The Walk of Fame (21 page)

Good grief. Her heart stuttered and stumbled.

Was it possible he really did love her?

Delivered in that curt, irritated voice with not one ounce of his usual charm and eloquence, the surly compliment had to be the most convincing she’d ever heard. And the most wonderful. But even better than that was the feeling of power,
of entitlement that gripped her. He never had patronised her. It was the truth. Because she’d never let him.

He was the most charismatic, the most gorgeous, the most overpowering man she’d ever met and yet they’d always dealt with each other as equals. He’d challenged and provoked her and driven her completely nuts—while liberating her body, and setting her spirit free.

‘You really
do
love me?’ She still couldn’t quite believe it. Did she really get to have her dreams come true?

He swore viciously, not exactly the epitome of anyone’s dream man. ‘Haven’t I just got through telling you as much? Now stop mucking me about and tell me whether you love me back.’

She saw the vulnerability in his eyes, heard the exasperation and uncertainty in his tone, and all the love and longing and joy she’d tried so hard to hold back cascaded through her like a river in full flood.

Thanks to all the tragedies and traumas they’d had to face in their lives, all the insecurities they’d carried around with them, they’d put each other through hell.

But now, at long last, they’d found their way to heaven.

She flung her arms around his neck. Clung on. ‘Oh, Mac, I don’t just love you, I adore you.’

His rigid shoulders relaxed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet. He buried his face against her neck, blew out a staggered breath. ‘Thank you, God.’

He sounded so relieved, she laughed.

He lifted his head and pinned her with a dark look. ‘It’s not one bit funny. You just took ten years off my life.’

‘Sorry,’ she said, not feeling remotely apologetic. ‘Will I ever be able to make it up to you?’

His hands massaged her bottom, pulling her tight against the hard evidence of his arousal. ‘Well, now,’ he said, the sensual tone turning her knees to jelly. ‘Give me a minute and I’m sure I’ll think of a fitting punishment.’

But as his mouth lowered to hers and her fingers curled into his hair…

Daisy burst through the door.

They jerked apart.

‘Mac, you can’t come barging in here. Juno’s not ready for this,’ she panted, shooting Mac an accusatory look. She turned to Juno. ‘I’m so sorry, Ju. I was at the deli picking us up some lunch. I didn’t know he was here. Are you okay?’

Juno was momentarily speechless, never having had the chance to feel like a naughty schoolgirl before.

‘She’s fine. In fact, she’s ecstatic,’ Mac announced crossly as he hauled Juno back into his arms. ‘Now scram, sis.’

Juno let a giggle slip out at Daisy’s astonished expression.

‘Oh, my goodness.’ Daisy clapped her hands, her eyes shining with glee as her brain finally processed what she was seeing. ‘You two made up! This is phenomenal.’

‘It’ll be a lot more phenomenal when you get lost.’ Mac’s disgruntled reply sounded for all the world like an annoyed big brother.

Daisy lifted up a hand in surrender as she scurried backwards out the door. ‘I get the picture. I’m scramming. In fact, I was never even here.’

The door closed on a muffled thump, the sharp click of the lock echoing in the small space.

‘Now where were we?’ Mac murmured, lowering his head for a second time.

Juno pressed a finger to his lips, struggling to grab hold of a little sanity amid the tidal wave of joy. ‘We can’t make love in here,’ she gasped, the thrill racing up her torso making it hard for her to breathe. Let alone resist. ‘It would be …’ What? ‘Really impractical.’

‘Darlin’,’ he drawled, nipping her fingertip, ‘that practical nature of yours was the first thing I fell in love with.’ He chuckled, his questing fingers flipping up the hem of her dress and slipping beneath the waistband of her knickers.

‘But you’ll
have to trust me on this.’ He cupped her buttocks. ‘Sometimes impractical works every bit as well.’

Twenty-five glorious minutes of pure pleasure later, and she had to concede he had a point.

‘H
ERE,
let me.’ Connor took the flower out of Mac’s trembling fingers in the musty quiet of the church’s antechamber. ‘Calm down, man. You look as if you’re about to be shot, not marry the woman of your dreams,’ he said as he threaded the flower stem into the buttonhole of Mac’s wedding suit. A smile curved his lips as he pinned the flower into place. ‘I thought no Hollywood star worth a damn got stage fright.’

