The Games They Play In Tahoe free porn video

Meghan stood by the edge of the lake, face raised towards the sun, arms and fingers extended at her sides, absorbing some delicious Vitamin D. Waves of crystal clear water lazily reached for the toes of her shoes before indifferently surrendering and receding. A breeze teased the skirt of her dress aside and fluttered her chestnut hair, loose strands caressing her exposed shoulders. She inhaled deeply, infusing herself with the essence of the fresh pine scent and invigorating oxygen from the surrounding tall trees, her heart swelling and revitalized.

God, how she needed this. If her addled brain hadn’t told herself how much she needed it, her body made it loud and clear. If she listened carefully she was certain she could hear a sigh of relief from every pore upon her skin. 

After a three-day decadent bachelorette romp in Las Vegas, followed by a one-day road/detox trip across the Nevada desert in a crowded minivan, then more partying when they arrived in Lake Tahoe before the wedding, every fibre of her being was crying for some R & R. 

“Hey, Meghan! The whole party should be here in about five minutes,” a woman wearing the same full-length, pale-lavender, chiffon frock as Meghan called her from behind. It was Charmaine, the Bride's Maid of Honour. “C’mon. Time for photos!"

“Yay. More photos,” Meghan eked, feeling the strain in the muscles around her mouth as she twitched a smile.

“Why are you squinting like that?” Charmaine asked.

“Uh, I took out my contacts.” Meghan hated wearing contact lenses. She had spent an hour in the morning, squeezed amongst her girlfriends in front of the hotel bathroom mirror, stabbing her eyeballs attempting to put the suckers in. 

“Where did you put them? We have to take photos.”

Meghan bit down on her lip with her slight overbite and hesitantly pointed towards the lake. It had been sweet relief to peel them off her pupils and send them to a watery grave.

Charmaine frowned. “We have to take pictures." She was freakishly relentless.

“I’ll get my glasses. They’re in the car,” she replied.

“Glasses?” Charmaine asked. “Dara won’t allow glasses. We have to-”

“Take pictures.” Meghan nodded. “I’ll be sure to take them off… and not squint.”

“Where’s your bouquet?” Charmaine pointed at her with her own arrangement of violet and white orchids. 

Again, Meghan gestured towards the lake. “I put it down... oh… fudge...”

She glanced around the water’s edge. No bouquet in sight.

Charmaine gawked at her as if she had drowned a puppy.

“I just placed them in the water for a drink. They couldn’t have floated far,” she said reassuringly. Scanning the water, she grinned and joked, "Maybe some kindly Hebrew widow will find them and they'll free the rest of the enslaved flowers."

Charmaine remained vexed.

A stretch limo and some other cars pulled into the parking lot. The rest of the wedding entourage had arrived. Charmaine cast a pained “Now what?” look.

Knowing that attempting to calm her would just exacerbate her own anxiety, Meghan simply turned around and made her way along the beach to search for the stray bouquet. Hopefully, they hadn’t sunk.

Squinting, she followed the shoreline for several meters. Amongst a clump of reeds, she spotted the errant bouquet bobbing just over a meter in front of her.

“Hmm,” Meghan thought, pausing on the bank of the lake. A dubious thought borne from desperation seeped into her head, “I wonder how deep that is?”

“Need some help?” A lanky young man in a slim, black suit stepped beside her, smiling. 

“Oh! Hey, Rico,” she said. “Just contemplating a swim.”

"Yeah, wouldn't surprise me if you did." He scratched the side of his precision-trimmed goatee with a finger and said, “You know, Dara will kill you if you get that dress wet.”

“Please, Dara will kill anyone today if they so much as hum off tune to her wedding music,” she snickered. “I think losing my bouquet in the lake would put my head on the chopping block just as well. Gonna have bacon, may as well go whole hog.”

Besides, she truly hated the dress.

Rico kicked off his shoes. “Well, what kind of groomsman would I be if I let my partner go for a swim to fetch her flowers?”

Meghan’s trimmed eyebrows peaked.  “Oh, it’s alright,” she exclaimed, waving her hands, “I can get it.” 

“Not a problem.”  He was already pulling off his socks.

“No. No. Don’t ruin your suit.”

Through a sly grin, he chuckled, “It’s an ugly suit. My cousin doesn’t care.”

“I’m not worried about the groom. It’s his bride whose hiding the cleavers beneath her gown,” she remarked, though she could agree that the suits Dara had insisted for the groomsmen weren’t that great, tailored as if they were meant for teenage boys.

Rico managed to roll his slacks up past his knees. Meghan couldn’t help but notice how hairy his legs were, reminding her of the stereotypical Italian man being rather furry.  

Stepping to the edge of the lake in his bare feet, Rico took a moment to examine the water before dipping his foot in. The water came halfway up his shin. He shivered, "Brrr!"

"Oh gosh, is it freezing?"

"Just kidding," he said, smiling back at her. "It's kind of invigorating, to be honest."

“Careful.”

With one foot on the shore, the other gingerly easing forward deeper and deeper, Rico leaned down, reaching through the reeds.

“Here, take my hand,” Meghan offered.  

They clasped one another at the wrists, allowing him to reach a bit further and snag the bouquet.      

“Gotcha!” he said. As Meghan pulled his arm, he hopped back onto the beach.

She laughed, “Hurray! We live!”

“Here you go,” Rico said.

“Why, thank you, kind sir! Such a gentleman coming to the aid of a lady in distress,” she replied, affecting a faux Southern Belle accent as she took the flowers with a slight curtsy.

They chuckled together momentarily before Meghan realized they were still holding hands and noted how gentle his felt. She released him suddenly to pull at a lock of hair at the side of her head, looking down while clearing her throat.

As she watched him put on his socks and shoes, she asked, “You’re sure you didn’t get your pants wet?” 

“Just a couple of spots. They’ll dry. Or should I take them off?” he asked, and reached for his belt.

Meghan smirked at him.

“Just kidding.” That seemed to be his catchphrase. “I don’t think you can tell that they’re wet, anyway.”

She sighed, “I should have fetched my own bouquet. Wouldn’t care if my dress was wrecked. It would give me an excuse to take it off.”

“Naw,” Rico replied, “you look good in it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m a bleached purple traffic cone.”

“Not even close. You don’t have that requisite triangular shape,” he chuckled. “But hey, if you want to strip out of your clothes right now, I won't stop you.”

