Remember to be an adult if you read this . . . Wait. That should be adult content warning.
Ghosts that Haunt—30
Casey stared at General Beckman and wondered how he could refuse an order if she made it one. As he'd told V. H., he'd promised his wife there would be no emergencies that night. Then he realized he'd actually promised there would be none that kept him from the ceremony.
The ceremony was over, and so might his promise be.
Riah would be angry, upset, but she'd let him go. Casey knew he'd go, too, promise or not, and that knowledge made him feel all the more guilty. "What problem?" he asked, and for once he didn't allow his respect for Diane Beckman or her rank to keep the smoking anger from his voice.
Beckman turned to V. H. who gestured at the file he had handed him. Casey gave him a hard stare, held the file, but still didn't open it. "I promised my wife," he ground out, "and I don't intend to break that promise for the length of my leave." The last he directed at the General.
"With any luck, Colonel, you won't have to."
He returned his gaze to his father-in-law and wondered if the man was taking revenge for what he termed Casey molesting Riah. If it was, he'd make the man pay, and he'd make it painful though not terminal. His wife wouldn't forgive his murdering her father.
"Take a look inside," V. H. said, nodded at the file Casey held.
Flipping open the cover, he stared at a still from security. Instantly recognizing the man he ground his teeth and looked closer, sought the reason he had been given it. Casey realized it was taken at LAX, and he noted the time and date stamp. It didn't stop the tight coldness working though him. There was very definitely a problem, one that meant he probably would have to break his promise to Riah. His eyes shot to V. H.
Riah's father met Casey's eyes. "His name is Wes Finley. He was in Edmonton when Mariah was hurt."
Tortured and permanently scarred, not to mention threatened with rape, didn't equal hurt in Casey's book. It was far too mild a word. At least he had a name to go with the face, and he would have to learn everything he could as soon as he could. He looked at Beckman then. "He's the cowboy from Gaza."
"You're certain, Casey?" she asked.
He wasn't likely to forget that face. He nodded curtly.
"He's CSIS," V. H. added.
Casey's eyes shot back to him. That added a whole new layer of betrayal, as far as he was concerned because Adderly had to know what the man had done to his daughter, Casey's wife, and Finley was still walking around free. Then, he wondered why Finley was walking around. It wasn't like V. H. to let a threat to Riah remain unattended.
V. H. reached for the folder. "You get my daughter and get her out of here."
Casey thought hard as he scanned the room for Riah and General Patterson. "I'm not scaring the hell out of your daughter before we're sure," he said. "Find out if Finley's here on legitimate business. If he isn't, then she and I will leave a little early for our honeymoon." He looked at Beckman, asked for increased security, laid out plans that would reinforce what was in place given the identities of some of their guests. He paused, wondered how to make it clear he still wanted privacy for the evening. He had several plans for his wife no one needed to either see or hear.
Beckman gave him a grim look. "Your suite," she began, but Casey stopped her.
"Is off-limits unless Riah and I have to leave early."
"What he means," V. H. drawled, "is that he wants to molest Mariah without eyes and ears."
Casey's teeth ground, but he noticed Bartowski seemed fascinated and a little horrified by that exchange. "Wedding night," he growled. "Since you've obviously never looked the term up, and because I promise she will be a more than willing participant, I won't be molesting her."
"Father's prerogative," V. H. told him, as he'd done in the hospital after they had taken down Laurance. Casey didn't appreciate it or the reminder.
Narrowing his eyes, Casey said, "She's an adult, she's my wife, and she certainly doesn't object."
V. H. looked as though he were about to fire the next volley, but Beckman's grim, "Gentlemen," stopped him. "Give me a few minutes to set measures in place, Casey, and you can escort your wife upstairs. If you need to change plans, we'll call."
She walked off, and V. H. left to join Ellerby who sat with Major Clack.
Bartowski remained behind. "Casey—"
"Can it," he told the kid, thinking through alternatives to their honeymoon. They had rented a cabin in the mountains since Lydia didn't think Riah should fly or travel too far. He'd chosen a place with a hospital nearby just in case. He supposed they could find a different location, maybe drive somewhere else, but that would mean taking a vehicle no one might connect with either of them. He sent Bartowski to find Walker for him, and since the music was winding down, he intercepted Riah and Patterson. He met his wife's eyes and told her, "There's going to be a slight change in plans." He looked at his former commander, "Can you keep her close while I make a few arrangements?"
