Boy, what an evening. I feel like I've been run over by a train—the freight train that is my husband. Hard to believe that the man lying beside me, looking so serene and young in his sleep, was so tortured last night . . . and so tortured me last night. I gaze up at the ceiling, and it occurs to me that I always think of Christian as strong and dominating—yet the reality is he's so fragile, my lost boy. And the irony is that he looks upon me as fragile—and I don't think I am. Compared to him I'm strong.
But am I strong enough for both of us? Strong enough to do what I'm told and give him some peace of mind? I sigh. He's not asking that much of me. I flit through our conversation of last night. Did we decide anything other than to both try harder? The bottom line is that I love this man, and I need to chart a course for both of us. One that lets me keep my integrity and independence but still be more for him. I am his more, and he is mine. I resolve to make a special effort this weekend not to give him cause for concern.Christian stirs and lifts his head off my chest, looking sleepily at me.
"Good morning, Mr. Grey." I smile.
"Good morning, Mrs. Grey. Did you sleep well?" He stretches out beside me.
"Once my husband stopped making that terrible racket on the piano, yes, I did."
He smiles his shy smile, and I melt. "Terrible racket? I'll be sure to e-mail Miss Kathie and let her know."
"Miss Kathie?"
"My piano teacher."
I giggle.
"That's a lovely sound," he says. "Shall we have a better day today?"
"Okay," I agree. "What do you want to do?"
"After I have made love to my wife, and she's cooked me breakfast, I'd like to take her to Aspen."
I gape at him. "Aspen?"
"Yes."
"Aspen, Colorado?"
"The very same. Unless they've moved it. After all, you did pay twenty-four thousand dollars for the experience."
I grin at him. "That was your money."
"Our money."
"It was your money when I made the bid." I roll my eyes.
"Oh, Mrs. Grey, you and your eye rolling," he whispers as he runs his hand up my thigh.
"Won't it take hours to get to Colorado?" I ask to distract him.
"Not by jet," he says silkily as his hand reaches my behind.
Of course, my husband has a jet. How could I forget? His hand continues to skim up my body, lifting my nightdress as it goes, and soon I've forgotten everything.
Taylor drives us onto the tarmac at Sea-Tac and around to where the GEH jet is waiting. It's a gray day in Seattle, but I refuse to let the weather dampen my soaring spirits. Christian is in a much better mood. He's excited about something—lit up like Christmas and twitching like a small boy with a big secret. I wonder what scheme he's dreamed up. He looks dreamy, all tousled hair, white T-shirt and black jeans. Not CEO-like at all today. He takes my hand as Taylor glides to a stop at the foot of the jet steps.
"I have a surprise for you," he murmurs and kisses my knuckles.
I grin at him. "Good surprise?"
"I hope so." He smiles warmly.
Hmm . . . what can it be?
Sawyer leaps out from the front and opens my door. Taylor opens Christian's then retrieves our cases from the trunk. Stephan is waiting at the top of the stairs when we enter the aircraft. I glance into the cockpit and see First Officer Beighley flipping switches on the imposing instrument panel.
Christian and Stephan shake hands. "Good morning, sir." Stephan smiles.
"Thanks for doing this at such short notice." Christian grins back at him.
"Our guests here?"
"Yes sir."
Guests? I turn and gasp. Kate, Elliot, Mia, and Ethan are all smiling and sitting in the cream-colored leather seats. Wow! I spin around to Christian.
"Surprise!" he says.
"How? When? Who?" I mumble inarticulately, trying to contain my delight and elation.
"You said you didn't see enough of your friends." He shrugs and gives me a lopsided, apologetic smile.
"Oh, Christian, thank you." I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him hard in front of everyone. He puts his hands on my hips, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of my jeans, and deepens the kiss.
Oh my.
"Keep this up and I'll drag you into the bedroom," he murmurs.
"You wouldn't dare," I whisper against his lips.
"Oh, Anastasia." He grins, shaking his head. He releases me and without further preamble, stoops down, grabs my thighs, and lifts me over his shoulder.
"Christian, put me down!" I smack his behind.