His smile and look caught her off guard more than the remark with the way his dark eyes stole what looked like an approving glance toward her. 

She tapped his shoulder with her flowers. “Behave or I’m pushing you in.”

“Yes, Miss Dawson,” he said, smiling and nodding.

“You two!” Charmaine called to them. “Photos! Chop! Chop!”

Meghan squinted at her. At this distance, she looked like a lavender Gumby.

Rico sighed. He nodded and offered his hand. “Shall we?”

“Go ahead. Give me a sec to primp my bouquet. It looks a bit floppy.”

“Yeah, cold water tends to make things go limp.” He tugged at the tight crotch of his pants.

Meghan snickered and gave him a gentle push.

She watched him as he trotted over to the group, pursing her lips aside as she sighed. During the bachelorette, the girls made no bones that they were keen to set her up with Rico. It was a sideshow sport for the entire wedding week. They were the only two amongst the wedding party that weren't bringing along a “plus one” so obviously they just had to be together.

Meghan had an inkling that the groomsmen had given Rico a nudge, as well. He did seem to be quite attentive to her, with smiling looks and always sneaking in light touches and brushes of his soft, hairy hands.

He was cute and a real sweetheart, she admitted. Honestly, she was still processing a secretive encounter she had experienced in Las Vegas.

“Meghan!” Charmaine called to her once more. 

She waved and headed towards the group, still adjusting her bouquet. As she looked around, she noticed a tall man leaning casually against a convertible parked at the other end of the lot. She paused and squinted hard, though, without her glasses, it didn’t help much. She could tell he was in a suit, but everything else was just a cloudy blur. He didn't appear to be joining the main wedding group for photos. Maybe just another guest?

As she joined everyone else by the gazebo, she watched the man get in the car and drive away.

--0--

Two hours later, Meagan's headache was back with a vengeance. Standing on the ornate veranda of the reception hall overlooking the expansive garden, she leaned on the rail with her eyes closed, massaging her temple.

Just a little over half of the three hundred guests had arrived for cocktails, and she was already done with shaking hands and hugging strangers in the reception line. She had managed to sneak away with Rico proving a sympathetic accomplice. 

"Go," he whispered to her while Dara was involved in a bear hug with one of her dozen uncles, "I'll pretend this sexy rose bush here is you as long as I can."

"What about you? She'll flay that tight suit from your skin if you're caught," Meghan warned playfully. 

"This boutonniere is actually pure cyanide," he replied, nodding to the violet lily on his lapel. "They won't take me alive."

"Oh, if you don't use it, let's smoke it later tonight!"

"'If'?"

Meghan scurried away, giggling. 

That brief moment of revelry seemed so long ago. Now there was just the headache to be followed by an excessive dinner, interminable speeches, stupid games, dancing, drinking…

"Oh, God," Meghan lamented, covering the guilt on her face with her hands. When had she become more of a drag than a pair of soggy diapers? She groaned aloud, "You are such a buzzkill!"

"Yeah, I guess I am," Rico said, walking up from behind, "but my Ma likes me."

Meghan jumped. "Rico!"

"Then again, many Italian moms love their sons even more than their husbands, I think," he said, and offered her a cocktail glass. "It's mildly disturbing if you think about it."

"Thank you!" she said, eagerly accepting the cocktail.  "Lucky you weren't a Psych major."

"Analyzing dreams of me lying in bed next to my Ma?" he asked, furrowing his thick brows. "Is that really an issue when she calls me every night before bed and asks if I'm wearing clean underwear and had my warm glass of milk?"

"Oh my God! That's horrible!"

Rico smirked. "Really? I mean Ma is kind of overbearing... but ‘horrible’?"

"Not your mother," Meghan said, her mouth slung open in disgust. She waved her cocktail glass. "This!"

"Oh, yeah,” Rico eyed the cloudy, violet liquid swirling in the glass. “I saw some old ladies stomping Care Bears in buckets in the parking lot to make that."

"Bleah!"

"Does it help with your headache?"

"No," she grumbled, rubbing a finger above her brow line. 

"Here," Rico said, taking her glass and placing it on the railing. He then turned her by her shoulders to face him. "You should massage these pressure points."

Meghan flinched and froze as he reached up and slid his fingers under her hair on both sides of her face. Gently, he touched his fingertips just behind her ears and slowly rubbed them in circles. 

Meghan's eyes shifted left and right. Wow, even his wrists were hairy. His fingers were amazingly tender, however.

Finally, she settled her gaze on his eyes. 

"Better?" he asked. 

The headache remained at the back of her skull, though his soft fingers dampened the throb. "Yeah. You've got the touch."

Rico grinned. "I've been told.”

She caught herself before she asked what other pressure points on her body he could work his magic fingers on. That was a next-level of flirtation she wasn't sure she was ready to scale… yet. Maybe another Care Bear cocktail or two...

"Those glasses real?" he asked.

"Hmm?" Meghan replied, clearly distracted.

"Your glasses."

"Oh. They're real. Why?"

He shrugged as he continued to rub. "Some people wear fake glasses because they think it gives them that sexy nerd look."

"Really?" she said. "I do nerdy pretty well, but sexy?”

“I think you do that well, too,” he said.

“Don’t blush. Don’t blush,” Meghan told herself. In spite of that, she felt a tingly warmth blossom under the skin of her neck and cheeks. “Dammit.”

She gnawed at the edge of her bottom lip as she tried to think of something to say.  

Just then, a gaggle of groomsmen and bridesmaids led by Charmaine ran up to them and pulled at their arms.

“What? What?” Meghan asked.

“Photos! Photos!” Charmaine babbled her mantra for the day. “Dara wants us all by the fountain in the garden. We’re going to re-enact the opening from 'Friends'!”

“Weren’t we supposed to avoid getting wet?” Meghan asked.

The others weren’t listening, they just kept pulling at her wrist until Rico managed to separate them with a deft move and corralled everybody away from her without them realizing it.  He looked back and winked at her.

Meghan mouthed “My hero” and stepped further away along the veranda to take advantage of the precious extra few minutes he had just bought her.  Alone. she gazed wistfully through the tall trees towards the serene, crystal lake bordered by majestic mountains. Lord what she wouldn’t do to be floating in the middle of it right this moment.

She regarded the noxious cocktail still resting on the veranda. The thought of it made her ill. As she picked it up, she contemplated dumping it onto the bushes below. Suddenly the glass was lifted from her hand.