Paul nodded, put a hand in Riah's lower back and was about to lead her away, but she dug her heels in and narrowed her eyes at Casey.
He really didn't need an argument, so he made a pre-emptive strike. "I'll keep my promise, but this affects you, so you will do as I say." When she opened her mouth to protest, he added, "You can bitch at me later, and I'll appease you all you want. Right now, I need to know you're safe and will let me explain afterward."
Her look was glacial, and he knew exactly what she was thinking: little woman didn't need an explanation. He was about to offer a partial explanation when she sighed, nodded curtly, and let Paul lead her away.
"Casey," a female voice said behind him.
It was a familiar voice, and he smiled as he turned. "Izzie."
The years had been kind to Isobel Gerrard. Or not so kind, he thought, remembering her husband's death a year and a half before. Izzie was still a size six and still a beautiful woman, even if she was Casey's senior by several years, but she looked more than a decade younger than she was. "Congratulations," she said with a smile, then sobered. "V. H. suggested I offer a hand with Mariah."
That would mean a whole other set of explanations, he realized, and while he would enjoy appeasing Riah, he wouldn't enjoy what he had to do to calm her down enough to do so. Still, Izzie had always had her uses. "You armed?" he asked.
"Am I ever not?" she asked with a smile.
"She should be fine with Paul Patterson," he told her, nodded in his wife and former commander's direction, "but since neither of them has a weapon, stay close."
When Bartowski showed up with Walker, he gave his partner a list of requirements and asked her to locate a different destination for his honeymoon. She took Chuck and went to do as he asked. By then, he spied V. H. striding his way. "My daughter is still here," he snapped when he reached Casey.
"Izzie and Paul are keeping a watchful eye," he grunted.
"Diane says Finley is still at the airport."
Casey snorted. He'd arranged for their names to be on flight manifests to Hawaii, the Bahamas, and, for amusement, Paris that evening despite the fact they weren't leaving California. If anyone looked too closely, though, they would notice there were two more passengers than the planes could accommodate for those particular flights. For that matter, they had reservations at several places in California. He had rented the cabin under an alias, but he couldn't count on that holding, he knew. Riah had said it often enough—they tended to attract trouble, and Casey was willing to provide a diversion that ought to let them get safely to their destination.
"We've got the hotel secured, and since all the rooms on your floor belong to either family or friends, I think the two of you will be fine for the night while we find out what Finley's next move will be." V. H. raised his brows. "Thank your wealthy mother-in-law for booking an entire floor for wedding guests—and the happy couple."
Ignoring that final statement, mainly because he didn't like to think about the fact that Ariel was his mother-in-law—though he admitted he could get some mileage out of that if it wouldn't upset Riah—he considered whether or not to arrange for them to change suites. He rejected it, knew both of them had enough family on that floor to provide easy pickings if Finley was after Riah and wanted leverage, especially if they shifted security to another floor. What Casey wanted, though, was for them to simply pick the man up, but he knew they had to see if he was really after Riah or up to something else. "He hurt Riah," Casey reminded her father, and he let his anger creep into his response. "He tried to take her while I was in Gaza, and he does not get a third chance."
Walker joined them then, Bartowski still in tow, and handed him some folded papers. She'd made reservations at a secluded resort under the name Marcus Winston. "I'll bring you the ID documents in the morning," she said.
"Thanks," he told her, and looked for his wife.
Once he was beside her again, he thanked Paul Patterson and Izzie, who had struck up a conversation with Casey's wife and his former CO, and then he and Riah made their exit. The second they cleared the ballroom, Casey was on point. He unerringly found the agents Beckman and V. H. had put in place, and he scanned for anyone who looked suspicious as he walked his wife to the elevators. They drew stares, but that was hardly surprising considering he wore his dress uniform, and she wore a wedding dress.
Casey just hoped he got to take it off her and enjoy what was left of the night before they had to leave.
There were agents on the floor as well, one in a hotel maid's uniform. Casey nodded at her, and slotted the key in their suite's door lock.