‘Ha, ha,’ Mac said, not amused by the smug tone. He brushed damp palms down the fine linen of his suit, the nervous gesture doing nothing to ease the apprehension tying his guts in knots. ‘I don’t get stage fright.’ Or at least he hadn’t until now. ‘That’s for amateurs.’

But he was an amateur at this, he thought miserably. He’d had seven months to prepare for this moment and he still felt scared to death. What if he wasn’t any good at being a husband? Being a father? As he’d watched Juno’s small, delicate body ripen with his child over the months he’d been on a merry-go-round of pride and excitement and bonenumbing terror. How would he live with himself if he failed at the only thing that would ever really matter in his life?

He took a shallow breath, tugged on the shirt collar that was threatening to cut off his air supply.

‘So what’s the problem, then?’ Connor said quietly, the smug tone gone. ‘You’re not having second thoughts, are you?’

Mac gave a half-laugh. ‘Are you kidding? I need her so much it hurts.’

And that was the problem, right there.

At Daisy’s insistence, he’d had to spend the night without Juno in his arms for the first time in seven months and he hadn’t slept a wink. He’d tried to sneak in and see her this morning, but Daisy had shooed him away from the château suite with some rubbish about it being bad luck. And now here he was a nervous wreck for the first time in his life. He wanted to put his fist through a wall but knew it wouldn’t help.

The only thing that would calm his nerves was seeing Juno walking down that aisle towards him and knowing he deserved her.

‘What if I muck it up?’ he muttered, more to himself than Connor.

‘All you have to do is stand there and say I do,’ Connor replied easily. ‘Just be glad you’re not the one has to wear the frock and walk down the aisle in five-inch heels. And, rest assured, I’ll give you a good solid kick if you forget to speak at the relevant moment.’

Mac forced a half-hearted smile, grateful for Connor’s attempt to lighten his mood, even if it wasn’t working.

The last time he’d wanted something this much, he’d been ten years old lying in a hospital bed, alone and scared and in pain and desperate to have someone there to care about him. He hadn’t got what he wanted then.

‘I’m not talking about the wedding,’ he mumbled. ‘That’s the easy bit. I’m talking about the marriage. What if I muck
that
up? What if I make a mistake? What if she decides she doesn’t love me after all?’

It was his greatest fear and the minute he’d said it he felt as if he’d exposed a part of himself he’d never intended to expose. But Connor didn’t laugh or crack a joke or make fun of him, he simply gave his head a rueful shake.

‘You’re not going to muck it up, Mac. You’re a good man,
and you’re going to be a great husband and a great father. Just watching you with Ronan is proof of that.’ Connor rested his hand on Mac’s shoulder. The reassuring weight eased the tension in Mac’s stomach for the first time in months. ‘Juno is happier than I’ve ever seen her. She believes in you—and with good reason.’ Giving Mac’s shoulder one last squeeze, Connor lifted his hand. ‘All you’ve to do now is start believing in yourself.’

Mac swallowed, the sweat drying on his palms at the complete conviction in Connor’s voice.

Juno believed in him. She trusted him. Amazing as it seemed, it was true. He let his mind wander back over the last seven months and thought about how she’d shown him she loved him, so many times, in so many different ways.

When she’d grabbed his hand and pressed it to her belly so he could feel the baby kick as they’d been sitting on the beach in Laguna one lazy Sunday this spring. When she’d told him not to be a pompous idiot and then seduced him in the shower a month back after he’d voiced his concerns about their continued lovemaking in her condition. When she’d flung her arms around his neck and demanded he carry her over the threshold the morning they’d moved into the house round the corner from Connor and Daisy’s. And when she’d laughed delightedly as he’d pretended to stagger with her in his arms while he walked into their new home.

The look of steady, abiding love in her eyes every one of those times and a million more was the only thing that mattered now. So long as he focused on that, he’d be able to figure out the rest.

‘Okay. No more panic attacks, I swear,’ he said, letting out a deep breath and feeling as if a ten-ton weight had been lifted off his shoulders. ‘Thanks for the advice.’ He smiled at his brother.

‘Not a problem. It’s all part of the best-man service,’ his brother said, smiling back.

The loud chimes of the chapel bell ringing the noon hour interrupted them.