“You don’t want that,” a man said as he stepped beside her, smiling.

Meghan blinked and then her eyes widened the size of quarters. “Brander!”

“I meant that,” he said, nodding to the bridal group making their way through the garden below. He raised the glass. “Not this.”

“Oh, wait!” she exclaimed too late as he knocked back the cocktail in one bold gulp.

Brander resumed leaning on the veranda, smiling… then a second later, the tall, impeccably groomed and dressed man suddenly looked away, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing. He barely managed to keep himself from spitting up the drink like a drunken frat boy.

Still stunned, Meghan said, “I really didn’t want that, either.”

“Good God,” he croaked, his face sour as he wiped the inside of his mouth with his tongue. He regarded the glass. “This is awful. What is it?”

“The blood of a thousand unicorns,” she muttered blank-faced, then asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to say hello to a young woman, hopefully a friend,” he replied, clearing his throat while adjusting his tie and collar. He took a moment to compose himself, then he added, “Not exactly how I had envisioned our reunion, to be honest.”  

Meghan took longer to recover from her shock. Brander was her side-escapade in Las Vegas from earlier in the week, a one-night stand with a stranger she never knew she had it in her to be involved in. She had a lot of fun with him, running around the city, eating, drinking, playing… having sex. Part of her thought she would never see him again after that. She sure as hell never expected to see him just days later at her friend’s wedding, dressed in a suit even more handsome and ‘zippy’ than the one he was wearing when they had met. It still had an effect on her.

“It’s good to see you again, Ana,” Brander said. 

‘Ana’. Again, in her current frazzled state, it took her time to process that she had used that name when she introduced herself to Brander in a hotel lounge. She gave her head a shake. “Brander, how did you know I was here?”

“I followed your trail of breadcrumbs,” he said with a tilt of his dimpled chin. 

“My what?”

His lips pulled tight with a pleased grin, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card for the Lake Tahoe hotel where the wedding reception was taking place and handed it to her. “You left this on the bedside table, remember?”

Meghan pouted her lip as she looked at it. “Oh, yeah,” she remarked. It was so dark in the bedroom when she left him that she hadn’t realized that the piece of paper she had pulled from her purse to leave him a note was the business card. Her chin held low as she looked at him, frowning, she asked, “How did you know I would be here this weekend, though?”

He shrugged. “I was in Vegas. You’re supposed to gamble a little, remember?”

“But…” Meghan was really struggling at this point. The man seemed so at ease crashing a wedding like this, but his air of refinement, sophistication and sexy confidence is what drew her to him in the first place, and she felt the same stir in her gut now. She looked around anxiously. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you,” he responded.

“I’m part of the wedding party...” 

“Then why are they down there while you’re up here by yourself?” he asked.

Meghan rolled her eyes. He really was a slick and cool slide on thin ice. “Brander…”

“Or are you finding some appeal in the attention of a young, chivalrous gentleman?”

“Who?” She raised her brows and looked towards the garden. “Rico?”

“Well, at least your fine taste in men is apparent,” he said, then chuckled, “Not to fluff my own pillow, mind you.”

She eyed him. “Have you been spying on me?”

“You’re the one who said I looked like James Bond.”

He really did. Not just the suit or the sharpness in his eyes and face, but his overall character as well, not to mention his debonaire ways with the ladies. It bothered her that she felt he should be spending time with similarly refined women and not just some common graduate student like herself. 

“I still don’t understand why you’re here,” she said, vocalizing her self-doubt.

“Someone showed me how to have fun in Vegas. And I did. It was wonderful,” he said, smiling warmly. “I wanted to see if I could repay her."

The glimmer in his eye pinged her heart and mind like a tempting tickle, but her shoulders slumped as she sighed,  “I can’t. I’m at a wedding.”  

Geez, she really made it sound like she was attending a reading of the dictionary.

He smiled. “I suppose that’s why you’re dressed in a gown that looks like it was spun from cotton candy at a fair?”

“Bingo,” Meghan replied.

“Come on, now,” Brander said while adjusting his cufflinks then offering a hand. “You know you’ll have more fun with me, Ana.”

“Um,” she said, blinking with a sheepish grin, “that’s actually not my name.”

Nodding, he took the business card from her and flipped it over to show her the note she had left him: “Thank you. -Meghan”.

Oh yeah. She wrote that, too. A realization dawned on her. “Wait, is your name really Brander?”

“Actually, yes it is.”

“You gave me your real name?”

“Yes, I did,” he sighed, amusedly chagrined.

“Do you usually do that when you’re… doing that?” she said, implying picking up random women for a one night stand.

“No, no I don’t, as a matter of fact,” he replied. “I admit, you had caught me off guard.”

Meghan twisted her small lips aside as she eyed him. “Yeah, that kind of puts a little chink in your man-of-the-world armour, doesn’t it? I thought you were adept at switching identities on the fly and maintaining them?”

“Well, now,” he remarked, pretending to feel the sting of her accusations, “I suppose I need to prove I’m still a man of mystery to you if I’m to get you to leave with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she replied, and though it pained her to say, she added, “and you still shouldn’t be here.”

“Alright,” he replied, “fair enough. I don’t want to continue to be a point of annoyance for you…”

“You’re not an annoyance, Brander…”

“... and I really don’t want to cramp your style with your escort.”

“Will you stop it!” she said. “I don’t have a style, and I don’t have a thing for Rico!”

Brander stood tall before her, still holding her with his assured smile. “I guess this is good-bye, then?”

Meghan nodded slowly, looking down at his expensive leather shoes before regarding him with a regretful smile. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” he said and held his arms open. “Hug?”

Her smile brightened a bit and she reached around him for an embrace. As her cheek pressed against the lapel of his jacket, she thought it even felt upscale… and she was going to miss it. “I had a really wonderful time, too,” she said, “and I… uh?”

Meghan stepped back and looked at her side. Brander’s hand was in her purse.  

“What are you doing?” she asked, cocking her brow.

He chuckled and pulled his hand back. ”Guess you’re also better at that than I am.”

He was referring to how Meghan had managed to lift his cellphone and hotel keycard from his pockets back in Vegas.  

Looking half-irked, half-bemused, she pointed to the door. “Go!”

“By the way, I’m missing a pair of underpants after our night together. Any ideas?” he snuck in.

“They won me a garter belt from a scavenger hunt!” she snapped, pushing him to leave. “Will you just go, already!”

