Tony!” Shannon gasped, taking in the floral feast for her eyes as well as her nose. “This is breathtaking.”
Flipping the hood from her head, she plunged deeper into the spacious greenhouse where a riot of scents and colors waited. Classical music piped lowly from hidden speakers. Ferns dangled overhead. Unlike crowded nurseries she’d visited in the past, this space sprawled more like an indoor floral park.
An Italian marble fountain trickled below a skylight, water spilling softly from a carved snake’s mouth as it curled around some reclining Roman god. Wrought iron screens sported hydrangeas and morning glories twining throughout, benches in front for reading or meditation. Potted palms and cacti added height to the interior landscape. Tiered racks of florist’s buckets with cut flowers stretched along a far wall. She spun under the skylight, immersing herself in the thick perfume, sunbeams and Debussy’s Nocturnes.
While she could understand Tony’s point about not wanting to be isolated here indefinitely, she appreciated the allure of the magical retreat Enrique had created. Even the rain tap, tap, tapping overhead offered nature’s lyrical accent to the soft music.
Slowing her spin, she found Tony staring at her with undeniable arousal. Tony, and only Tony because the space appeared otherwise deserted. Her skin prickled with awareness at the muscular display of him in nothing but board shorts and deck shoes.
“Are we alone?” she asked.
“Completely,” he answered, gesturing toward a little round table set for two, with wine and finger foods. “Help yourself. There are stuffed mussels, fried squid, vegetable skewers, cold olives and cheese.”
She strode past him, without touching but so close a magnetic field seemed to activate, urging her to seal her body to his.
“It’s been so wonderful here indulging in grown-up food after so many meals of chicken nuggets and pizza.” She broke off a corner of ripe white cheese and popped it in her mouth.
“Then you’re going to love the beverage selection.” Tony scooped up a bottle from the middle of the table. “Red wine from Basque country or sherry from southern Spain?”
“Red, please. But can we wait a moment on the food? I want to see everything here first.”
“I was hoping you would say that.” He passed her a crystal glass, half full.
She sipped, staring at him over the rim. “Perfect.”
“And there’s still more.” His fingers linked with hers, he led her past an iron screen to a secluded corner.
Vines grew tangled and dense over the windows, the sun through the glass roof muted by rivulets of rain. A chaise longue was tucked in a corner. Flower petals speckled the furniture and floor. Everything was so perfect, so beautiful, it brought tears to her eyes. God, it still scared her how much she wanted to trust her feelings, trust the signals coming from Tony.
To hide her eyes until she could regain control, she rushed to the crystal vase of mixed flowers on the end table and buried her face in the bouquet. “What a unique blend of fragrances.”
“It’s a specially ordered arrangement. Each flower was selected for you because of its meaning.”
Touched by the detailed thought he’d put into the encounter, she pivoted to face him. “You told me once you wanted to wrap me in flowers.”
“That’s the idea here.” His arms banded around her waist. “And I was careful to make sure there will be no thorns. Only pleasure.”
If only life could be that simple. With their time here running out, she couldn’t resist.
“You’re sure we won’t be interrupted?” She set her wine glass on the end table and linked her fingers behind his neck. “No surveillance cameras or telephoto lenses?”
“Completely certain. There are security cameras outside, but none inside. I’ve given the staff the afternoon off and our guards are not Peeping Toms. We are totally and completely alone.” He anchored her against him, the rigid length of his arousal pressing into her stomach with a hefty promise.
“You prepared for this.” And she wanted this, wanted him. But… “I’m not sure I like being so predictable.”
“You are anything but predictable. I’ve never met a more confusing person in my life.” He tugged a damp lock of her hair. “Any more questions?”
She inhaled deeply, letting the scents fill her with courage. “Who can take off faster the other person’s clothes?”
“Now there’s a challenge I can’t resist.” He bunched her cover-up in his hands and peeled the soft cotton over her head.
Shaking her hair free, she leaned into him just as he slanted his mouth over hers. His fingers made fast work of the ties to her bathing suit top. The crocheted triangles fell away, baring her to the steamy greenhouse air.
She nipped his ear where a single dot-shaped scar stayed from a healed-over piercing. A teenage rebellion, he’d told her once. She could envision him on a Spanish galleon, a swarthy and buffed pirate king.
For a moment, for this moment, she let herself indulge in foolish fantasies, no fears. She would allow the experience to sweep her away as smoothly as she brushed off his board shorts. She pushed aside the sterner responsible voice inside her that insisted she remember past mistakes and tread cautiously.
“It’s been too damn long.” He thumbed off her swimsuit bottom.
“Uh, hello?” She kicked the last fabric barrier away and prayed other barriers could be as easily discarded. “It’s been less than eight hours since you left my room.”
“Too long.”
She played her fingers along the cut of his sculpted chest, down the flat plane of his washboard stomach. Pressing her lips to his shoulder, she kissed her way toward his arm until she grazed the different texture of his tattooed flesh—inked with a black nautical compass. “I’ve always wanted to ask why you chose this particular tattoo.”
His muscles bunched and twitched. “It symbolizes being able to find my way home.”
“There’s still so much I don’t know about you.” Concerns trickled through her like the rain trying to find its way inside.
“Hey, we’re here to escape. All that can wait.” He slipped her glasses from her face and placed them on the end table.
Parting through the floral arrangement to the middle, he slipped out an orchid and pinched off the flower. He trailed the bloom along her nose, her cheekbones and jaw in a silky scented swirl. “For magnificence.”
Her knees went wobbly and she sat on the edge of the chaise, tapestry fabric rough on the backs on her thighs, rose-petal smooth. He tucked the orchid behind her ear, easing her back until she reclined.
Returning to the vase, he tugged free a long stalk with indigo buds and explored the length of her arm, then one finger at a time. Then over her stomach to her other hand and back up again in a shivery path that left her breathless.
“Blue salvia,” he said, “because I think of you