After he closed the door, Riah turned on him. "Explanation, then appeasement," she said, and her face told him not to even consider deflecting her. He explained, watched her face pale and her hands begin to shake. Casey stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. "There are probably more agents in this hotel than either of us can count," he assured her. He knew all entrances and exits would be covered, all stairwells and all elevators watched. "If there's a serious risk, though, your father or Walker will let me know, and then we leave early." He left unsaid that it would be with a heavy escort and both of them in body armor.
Taking it on faith that her father and Beckman would take the appropriate precautions to keep them safe, he made one of the most difficult decisions of his professional life—he decided to trust their colleagues would do their jobs.
She nodded, snuggled closer to him, and he held her. When she began to relax, he tipped her head up and took her mouth. He broke the kiss and said, "If you'll step into the bedroom, Mrs. Casey, I'll appease you in comfort."
Her smile wasn't the brightest he'd seen from her, but it made him relax a little.
When he followed her into the room, he stopped her, pulled her back against him and touched his mouth to the exposed skin of her neck. He kissed along her shoulder and loosened the clasp on the necklace she wore. She took it, stepped away from him to lay it on the nightstand. Casey followed, so he could continue what he was doing. She removed an earring as he kissed along the opposite shoulder, breathed in her scent and decided whether or not to strip her quickly or make it excruciatingly slow.
His mouth opened at the base of her neck at the point where it joined her right shoulder. She swallowed, tilted her head slightly to the left. His hands slid over her waist, and she lifted her own to remove the remaining earring from her left ear. While he waited so he could have her undivided attention, his mouth kissed its way slowly up the side of her neck to a place just below her right ear. He watched her drop the earring from her extended left hand, but he suspected it landed on the carpeted floor since it didn't make a sound when it hit as the other had. Riah didn't seem to care, though, since her head fell back on his shoulder and a faint moan escaped her. He didn't care, either.
Casey's mouth worked around to the back of her neck, and she gave a slight shudder. He didn't know why his mouth on the nape of her neck affected her the way it did. He had once made her come just by nibbling on her there, which had fascinated him at the time. He was more interested this time in being inside her, though, so he decided it was time to get her naked and get her horizontal. He had a mission to complete after all, and he would take it on with far more enthusiasm than many missions he'd been given.
Sliding his hands from her waist up over the back of the bodice of her wedding gown to the exposed skin above it, he let his fingertips glide along the edges of the white silk while he bent and kissed the back of her neck again. She gasped, and her body jerked. Casey weighed how much he could tease before she broke, and he decided to find out.
With carefully calculated slowness, he kissed his way down her spine toward the top of her dress, and just before he reached the white silk, he released the top button from the loop that held it closed. There were a lot of buttons marching down her spine, and he wondered which one of them would grow impatient first. He smiled as he kissed the skin he exposed and started on the next button, determined it would not be him.
As he kissed along her vertebrae, lingered as his fingers released a button then kissed lower as his fingers teased another button loose, she stood there, her breath uneven as she waited for him to finish. He made sure he was maddeningly slow at his task, especially since what he really wanted to do instead of continue the slow, soft torture of his fingers, his lips, his tongue, was to just yank her bodice open and get on with it. As another button opened, as his mouth pressed against newly exposed skin, he decided he wouldn't mind tipping her on the bed and lifting her skirts. If she was wearing any of those filmy, flimsy panties, he could probably get rid of them without taking them off her.
Still, there was something to be said for methodical attention to detail, something to be said for savoring his wife.
Even if it killed the both of them.
When the straps just off her shoulders started to slip, she raised her hands to her breasts, held the fabric in place. Casey smiled against her back, decided that she was amenable to what he was doing if she hadn't simply let the dress fall. He had gone to his knees behind her, was slowly working his way down her back after having skipped the scant couple of inches covered by the strapless bra she wore. He liked the way Riah moaned his name as his mouth entered the lower curve of her spine, and he smiled a moment against her skin before he continued his plodding progress.
"John, hurry," she moaned. "I'm about to collapse into a puddle."
He snorted, and then his mouth opened on her spine again. His tongue slid over the spot he had just exposed, and he felt a tremor shake through her. He wondered how many damned buttons were still left for him to open. They could get the dress off her now, and she moaned something to that effect, but he ignored her, continued his task.