I briefly catch Stephan's smile as he turns and heads into the cockpit. Taylor is standing at the doorway trying to stifle his grin. Ignoring my pleas and my fu-tile struggles, Christian strides through the narrow cabin past Mia and Ethan who are facing each other in the single seats, past Kate and Elliot, who is whooping like a demented gibbon.
"If you'll excuse me," he says to our four guests. "I need to have a word with my wife in private."
"Christian!" I shout. "Put me down!"
"All in good time, baby."
I have a brief view of Mia, Kate, and Elliot laughing. Damn it! This is not funny, it's embarrassing. Ethan gawks at us, mouth open and utterly shocked, as we disappear into the cabin.
Christian closes the cabin door behind him and releases me, letting me slide down his body slowly, so that I feel every hard sinew and muscle. He gives me his boyish grin, thoroughly pleased with himself.
"That was quite a show, Mr. Grey," I murmur, crossing my arms and regarding him with faux indignation.
"That was fun, Mrs. Grey." And his grin widens. Oh boy. He looks so young.
"Are you going to follow through?" I arch a brow, unsure how I feel about this. I mean, the others will hear us, for heaven's sake. Suddenly, I feel shy. Glancing anxiously at the bed, I feel a blush steal across my cheeks as I recall our wedding night. We talked so much yesterday, did so much yesterday. I feel as if we leaped some unknown hurdle—but that's the problem. It's unknown. My eyes find Christian's intense but amused gaze, and I'm unable to keep a straight face.
His grin is too infectious.
"I think it might be rude to keep our guests waiting," he says silkily as he steps toward me. When did he start to care what people think? I step back against the cabin wall and he imprisons me, the heat from his body holding me in place.
He leans down and runs his nose along mine.
"Good surprise?" he whispers, and there's a hint of anxiety in his voice.
"Oh, Christian, fantastic surprise." I run my hands up his chest, curl them around his neck, and kiss him.
"When did you organize this?" I ask when I pull away from him, stroking his hair.
"Last night, when I couldn't sleep. I e-mailed Elliot and Mia, and here they are."
"It's very thoughtful. Thank you. I'm sure we'll have a great time."
"I hope so. I thought it would be easier to avoid the press in Aspen than at home."
The paparazzi! He's right. If we'd stayed in Escala, we'd have been imprisoned. A shiver runs down my spine as I recollect the snapping cameras and dazzling flashes of the few photographers Taylor sped through this morning.
"Come. We'd better take our seats—Stephan will be taking off shortly." He offers me his hand and together we walk back into the cabin.
Elliot cheers as we enter. "That sure was speedy in-flight service!" he calls mockingly.
Christian ignores him.
"Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen as we'll shortly begin taxiing for takeoff." Stephan's voice echoes calmly and authoritatively around the cabin. The brunette woman— um . . . Natalie? —who was on the flight for our wedding night appears from the galley and gathers up the discarded coffee cups. Natalia . . . Her name's Natalia.
"Good morning Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey," she says with a purr. Why does she make me uncomfortable? Maybe it's that she's a brunette. By his own admission, Christian doesn't usually employ brunettes because he finds them attractive. He gives Natalia a polite smile as he slides in behind the table and sits down facing Elliot and Kate. I swiftly hug Kate and Mia and give Ethan and Elliot a wave before sitting down and buckling up beside Christian. He puts his hand on my knee and gives it an affectionate squeeze. He seems relaxed and happy even though we're with company. Idly, I wonder why he can't always be like this—not controlling at all.
"Hope you packed your hiking boots," he says, his voice warm.
"We're not going skiing?"
"That would be a challenge, in August," he says, amused.
Oh, of course.
"Do you ski, Ana?" Elliot interrupts us.
"No."
Christian moves his hand from my knee to clasp my hand.
"I'm sure my little brother can teach you." Elliot winks at me. "He's pretty fast on the slopes, too."
And I can't help my blush. When I glance up at Christian, he's gazing impassively at Elliot, but I think he's trying to suppress his mirth. The plane surges forward and starts taxiing toward the runway.
Natalia runs through the plane's safety procedures in a clear, ringing voice.