In his own time, Brander strolled back to the hotel, fading into the crowded reception lounge.  

Meghan’s whole face felt tight as she stared at the point where he disappeared. She could feel herself fighting her impulses.  After a moment, she took half a step in that direction before being called from the garden below.

“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair!”  Rico shouted and waved to her. “Because Dara's threatening to have me scalped if you don't come immediately.” 

Oh yeah. She was still at the wedding. Meghan looked at him and sighed, feeling deflated. Then, after one last look towards the reception lounge, she dragged herself down the stairs to join the others by the fountain.  

--0--   

“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise and put your hands together to welcome the wedding party!” the emcee for the evening announced.

On the other side of the door to the dining hall, the various partners of the wedding entourage were still figuring out their entrance dances.  

“Where’s Lindsay and Tomas?” Charmaine asked anxiously.

“Tomas had to go to the washroom,” Meghan replied. “I think he had one too many of the unicorn blood cocktails.”

“Will you stop calling them that?” Charmaine scolded. “Dara will freak.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Meghan said, rolling her eyes. As if “Unicorn Essence” was any better.

As she watched the parents of the bride and groom head out, Rico brushed arm. “So, we’re doing the Dirty Dancing lift, right?”  

“I guess. Are you sure you can carry me?”

“No prob’,” he said. He held out his hands, measuring them alongside her petite waist. “Yeah. I got you.”

The music was turned up and the emcee announced, “Up first, Miss Meghan Dawson and Rico Mastroianni!”

“Here we go!” Rico declared as the giant doors opened up. 

A rush of applause, loud music and bright lights hit Meghan leaving her momentarily disoriented. Rico already danced ahead into the room doing his best Patrick Swayze impression, shuffling his feet and snapping his fingers to raucous hoots and hollers. Someone shoved Meghan from behind. With a stupid grin affixed to her face, she raised her skirt and cha-cha’d her way pathetically into the hall.

Rico shimmied towards the main banquet table, then turned towards her. He rubbed his hands together before beckoning her to come to him.

Meghan gritted her teeth, apprehension and anxiety freezing her momentarily before she charged forward. As she approached Rico, she closed her eyes and jumped, her arms stretched out like airplane wings.

Suddenly she was aloft, almost seven feet in the air spinning above the floor.  There was wild applause and Rico seemed to have no issue with holding her above his head, her belly perfectly balanced in his assured hands. It felt like she was flying and the momentary exhilaration struck a genuine smile on her face. 

Then she caught a glimpse of someone in the crowd, a familiar face in a snazzy suit. He raised a glass to her and smiled.

“Brander?” she called out, her voice lost in the noise and music.

As she twirled away, she craned her neck back to look for him, her torso twisting, and suddenly she was flailing. Rico lost his balance and stumbled.  

“Whoa!” she hollered as she tumbled and the two of them collapsed on the floor, Rico folding up like an accordion to break her fall.

Her eyes spinning momentarily, she recovered and found herself on the ground. Rico was flat on his back beneath her, his face covered by the skirt of her dress and her thighs spread across it. Her crotch pressed against his pointy nose and open mouth. 

“Mmph!” he mumbled, grasping blindly at her butt and legs. 

“Oh, no! No! No! Don’t do that!” her mind screamed as she felt the ticklish vibration of his mouth against her panties. As cameras flashed and laughter erupted around her, her cheeks and neck turned immediately crimson. 

She unceremoniously rolled off of Rico. Propped on all fours, she whipped her head around still scanning the audience for Brander.  

“Out of the way!” Charmaine ordered as she and her partner twerked towards them.  

Rico hauled her up from the floor and off to the side. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, still distracted.  Then she looked at him and saw his flushed cheeks and messed up hair. “Oh, no!  Rico! I’m so sorry!” She grabbed his face to examine him. “Did I break anything?”

He waved her off. “This is an Italian nose! You can drill holes in cement with this thing! You’re a lot softer and smell nicer down there!”

As they examined each other, the other partners continued to dance their way in.

The emcee announced, “Miss Lindsay O’Neill and Tomas Andretti!”

Lindsay shimmied half-heartedly and embarrassed into the hall alone, her escort still missing in action.

Meghan cringed. “Poor Lindsay,” she thought.

Just then, Brander swooped in and took the solo bridesmaid in his arms. With an arm around her waist and locking their fingers of their other hands together, he led her forward in a swanky tango much to the approval of the crowd. Lindsay, after looking initially stunned, appeared quite taken by her handsome replacement and quickly got into the sultry strutting dance.

Meghan covered her mouth in shock. 

The duo, cheered on by the crowd, continued up and down the aisle of people until Lindsay’s boyfriend stepped in and tapped Brander firmly on his shoulder.  Brander bowed and kissed the back of Lindsay’s hand before leaving the thoroughly impressed young lady standing on the floor with her agitated boyfriend and disappearing again into the surrounding commotion like Batman.

Before Meghan could go after him, the bride and groom entered to loud applause and the wedding guests all gathered around to welcome them. She was pulled into the scrum by the rest of the entourage making it impossible for her to run away.

A little later, once everyone was settled into their seats and the initial dinner service and speeches began, Meghan remained distracted, scanning the tables and the crowd at the bar. There was no way she was going to be allowed to get up and leave the table, not during the first three of four courses, at least. Fortunately, she didn't spot Brander hanging around.

"How are you liking the food?" Rico asked.

"Hmm?" she said, her attention still wandering. "Oh, the food! It's great. I'm stuffed."

"Meghan, we're barely halfway through the appetizers," Rico said to her dismay. "Food at an Italian wedding is a process, not a journey."

Meghan frowned as a plate of ravioli was placed on the table in front of her. She regarded Rico and asked, "How do you keep such a svelte figure eating like this?"

The only benefit of the thin cut suit he sported was that it showed off his lean, athletic figure.

He cocked a bushy eyebrow and grinned. "Sex."

"Uh… what?" She felt her heart flutter.

He offered a coy shrug and a wink. "Hard, steamy sex burns calories better than any workout."

Meghan blinked in stunned silence as her imagination drifted.

After a moment of holding her with a slow burn gaze, Rico laughed, "Just kidding. You weren't expecting me to say stuff like that, were you?"

She swallowed. "Eh, no. I thought you were a clean-cut Catholic boy."

"Unfortunately, I am," he chuckled and patted her on her lap under the table. "Don't worry. You're safe with me."