If she was this impatient, she shouldn't have let Mandeville put that many damned buttons on the dress. If she'd taken the laces, Casey thought, he might have just cut through them. On the other hand, it was a hell of a dress, and she was simply stunning in it. Despite the fact she'd never wear it again, he didn't want to ruin it. She made a frustrated growl, and he lifted his mouth, murmured, "Riah, the purpose of a wedding night is to—"
"Consummate the marriage," she growled, though it came out mostly groan. "We did that nearly three months ago when we got married the first time."
He stopped the laugh, but only barely. He wasn't sure why her reaction amused him, but he decided to play along. He swiped his tongue at the base of her spine, and tried not to laugh at her heartfelt, "Finally," especially since there were still a few buttons to go.
Wondering if it might constitute cruel and unusual punishment, he tugged another button loose, said softly, "I was going to say introduce you to sex," before he scraped his teeth over her newly exposed skin.
"We've met," she told him fervently, and it was even harder for him not to laugh. He couldn't stop the amused snort, though, as her aggrieved tone sank in. On the other hand, the last of the buttons was now open, so he slid his hands inside her dress and kissed back up her spine. He stroked his hands over the mound of her abdomen, up under the fabric where her hands held the bodice of her dress over her breasts. Riah lifted her own hands enough to let him cup her.
Casey let his body slide up her exposed back as he stood again and leaned down to kiss her shoulder. His mouth traced the curve of flesh down over the ball of her shoulder, and then he moved his hand and pushed the strap of her dress down her arm. He stopped her when she started to lift her arm out of the dress, and it wasn't hard to feel her impatience as she waited for him to use the light touch of his fingertips to push it off her before he started over with her other shoulder.
The second her dress slithered to a pool of white silk around her ankles, she turned in his arms and pulled his mouth to hers urgently, pressed against him, and Casey wondered if she'd torment him the way he had her as she undressed him. "Get it off," she breathed and began tearing open the buttons of his uniform.
For his part, Casey's hands weren't idle. He ran his fingers up her spine and found the hooks of the strapless white bra, but then his fingers stilled, and he lifted his head, leaned back from her a moment and just looked. Even five months pregnant, he found her sexy as hell. The white lace covering her breasts enhanced her assets, no question, and he bent, lowered his head, and pulled her back to him as he ran his mouth over the flesh pushing over the lace cups. When his mouth took hers again, she pushed his dress blouse off him. She yanked the suspenders off his shoulders, and her fingers tore at the buttons of his shirt. She seemed in a fevered rush, and Casey nearly reminded her they had all night before he remembered it was late and they might not.
She pushed his shirt off him as well, and his fingers finally returned to the strap of her bra and began to separate the hooks from eyes in the narrow band of elasticized lace across her back. When he freed her from it, tossed it somewhere, his hands slid around to cup her bare breasts, and Riah moaned into his mouth when his thumbs grazed her nipples. He lifted her out of her skirts and moved her toward the bed. When he set her on her feet again, she started loosening his trousers while he slid his hands inside the tiny lace panties that matched the strapless bra.
Her mouth was on his chest, his shoulders, when he stopped her hands. He tipped her face up and kissed her hungrily, and then he moved down her body, his hands once more hooking in the waistband of her panties. As he slid them down, he lifted over the bows holding her stockings up, and then his hands felt something wrong. He stopped, ran his fingertips around her left thigh and couldn't believe what she had there. He lifted his head from her breast, met her eyes, and wondered what the hell.
Obviously, he should have looked further south than he had. He corrected that oversight. He stared in disbelief at her left thigh. When he looked up at her again, she went crimson. She'd worn a damned holster and a loaded weapon under her wedding gown. He slid the panties over the weapon as he watched her. She stepped out of them, and then his fingers began removing the holster. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
Blushing, she told him, "You do tend to attract trouble."
Given that the only moment of trouble had been about her, his brow shot higher, "I do?" He placed the holster and the handgun on the floor. "There were enough operatives and probably enough weapons to stop a small army in those rooms this evening," he reminded her, "so when did it change to 'something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, something nine millimeter'?"
He knew he was in trouble when the smile started. "Just thought I'd wear something you found irresistible," she told him with a pert grin and an arched brow.