She's dressed in a neat navy short-sleeved shirt and matching pencil skirt. Her makeup is immaculate—she really is quite pretty. My subconscious raises a plucked-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life eyebrow at me.
"You okay?" Kate asks me pointedly. "I mean, following the Hyde business?"
I nod. I don't want to think or talk about Hyde, but Kate seems to have other plans.
"So why did he go postal?" she asks, cutting to the heart of the matter in her inimitable style. She tosses her hair behind her as she prepares to investigate the matter.
Eyeing her coolly, Christian shrugs. "I fired his ass," he says bluntly.
"Oh? Why?" Kate tilts her head to one side, and I know she's in full Nancy Drew mode.
"He made at pass at me," I mutter. I try to kick Kate's ankle beneath the table, and miss. Shit!
"When?" Kate glares at me.
"Ages ago."
"You never told me he made a pass at you!" she splutters.
I shrug, apologetically.
"It can't just be a grudge about that, surely. I mean his reaction is way too ex-treme," Kate continues, but now she directs her questions at Christian. "Is he mentally unstable? What about all the information he has on you Greys?" Her grilling Christian this way makes my hackles rise, but she's already established I know nothing so she can't ask me. The thought is annoying.
"We think there's a connection with Detroit," Christian says mildly. Too mildly. Oh no, Kate, please give it up for now.
"Hyde is from Detroit, too?"
Christian nods.
The plane accelerates, and I tighten my grip on Christian's hand. He glances at me reassuringly. He knows I hate takeoffs and landings. He squeezes my hand and his thumb strokes my knuckles, calming me.
"What do you know about him?" Elliot asks, oblivious to the fact we are hurtling down the runway in a small jet about to launch itself into the sky, and equally oblivious to Christian's growing exasperation with Kate. Kate leans forward, listening attentively.
"This is off the record," Christian says directly to her. Kate's mouth sets in a subtle but thin line. I swallow. Oh shit.
"We know a little about him," Christian continues. "His dad died in a brawl in a bar. His mother drank herself into oblivion. He was in and out of foster homes as a kid . . . in and out of trouble, too. Mainly boosting cars. Spent time in juvie. His mom got back on track through some outreach program, and Hyde turned himself around. Won a scholarship to Princeton."
"Princeton?" Kate's curiosity is piqued.
"Yep. He's a bright boy." Christian shrugs.
"Not that bright. He got caught," Elliot mutters.
"But surely he can't have pulled this stunt alone?" Kate asks.
Christian stiffens beside me. "We don't know yet." His voice is very quiet.
Holy crap. There could be someone working with him? I turn and gape in horror at Christian. He squeezes my hand once more but doesn't look me in the eye. The plane lifts smoothly into the air, and I get that horrible sinking feeling in my stomach.
"How old is he?" I ask Christian, leaning close so only he can hear. Much as I'd like to know what's going on, I don't want to encourage Kate's questions. I know they're irritating Christian, and I'm sure she's on his shit list since Cocktailgate.
"Thirty-two. Why?"
"Curious, that's all."
Christian's jaw tightens. "Don't be curious about Hyde. I'm just glad the f*cker's locked up." It's almost a reprimand, but I choose to ignore his tone.
"Do you think he's working with someone?" The thought that someone else might be involved makes me sick. It would mean this isn't over.
"I don't know," Christian answers, and his jaw tightens once more.
"Maybe someone who has a grudge against you?" I suggest. Holy shit. I hope it's not the bitch troll. "Like Elena?" I whisper. I realize I've muttered her name out loud, but only he can hear. I glance anxiously at Kate, but she's deep in conversation with Elliot who looks pissed at her. Hmm.
"You do like to demonize her, don't you?" Christian rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disgust. "She may hold a grudge, but she wouldn't do this kind of thing." He pins me with a steady gray gaze. "Let's not discuss her. I know she's not your favorite topic of conversation."
"Have you confronted her?" I whisper, not sure if I really want to know.
"Ana, I haven't spoken to her since my birthday party. Please, drop it. I don't want to talk about her." He raises my hand and brushes my knuckles with his lips.
His eyes burn into mine, and I know I shouldn't pursue this line of questioning right now.
