Then, even though it made him feel as obvious as a boy picking flowers, he gave her what he thought she needed to hear.
“And I have never invited any woman here, except you and Ingrid that day. I suppose it sounds ridiculous that I had to think about it when you’ve already been here, but I wanted to be sure I was making the right choice, bringing you into my home.” It had been a remarkably easy decision, in fact. So easy he’d forced himself to mull it over, refusing to commit until the last minute despite his gut clamoring for her to become a fixture there.
She finally looked up, her blue gaze surprised and vulnerable, searched his in a way that made him deeply uncomfortable because he feared he didn’t have whatever it was she was hoping to find. He had to look away first, which was a terribly revealing thing to do, but he couldn’t take her scrutiny.
She set her camera on the bed before coming across to him, expression solemn. When she cupped the side of his face, his first instinct was to tense with resistance. She ignored his rebuff and lifted on tiptoes to set her lips against the corner of his mouth.
“Thank you for telling me that,” she said, breath warm against his lips and chin.
As her scent filled his nostrils and she started to lower to flat feet, his arms went around her of their own accord. He felt her start, then soften to accept the convulsive tightening of his arms around her.
Words, stupid words, crowded his throat, but he couldn’t put them in any sort of order that made sense. He couldn’t figure out which ones were safe to say and which ones would hurt and damage and lower her opinion of him. He could only frown at the carpet over her shoulder and drink in her scent, cheek to cheek with her.
Somewhere beyond the door, one of the crew said something about luggage. Footsteps approached and Roman and Melodie stepped apart.
* * *
An hour later, when the crew had dispersed to beach-based pursuits and the house was theirs alone, he caught up to Melodie in his master bedroom. She was in the walk-in closet, hanging a dress she’d obviously decided would be suitable for the wedding tomorrow.
He turned her toward him again, unable to keep from kissing her. He wanted her. Needed to make love to her. Not with the passion and lust of their first time, but with this well of tender cherishing overflowing within him. Soft feelings like gratitude and deep admiration filled him so thoroughly he had to pour them onto her, to somehow communicate how deeply he regarded her.
It was so intense they could only lie in silence afterward, bodies tangled, damp skin glued as if only a fragile cell wall kept them from conjoining into one being. He should have been disturbed by the magnitude of the moment, but he was oddly reassured. They fell asleep with the filmy white curtains shifting in the light breeze, the swish of low waves hypnotic and lulling.
* * *
The next morning Ingrid aimed a very pointed look at Melodie the moment she entered the house. The day already had got off to an extremely busy start with people arriving every five minutes. The wedding planners hired to replace Melodie were a male-female duo who were competent enough, but wound up with so many questions Melodie might as well have been the one organizing it all.
She had quietly appointed herself in charge rather than pressing Roman into that position. If she asked him whether a tent should be moved twelve feet, he gave the matter serious consideration. If anyone else asked him for an opinion, he gave them a look that suggested they take a long walk off his short dock.
So Melodie was running interference—even when she wound up in the guest room with his former PA, the bride-to-be.
“How—?” Ingrid blurted as she opened a small suitcase that was all makeup, hairbrushes, curling irons and body glitter.
“There was a misunderstanding. We worked it out,” Melodie said with a circumspect smile, not pretending she didn’t know what Ingrid was asking.
“Oh, Melodie,” Ingrid said with a pitiful shake of her head. “You’ve turned out just like him. Are you really not going to give me any of the details?”
“Maybe another time,” she lied. “When you’re not so busy. Surely you have better things to do today? The salon people have taken over the sitting room. Let me get a round of mimosas for you and the bridal party. I’ll meet you in there.”
The day came together beautifully. When Ingrid came down the stairs she was a vision, making the entire guest list gasp in unison. Lilies floated in the pool, carpet lining her route alongside it, but she still sent a wink toward Melodie as she made it past the hazard without mishap. She met Huxley under the archway set up for the occasion, and their vows and deep connection brought tears to Melodie’s eyes.