Casey snorted. "You're at your most irresistible when you're naked," he assured her. About to add more, he decided that it didn't matter. Nothing had gone wrong, really, and if it had, having her armed was not a bad thing, especially since he'd strapped an ankle holster on despite it being far from regulation with the uniform. He went back to what he had been doing, opened his mouth on her stomach and continued to trail kisses along her skin.
Leaving his mouth against her hip, he untied his shoes. A moment later he stood before her again, and she resumed work on his trousers, pushing them over his hips as she opened her mouth on his chest, kissed along the ridges, licked a nipple she found. Her hands slid inside the waistband of his boxers and over his taut backside before she followed a path around his hips and then over the length of him. He nearly fell over as he tried to toe off his shoes, sucked a ragged breath in, and considered shucking his own clothes since she was making slow work of it. It occurred to him then that she was as determined to make him crazy as he had been to do so to her. Then she smiled and began kissing her way down his abdomen, slid his boxers down and took him in her mouth.
A strangled sound escaped him even though he tried to hold it back. She slid her mouth over him, slid back up again, trailed her tongue along him and ran it lightly along that spot just below the head that made him forget everything but the wet heat of her tongue and mouth. His fingers tightened convulsively on the back of her head. Another stroke down and up, and he groaned her name. She slid her hands down his legs, then slowly back up, echoing the slow motion of her mouth and tongue. "I'm not going to be any good to you if you don't stop," he gritted, and she made the journey with her mouth one more time before releasing him.
He had her up and on her back on the bed almost before she could blink, his mouth on hers hungrily. He leaned down and pressed his mouth above one of her stockings, fumbled a moment for the end of the ribbon and then slowly slid it undone as he kissed up to the apex of her thighs. His palm followed the silk stocking down her leg as his mouth covered her, and he licked. He shed the last of his clothes, and when he removed his own holster, she gave him an amused look but refrained from pointing out his hypocrisy over her having worn a weapon. He followed her other stocking down her leg with his hands while his mouth trailed kisses in its wake. He kissed back up the inside of her thigh and closed his mouth over her once more. Just as she was about to come undone, he moved up over her and fitted himself to her at last.
She was still breathing hard following orgasm, her heart was still racing, when Casey pushed himself up on his elbows and leaned down to kiss her. "Mission accomplished," he whispered.
"Which mission?" she asked breathlessly as she rose up and took his mouth again for a soft kiss. "Consummation?" She fitted her mouth to his again. "Reintroducing me to sex?"
He grinned down at her, and she smiled back up at him. "Loving you." He pressed a quick, soft kiss on her mouth. "Your father would term it molesting you."
Riah grinned. "While I would prefer not to think about my father right now, especially with you still inside me, I certainly hope you have plans to molest me more."
Casey grunted. "It isn't molestation if you're willing."
She ran her hands over his bare chest, his shoulders, and stared up into his eyes. "I don't care what we call it as long as we keep doing it."
Their hands kept stroking, caressing, and their mouths met again and again. After a while, Riah pushed at his shoulder. "I want to take a shower," she told him, then blushed. He frowned, but before he could ask why, she told him, "I don't want to sleep in makeup, and my hair has enough hairspray it could survive a category five hurricane and not dislodge a single strand." He snorted, nearly asked her why she thought they were going to do any sleeping, but then she offered in that sexy register of hers, "You could join me."
Casey considered the possibilities.
He had to help her find all the pins in her hair, and he felt the grin spread, finally erupt into a laugh as he plucked the last one and her hair remained exactly as it had been, its sole support apparently the hairspray she had mentioned. When they were in the large marble shower, Casey ran his hands over her, distracted her as he waited for her to finish washing her hair. She pulled his mouth to hers and clung to his shoulders. He lifted her up against the wall of the shower, and she wrapped her legs around him and moaned when he slid inside her again.
She wrapped her wet hair in a towel and wrapped another around her body after they exited the shower. Casey's towel hung low on his hips as they returned to the suite's bedroom. He started gathering his uniform, moved to the closet to hang it up, but then he stopped, stared at the skimpy white thing hanging there. There wasn't much of it, and he could see right through it. He assumed it was supposed to be a garment, though it was a pretty poor excuse for something meant to cover her body. He admitted he was more than a little interested in seeing it on his wife. When he turned to ask what the hell that was, she had picked up her dress and carried it to the sitting room where she draped it over a chair.
