His face showed nothing but the warm satisfaction that had become his trademark since their first night among the tropical flowers.
‘Were you laughing at me?’
‘Never,’ he said in a way that did not convince her for a second. ‘Although you must admit, mio dolce, an expert on tropical plants—no matter how well qualified—who has done all her learning from textbooks ought to spread her wings before she can call herself truly experienced…’ he stretched out the syllables with a relish that didn’t need explaining. As he smoothed away her frown with kisses she couldn’t help smiling despite her private fears.
Outside a hawk streaked into the flock of swallows, sending them screaming in all directions. Meg started at the noise, but Gianni’s hand gently stroked away her fears.
‘That was why I was going to take you away from all this for a while. Madeira has everything we need. Luxury and opportunities, all set in a sea of flowers. What do you say?’
A paradise island, with the chance to have Gianni all to herself for a while without the daily distraction of his work? There was only one thing she could say. Tipping back her head, she gave him a long, lingering kiss before murmuring:
‘That’s fantastic. When do we leave?’
Her delight lasted only a few hours. While Gianni was in the shower she borrowed his laptop, ready to surf the Internet. The first page she opened on Madeira fluttered with a banner announcing it to be ’the perfect honeymoon isle’. That headline meant only one thing to her—disaster. She slumped back in her seat, staring at the screen. With an advertising line like that, the place was sure to be full of couples. Married couples. That would be the last thing he would want to see. Closing down the computer, she walked slowly across the bedroom, towards the en suite. Gianni was in the wet room. Instead of slipping into the shower with him, she paused outside, deep in thought. It was only when he turned off the monsoon downpour they both loved so much that he realised she was watching him. He chuckled. The sound was low with testosterone. It fuelled her own arousal as he murmured, ‘Can’t you wait, pretty one?’
Stepping forward, he took her in his arms. Pressing his wet body against her filmy, sheer negligee, he soaked her in seconds. Feeling his manhood spring impressively to life against the smooth plane of her belly, Meg wavered. It would be so easy, so lovely to suspend real life and let him carry her off to bed again, but she felt bound to question him first.
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