“I trust you.” Her lips courted his, clinging for a sweet moment. “I trust myself.”
“We can make this work,” he said against her mouth. “Wewillmake this work.”
It was a declaration. A vow made with the force of everything he held dear, everything he’d dreamed, everything he was.
“I agree.” She smiled at him, her hazel eyes bright and warm and more beautiful than he could express in any language. “Let’s prove it.”
Epilogue
Lucas’s shotwhizzed over the net to Tess’s side of the court, but getting to it would require running. An intense burst of speed, culminating in a dive for the ball and a frantic swing of her racket.
Nope.
Instead, she leaned on that racket and watched the ball pass by, then turned back to Lucas. “Nice shot.”
“I didn’t mean to hit it that hard. Sorry.” In the partial darkness of the late-evening tennis court, the gleam of his grin shone from the shadows. “I got distracted and forgot what I was doing for a moment.”
The sight of her in a sports bra tended to have that effect on him. At least she hadn’t whacked him in the nose with a ball yet, although the night was still young. Unlike her.
As of tomorrow, she was forty-two. Back to fourteen years older than her boyfriend, instead of thirteen. She was also back to the gorgeous island where they’d first met.
A fair tradeoff, in her view.
She shook her head. “You know I’m always going to suck at tennis, right?”
“I know.” He strolled toward her. Bending over to rest both elbows on the net, he regarded her with amusement. “You know I don’t give a shit, right?”
“I know,” she said.
Jesus, she was sweaty enough to singlehandedly keep any local desalinization plants in business. How had she forgotten the muggy heat of the island, even after such a long absence? Far enough away from the breezy shores, every breath felt like gargling soup. Given the occasional insect, chunky soup at that.
She directed a longing glance in the direction of the beach. “How badly do you want to keep doing this?”
He raised his brows. “It was your idea to play tennis the night we arrived, älskling. I wanted to watch you try on all your swimsuits so I could determine which one was most likely to fall off in the water. Then convince you to wear that suit exclusively. Then remove it with my teeth.”
Dammit, she wanted that too. She really did.
Stay focused, Dunn. You have plans to execute.
“I thought it might be nice to return to the scene of the crime.” She walked closer to the net and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. “So to speak.”
“You did draw blood here, if I remember correctly.” He kissed her back, then wiggled the bridge of his nose, as if checking for damage. “But if you want to go where we first met, we have to head to the ocean. Although you’re basically underwater as it is, what with all that sweat glistening over your—”
She gave him a gentle whack on the shoulder with her racket. “Skank.”
He spread his hands, the picture of outraged innocence. “I was talking about your water bottle. It’s sweating. Covered with condensation. Sexy, sexy condensation.”
His eyes were definitely not on her water bottle.
“Want to go to the beach?” For her purposes, the more private the location, the better. “How about that little sandbar on the adults-only end of the island? I know we didn’t actually meet there, but it’s so peaceful.”
They could both use a little peace. More than a little, to be honest.
Her work life hadn’t slowed over the last two years, and neither had Lucas’s. On a daily basis, he was running his foundation and coordinating the partnership between underprivileged schools and the players’ association—all on top of his part-time duties at the tennis center. Since a chance meeting at the Challenger-level tournament earlier that year, he’d also started consulting regularly with Lilly Tulu, who was recovering from yet another surgery and willing to travel to Marysburg for his guidance.
Despite all that, he still had energy to burn at night. So much energy.
God bless Mr. Perky.