Strolling back into the bedroom, she stopped in front of Casey, who still stood at the open closet door, holding his uniform. He looked at her and asked, "Are you trying to give me a stroke?"
Riah grinned, jerked the corner of his towel so it dropped to the floor and took him in hand, did exactly that. He was about to give in, leave that thing in the closet and let his uniform join his towel, but she released him. Casey nearly begged her to give him a stroke. He lifted out whatever that sheer thing was supposed to be, held it in front of her, the hanger balanced on his forefinger, and she laughed. "It nearly gave my mother one when I unpacked it," she said as she reached for it. She lifted a brow. "I could put it on, if you liked."
"You could just drop the towel," he said gruffly, "and the effect would be pretty much the same."
Grinning at him, she reached for the corner of the towel tucked over her breast. "My mother told me I might as well parade around naked."
He went rock hard at the idea, and his brows rose. "Is that a possibility?"
She laughed again and tugged at the corner of her own towel and let it fall to her feet. Casey's eyes traced the curves of her body. "Since you asked so nicely," she purred and stepped closer to him. Instead of touching him, though, she hung the whatever it was back in the closet and reached for a hanger and his uniform trousers. She set about hanging his uniform up as he watched her, handed her garments as she worked. After she hung his jacket on the closet rod, she slid up against him, wrapped her arms around his waist and flattened her hands on his back. "On or off, John?" she murmured.
He pulled the towel from her wet hair and kissed her hungrily. "Since you went to all the trouble of buying it," he said against her mouth, "I might as well see you in it."
Watching as she untied the thin scrap of white ribbon that held it closed, he had a picture in his head of exactly how little that was going to cover as she slid the wispy fabric off the hanger. She shrugged it on and tied the ribbon below her breasts. It was a simple design, little more than a rectangle of sheer fabric over her back, two smaller rectangles of the same sheer fabric in front with heavy embroidery along the edges that joined where the ribbon pulled it closed and a trace of embroidered vine from the hem up to frame her breasts and circle her nipples. She was as exposed as she would have been had she remained naked, and Casey most definitely appreciated the view. Her lips twitched.
"What?" he barked as he reached for her.
She leaned into him as he kissed her. "I told Mum I was unlikely to have it on for very long."
Casey plundered her mouth. "I wouldn't want to make a liar of you," he whispered as his fingers sought the ribbon holding the front closed. It fell to the floor, forgotten, as Casey took her back to bed.
When Riah slid from beneath his arm the next morning, he mumbled a complaint but settled back into the mattress as she padded naked into the bathroom. He fumbled on the nightstand next to his side of the bed and found his cellphone. There were no missed calls, no texts, and no e-mails. For a moment, he wondered if the world had come to an end and he simply hadn't noticed yet. He hit Walker's speed dial and waited.
"Where's Finley?" he asked, his voice sounding like gravel.
"He disappeared just as the team Beckman sent was closing in."
Casey rolled on his back, raked a hand through his hair. "Any word on what he was doing in Los Angeles?"
It irritated the hell out of him to hear they didn't know but it hadn't been a CSIS assignment. He told her he and Riah were supposed to have brunch with their families before they left. Walker told him they had arranged a rental car, and then she told him she'd bring them clean phones when she brought his false ID. He set a time, asked her to get their luggage from the Vic and put it in the rental, and then asked about their escort.
Walker sounded amused when she said, "I know how to do my job, Casey."
He grunted, hung up. It was only then he realized Riah should have returned from the bathroom and he hadn't heard any water running to indicate she'd decided to get in the shower. He tossed back the covers and went to see if she was alright.
When she didn't answer his knock, didn't respond when he called her name, he turned the knob, glad she hadn't locked it, and pushed the door open. He found her barely standing, her hands braced on the granite counter, her fingers digging into the lip of the sink. She had her eyes screwed closed, fought for breath, and Casey had a horrible feeling this was about to be a repeat of that morning in Chicago when she had the panic attack. He touched her shoulder, frowned down at her when she turned toward him, but before he could ask, she gasped weakly, "Daughter."