"Get a room," Elliot teases. "Oh right—you already have, but you didn't need it for long." He smirks.
Christian glances up and pins Elliot with a cool glare. "F*ck off, Elliot," he says without malice.
"Dude, just telling you how it is." Elliot's eyes light up with mirth.
"Like you'd know," Christian murmurs sardonically, raising an eyebrow.
Elliot grins, enjoying the banter. "You married your first girlfriend." Elliot gestures at me.
Oh shit. Where is this going? I flush.
"Can you blame me?" Christian kisses my hand again.
"No." Elliot laughs and shakes his head.
I flush, and Kate slaps Elliot's thigh.
"Stop being an ass," she scolds him.
"Listen to your girlfriend," Christian says to Elliot, grinning, and his earlier concern seems to have disappeared. My ears pop as we gain altitude, and the tension in the cabin dissipates as the plane levels out. Kate scowls at Elliot. Hmm . . .
is something up between them? I'm not sure.
Elliot is right. I snort at the irony. I am—was—Christian's first girlfriend, and now I'm his wife. The fifteen and the evil Mrs. Robinson—they don't count.
But then Elliot doesn't know about them, and clearly Kate hasn't told him. I smile at her, and she gives me a conspiratorial wink. My secrets are safe with Kate.
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we'll be cruising at an altitude of approximately thirty-two thousand feet, and our estimated flight time is one hour and fifty-six minutes," Stephan announces. "You are now free to move around the cabin."
Natalia appears abruptly from the galley.
"May I offer anyone coffee?" she asks.
We land smoothly at Sardy Field at 12:25 p.m. (MST). Stephan brings the plane to a halt a little way from the main terminal, and through the windows I spot a large VW minivan waiting for us.
"Good landing." Christian grins and shakes Stephan's hand as we get ready to file out of the jet.
"It's all about the density altitude, sir." Stephan smiles back. "Beighley here is good at math."
Christian nods at Stephan's first officer. "You nailed it, Beighley. Smooth landing."
"Thank you, sir." She grins smugly.
"Enjoy your weekend, Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey. We'll see you tomorrow."
Stephan steps aside to let us disembark and taking my hand, Christian leads me down the aircraft steps to where Taylor is waiting by the vehicle.
"Minivan?" says Christian in surprise as Taylor slides open the door.
Taylor gives him a tight, contrite smile and a slight shrug.
"Last minute, I know," Christian says, immediately placated. Taylor returns to the plane to retrieve our luggage.
"Want to make out in the back of the van?" Christian murmurs to me, a mischievous gleam in his eye.
I giggle. Who is this man, and what has he done with Mr. Unbelievably Angry of the last couple of days?
"Come on, you two. Get in," Mia says from behind us, oozing impatience beside Ethan. We climb in, stagger to the double seat at the back, and sit down. I snuggle against Christian, and he puts his arm around the back of my seat. "Comfortable?" he murmurs as Mia and Ethan take the seat in front of us.
"Yes." I smile and he kisses my forehead. And for some unfathomable reason I feel shy with him today. Why? Last night? Being with company? I can't put my finger on it.
Elliot and Kate join us last as Taylor opens the liftgate to load the luggage.
Five minutes later, we are on our way.
I gaze out the window as we head toward Aspen. The trees are green, but a whisper of the coming fall is evident here and there in the yellowing tips of the leaves. The sky is a clear crystal blue, though there are darkening clouds to the west. All around us in the distance loom the Rockies, the highest peak directly ahead. They're lush and green, and the highest are capped with snow and look like a child's drawing of mountains.
We're in the winter playground of the rich and famous. And I own a house here. I can barely believe it. And from deep within my psyche, the familiar unease that's always present when I try to wrap my head around Christian's wealth looms and taunts me, making me feel guilty. What have I done to deserve this lifestyle?
I've done nothing, nothing except fall in love.
"Have you been to Aspen before, Ana?" Ethan turns and asks, dragging me out of my reverie.
"No, first time. You?"
"Kate and I used to come here a lot when we were teens. Dad's a keen skier.
Mom less so."
