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“Shall we go inside?” he asked.
She nodded. “It’s late and I’m tired.”
In the next moment, she was swept off her feet.
“Luca, you don’t have to do this. There aren’t any photographers around this time.” And then she had second thoughts about her assumption. “Are there?”
“Why are you asking me? I didn’t plan this.”
And then Elena realized that Annabelle had planned this special evening. And that could only mean one thing—Annabelle approved of the marriage. At last Elena felt as though she’d been accepted. She was one of them—for however long it lasted.
Luca arched a brow. “And what has you smiling?”
Elena realized that she was indeed smiling. She shrugged and then went with the moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her into their temporary home. They had been explicitly told that they were to stay put until Monday—or longer if they liked.
“What’s up with you?” she asked.
“Me? Why does something have to be up?”
“Because you’ve been acting surprisingly happy tonight.”
“And the problem with that is?”
“The last time I saw you, we’d argued and you’d walked away mad.”
“Maybe I had time to cool off and regret walking away.”
What was he saying? She wasn’t quite sure. But as he carried her into the cozy cottage, she noticed the soft, jazzy tunes filling the air. Her gaze scanned the dimly lit room. Candles were scattered about, from the mantel of the fireplace to the coffee table. The French doors stood wide open with the gentle breeze off the sea rushing into the room.
Elena wasn’t sure she wanted to ruin this moment with any serious conversation. Perhaps the reality of their situation could wait until tomorrow. After all the effort that had gone into this setup, it’d be a shame not to enjoy it.
She leaned close to his neck, brushing her lips gently across his skin. Mmm...he smelled like soap combined with his own manly scent. She breathed in deeper.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Smelling you.”
“What?”
She couldn’t help but smile at his startled tone. “You smell good.” She leaned in close again. “Really good.”
He lowered her feet to the ground. “It’s probably best if you don’t do that again.”
But her arms were still looped around his neck, and she didn’t feel like letting go. Maybe it was all the romantic songs that had filled the ballroom. Or maybe it was dancing with him most of the evening and staring into his eyes. Whatever it was, she was going with it.
“Loosen up. This is our wedding night do-over.”
“We can’t have a do-over.” He loosened her arms from his neck and walked over to the open French doors.
“Sure we can—”
“A do-over implies that we had a first wedding night. And I distinctly recall spending that night alone. Remember?” He turned away from her and stared out at the star-studded sky. “It was one of your stipulations to our marriage.”
“And a woman reserves the right to change her mind.”
She walked up behind him. With his back to her, she leaned her cheek against his shoulder while slipping her arms around him. Her hand rested over his chest, where she felt the beat of his heart. It was strong and fast.
He cleared his throat, but when he spoke his voice was a bit raspy. “You were very serious that day.”