It was a cordial pat on her thigh, she knew, yet she didn't mind how he seemed to let his palm linger there for a second longer.

As dinner continued, the chime of silverware upon crystal rang out intermittently signalling the request for some smooching. The twist at this affair was that a guest had to go to the floor and toss a giant game die. The various sides were printed with instructions as to who was to kiss.

The first roll turned up "Bride and Groom", so Dara and Tony did the traditional deed to a round of applause. The next two rolls showed "Bride's Choice", and each time Dara picked a bridesmaid and her escort to kiss. Both times, the couples fed off the enthusiasm of the guests and being centre stage to indulgently suck face.

Meghan realized Dara was making her way along the line of her wedding party and grew warier each time the die was rolled. She ordered a lowball of rum, hoping it would soothe her anxiety. 

Cling! Cling! Cling! The glasses dinged yet again. An older woman who looked like she had indulged in a few rounds of the “Unicorn Blood” ran to the floor, her broad smile pushing up her apple-red cheeks. She grabbed the die and instead of rolling it, she plopped it down firmly to the floor with "Roller's Choice" facing up.

Everyone watched the woman scurry to the back. By the time the spotlight found her, she had her hands firmly locked around the arm of a handsome gentleman in a tailored suit.

Meghan almost choked on her rum. Coughing, she sputtered, "Oh, no…"

There was a loud, appreciative "Whoo" amongst the guests, and they cheered as the woman stroked her hands up and down the man's chest. Unfettered, Brander adjusted his tie before dipping the woman and planting a kiss on her drooling lips with a flourish and resolve.

Meghan's jaw swung low as if broken. As the spotlight spun away, she stood to go after him. 

"Meghan! C'mon," Charmaine said as she and Lindsay pulled her by her arms to the podium, "Time for our speech."

The bridesmaids had planned to do a group speech in the form of a song set to the tune of Shake It Off. Charmaine wrote the lyrics and they had practiced so much that Meghan would go into conniptions at the mere mention of Taylor Swift. 

She didn't know why they had bothered. With the constant din and clamour of dinner conversation and the various states of inebriation of the bridesmaids, their performance came out as inaudible, garbled mumbo jumbo at best. Still, Charmaine jabbed Meghan in her ribs to get her to do her bit. Once again distracted, her "shake, shake, shake" came off kind of flat and lifeless. 

Just as they finished, the clinking of glasses erupted again.

"Oh, for the love of…" Meghan rolled her eyes. It was endless. 

She felt she would never get a breather. True enough, the die was cast to "Bride's Choice" once more. Dara immediately thumped her hands on the table, chanting "Meghan and Rico". Everyone did, their efforts to push the two as a couple seemingly bearing fruit. 

Meghan's eyes widened as she froze at the podium. She saw Rico wipe his mouth with a napkin, stand and make his way behind the chairs towards her. 

The spotlight hit her in the eyes, blinding her for a second. She looked aside, squinting, and glimpsed Brander seated casually at a table, the centre of attention, chatting and sipping from his glass like he was some VIP rather than a common wedding crasher. He paused to look at her and held up his glass in toast. Meghan scrunched her lips aside as she peered at him.

“Hey,” Rico said, leaning close to her ear, “we can just do a little peck if you wa-...”

Meghan grabbed his face and shut him up with her lips. Infused with the courage of the rum and irked by Brander’s teasing, she stuffed his mouth with a forceful kiss. The wedding party cheered and clapped with approval.

When they parted, Rico’s lips were frozen in mid-pucker. He blinked and asked, “Was that your tongue?”

The question didn’t register with her. She was already looking back towards where Brander had been sitting, but he was nowhere to be found.

Meghan had managed to survive through the mains of dinner, still searching the guests like a hawk. Brander, however, kept up his Where’s Waldo act and by the time the dancing started, she pretty much gave up.  

The affair became even more boisterous and crowded when people from another wedding in the adjoining hall decided to come over, adding to an already raucous group of festive, drunken Italians. With the booze flowing and the music beating incessantly, there was an odd feeling of intense urgency that took over the event. Everyone was determined to have fun, Goddamnit!

Of course, this did not help Meghan’s headache. While she would have preferred to seek refuge in a solo stroll in the gardens, as a bridesmaid, she was apparently obliged to maintain her intensity level at ‘10’ at all times, and her garish dress made her stand out like a beacon, making escape impossible. The drinking and the dancing was non-stop, not to mention constantly talking down Dara whose trolley was ready to fly off her emotional rollercoaster tracks at any moment.  

Even Rico no longer provided any cushioning as he somehow disappeared. After searching for him for a while, Lindsay and another bridesmaid pulled her aside, both red-faced and giggling.

“He’s where?” Meghan shouted over the mind-numbing music.

“At the hotel’s front desk,” Lindsay replied. “The other groomsmen said he wanted to ask if he could change rooms tonight!”

Meghan frowned. “Change rooms?”

“Yeah,” Lindsay replied, “he wanted his own room with a single bed.”

“Why?”

“Oh, you know!” The other bridesmaid wobbled her head in a drunken nod and blurted, “So you two can fuck in private!”

Lindsay leaned in towards Meghan and exhaled an alcohol-infused “Woo!” into her face.

While the two bridesmaids chattered like chipmunks with excitement, Meghan stood stone-faced. She needed a drink.

She made her way through the scrum at one of the bars and tried to get the harried bartender’s attention. “Whiskey!” she shouted.

“Didn’t I tell you to be respectful of the drink?”

Meghan frowned and looked aside and up. Brander was leaning on the bar, smiling back at her.  She blinked at him, then looked at the glass in his hand. “Did you get that here?”

“Oh Lord, no. I found myself the good stuff at the next wedding over,” he said holding up a shot of whiskey.

“Give me that,” Meghan snatched the tiny glass from his hand. She poured the contents down her gullet in one shot.  

“Careful,” he warned.

“I’m sorry, but screw that,” she grumbled sounding like someone had set her throat on fire. “Gimme another.”

Brander reached over the bar and grabbed a bottle. As he poured into a glass, he asked, “Rough night? Or things not turning out the way you planned with your Principe Azzuro? I haven’t seen him for a good while now.”

She eyed him as she took another swig. His smug smile was as annoying as it was compelling. “Rico?” she said, cocking her bro. “As a matter of fact, he is at this very moment getting a hotel room for us. Him and me.”

Brander grinned. “I don’t suppose the two of you intend to exchange evening prayers tonight?”

