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She heard his voice and slowly opened her eyes. She could feel his heart slam
ming against his chest where he lay on top of her, her own equally as erratic. 'I'm. . .I'm fine,' she whispered, and, lifting her hand, she pushed back the errant black curl from his damp brow.
His grey eyes were almost black as they held hers. "The rare times I could sleep I used to dream of you like this,' he rasped. 'Your glorious hair spread across my pillow, your luscious body beneath mine. But my dreams came nowhere near the reality, Beth.' He gently rubbed his mouth against hers. 'I want you to know it has never been like this for me before. . .ever. . .'
Beth wrapped her arms around him and hugged him to her. 'I'm glad,' she sighed.
'You are the only woman in the world for me and I will cherish you to my dying day. Understand?' Dex said, almost fiercely.
So typical of Dex, Beth thought, rejoicing in his avowal of love. Even when he was at his most vulnerable, sated with love and laying his heart at her feet, the arrogant, powerful man still shone through. She smiled lazily up at him. 'I understand,' she said demurely, and kissed him.
Dex rolled over and pulled her gently into his arms. 'Are you warm enough?'
Beth laughed out loud. 'If I was any hotter the sheets would catch fire and your housekeeper. . .' She sat up. 'Oh, my God. It's the middle of the day-—anyone could walk in.' Her eyes slid down over his naked body and she blushed.
'Don't panic. The housekeeper and her son always have Sunday afternoon off.' Dex chuckled, amused by her embarrassment at his nudity.
'I've missed my plane. I have to go to work tomorrow.' In the euphoria of discovering Dex loved her, Beth had forgotten the more mundane aspects of life.
'Forget it.' Dex caught her around the waist and pulled her down on top of him. 'You don't have to work any more; you're going to be my wife.'
'A lady of leisure?' Beth queried. 'I don't think I'd like that,' she told him seriously, resting her arms on his chest and staring down at him.
'Remember the first time I visited your apartment?'
'What has that got to do with anything?' Beth asked. He wasn't taking her desire to work seriously.
'You have a computer for your graphic art, but you also keep a drawing board. Maybe you are more like your father than you know. I could convert one of the rooms here into a studio for you. Think about it, Beth. Given a choice, which do you prefer? Hands-on art or sitting at a computer?'
'You're right. . .you know me so well.' She looked down into his eyes and he grinned, his hands sliding down over her bottom.
'And now I'm going to know you again,' he drawled throatily. And he did. . .
Eighteen months later, the priest and a group of people stood outside the little church on the Isle of Capri in the spring sunshine.
'If they're not here in the next five minutes it will be too late. I have another baptism at ten-thirty,' the priest told Mr Morris—who was holding his own one-year-old boy in his arms—and Mrs Morris, the prospective godparents.
A white Mercedes drew up with a squeal of brakes. Dexter and Bethany Giordanni got out, Dex carrying a small infant in his arms. They raced up to the church door, Beth very red-faced, her husband suffering from no such embarrassment.
'What happened to you, Dexter? You're twenty minutes late for your child's christening,' Anna reprimanded her brother.
Dex turned, looking at Beth, his silver eyes brilliant with reminiscent pleasure. Beth blushed even redder and Dex, with a wicked wink, turned back to his sister and said, 'We overslept.' And, with his baby girl in one arm and his other arm around his wife, he swept past an open-mouthed Anna into the church. . .