‘Damn it.’ Connor glanced at his watch. ‘Is that the time already? We better get you out there.’ He patted his pockets and pulled out the twenty-four-carat-gold bands Mac had bought seven months back as soon as Juno had accepted his proposal. ‘Great, right, we’re all set,’ he said, slipping the wedding rings back into his breast pocket and wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

Mac chuckled as Connor hustled him out of the antechamber.

‘Calm down, Con,’ he said, his confidence returning as they walked into the tiny French chapel where he had once ogled Juno in her maid of honour gown. ‘No best man worth a damn gets stage fright, fella.’

He laughed as Connor cursed and shoved him into position at the front of the church now packed to the rafters with Hollywood A-listers and market-stall holders alike, all dressed in their best to wish the happy couple well.

Mac crossed himself, clasped his hands together and looked over his shoulder, eager for Juno to make her entrance. He just wanted to get this over with now so she’d be his for ever.

A satisfied smile curved his lips and he sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

Damned if he wasn’t going to have a wonderful life after all.

‘I still can’t believe you insisted on doing this when you were eight months pregnant. It’s completely mad,’ Daisy remonstrated for about the twentieth time in the last ten minutes. She stood up, propping her hands on her hips. ‘Right, you can take a look now,’ she said, whipping the sheet off the cheval mirror in the church rectory. ‘But I’m taking no responsibility whatsoever if you expose a nipple while you’re walking down the aisle.’

Juno took in her reflection and laughed. Daisy’s cream silk creation flattered her ripening figure with sleek, simple
lines but dipped so low at her cleavage she blinked. ‘Oh, God.’ She clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. ‘I see what you mean.’

‘I did warn you your boobs would get enormous,’ Daisy said, and huffed out a breath. ‘I still don’t understand why you and Mac couldn’t wait until after the baby was born. It would have been so much simpler.’

Juno turned to her friend and gripped her hand, the grin she’d been sporting for a good seven months getting wider by the second. ‘Not for us,’ she said simply. ‘You know how nervous Mac’s been getting in the last few weeks.’ She felt emotion tickle the back of her throat at how desperately he’d been trying to hide it. ‘He’d have gone into a complete tailspin if I’d made him wait a minute longer. He practically had a fit as it was when I told him the church wasn’t available till April, way back in October. He would have kidnapped me then and there if I’d even hinted we wait until after the birth.’

The memory of how desperate he’d been to get them safely wed still had the power to make her heart quicken.

Daisy stifled a giggle herself. ‘Having seen the look on his face this morning when I told him he couldn’t see you, I guess you have a point.’

The bells of the noon hour rang out across the small vestry.

‘Oh, dear,’ Daisy said, the teasing tone turning to consternation. ‘I had to promise Connor we would not be fashionably late, so he wouldn’t have to physically restrain Mac from storming down the aisle to get you.’ She gave an apologetic smile as her eyes dipped to Juno’s cleavage. ‘But that means I won’t have time to find some lace to preserve your modesty.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Juno said, still smiling. ‘The dress is gorgeous. And if the worst comes to the worst and I end up flashing the minister we’ll just have to hope he doesn’t have a heart attack or Mac really will kidnap me.’

They both laughed.

Daisy sobered first. ‘God, Ju.’ She clasped Juno’s hands tight, tears sparkling in her eyes. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

‘Why?’

‘Remember how panicky you were at the prospect of wearing that maid of honour gown when we were last here? Since then you’ve blossomed into the beautiful butterfly you were always meant to be. And it’s all your own doing.’

‘No, it’s not. It’s Mac’s too,’ she said, sniffing back tears of joy. ‘Anyone can be beautiful when they know they’re loved.’

As she walked down the aisle towards the man of her dreams and saw the love shining in his eyes—and the flare of arousal as his gaze drifted to her cleavage—her heart soared. How could any one heart feel so full and not burst? she wondered.

A week later, sore and exhausted after a demanding twelve-hour labour, Juno had her answer as she watched her husband of eight days hold his tiny baby daughter in his arms for the first time.

‘So what do you think of her?’ she whispered, her voice weary, her heart full to bursting again.

His eyes met hers over the bundle cradled so carefully against his chest, his gaze filled with pride and awe and unconditional love.

‘You did well, Mrs Brody. She’s the most gorgeous baby in the known universe.’ A single frown line wrinkled his brow. ‘Although I may have to give you both a lecture on not missing your cue.’