“Oh, shut it. The poor kid has it bad for me. I’m gonna teach him some nasty things in bed. Just nasty,” she remarked.

“Mm-hmm. Lucky guy,” he said, and sipped his whiskey.

She could tell he didn’t feel at all threatened by the idea that she was possibly going to sleep with another man. That really annoyed her.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” she said.

“Enjoying an evening social.”

She rolled her eyes and waved her hand aside. “This is not an evening social. This is gluttony and excess, and I am just so tired of it.”

“You sound like you could use a bit of refinement and sophistication.”

Meghan looked up at him.  The way he held her in his gaze and smile made her forget that she was still pressed back-to-back, shoulder-to-shoulder with other guests, being jostled as they ordered drinks at the bar. Brander didn’t seem bothered at all, brandishing his suit and his confidence like his sword and shield.

She either wanted to slap some sense into him or screw him.

After a moment, she came close to grabbing him by the collar and yelling, “Save me!”

Just then, a hand reached through the crowd and grabbed her by the shoulder. It was Charmaine.

“Dara wants everyone dancing before Dolce!” the Maid of Honour insisted, relentless in her duties to ensure everyone was having a fucking good time according to schedule.

“No-o!” Meghan exclaimed as she was dragged back to the dance floor.

Again, Brander offered her a subtle toast of his glass as she left.

Everyone danced in earnest, a wild, sweaty mass of gyrating and jumping bodies flooding the floor. Meghan got swept along in a conga line that snaked endlessly around the dining hall.  She had to check the burly elderly man who was behind her as his hands continually slid lower on her hips. Camera flashes constantly popping in her face added to her disorientation. She felt so hot and the material of her dress did not breath at all. A layer of perspiration clung uncomfortably to her face, and she was constantly adjusting her glasses as they slid down her nose.

The conga line returned to the dance floor and formed a giant ring. Everyone joined hands and danced around in circles, every so often rushing together towards the middle for a rousing cheer before pulling back out like waves from a beach. Each time they receded, a new couple was left in the center to dance together in the most suggestive manner as possible to approving hoots and catcalls.

Dara squeezed in and locked hands with Meghan. As they danced around, the bride turned to her and shouted, “Having fun?”

Meghan regarded her with a guarded smile. That didn’t sound like a question. “Oh God, yes! This is an amazing wedding! I’m having so much fun!”  She had to swallow hard on her words.

The ring swooped towards the middle again, and then pulled back. Meghan’s knees nearly buckled when she saw the pairing that remained in the middle of the floor: Brander and Dara’s mother.

“Oh, shhh--...”

Dara’s mother strutted around Brander performing a seductive version of the Egyptian as he grinned and fixed his tie and cuffs. Many of her peers called out in Italian, plenty of words of encouragement apparently ending with “ayy” sounds. As she reached around him from behind, hands grabbing his chest and her crotch introducing itself to his butt with provocative bucks of her hips, that’s when Dara stopped dancing.

As everyone watched the explicit display, a groomsman stepped up to the bride and asked, “Uh, Dara. Aren’t your mom and uncle dancing unusually.... um... close?”

Dara’s face soured. “My uncle? He’s not my uncle,” she gawked at Brander who was now locked in a torrid embrace and kiss with her mother. “I don’t know who the hell he is.”

Lindsay interjected, her face flushed and droopy. “That’s not her uncle,” she slurred. “He’s her Godfather, Don Ameche.”

Both Meghan and Dara regarded her with pinched frowns. “What?”

Lindsay shrugged. “That’s what he told me.”

“He told me he was Tony’s benefactor,” another groomsman said.

“What the hell is a ‘benefactor’?”

As Brander’s identity was proving to be a source of consternation for the rest of the wedding party, Meghan watched in stupefied angst as Dara’s father finally managed to break through the ring and charge towards the centre of the floor. He yanked his wife away from Brander’s embrace before waving an accusatory finger at him.

“Okay,” Meghan said sternly and rushed onto the floor just as Brander dodged a looping swing of the irate Italian man’s fist. 

Dara’s dad slipped and fell to the floor.

“Time’s up, Cinderella,” Meghan urged as she grabbed Brander’s arm and dragged him through the guests who were all surging towards the middle of the floor.

Charmaine intercepted them. “Meghan! We have to get Dara and Tony to cut the cake!”

“Charmaine, go fuck the cake!” Meghan snapped.

“And take a photo,” Brander said as the two of them left the Maid of Honour stunned.

Somehow, the two of them managed to scramble out the doors of the dining hall and into the less crowded reception lounge.  

“Which way to your car?” she urged.

Brander pointed. “Are we making our getaway? We’ll miss Dolce.”

“I’ll give you your Dolce!” she huffed, peeved. She pulled him towards the exit.

“Hey, Meghan,” Rico called out from down the lobby, “where’re you going with Dara’s cousin?”

“Oh God, Rico! I’m so sorry!” she said, still heading towards the exit, leaving him standing, “I’ve gotta run.  I’m so, so sorry!”

Meghan and Brander didn’t stop as they ran down the stairs from the veranda, through the garden, into the parking lot and hopped into his convertible like bank robbers. As he peeled down the winding driveway and into the forest road, she looked back to make sure the villagers weren’t chasing them with pitchforks.

Once on the open, dark road, she finally settled in her seat and put her arms in the air to catch the breeze. 

“Freedom!” she hollered in sweet relief. Then she turned and eyed Brander as he drove. “You were a bad boy back there, ‘Mr.Bond’!”

“What can I say? I got it from you,” he replied. “I’ve been infected by you.”

Meghan grinned crookedly. “Just what every woman likes to hear: I’m a contagion.”

They raced through the pine tree-lined roads, circling the lake till they came to a marina.  Brander led her to a sailboat docked there. She wasn’t sure if he owned it or rented it --the man did everything in style-- but she wasn’t going to ask or argue about boarding it. The further away she was from the wedding, the better.

Brander took her out to the middle of the lake.  In the dark, calm waters with a crescent moon up above, serenity hit Meghan like a fluffy brick.  She sat at the front of the boat, closed her eyes and sighed with almost orgasmic delight. “Oh God, I needed this.”

“How about this?” Brander said walking up from behind and offering her a glass.

She stood and accepted the brandy. “Yeah, this too!” As she looked up at him with a sly grin, she took a soothing sip. “Mmm!”

