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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Daniel held the door open and followed Harper inside his penthouse suite. The cool air conditioning was a relief after hours in the tropical heat and all the alcohol he’d consumed.
“Drink?”
“Water, please,” she answered, opening the sliding doors, and stepping back out into the heat.
Daniel smiled and shook his head.
Harper had constantly been turning off any air conditioning while they were together. Coming from Manhattan, he’d still been adjusting to the temperature change, while she’d come from summer in New Zealand.
He’d never said anything to her.
Harper loved the heat. He had a feeling she’d hate New York in the winter. Handing her a chilled glass of water, he asked her.
“Do you like the snow?” She ran the glass over her collarbone, and it left a trail of moisture.
His cock hardened. “Harper. Fuck me.”
She looked up, ignoring his reaction. “Does anyone love snow?”
Daniel glanced out across the beach. “Yes. Lots of people. For some, this would be the worst kind of vacation.”
“They must be crazy.”
“So do you? Like snow?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never spent time in the white stuff. I’ve never seen it.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Harper shook her head.
“They have snow in New Zealand, I know they do. Great ski resorts,” he said, frowning at her.
“Yes, loads of them. I just keep away from them. They’re far too cold for me.” Harper laughed. “In the winter I head to one of the Pacific Islands for the warmth.”
Daniel rested his hand on the lanai railing and smiled softly down at her. “You’d hate New York right now.”
Harper moved into him, so he pulled her against his chest, his other hand landing on her hip. God, she felt simply perfect.
“I think a white Christmas would be romantic,” she said, and Daniel rolled his eyes.
When she giggled, he was suddenly filled with ridiculous images of taking her skating in Central Park and doing all those cliché couple things. Daniel could just see her face light up at the sight of the enormous Christmas tree, and her nose rosy from the cold as they kissed while snow fell around them.
“If you lived there, you’d have to shovel snow and worry all the time about slipping. After the pretty stuff has fallen, it gets dirty,” he said.
“When have you ever shoveled snow?” she asked, one brow raised.
Never.
“That’s not the point. You’d hate it. No pretty sundresses or suntans,” he said, running his finger over her bare shoulder.
She watched his eyes until they returned to hers.
“Then what is the point?” she asked. “Why am I here, Daniel?”
Good question.