So caught up in his concern for her, he didn't process what she meant. He realized he had no idea what to do if it turned as ugly as that morning had been, but then he realized she didn't look scared. She rasped, "We're going to have a daughter."
His face cleared, and he leaned in and kissed her, careful not to restrict her breathing. He relaxed when he felt the tension drain from her. "Old news, Riah," he teased. He tilted his head and searched her face. "That bother you?" he asked.
Her eyes were locked on his, and he could see the worry. She shook her head. "It's just finally really sunk in," she breathed and gave a slight laugh. "Does it bother you?"
"God, no," he said fervently, and it didn't. He meant what he told V. H. and Paul. He wanted her, the daughter Riah carried. He'd never thought he would have children, and as a result, he hadn't been nursing a desire for a son. He wasn't in the least disappointed to know he wouldn't get a boy.
"You wouldn't prefer a son?" she asked, echoing the question nearly everyone seemed to ask when they told them.
Casey bent and kissed her very thoroughly before he told her in all honesty, "I want her, Riah." He let the kiss heat a bit before he told her firmly. "And we can't keep calling her 'her.'"
She gave him a sunny smile. In that moment, he would have almost agreed to any name she suggested, even one that began with a J as she held him closer and let that smile wash over him.
He shifted his hold on her, considered what they could be doing instead of standing naked in the bathroom—no matter how much he liked the feel of her warm, smooth skin rubbing against him. "What are you doing out of bed?"
Riah leaned into him. "I was thinking about a bath." He looked over at the long, wide, deep recessed tub.
"Want some company?"
She retrieved their towels from the floor of the bedroom. When she returned to the bathroom, Casey had started the water running. "Not too hot," she reminded him as she picked up her toothbrush. He didn't tell her he, too, remembered that her aunt Lydia had warned her about sitting in very hot baths. After she brushed her teeth, he did his and then shaved while she finished detangling her hair and used a large barrette to hold it up. He stepped into the tub and then helped her in.
Straddling his lap, she smiled at him as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I remember the first time we took a bath together."
Fond of the memory himself, Casey closed his arms around her waist. "At least this one's more comfortable," he told her and pulled her against him. He pressed a kiss against her lips. "Abigail."
A frown furrowed her forehead. Then her face cleared, and she cocked a brow. "Starting with the A's?"
One of his hands trailed along her spine. "You said you wanted traditional names," he reminded her. She didn't know he'd bought a name book and had been browsing through the lists.
"No."
"What's wrong with Abigail?" he demanded. In truth, it had basically been the first name he'd thought of beginning with A.
"Nothing," she answered. "I just don't like it."
He kissed her again. "Make a counteroffer."
She cocked her head and thought. Sticking to the alphabetical order he'd just established, she said, "Addison."
He made a face. "Isn't that a boy's name?"
Riah frowned and then shrugged. "Don't know. How about Aidan?"
Casey knew that was a boy's name, but he pretended to consider it a moment before he shook his head. "Boy's name."
"And Reagan isn't?" she countered with an arched brow.
He grinned at her. "Thinking about it, aren't you?"
She glowered at him. "Alexandra."
The smile ran off his face, and he tensed, froze. It was too close to that other name, the name he never wanted to hear again, and there was no way in hell he would ever consider it. Ever. Riah's expression went to concern, and he knew he had to deflect her. "No," he said, tried to temper the recoil. "Alice, maybe."
"I can just hear the jokes now," she said. He gave her a confused look, and she reminded him of the Lewis Carroll books. "Allison."
He shook his head. "Alyssa."
This time Riah shook her head. "Amelia."
"God, no," he said. "Anastasia."
Riah gave a very unladylike snort and then laughed. "Really, Colonel? Russian names are okay?"
A flush ran up under his skin. Alright, she had him there. "It was the only other A name I could think of," he muttered, felt the heat run up his skin at having to confess that.
She started rattling off names beginning with A. There was one he was certain couldn't be a real name, so he made her say it again. Then he made her spell it. Angharad. He narrowed his eyes and asked what the hell kind of name that was. She told him it was Welsh and that one of her former ISI coworkers had been named that. "No one will be able to pronounce it, let alone spell it," he dismissed. "What else do you have?" She resumed firing off names, apparently not noticing he wasn't contributing: Anna, Anne, Anthea, Antonia, Aphra, April, Arden, Aretha, Ashley, Audrey, Ava. He stopped her at Ava. "I like that one," he said.