The way Brander regarded her was as intoxicating as the drink: confidently with bare temptation in his visage. She had to turn back around before the urge to just jump him overwhelmed her. As she gazed out upon the moonlit lake, she mused, “So, did you bring me out here to whack me or what?”

Brander snickered. “Godfather, Part II?” he asked mildly impressed with her movie knowledge. “No, I just figured that this time you won’t be able to escape in the morning.”

Meghan’s heart skipped and she held her breath momentarily. Still gazing ahead, she asked, “In the morning?”

She felt him massage her shoulders. That got her breathing again. 

As he swept aside her hair and applied his hands and mouth gently along her shoulders, she asked, “So what do you have in mind now that I’m captive?”

“The only thing that’s been on my mind since before the seven hour drive across the desert.”

Meghan tilted her head aside, exposing her neck to his kisses and chewed her lower lip. “Oh? What would that be?”

“Anything as long as you don’t splash my suit with liquor again,” he chuckled.

She grimaced. “What happened in your hotel room was an accident,” she said as she pivoted around suddenly. “I wasn’t trying to get you we-... Woah!”

Meghan yelped as she tripped on her heels and started to fall backwards. In a flash, Brander just managed to grab her by the collar of her dress as she leaned precariously over the edge of the boat.

They both laughed with relief.  As she reached for his arm, she remarked, “Thank God for this stupid dre-EHHHSSS!”

Rrr-ip! 

“Meghan!”

Splash!

--0--

Well, so much for keeping her dress dry… and in one piece.

Meghan stepped out of the confines of the bathroom below deck as she tied up the sash of the robe. 

“Sorry about the dress,” Brander said as he sat on the mate’s bed. He offered her his brandy as he undid his tie.

“Oh God, don’t be,” Meghan replied, taking the glass. “I’m not. I just wish my glasses hadn’t fallen off, as well.”

“This certainly wasn’t part of the plan. The results, however, are acceptable,” he said as he eyed her appreciatively.

Standing before him as she sipped the brandy, Meghan said, “Did the plan include you acting like a total goof at the wedding?”

He chuckled with a sheepish grin. “I guess my performance didn’t restore your faith in my being a suave man of mystery?”

Meghan giggled and shook her head. Somehow, seeing the unexpectedly playful side of Brander made him even more attractive. She cocked a brow and spoke with the glass held at her lips, “I think the suit is the only thing that saved you from sinking to lounge lizard status.”

“I guess I should keep this on, then?” he joked as he took the glass back from her and finished off the remaining brandy.  “I mean, I may not be done causing trouble.”

Meghan wasn’t sure if it was the sway of the floor beneath her, or his deliberate gaze, or the brandy, but she felt light-headed in a good way, in a sexy, sensual way.  Before she had met Brander, she had never envisioned herself being so uninhibited with a man who was almost a stranger. Now, with very little cajoling, she found herself sliding onto the bed beside him, placing her hands on his lap as she leaned into him. She teased his lower lip with a finger as she gazed into his eyes and said, “Definitely keep the suit on.”

She pulled him by the tie and mashed her small red lips upon his. As they kissed, she breathed deeply, inhaling his luxurious cologne, feeding the sultry feeling building within her. She felt his fingers wend through her hair around the back of her head, locking her mouth against his as their tongues quickly joined the party.  

Brander eased her back. He shook his head as he looked deeply into her eyes. He asked incredulously, “You sexy little minx. What have you done to me?”

Her hand found its way to his crotch for a firm rub. She offered a cheeky shrug. “Oh, we haven’t even started, ‘Mr.Bond’.”

As they kissed, she continued to harden him with provocative rubs of her hand.  With his help, they undid his belt, and she unbuttoned his slacks and drew down the zipper. She climbed and knelt upon the bed, crouching her head towards his lap as they pushed his slacks and shorts down. Curling her hair behind her ears and licking her lips, she took his shaft up in her hand, feeling it stiffen as she stroked him.

With his hand gently massaging her back, she took him in her mouth, sealing her lips around him, feeling the hard muscle slide smoothly in and out. She had wanted to try this on him back in Vegas, but with all the other positions they had romped through, they had simply run out of time and energy.  

That wouldn’t be an issue this time as she performed long indulgent sucks and licks upon his slicked cock. She purred with pleasure as she pressed his tip inside her cheek and against her throat, before driving her mouth up and down repeatedly.

She heard Brander breathing deeply above her. His hand continued to massage her back, moving towards her petite bottom. He lifted the skirt of her robe and she felt the fresh air kiss her smooth, round butt before he sculpted his large warm hand upon it. 

“Hmm. Is this the garter my underpants won you back in Vegas?” he asked, noting the silky, black garment on her hips. 

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, her mouth full with his shaft and dripping with saliva.

“Mmm. Best investment I’ve made in a while.”

Meghan continued to stroke him urgently with her mouth as he leaned over and kissed her bare butt, easing the moons apart before applying his mouth and fingers between her crack.

After several minutes, Meghan rolled up onto her knees.  As she swabbed the drops of metallic bitterness in her mouth with her tongue, she undid the sash of her robe, all the while piercing Brander with a lascivious stare. Even without her glasses, she was totally focused on what she wanted.

As Brander watched her reveal her nude body to him --save the garter and her nylons-- he unbuttoned his cuffs and began to remove his coat.

Meghan’s lips curled suggestively. “No. Keep it on.”

Brander grinned. “While I appreciate your admiration for it, it’s a bit restrictive, don’t you think?”

She arched her brow sharply. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to do the heavy work.”

With that, she pushed him back on the bed. When he drew his legs up from the floor, she raised her thigh across him, straddling his torso. As she unbuttoned his shirt, she said, “Okay. I’ll allow this.”

Then she spread apart his shirt and curled down to cover his bare chest and belly with licks and kisses. She lingered at his nipples while teasing the hairs on his chest. Even with the restrictions of wearing a coat, she noted that Brander was managing just fine, reaching around her, dragging his fingers down her back and around her bottom as she pleasured him.

Meghan raised her head and sucked on her lips as she reached down and took hold of his length. With a dainty shift and swivel of her hips, she settled upon him and felt him fill her with a steady thrust. Her eyelids fell and she swooned, “Oh… yes…”

It felt like a full release of the day’s test of endurance and patience, feeling the energizing throb of Brander’s stiff shaft deep within her.  The look on his handsome, manly face below her, of unhindered satisfaction and appreciation as she rolled her hips upon him, was an exhilarating payoff.

