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gushes as John takes my hand and kisses it, his mustache prickling lightly on my skin. It tickles, and I have to smile a little as he steps back, clasping my hand in both of his and smiling.

“Nice to meet you, John,” I say politely.

“It’s a pleasure.” He turns to Oliver, sizing him up the way men do and looking impressed. “And is this Harold?”

“Oliver,” Oliver corrects as he offers his hand, and the two men shake in another one of those male measuring sticks, both looking like they passed the other’s test. “I recently decided to go by my middle name.”

“Well then,” John says, gesturing inside. “Come on in. Let me give you the ten-cent tour.”

My breath is taken away again as we step fully into the foyer. Gleaming marble floors, impossibly high ceilings, and a winding staircase make the entryway look like a grand entrance to heaven.

“Wow,” I breathe. “So which king did you rob to get all of this stuff?”

My mom clasps her hands together with pleasure. “It is like a palace, isn’t it? The first time I stepped inside, I felt like I’d had my Cinderella moment.”

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Oliver says, again sounding not as impressed as I thought he’d be.

“Everything is—” I start before Oliver pulls me to a stop, cutting off my words.

“It’s nearly as beautiful as my little Princess,” Oliver says, taking me by surprise when he pulls me close, and before I can do anything, he kisses me on the lips. His kiss is intense, powerful, and before I know, it I’m kissing him back, even as his hands pull me against his hard body. I feel a growing heat rising again between my thighs. I’m left breathless, chest heaving when he pulls away. I flash murder at him as he whispers in my ear, “Payback for your little stunt on the plane.”

I can hardly listen. My body is hot, and I know my nipples are tight and aching inside my dress. I’m probably poking through the thin bra I wore to show off the dress. My cheeks burn, and I’m so embarrassed to be turned on in front of my mom.

“You okay?” she asks me, amused. “Young love is so passionate.”

“I’m fine,” I stammer, pushing away and not wanting to. “He caught me off guard. And someone forgot we had garlic chicken on the plane. Tic-tac next time, honey?”

Oliver flashes his mocking smirk at me before giving Mom a raised eyebrow. “I always leave her breathless. Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Your daughter’s too beautiful.”

John chuckles at that. “I’m liking you already.” He pulls out a cigar and inhales as he runs it under his nose before sticking it in the corner of his mouth. “Trust me, I’m so glad I can get these legally now. They’re a bad habit, but I allow myself one or two a week. Cuban, imported directly from Havana. Come, Oliver, let me get to know my eventual son-in-law.”

Oliver smiles. “Got any Cuban rum to go with that cigar?”

“How’s Jamaican? And do you like cars?” John asks, his eyes twinkling merrily.

Oliver laughs. “Of course I do. When I was a kid, I had all the best sports cars in my toy collection.”

John seems giddy like a schoolboy, and he claps Oliver on the shoulder, charmed already. “Come with me and I’ll show you my garage. I’m sure there’s something there you’d like. Let these ladies catch up.”

The two of them head off, Oliver giving me a wink. After they leave, Mom leads me through the mansion.

“Where is everyone?” I ask as we leave the foyer. “Where’s Roxy? And where’s this staff I’m hearing about?”

“It’s not all that,” Mom says with a shrug. “John sent the staff on duty to town together. I wanted to do something special for dinner. As for Roxy, she’s with your aunt out getting their dresses for the rehearsal dinner.”

“I can't wait to see them,” I tell Mom honestly. “It’s been too long.”

Mom shows me around the house, and as we do, I feel a question that’s been on my mind for a long time bubbling to the surface. Finally, I have to ask. “Mom?”

“Yes, honey?” Mom asks, stopping in front of the eighteenth-century German grandfather clock that she’s been going on about for a while. “What is it?”

“Mom . . . do you love him?”

She gives me a questioning look. “What do you mean, Mindy? Do I love John?”

“Yes,” I say, letting my fears out. “Most of the time you talk about him, it’s about his money. His things. His stuff. You come to the door looking like you’ve stepped out of an old Elizabeth Taylor movie or something . . . but what about John?”

Mom nods, looking at the bracelet on her arm, then chuckles. “If John lost it all tomorrow, if we had to hock these diamonds, if we were left with nothing but the clothes on our backs and the feelings we share . . . I’d still marry him. I love him, Mindy. It’s just hard for me to put my feelings about John into words, so I talk about his things instead. You don’t know how strange it is, telling my adult daughter about how I’m left feeling like a schoolgirl again, a . . . what’s the word Oliver used for you?”

“Princess,” I say automatically, and Mom laughs.

“Yeah, that’s how I feel. I’m fifty-four, and I feel like a princess,” Mom says, reassuring my fears. “So, what about Oliver? He seems to be very into you.”

“I . . . well,” I start, lost in thoughts over Oliver’s kiss. My lips still tingle and my body feels warm even at the memory, and I stammer for words. “He’s great.”

“Seems more than great to me. He seems like a catch,” Mom says, but before she can say anything, there’s a booming sound as the doors to the estate are thrown open and a voice I’ve long missed calls out.

“MOM! We’re home!”

Roxy. Oh my God, I’ve got

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