back propped up against an old weeping willow, its trailing leaves stirring in the dark water. His eyes were closed, his cellphone held loosely in his fingers. He tossed it onto the soft grass.
‘What kept you?’ he said.
‘Getting there is half the fun, Mike. The anticipation, the waiting.’
His lids lifted to reveal a gleam of silver-grey beneath his lashes. ‘That sounds promising.’
She sank down beside him, letting the candles fall in a heap between them. ‘Do you have any matches?’
He produced a box from his pocket, opened it and struck one. ‘You see? I’m prepared for every eventuality.’
Red-hot. Burning.
He picked up one of the candles, lit it, then rolled over, stretched out on his stomach, leaning over the edge of the pool to set it adrift.
She lay beside him, holding another for him to light. The wick caught and she held it in the water for a moment, sheltering the flame until it grew tall and steady, making her fingers baby-pink and transparent. The water was cold, the scent sweet, the air utterly still as Mike lit the remainder of the candles and sent them out into the centre of the pool.
‘Magic,’ she said.
‘Did you make a wish?’ he asked.
‘No.’ She glanced at him. ‘Did you?’
‘I prefer to think that I’m in control of my own destiny. Ready for that drink?’
He reached for the bottle and a couple of glasses. ‘Glasses?’ she queried.
‘I brought them from home. I’m tired of the taste of plastic.’
Willow had no answer to that, instead she sipped the lush, buttery chardonnay Mike had bought and watched the flickering flames grow brighter as the night gathered about them.
‘Wouldn’t life be simple if we could stay here for ever?’ Willow said finally, rolling over onto her back.
‘Life is simple. It’s people who are complicated.’ He glanced at her. ‘I’ve been thinking—’
‘Dangerous on an empty stomach.’ Willow didn’t want to get involved in complications right now. She just wanted a beautiful, simple evening, that would go with her beautiful, simple idea. ‘I was promised smoked salmon.’
For a moment he looked as if he was ready to push it. Then he shrugged and sat up. ‘Smoked salmon,’ he said, reaching into a carrier. ‘Bread,’ he said, tearing a small flat loaf in two. ‘And cream cheese.’ He handed her a knife.
‘Avocado?’
‘Help yourself,’ he said, waving at the bag.
‘Cherries?’
‘The peaches were hard.’
‘This is perfect.’
They had eaten the bread and Willow had settled against the crook of Mike’s body, his warmth at her back, his arm looped around her waist as he fed her sweet, dark cherries.
‘You’re perfect,’ he said. ‘I briefly lost sight of why I was prepared to give up everything for you. Today…’ Mike remembered exactly how he’d felt when Jake Hallam had challenged him, when he’d been forced to confront his deepest desires, recognise what he was in danger of losing, understand how it would feel to see Willow with his child at her breast. ‘Today I discovered that nothing in the world was worth that.’
‘I know.’ She turned in his arms. ‘It’s all right, Mike. I’ve worked it out.’ And because she knew her solution wasn’t perfect, because she didn’t want any arguments, she leaned into him and kissed him with her cherry-stained lips.
‘Willow—’
‘Love me, Mike,’ she murmured, her tongue sweet against his. ‘Love me now.’ Once he’d made love to her, he wouldn’t be able to walk away, say no.
Mike wanted nothing else at that moment. Just to love her. It was why he’d chosen this secluded spot, with its lush grass. He’d had one thing on his mind and with her in his arms he knew that the world was well lost…
In his arms, there was a chance she might agree with him. But it wouldn’t be enough, he wanted more than that. He wanted more than this night to remember.
‘Willow, sweetheart, wait…we need to talk…’
She looked at him, her eyes reflecting the candle flames. And she smiled. ‘Later,’ she said, and her mouth sizzled against his throat as she straddled him and began to slip the buttons on his shirt, pushing it back so that her hair brushed softly against his naked shoulders. ‘We’ll talk later.’
Now. They should talk first, but it wasn’t easy to hold that thought with Willow’s hands embarking on a seductive raid of his senses. With her hands cool against his hot skin, her mouth intent on distraction, a man could be forgiven for letting his priorities slip a little.
His hands slid beneath the hem of her T-shirt, spread across the satin-smooth skin of her back. He encountered her bra, unfastened it, and with a single easy, unhurried movement, pulled T-shirt and underwear over her head. Then, as his fingers stroked across her shoulders, sliding down to cup her breasts in his hands, she smiled at him and said, ‘Now, what were you saying?’
She was right. It would keep. ‘You’re wearing too many clothes,’ he growled softly.
‘Wrong. But hold that thought.’ And there was a flash of white teeth as she briefly smiled.
‘I’m wearing too many clothes?’ he offered. She shook her head, her eyes intent. He’d lost his appetite for conversation. Lost his appetite for games. There was only one thing he wanted to say and now was the moment. ‘I love you, Willow. I want to marry you.’
She swallowed, her eyes gleamed moistly as if she were on the point of tears. No need for tears… ‘You’re getting warmer.’
‘Believe me, I’m on fire—’
‘Back up a place.’
Back up. What the hell…? Then he got it. ‘You want to live with me?’
‘There.’ She blinked. ‘That wasn’t so difficult was it?’
‘No.’ It wasn’t difficult. It was where he’d started, after all. And now he understood her reaction to his initial proposal. He’d discovered the need for commitment. Total commitment. ‘No,’ he repeated, letting his hands slide down the length of her body until they rested at her waist. She waited for him to undo the button. Gave an impatient little wriggle. He tightened his grip to keep her still; if she wasn’t still he’d explode with his need for her. ‘I don’t think you understand, Willow. I said, no. Thanks.’
Willow frowned. Then didn’t need his hands to keep her still. She shivered. ‘Mike, it’s what you wanted. You said…’
‘You convinced me that I was wrong. Moving in with someone says nothing.