It had just been a few days, but God how she had missed this!

With their lips locked, tongues darting and twisting, she dragged her fingers along his cheeks as they kissed, feeling the rough edge of his evening shadow. She felt his hands clamped around her butt as he joined her motions with upward bucks of his hips. She gasped repeatedly as he filled her with stiff, forceful thrusts from below.

Meghan sat up and leaned back as Brander drew up from the bed. Still straddling and kissing him, they embraced as their pace quickened.  Breaking her instructions, he removed his coat and shirt before leaning back in and sampling her gleaming breasts with his hands and mouth.

“My God, your body is amazing. You taste so good,” he whispered as he pinched a pert nipple with his lips before slathering it with his tongue. He inhaled her, sucking hard upon each breast.

Meghan gasped, tilting her head back, dragging her fingers through her hair as she revelled in his tender yet assured touches. She moaned feeling him drag his finger through the tight crack of her butt. The man was so good to her, felt so good within her.

The tight confines within the cabin didn’t prove to be any challenge for them. Though the top of Brander’s head barely brushed the ceiling as knelt upon the bed, it was no impediment as he powered stiff thrusts into her from behind. Meghan braced her hands on the wall at the foot of the bed, secure and steady as she welcomed his hard shaft repeatedly, announced with the slaps of his crotch against the smooth flesh of her butt and sharp gasps from her throat.

“Oh! Oh! Oh, my God, Brander!” she gasped. “Yes!”

His strong arms and hands came around her, pulling her back, holding her close against his solid chest. She turned her head back and their mouths and tongues met. As he continued to rock her with quick strokes, she shoved her hips down, taking him deep, feeling every pulse within his cock.

Brander’s hands were all over her, fondling her breasts, clutching her belly and hips, and diving down to her crotch where he swirled his fingertips against her quivering bud.

“Oh God, Brander,” Meghan gasped, twisting her body as she reached an arm around the back of his head, holding tight as they kissed and bucked. “Don’t stop.”

His strokes quickened, her body shaking and vibrating at the intensified velocity. Covered with a sheen of attractive perspiration, they both moaned and groaned aloud, filling the ship’s warm cabin with the sounds of their luscious, luxurious encounter.  

“Faster, Brander,” she panted. “It feels so good, so fucking good.”

She was fully immersed in the moment, mind and body alight and awake, in complete ecstasy from the sensation of his swollen shaft firing into her with vigour. The weariness that weighed on her all day long was set adrift upon the cool waters of Lake Tahoe..

Brander gasped into her mouth, breathing hard. Then he suddenly stiffened behind her. His long, strong body trembled, his cock throbbing deep within her, before he loosed a rattling groan, “Uhh, God! Meghan!” 

Meghan’s brows pinched as she squeezed her eyes shut. Her mouth pulled away from his and rounded open as she felt him shove her hard from behind, his fingers digging into her waist, as he unloaded bursts of rich, thick cum into her.  

“Uhh! Uhh, God!” Instantly, she joined him, a pitched moan escaping her throat as her body quaked and quivered, spilling a dripping wet warmth all over his embedded length. She continued to grind her butt against him, drawing every drop of pleasure from their explosive climax.

Succumbing to the powerful release, she almost rolled forward headlong into the wall. Brander managed to catch her and cinch her against his warm chest once more.  

Both still breathing hard, she reached her arm around him again. As they kissed, they settled back down onto the bed. Meghan nestled her butt against him, curving her body against his, settling in as they indulged in long, satisfying kisses.

After a long day of noise and clamour, Meghan only heard the cooing, calm sound of the waves and the night air.

 ---0---

Just before dawn, Brander docked the sailboat back at the marina and they drove back to the hotel. Their early morning return was at Meghan’s request, hoping she could sneak back to her room and Brander could escape unnoticed.  

Fortunately, he was able to provide her with an overcoat to protect her from the morning air as they chose to keep the convertible’s top open. She was hoping Dara wouldn’t care that the dress was “lost at sea” at this point.  

After they parked, Meghan regarded the hotel for a moment from the car.

“So, this is good-bye... again?” Brander asked.  

She turned to look at him. The man looked as cool and confident as ever, but she detected a sense of regret in his tone. 

She nodded.

Brander mimicked her nod. “I was thinking of heading to Monterey.”

Meghan hesitated then said, “New term starts in two weeks. Have to prepare. PhD year.”

“Meghan!” someone called from the hotel.

She turned and squinted, then her eyes widened as the person approached. “Rico!”

“Right, the Principe Azzuro,” Brander noted. “Think we might have to duel at dawn?”

“No. No. It’s fine. Let me take care of it,” she said, though she wasn’t sure how.  She hated having to hurt Rico’s feelings.

“Good morning,” Rico said as he came up to the car door. He nodded towards Brander.

“Rico, I’m so sorry about last night...” Meghan started.

“No problem,” he interrupted, surprisingly unperturbed. “Totally get it. You needed to run.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. Again he nodded at them both. “So where have you two been? Burning calories?”

Meghan’s eyebrows peaked. “Uh…”

“Just kidding,” he chuckled. “Hey, I want you to meet someone. He waved back towards the veranda.  Meghan squinted and observed a blurry figure in plain clothes. They ran down the stairs towards them.

A thought dawned upon her. “Oh. Oh, hey! Is that your girlfriend?”

“'Girlfriend'?” said Brander.

“'Girlfriend'?” Rico repeated. He laughed. “Uh-uh.”

As the person came up beside Rico, Meghan blinked, everything coming into focus.

“This is Al,” Rico said, his hand around the other svelte young man’s waist. "He arrived late last night."

“Oh... O-oh!” Meghan exclaimed. “Hi!”

Al shook hands with both she and Brander. His arms were just as hairy as Rico’s.  

“So,” Rico said with a coy grin, “do you think the morning of a wedding is a good time to break the news? My Ma is still in good spirits. I even caught Dara's garter.”

Meghan hesitated. “Umm…”

“Hey, at least he’s Italian,” Rico chuckled.

Pouting her lips, she nodded then said, “Go for it.”

As they watched Rico and Al return to the hotel, Brander mused, “Yes, the young man really had it bad for you.”

Meghan gnawed her bottom lip. It had been an evening of mistaken identities.  

“Brander,” she said as she turned and looked at him with a gleam in her eye, “how long is the drive to Monterey?”

“Four or five hours.”

She settled into her seat. “Go for it.”