf balls. Callaway Gardens has a signature line of golf balls.” She scoffed at Jason. “How did you forget those?”


“I…I don’t know,” he muttered, clearly stumbling his way through the second stage of Stockholm syndrome.


“Come on, let’s go,” Angela pulled him to the door and called to the ladies. “We’ll see you at the wedding.” Once out of earshot she snorted, and took his keys.



“Thank you,” Jason said a few miles down the road. “So, where are we off to?”


“I have no clue but we have to make a trip to Callaway Gardens before we head back.”


A long moment of comfortable silence passed between them as the unspoiled Georgia landscape in full bloom rushed by as they drove towards town center.


“I want to stop in town and pick up a new journal.” Angela finally said.


“What’s wrong with the one you have?”


“Nothing. I collect them. Every time I visit a new place or start a new chapter in my life, I purchase a new journal.” She glanced over to Jason returning her grin. “I know. It’s a silly habit.”


He touched her hand resting on the gearshift. “No, it’s not silly. You’re an author; that is understandable. I collect golf balls from each course I play.”


“Really?” she asked aware that his thumb was slowly rubbing the back of her hand.


“Yeah, I have them on display in the pub right next to all my battered clubs.” He said garnering a hearty laugh from Angela. “I have small collection of clubs that I’ve thrown or beat into the ground.”


“I guess you can add your nine-iron to the collection now. Sorry about that.”


“Nah, it’s no big deal.” He unfastened his seatbelt as they pulled into a parking space. “What time does the wedding start?”


“Seven o’clock. The sun should be setting by then.” She exited the car and checked her pockets for cash and credit cards and met Jason on the small sidewalk.


Without provocation he took her hand. He stood grounded showing her that he wasn’t going to pull away, his soft eyes traveled slowly up soft lines of her body until they rested on the gentle features of her face. Angela stared back at him silently. Her heart pounded in her throat and she felt a grasping urge to feel his lips moved across hers, wishing they were back at the inn snuggling beneath the sheets, sated in their own world.


“I hope you don’t mind.” Jason’s lips twisted cynically.


“No.” she replied in short for fear of sounding ridiculous.


“Good,” he started walking. “Because I hadn’t planned on letting you go.”



They spent the rest of the day walking, roaming through local mom and pop stores of Warm Springs and Greenville before trekking the grounds of Callaway Garden. Astonishingly enough Jason was amazed by what he’d missed while he played on the golf course. Angela took him on a tour of the Azalea Bowl with its winding walking paths and secluded pavilion where they talked for an hour, and the Vegetable Garden where they bought a basket of fresh area grown fruits for the aunts.


“Can I ask you a question?” Jason lay on the grass staring up at the tops of the trees.


“Sure.” Angela reclined beside him.


“Why aren’t you married?”


Angela shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I never put my mind to it. It was never a pressing issue.”


“You’re perfect. Well, you’re not perfect.” He corrected himself. “No one is perfect.”


“Is that what most men want? Perfection?”


“No. Perfection is boring. Would you ever create a character that wasn’t either emotionally or physically flawed?” he studied the sunlight coming through the leaves and branches.

Angela thought for a second. “No. You’re right. Flaws in a character adds to their sex appeal.”



“And what about the men in your life?” Jason leaned over and rested on his elbow looking down at Angela with smoldering want. “Do you expect them to be perfect?”


Angela gazed through the delicate fans of his lashes into the Jason’s desire-darkened eyes. Time stood still between them and she was determined not to look away. “No.” She whispered plainly. “Like you said ‘Perfection is boring’”


The blistering alarm of his watch sounded and they smiled at one another.


“We’d better get back.” Jason lightly kissed the tip of her nose, stood and offered her a hand.





It wasn’t long before they realized the hour and headed back to the inn. Several of the other guests were congregated on the lawn for the cocktail social while the band played. Jason and Angela retreated to their rooms to shower and dress and agreed to meet downstairs in the foyer.


Jason tugged at the tie of his tux while patiently checking his watch and staring out into the yard as guests began to take their seats. His jaw dropped and he swiftly stopped fidgeting as he watched Angela gracefully descend the staircase in a silk chiffon empire waist dress finished with a pair of silver strappy sandals. Her every movement was provocative and sexy, revealing the sleek curve of her legs and her waves of dark hair fell loosely about her shoulders. Not a breath of air stirred the impractically sexy gown she was wearing. Whispers of sheer plume cloth clung freely to her and accentuated her shapely curves, enhancing the dark honey tones of her skin.


Angela walked toward him smiling until she stood returning his knowing stare.


With surprising gentleness he placed both hands on each side of her face and said with all sincerity, “You are very beautiful tonight.” His low gravelly voice flowed over every inch of her skin bringing her to life.


“Thank you,” she crooned arrogantly. She knew what she was working with, but she wasn’t unaffected by Jason standing there looking like a million bucks. She could have drug his young ass upstairs right then and then. There again, cooler heads prevailed and he escorted her to their seats.



The wedding ceremony proved to be the longest in recorded history. Even under the haze of the evening sun and beautiful plush surroundings even the most patient of guests began squirming after the first thirty minutes. Not that it mattered to Jason and Angela. The ceremony merely provided a backdrop for their hand holding and flirtation.


Once liberated from the shackles of the frankly overblown nuptials ceremony, they and the other guests were evacuated to the air conditioned holding tanks of the reception tents. All in all the wedding went off without a hitch: The happy couple was giddily receiving their well wishes, the music, grounds and food were second to none, and the company was all either Jason or Angela could have hoped for.


After a lovely dinner Cynthia and Rich opened the floor for dancing. Angela took turns around the floor with the uncles and male cousins while Jason squared off with the aunts and nieces. They danced, partied and laughed well into the night. As the night went on the band’s selections slowed and couples graced the floor. Angela stood nursing a drink and giggling as Clarabelle and Dorothy jostled for Jason’s attention. Rich’s uncle Pete asked Angela to dance and she happily obliged. He wasn’t as good a dancer as Jason but not many men were. She and Uncle Pete twirled and swayed, turned and dipped but her eyes rarely left Jason, dancing with Aunt Clarabelle. Uncle Pete caught a glimpse of them eyeing one another and when the song ended and Martina McBride’s “Valentine” began, he delivered Angela to Jason and whisked Aunt Clarabelle safely across the floor.



There was no need of shy glances or reserved demeanors. They both willingly embraced the undeniable: there was a deep connection beyond this moment or moments past. It glittered and glistened and demanded acknowledgement.


“Hi,” Angela said returning to their nightly positions: her arms around his neck, her body pressed flush against his, and his arm encircling her while tracing up and down her back.


“Hey, beautiful. I’ve been waiting to dance with you all night.”


“You’ve been busy.” She rested her cheek upon the hard heat of his chest, closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat thumping to the melody. Angela felt the warmth of his breathe move across her scalp. He held her close and moving effortlessly, gently stroked his hand through the flowing masses of her hair. Her every nerve was attuned to his masculine presence and there was a part of her that didn’t want this feeling to end.


“Our song.” Her soft eyes met his as “Love of My Life” began. “Did you do this?”


Jason smiled sheepishly as she returned to resting on his chest. It was of no concern, she was grateful for his forethought, her desire to run receded as she listened to the steady beat of his heart. A feeling of infinite peace enveloped them as they held one another. He cradled her head against his chest and prayed that the songs impassioned words would speak to her.


Like all things the song tapered to an end as did their dance. Angela leaned away from Jason, putting space were there had been none. He shook his head.