She pulls her hand out of mine, then takes a few steps and turns. As she continues walking backward along the path, she asks, “If you could do anything in the world tomorrow, what would it be?”
“I don’t have that luxury,” I admit. “I have two meetings in the morning, then?—”
She halts in her tracks, planting one hand on her hip “Humor me.”
I slow my pace, then circle back. With both hands in my pockets, I allow myself to really consider what she’s asking.
“What does your perfect day look like?” she nudges.
I tilt my head from side to side, then finally look up and meet her gaze.
“No alarms. No meetings. No work.”
She grins. “Go on.”
“We’d start the day with coffee and pastries in bed.”
Her mouth falls open in a mock gasp as she brings her hand to her chest. “Coffee? On a nonrace day? That’s a wild fantasy, Mr. Steele.”
I shake my head, amusement threading through me.
Though it quickly morphs into a completely different sensation. With a heated look, I continue. “Then we’d spend the day on my yacht, you draped over me all afternoon. Perhaps you could wear that little red bikini you bought for this trip.”
“I’m fairly certainyoubought that bikini, Mr. Steele,” she teases. But then her smile falters and her brows knit together. “Wait. You have a yacht?”
“A small one.” I shrug.
“Seriously?” she asks, her other hand landing on her hip. “You have a yacht here? In Monaco?”
“Yes?” I admit with a grimace.
Without preamble, she throws herself at me, wrapping both arms around her neck. “I can’t believe you were trying to hide your yacht from me.”
“I planned to take you out later this week,” I promise.
She grins. I can’t resist capturing her mouth in a kiss.
When we break apart, she nudges her nose against mine. “What else?” she murmurs.
I drag my palms up and down her back. “What do you mean?”
“What else would you do on your perfect day? Where else would you go, and what would you eat?”
“I’d enjoy a big plate of pasta or a juicy steak for dinner, paired with a nice bottle of wine. But honestly, that’s all I want.”
“No cake?”
I nip at her bottom lip. “Who needs cake when I can take a bite out of you?”
Her expression softens, her blue eyes sparkling as her mind works.
We stand there, in the shadows of my building, the fragrant deep red tea roses making the warm air sweet as the sun continues its descent, nudging us closer to twilight.
There’s an ease to the way she fits in my arms.
Like she was made for me.
Like she’s supposed to be here, always.
