From PEOPLE Magazine Click to enlarge
A Hollywood wedding just wouldn't be complete these days without helicopters. And two of them are chopping up the sky above Cybill Shepherd's country-style home overlooking the San Fernando Valley. The papparazzi on board can't see much—not a lot more than their colleagues on the ground, who've had nothing to shoot but a closed door. A guard opens it only to the florist or the neighbor bearing champagne or the invited guests—about 20 of them, and not one famous enough to bother focusing for. Drat. But at least the dauntless lensmen above can see the whole backyard and the white wedding cake, if not the decorations on it: a porcelain bride and groom and two baby carriages.

Under that roof and behind that closed door, Cybill Shepherd, 37, nestles a gardenia in her Rapunzel hair and covers her white silk Japanese pajamas with an ancient hand-sewn kimono that has gold fans on a white silk background and deep orange trim. Elsewhere in her house, her groom, Dr. Bruce Oppenheim, 38—her chiropractor and father of the twins she's expecting this October—dresses in his black silk kimono. Cybill's 7-year-old daughter, Clementine, dons her flower girl's pink kimono and puts the finishing touches on a wedding card with a mommy, a baby, a rainbow and a message—"Happy mairage."

And how is the beautiful, pregnant bride feeling today? "Miserable," Cybill says. But her eyes twinkle. "I'm happy and excited and miserable, if you know what I mean. I have morning sickness all day long.... Some days, I have all I can do to get up, and some days I can't get out of bed. But I'm really thrilled."

The wedding doesn't take long. It begins around 4 p.m. on this Sunday, March 1 in the Japanese-style dining room (thus the kimonos), where no one's allowed to wear shoes. ("Shoes have never been my thing," says Cybill.) The couple doesn't bother to exchange rings (they dislike jewelry) when Judge Richard Adler delivers, in the words of friend and photographer David Hume Kennerly, "the shortest wedding ceremony I have ever heard that was still legal." Says Cybill's Mom, "I boo-hooed. I just let loose and cried like a baby."

It's a quiet party, except for those choppers still chopping. "I wish I had a surface-to-air missile," moans one of the guests—among them Cybill's stepfather, her agent and Bruce's brother, Stephen. Absent are Cybill's ex and Clementine's dad, David Ford, a Memphis auto-parts dealer turned L.A. bartender, and anybody from Moonlighting they're sure to have a bash for her later). To the strains of Bach, Vivaldi and Mendelssohn, the guests dine on strip steak from the American Beef Council (on their commercials, Cybill. says she loves meat), pasta primavera, garlic herb bread, Caesar salad and sautéed baby squash. Then the bride poops out on her own party. "I did desert my guests about 7:15," she says, "to go sound asleep." The groom explains: "She's honeymooning on Moonlighting."

Early the next morning Cybill has a makeup call that can't be missed. The show's behind enough as is. Now, on Cybill's wedding day, co-star Bruce Willis shatters his collarbone skiing in Idaho, forcing him to miss a week's filming. And the show's sexy star is pregnant. What's a hit to do? The pregnancy won't pose problems this season. But when production resumes, Cybill should be about five months along. "They're going to write the pregnancy into the show," Cybill reveals. "I don't know exactly how." Maybe Mark Harmon, The Sexiest Man Alive, did it. Those naughty guest stars.

How Cybill's going to write the pregnancy and the babes into her real life is another matter. Cybill says she and Bruce planned to have a child. But not two. "I'm going to have to call Jane Pauley and find out what it's going to be like." she says. "But I'm afraid to ask." Clementine's excited. Says her mother, "She told Bruce, 'Don't worry. You won't have to change diapers. My mom and I will do that.' I told him not to pay any attention, there'll be plenty of diapers to go around." Poor Bruce is dumbfounded. Twins! "I just wanted one," he says, "or a puppy dog."

Don't let him fool you. The good doctor's good with kids. Cybill put him to the test shortly after they met in 1985 on the set of the TV movie Seduced, where Oppenheim treated star Gregory Harrison and fixed Cybill's headaches and then took a hint from the title. "The first litmus test of any man I was dating," Cybill says, "was if I could tell they liked my child." Bruce passed. "He and Clem get along just great. He's very generous, intelligent and he has a great sense of humor. We enjoy the same things—cooking, traveling, music, reading, bicycling. And we're real good friends." The feeling's plenty mutual. "She's scholarly," Bruce says. "She reads books every day.... We talk a lot about what's going on, women's rights, world affairs."

But on the morning after his wedding, here's the groom at his San Fernando Valley clinic, working. Even if this L.A. native really wanted to be a pro golfer when he graduated from Cal State Northridge, he does love his work. He's the chiropractor to the stars, with lots of famous, glossy, 8 by 10 faces staring down from his walls, including one that's inscribed, "Dear Bruce—I've seldom had such a laying on of hands. Love and thanks, Cybill." It would be so much better to be with her than her picture. "I'm honeymooning in the office," he says.

So it's not a traditional wedding. No honeymoon. No rings. No shoes. No lace. The bride doesn't even care much about wedding gifts. "The twins," she says, "are enough of a present."