Her Enemy Protector by Cindy Dees

grandmother’s,” he murmured back.
    As she looked down at Joe slipping the ring onto her finger, Cari realized her hands were trembling. And shockingly, she felt a faint tremor pass through Joe’s hand as she took it to slip on his ring. So he wasn’t completely unaffected by this whole wedding thing, either, was he? At least they were in it together. And that thought comforted her more than she’d expected.
    Judge Cabot droned through the closing lines of the ceremony, talking about what God had joined together no man tearing asunder. Maybe he should be saying, let Eduardo Ferrare not tear them asunder. She realized she was gripping Joe’s hands fiercely, as if by hanging on tightly enough, she could keep Eduardo from coming between them. She tried to loosen her grip on the poor guy, but for some reason, couldn’t bring herself to do it. She needed the solid comfort of his strength, needed the way he absorbed her tension, needed the physical contact with him to remind her that he was real while the rest of this was not.
    And then it was over. Judge Cabot declared them husband and wife. And announced that Joe could kiss his bride. Oh, God. Another kiss.

    Husband and wife. Damn. Words Joe had never expected to hear in conjunction with him. And certainly not in this place or time or with this woman.
    You may kiss your bride.
    Now why did his heart skip a beat like that? He’d kissed her before. And it had nearly devolved into a public spectacle. He’d hung on to control by a thread. A hell of a kiss it had been. Not the sort of lip-lock appropriate to this occasion, in front of his boss, not to mention Judge Cabot, who was one of Eduardo Ferrare’s closet cronies.
    Joe looked down at Carina and she gazed back at him in trepidation. Lord, she was beautiful. Beyond beautiful. Supermodel-stunning. And she was his wife. For an instant, he allowed himself the fantasy that it was real. And in that moment, his heart swelled with pride—and with something else he damn well didn’t care to identify.
    He bent his head and kissed his bride. Their lips touched and fireworks ignited in his skull, all but blasting his eyes out of their sockets. Her mouth was soft and warm and so sweet it made his knees weak. His hand crept behind her neck, drawing her closer, and damn if she didn’t flow into him like water. Her lips clung to his while her hands looped over his shoulders, leaving her body beneath that naughty little red dress open to the explorations of his roaming hands, which seemed to have taken on a mind of their own. His fingertips slid over her bare back, warm and satin-smooth like the rest of her. He could drown in this woman—
    “Ahem.” Someone cleared his throat in the distance. “Ahem.”
    Damn. Cabot. Joe lifted his head but was close enough to hear the little moan of protest in the back of Cari’s throat.
    “We have some paperwork to fill out. The license to sign.”
    Relieved to have something to do to take his mind off that kiss, Joe tucked Cari’s hand under his arm and followed the judge over to the desk. He signed his name to the documents below Cari’s surprisingly neat, almost spare signature. He’d have pegged her as the sort who embellished her name with curlicues and dotted her I’s with hearts. He stepped back so Josefina Cabot and Colonel Folly could sign and witness the marriage license—Folly using a false name, of course.
    As the judge started to put the freshly signed marriage license in a drawer, Joe asked him, “May I please have a photocopy of that?”
    Cabot looked up. “The official copy will be mailed to you in a few weeks.”
    Joe grinned lopsidedly. “I’m afraid that isn’t soon enough. I’m expecting to need a copy of it in about an hour. I’d hate for my wife to be a widow by morning.” The words my wife felt exceedingly strange on his tongue. But all in all, they didn’t taste too bad.
    Cabot grunted in rich understanding. He was probably scared spitless that he was a