"I'm hoping my husband will teach me how to ski." I glance up at my man.
"Don't bet on it," Christian mutters.
"I won't be that bad!"
"You might break your neck." His grin gone.
Oh. I don't want to argue and sour his good mood, so I change the subject.
"How long have you had this place?"
"Nearly two years. It's yours now, too, Mrs. Grey," he says softly.
"I know," I whisper. But somehow I don't feel the courage of my convictions. Leaning in, I kiss his jaw and nestle once more at his side listening to him laugh and joke with Ethan and Elliot. Mia chimes in occasionally, but Kate is quiet, and I wonder if she's brooding about Jack Hyde or something else. Then I remember. Aspen . . . Christian's house here was redesigned by Gia Matteo and rebuilt by Elliot. I wonder if that's what's preoccupying Kate. I can't ask her in front of Elliot, given his history with Gia. Does Kate even know about Gia's connection to the house? I frown wondering what could be bothering her and resolve to ask her when we're on our own.
We drive through the center of Aspen and my mood brightens as I take in the town. There are squat buildings of mostly red brick, Swiss-style chalets, and nu-merous little turn of the century houses painted in fun colors. Plenty of banks and designer shops, too, betraying the affluence of the local populace. Of course Christian fits in here.
"Why did you choose Aspen?" I ask him.
"What?" He regards me quizzically.
"To buy a place."
"Mom and Dad used to bring us here when we were kids. I learned to ski here, and I like the place. I hope you do, too—otherwise we'll sell the house and choose somewhere else."
Simple as that!
He tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. "You look lovely today," he murmurs.
My cheeks heat. I'm just wearing my travelling gear: jeans and a T-shirt with a lightweight navy blue jacket. Damn it. Why does he make me feel shy?
He kisses me, a tender, sweet, loving kiss.
Taylor drives us on out of town, and we start to climb the other side of the valley, twisting along a mountain road. The higher we go, the more excited I get, and Christian tenses beside me.
"What's wrong?" I ask as we round a bend.
"I hope you like it," he says quietly. "We're here."
Taylor slows and turns through a gateway made of gray, beige, and red stones. He heads down the driveway and finally pulls up outside the impressive house. Double fronted with high-pitched roofs and built of dark wood and the same mixed stone as the gateway. It's stunning—modern and stark, very much Christian's style.
"Home," he mouths at me as our guests start piling out of the van.
"Looks good."
"Come. See," he says, an excited, though anxious, gleam in his eyes as if he's about to show me his science project or something.
Mia runs up the steps to where a woman stands in the doorway. She's tiny and her raven-colored hair is dusted with gray. Mia flings her arms around her neck and hugs her tightly.
"Who's that?" I ask as Christian helps me out of the van.
"Mrs. Bentley. She lives here with her husband. They look after the place."
Holy cow . . . more staff?
Mia is making introductions—Ethan, then Kate. Elliot hugs Mrs. Bentley, too. As Taylor unloads the van, Christian takes my hand and leads me to the front door.
"Welcome back, Mr. Grey." Mrs. Bentley smiles.
"Carmella, this is my wife, Anastasia," Christian says proudly. His tongue caresses my name, making my heart stutter.
"Mrs. Grey," Mrs. Bentley nods a respectful greeting. I hold out my hand and we shake. It's no surprise to me that she's much more formal with Christian than the rest of the family.
"I hope you've had a pleasant flight. The weather is supposed to be fine all weekend, though I'm not sure." She eyes the darkening gray clouds behind us.
"Lunch is ready whenever you want." She smiles again, her dark eyes twinkling, and I warm to her immediately.
"Here." Christian grabs me and lifts me off my feet.
"What are you doing?" I squeal.
"Carrying you over yet another threshold, Mrs. Grey."
I grin as he carries me into the wide hallway, and after a brief kiss, he sets me gently down onto the hardwood floor. The interior décor is stark and reminds me of the great room at Escala—all white walls, dark wood, and contemporary abstract art. The hallway opens up into a large sitting area where three off-white leather couches surround a stone fireplace that dominates the room. The only color is from the soft cushions scattered on the couches. Mia grabs Ethan's hand and drags him farther into the house. Christian narrows his eyes at their departing figures, his mouth thinning. He shakes his head then turns to me.
