A Groom For The Taking

She shook her head.

‘So Sonja cooks?’

Hannah laughed so hard she all but pulled a muscle.

‘What do you live on?’ he asked.

‘Fresh air, hard work, and as many eggs Benedict with extra bacon as I can stomach.’

He laughed again—only this time a small frown creased his forehead. As if he was trying to figure her out. Really trying. She couldn’t remember her boss ever doing anything but taking her at face value. The glow inside her began to pulse.

It didn’t help that every few seconds images kept springing unbidden into her head. The sensation of hot water lapping against her thrumming naked body as she watched Bradley strip. His mouth becoming more intimate with parts of her than she had herself. The feel of all that hot muscle bunching under her fingernails as she bucked beneath him …

‘So, what’s the plan for today?’

Bradley’s voice cut into her daydreams. She glanced at her wrist, and then rubbed at the naked spot. She must have put her dad’s watch somewhere during the night.

‘Today’s grand plan? Well, I’m sorry to say we missed the practice releasing of the doves. But no matter. Just after lunch there’s a sewing class for the girls. And burping contests for the boys.’

She contemplated adding something that involved the entire wedding party getting together to decorate the chapel. But he was making her breakfast.

‘You are kidding?’ he said.

‘Am I?’

She looked up to find Bradley’s eyes had finally contacted fully with hers. Deep, dark, smoky, beautiful grey. Perhaps more distant than they had been hours earlier. But that was forgivable. She was feeling a little tender and unsure herself.

‘God, you’re easy,’ she said. ‘There’s a day-long movie marathon in the ballroom. Beanbags and blankets to snuggle into as you watch Tim and Elyse’s favourite romantic films, one after the other. And this time I’m not kidding.’

His eye twitched at the thought.

‘Relax,’ she said. ‘Since you’ve been so nice as to make me breakfast, I’m letting you off the hook.’

‘Whatever will we do instead?’ He licked a blob of hollandaise sauce from his finger, switched off the stove, and moved around the counter. Her body responded like a heat lamp on a chilled lizard—it stretched and unfurled and curved towards the source of heat.

She held on tight to her sheet and put her bare feet flat on the ground. She realised she needed a little time to fully come to terms with what had happened. What was still happening. What Bradley was imagining would happen. At least till Tuesday. And jumping back into bed with Bradley was not going to help.

She held up a hand. ‘I have a proposal.’

The last time those words had been spoken between them it had directly led to her pouncing on him. Clearly he remembered it too.

‘Do tell.’

She waggled a finger. He stilled. Good boy.

‘There is a beautiful mountain right on our doorstep. It’s a foothill compared with what you’re used to, but it’s still something really special. There are twenty-odd walking trails, plant and animal varieties found nowhere else on earth, horseback rides, mountain-biking, flyfishing. Let me show you a sneak peek. If you don’t get to see any more of this island than the inside of this hotel, I’ll never forgive myself.’

His dark eyes flickered to life, and his mouth curved into the kind of smile that told her that getting to know every inch of the inside of this suite was fine by him.

Her blissfully aching inner thighs tingled in anticipation. But they needed a break. They needed time to recuperate. What better way than an arduous walk around a mountain on a freezing cold morning?

She was going to be the best, most professional tour guide ever.

‘Indulge me?’ she begged.

‘Fine,’ he said, finally turning back to the bench where he finished plating up. ‘Breakfast first. I need to regain my strength. Then you can be my tour guide. Prove to me why this place makes you go all sentimental and glistening and get that crazy schmaltzy look in your eye.’

Hannah shook her head. ‘I’m not sentimental, or a glistener, or in any way schmaltzy. I am a sharp, cool-headed professional.’

He slung a plate in front of her. It smelled insanely good. Soft gooey egg, perfectly toasted muffin, gorgeously rich sauce. She felt herself curling towards it, her nostrils flaring, a hum of appreciation buzzing in her chest. She might even have licked her lips.

‘Sharp, cool-headed professional?’ he said, grinning at her. ‘Want to know the three words I’d use to describe you right now?’

She sat up straight. ‘No. I really don’t.’

Bradley did as he was told and said not another word as he dug into his food.

She did the same. And it tasted as good as it looked. Better, even. Way better. As the egg yolk popped in her mouth and the strong tang of the sauce curled around her tongue she knew it was the best eggs Benedict she’d ever eaten or would likely eat again.

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