Read THAT MAN 4 (The Wedding Story-Part 1) for Free Online Page B

river of release was seeping through her fingers. She gazed at me, her green eyes glistening with pride. “Did you like that?”
    Hell, yeah . I took her into my arms. “Is this going to be one of our rituals as husband and wife?”
    She smiled sheepishly. “It could be.”
    “What other tricks did Grandma teach you?”
    “What you can do with an apron is amazing.”
    Leave it to my sex-crazed grandma. I glanced down at the sexy little one strewn around her waist. “I’m eager to find out.”
    She cocked another smile. “Come on, let’s finish the soup.”
    I jumped off the counter. “No offense, baby. Your soup is awesome, but I’m more interested in getting a taste of your new trick and anything else you’ve got cooking.”
    Her eyes smoldering, she draped her arms around my shoulders. “Babykins, I’ve got a lot of things cooking.”
    “You’re going to make one hell of a wife.” I tore off her apron.
    One breath later, we were fucking our brains out right on the kitchen floor. The strings of her apron bound around my wrists, I discovered what other wonders my bride-to-be had in store.

Chapter 7
    Jennifer
    “H appy Birthday, girlfriend!”
    Libby was at the door of my office. Holding a small shopping bag, she barged in and placed the bag on my desk.
    “This is for you. It’s just a little something.”
    “Oh, Lib, you didn’t have to get me anything,” I protested, already dipping my hand into the bag. I broke into a smile. It was a T-shirt with “Mrs. Always Right” printed boldly on it.
    “I know it’s a little premature, but you need to remind ‘Mr. Right’ that you’re the smart one.”
    “This is perfect. I love it.” I stood up and rounded my desk to give my redheaded best friend a big hug.
    “Why don’t I take you out for lunch?” she asked.
    “Can’t,” I sighed. I then explained to my future maid of honor that Blake and I had finally set a date and his mother was planning the entire wedding.
    Libby knitted her brows. “Are you cool with that? What about your mom?”
    “Yeah, we’re both okay with it. With all the guests the Bernsteins have to invite, we don’t have much of a choice.” I glanced down at my watch. It was almost noon.
    “Shit. I’ve got to go. Blake’s mother set up my first meeting with the wedding planner.”
    I grabbed my purse and walked out of my office with Libby.
    “Good luck. I want to hear everything. I can’t wait to tell Chaz.”
    *
    One for punctuality, I got to Enid Moore’s office early. Located not far from Conquest Broadcasting’s headquarters, it was housed in a lovely two-story brick townhouse right off fashionable Robertson Boulevard. Upon entering it, I was greeted by a stylishly dressed male receptionist, handsome enough to be called pretty.
    “You must be Jennifer.” His voice was effete yet warm.
    I nodded. “Yes.”
    “Have a seat, sweetie. I’ll let Enid know you’re here. Can I get you some tea or water in the meantime?”
    “I’m fine,” I said, plunking down on the very formal loveseat and soaking in my surroundings.
    The reception area was elegantly decorated in shades of ivory, all silk and gilt, and lit by a crystal chandelier. Antique oil paintings of aristocratic brides were artfully scattered on the walls. Soft classical music piped through hidden speakers.
    The coffee table in front of me was lined with impeccably arranged bridal magazines from around the world. In the center was a thick leather-bound album labeled “Moore is More.” I lifted it into my lap and began flipping through the parchment leaves. Page after page was filled with photos of events that Enid had created. My eyes widened. Each event was more extravagant than the one before—ranging from a baseball-themed bar mitzvah featuring namesake baseballs at every seat and a life-sized ice sculpture of a young boy swinging a bat—oh my God, it was thirteen-year-old Blake!—to a Cinderella-themed wedding, complete with a pumpkin-shaped