Kate whistles loudly. "Nice place."
I glance around to see Elliot helping Taylor with our luggage. I wonder again if she knows that Gia had a hand in this place.
"Tour?" Christian asks me, and whatever was going through his mind about Mia and Ethan has gone. He's radiating excitement—or is it anxiety? It's difficult to tell.
"Sure." Once again I'm overwhelmed by the wealth. How much did this place cost? And I have contributed nothing to it. Briefly I'm transported back to the first time Christian took me to Escala. I was overwhelmed then. You got used to it, my subconscious hisses at me.
Christian frowns but takes my hand, leading me through the various rooms.
The state-of-the-art kitchen is all pale marble countertops and black cupboards.
There's an impressive wine cellar, and an expansive den downstairs, complete with large plasma screen, soft couches . . . and a billiard table. I gape at it and blush when Christian catches me.
"Fancy a game?" he asks, a wicked gleam in his eye. I shake my head, and his brow furrows once more. Taking my hand again, he leads me up to the first floor. There are four bedrooms upstairs, each with an en suite bathroom.
The master suite is something else. The bed is huge, bigger than the bed at home, and faces an enormous picture window looking out over Aspen and toward the verdant mountains.
"That's Ajax Mountain . . . or Aspen Mountain, if you like," Christian says, eyeing me warily. He's standing in the doorway, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops on his black jeans.
I nod.
"You're very quiet," he murmurs.
"It's lovely, Christian." And suddenly I'm aching to be back at Escala.
In five long strides he's standing in front of me, tugging at my chin, and releasing my lower lip from the grip of my teeth.
"What is it?" he asks, his eyes searching mine.
"You're very rich."
"Yes."
"Sometimes, it just takes me by surprise how wealthy you are."
"We are."
"We are," I mutter automatically.
"Don't stress about this, Ana, please. It's just a house."
"And what did Gia do here, exactly?"
"Gia?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise.
"Yes. She remodeled this place?"
"She did. She designed the den downstairs. Elliot did the build." He rakes his hand through his hair and frowns at me. "Why are we talking about Gia?"
"Did you know she had a fling with Elliot?"
Christian gazes at me for a moment, gray eyes unreadable. "Elliot's f*cked most of Seattle, Ana."
I gasp.
"Mainly women, I understand," Christian jokes. I think he's amused by my expression.
"No!"
Christian nods. "It's none of my business." He holds his palms up.
"I don't think Kate knows."
"I'm not sure he broadcasts that information. Kate seems to be holding her own."
I'm shocked. Sweet, unassuming, blond, blue-eyed Elliot? I stare in disbelief.
Christian tilts his head to one side, scrutinizing me. "This can't just be about Gia or Elliot's promiscuity."
"I know. I'm sorry. After all that's happened this week, it's just . . ." I shrug, feeling tearful all of a sudden. Christian seems to sag with relief. Pulling me into his arms, he holds me tightly, his nose in my hair.
"I know. I'm sorry, too. Let's relax and enjoy ourselves, okay? You can stay here and read, watch god-awful TV, shop, go hiking—fishing even. Whatever you want to do. And forget what I said about Elliot. That was indiscreet of me."
"Goes some way to explain why he's always teasing you," I murmur, nuzzling his chest.
"He really has no idea about my past. I told you, my family assumed I was gay. Celibate, but gay."
I giggle and begin to relax in his arms. "I thought you were celibate. How wrong I was." I wrap my arms around him, marveling at the ridiculousness of Christian being gay.
"Mrs. Grey, are you smirking at me?"
"Maybe a little." I acquiesce. "You know, what I don't understand is why you have this place?"
"What do you mean?" He kisses my hair.
"You have the boat, which I get, you have the place in New York for business—but why here? It's not like you shared it with anyone."
Christian stills and is silent for several beats. "I was waiting for you," he says softly, his eyes dark gray and luminous.
"That's . . . that's such a lovely thing to say."
"It's true. I didn't know it at the time." He smiles his shy smile.
"I'm glad you waited."