"It goes on the maybe list," she said, and he could see she wasn't at all sold on it.
When Riah suggested Alberta, he gave her a mock glare and accused her of trying to force a Canadian name on him. "Be thankful I'm not holding out for Manitoba," she shot back. He gave her a look that told her he wasn't sure she wouldn't argue for it just for the sake of arguing.
As he ran a hand over her belly and up to cup her breast, he told her, "Enough." Casey pressed a kiss on her mouth. "We'll pick up with B's later."
Then he took her back to bed where words were not necessary.
The phone woke him, Riah, too. She groaned, but Casey hoped like hell the fact that it was the hotel phone meant they weren't about to have pull on body armor and evacuate. He lifted his head from her stomach with a grunt. Before he could tell her to ignore it, she reached a hand out, picked up the handset, and mumbled a greeting. "Don't forget brunch," he heard Emma say in her ear as he shifted to lie beside her.
"Mum made you call so I wouldn't be pissed off, right?"
He could hear her sister's laugh. "Probably."
"I'm pissed off anyway," she mumbled. She tilted her head and looked around Casey. He looked over his shoulder and assumed she was eyeing the alarm clock on the bedside table. He noted they had an hour before they were due downstairs to eat brunch with their families before they left for their honeymoon. He wondered grumpily what they had been thinking when he and Riah agreed to get out of bed and join their family. He was quite content where he was. Riah looked up at him, and he leaned in and kissed her.
"Tell Casey to quit kissing you and get out of bed," Emma told her.
Casey grinned. He said in his lethal voice, close to the handset's microphone, "Are you sure I'm only kissing your sister?"
"I don't want to know," Emma disavowed quickly.
Riah decided to get in on the act then, he noticed. "Tell Mum I didn't wear it for more than about thirty seconds."
There was a long silence on Emma's end. "It's a good thing Dad's a psychiatrist," she finally said. "Between you and Mom, I'm scarred for life." Riah laughed, and Emma added, "Julie says to tell 'Johnny' to remember to wear clothes—and, gross, by the way."
He watched her smile turn salacious, wondered what she would say.
"As I told Julie once before, not gross at all."
Casey leaned down, kissed her again, and her sister said, "I'm hanging up now and scheduling an hour with Dad." He took the handset from her and fumbled it back into place.
They were only about a quarter of an hour late when they joined their families in a hastily arranged private room rather than the hotel restaurant where they were supposed to eat. Riah had simply pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail and dressed in a plain, sleeveless, pale green dress that reminded Casey of the one she'd worn to marry him the first time. There were pink rosebuds embroidered around the scooped neckline and the line of the empire waist. He pulled on jeans and a blue polo. She stepped into a pair of flat sandals and let him take her hand and lead her to the bank of elevators. He still held her hand when they reached the crowded room.
They came in for a lot of teasing, but both of them weathered it, for the most part complacently. When V. H. said Riah looked like she had been thoroughly molested, Casey felt the angry growl rumble while he decided how much to smack back, but Riah eyed him and said, "Dad, I had to be unwilling for John to have molested me. Trust me, I wasn't."
To Casey's amusement, that had her father quickly moving on to another subject, and he rewarded her with a very thorough kiss.
Talk circled around to Riah's pregnancy, and he realized that they hadn't told them they were having a girl. She blushed and looked up at him and made the announcement. It was easy to see her parents, Emma, and Paul Patterson had known. Casey realized he should have told his own family sooner, and the way his mother's brows rode up her forehead, he suspected she'd bend his ear later for not having done so.
When the meal was over, they all lingered a while, but when Walker stuck her head in the door, Casey bent, told Riah they needed to go, and he endured hugs and kisses, and then trash talk from Julie, Jan, and V. H. before they could leave. Walker went back upstairs with them, took their phones and handed them their replacements. Then she waited while Casey pulled on his vest, made Riah put one on as well before handing her the weapon she'd worn to get married in, and led the way to the service elevator they rode to the bowels of the garage. Walker had a Ford Explorer waiting.
He thanked Walker, let the blonde CIA officer hug him, noted Riah did as well, and then he helped his wife into the passenger seat and headed out.