I took a deep breath and left the safety of our room.
At the top of the stairs, I glanced down. My breath stuttered in my throat. I thought I’d slipped through a crack in time because in front of me, my fun-loving surfer boy, my rough, tough, sexy Marine, had transformed into a nineteenth century gentleman.
He was dressed in black: the pants legs edged in a narrow, satin stripe; an elegant, fitted tuxedo-jacket rested on his broad shoulders, over a fine cotton piqué shirt. A black bowtie accentuated his beauty still further.
And the woman he was talking to, looked like she was stripping him with her eyes, before dragging him to her room.
I eyed up the competition: she was perhaps two or three years younger than me, expensively dressed in a vivid purple halter top about the size of a handkerchief, with long, sexy harem pants. There was no doubt she had the figure to carry off such an outrageous outfit, although if I was inclined to be critical, I’d say that her boobs had the volume, shape and rubbery bounce of beach balls; her teeth were whitened to a degree that could cause snow blindness; and she had fake talons that could remove an eyeball at a hundred paces. But only if I was being critical.
And what the fuck was she doing flirting with my fiancé?
I was starting to be seriously pissed off when she laid a predatory hand on his arm, in an apparently friendly gesture.
I saw Sebastian turn slightly, so she was forced to drop her hand. I felt like cheering: he wasn’t interested in the orange-skinned slut.
Then he glanced up at the stairs and his eyes widened as he saw me, before his face broke out in a huge grin.
The Orangeade woman turned to see what he was staring at, and if looks could kill, I’d have shriveled on the spot. But I didn’t shrivel: I gave her a small, oh-so-magnanimous smile, before I carefully made my way down the stairs.
Sebastian strode across to meet me and took my hand, lifting it to his lips.
“You look beautiful, Caro.”
“Thank you, kind sir.”
He held out his arm. “May I escort you in to dinner, ma’am?”
“Why, yes you may.”
The orange woman looked like she was choking on a dead skunk.
Yeah you, lady!
Sebastian glowed with happiness, although the glint in his eyes was still wicked. I’m sure, that evening, that I reflected his joy, felt it wash over me; I basked in it and bathed in it. At that moment, at that time, there was nowhere in the world I’d rather have been.
The dining room was exquisite, a small piece of perfection, with the Mediterranean at its feet. The chairs were swathed in linen that matched the tablecloths, and the starched napkins had been folded into shapes like a bishop’s miter.
Sebastian led me to a table in a small alcove, where the arched windows looked down onto the sunset over the sea. A waiter rushed forward to pull out my chair, but Sebastian waved him away, carefully seating me himself, before brushing his lips over my bare shoulder in a soft, lingering kiss.
“I can’t wait to get you out of that dress,” he whispered in my ear, as he ran a long, cool finger from my earlobe down to the base of my neck.
Then he sat across the table from me and smiled smugly.
“Every man in this room wants you, Caro. I’m so fucking proud, I can’t stop smiling.”
“Hmm, well I think you may be a little biased; I thought I was going to need a crowbar to pry that woman off you. Is it just me, or had she overdone the fake tan, because I haven’t seen that shade of orange outside of a drag review.”
He raised his eyebrows. “My girl’s got grit: I like it.”
“I felt like swinging her around by her hair extensions: maybe some of your Marine training is rubbing off on me.”
“That comes after the main course,” he said, confidently.
“Thank you for today, Sebastian,” I said, serious for once. “It’s been… perfect. Thank you.”
He smiled at me across the table.
“It’s been a long time coming, Caro, but it was worth the wait.”