"You are worth waiting for, Mrs. Grey." He tips my chin up with his finger, leans down, and kisses me tenderly.
"So are you." I smile. "Though I feel I like I cheated. I didn't have to wait long for you at all."
He grins. "Am I that much of a prize?"
"Christian, you are the state lottery, the cure for cancer, and the three wishes from Aladdin's lamp all rolled into one."
He raises a brow.
"When will you realize this?" I scold him. "You were a very eligible bachelor. And I don't mean all this." I wave dismissingly at our plush surroundings. "I mean in here." I place my hand over his heart, and his eyes widen. My confident, sexy husband has gone, and I'm facing my lost boy. "Believe me, Christian, please," I whisper and clasp his face, pulling his lips to mine. He groans, and I don't know if it's hearing what I've said or his usual primal response. I claim him, my lips moving against his, my tongue invading his mouth.
When we're both breathless, he pulls away, eyeing me doubtfully.
"When are you going to get it through your exceptionally thick skull that I love you?" I ask, exasperated.
He swallows. "One day," he says.
This is progress. I smile and am rewarded with his answering shy smile.
"Come. Let's have some lunch—the others will be wondering where we are.
We can discuss what we all want to do."
"Oh no!" Kate says suddenly.
All eyes turn to her.
"Look," she says, pointing to the picture window. Outside, rain has started pouring down. We are sitting around the dark wood table in the kitchen having consumed an Italian feast of a mixed antipasto, prepared by Mrs. Bentley, and a bottle or two of Frascati. I'm replete and a little buzzed from the alcohol.
"There goes our hike," Elliot mutters, sounding vaguely relieved. Kate scowls at him. Something is definitely up with them. They have been relaxed with all of us but not with each other.
"We could go into town," Mia pipes up. Ethan smirks at her.
"Perfect weather for fishing," Christian suggests.
"I'll go fish," Ethan says.
"Let's split up." Mia claps her hands. "Girls, shopping—boys, outdoor boring stuff."
I glance at Kate, who regards Mia indulgently. Fishing or shopping? Jeez, what a choice.
"Ana, what do you want to do?" Christian asks.
"I don't mind," I lie.
Kate catches my eye and mouths "shopping." Perhaps she wants to talk.
"But I'm more than happy to go shopping." I smile wryly at Kate and Mia.
Christian smirks. He knows I hate shopping.
"I can stay here with you, if you'd like," he murmurs, and something dark unfurls in my belly at his tone.
"No, you go fish," I answer. Christian needs boy time.
"Sounds like a plan," Kate says, rising from the table.
"Taylor will accompany you," Christian says, and it's a given—not up for discussion.
"We don't need babysitting," Kate retorts bluntly, direct as ever.
I put my hand on Kate's arm. "Kate, Taylor should come."
She frowns, then shrugs, and for once in her life holds her tongue.
I smile timidly at Christian . His expression remains impassive. Oh, I hope he's not mad at Kate.
Elliot frowns. "I need to pick up a battery for my watch in town." He glances quickly at Kate, and I spot his slight blush. She doesn't notice because she is pointedly ignoring him.
"Take the Audi, Elliot. When you come back we can go fishing," Christian says.
"Yeah," Elliot mutters, but he seems distracted. "Good plan."
"In here." Grabbing my hand, Mia hauls me into a designer boutique that's all pink silk and faux-French distressed rustic furniture. Kate follows us while Taylor waits outside, sheltering under the awning from the rain. Aretha is belting out
"Say A Little Prayer" over the store's hi-fi system. I love this song. I should put it on Christian's iPod.
"This will look wonderful on you, Ana." Mia holds up a scrap of silver material. "Here, try it on."
"Um . . . it's a bit short."
"You'll look fantastic in it. Christian will love it."
"You think?"
Mia beams at me. "Ana, you have legs to die for, and if we go clubbing tonight"—she smiles, sensing an easy kill—"you'll look hot for your husband."
I blink at her, slightly shocked. We're going clubbing? I don't do clubbing.
Kate laughs at my expression. She seems more relaxed now that she's away from Elliot. "We should throw some shapes this evening," she says.