“Thanks so much for your help,” Myrna said. “I’d have had him snorkeling with sharks and skydiving if you hadn’t reeled me in.”
Sharon smiled warmly. “You should still do those things if you’re interested,” she insisted. “How about on Wednesday?”
“I’ll ask him if he’s game and get back to you.” She didn’t want to make all the decisions about their excursions while they were in Aruba. Just tomorrow’s.
“Perfect. I hope you enjoy your time together.”
“I’m sure we will,” Myrna said.
She enjoyed every minute with Brian, even if they were just sitting on the couch watching reruns of The Munsters, dining on pizza, hot wings and beer, and wearing T-shirts and sweatpants. But she was sure he’d be touched that she went to the trouble to try to be romantic for him. He was easy to please that way.
Smile on her face and a spring in her step, Myrna started toward the elevator and paused when she noticed that woman from the airplane standing at the front desk, examining a stack of business cards. What was her name? Something with a G.
“Big plans for tomorrow?” G asked her, her gaze lifting from the card in her hand to Myrna’s face.
“A few,” Myrna said.
“Have fun,” she said and walked toward the exit.
Myrna shook her head at the strange intrusion. It seemed like G—Gail!—had been standing there waiting for her. Or waiting to talk to the concierge. But then instead of talking to Sharon, Gail had just walked off. Myrna attributed Gail’s behavior to her general weirdness and returned to the room.
She found the dining table covered with room service food for their dinner, but there was no sign of Brian.
She made sure the Do Not Disturb sign was displayed outside before shutting and bolting the door behind her. “Brian?”
“In here,” he called from the bedroom.
She’d figured that was where he’d wait for her. She entered the room and found him on the bed. He was stretched out on his back, entirely naked, with several chocolate-dipped strawberries resting on his lower belly to draw attention to his glorious cock.
“I thought you might like to start with dessert,” he said with a suggestive smile.
“I might,” she said, unzipping her dress. She doubted she’d need it for the rest of the night.
Chapter Six
Brian stumbled over a step as Myrna led him blindfolded to some particular spot on the beach. He knew they were on the beach because the sand was warm against his bare feet, the cries of the gulls that had woken him that morning were much louder, and the sound of the surf striking the shoreline was more than a distant lullaby.
“I’m sorry,” Myrna said. “I can’t even do this properly.”
“Do what?”
“Surprise you. Is your foot okay?”
“It’s fine,” he said, though his toes were smarting a bit from when he’d stubbed them on some obstacle in their path. “And you’re doing great,” he added. “I’m totally surprised.” By what, he had no clue, since she’d insisted he keep his eyes covered.
She urged him up several steps, and he followed without hesitation, trusting her guidance even though she’d steered him into objects more than once on their trek from their hotel room to wherever they were headed.
Myrna placed his hands on a soft platform. It felt like a bed, but he figured he was mistaken; why would there be a bed on the beach? His stomach rumbled when the sweet scent of pastries greeted his nostrils. And was that bacon he smelled? Oh God, food. He hoped it was for him and not wafting over from someone else’s breakfast. He could really use a hot meal. By the time he and Myrna had found their way out of the bedroom and into the dining area for dinner, the feast he’d ordered had already turned cold and unappetizing. Filet mignon lost much of its appeal when it was warmed in the microwave.
“Climb up here,” Myrna said, helping him navigate his way onto what still felt like a bed.
He cheated a little and looked down through the narrow crack at the bottom of his blindfold. Smooth white linens crinkled beneath his hands and knees as he crawled up the mattress. He was definitely on a bed on the beach. What in the world?
Myrna settled him in a nest of pillows, making sure he was absolutely comfortable before she reached over and pulled off his blindfold. He blinked several times to allow his eyes to adjust to the glare of the brilliant sunshine sparkling across the surface of the water stretched before them.
“Surprise!” she said. “What do you think? Is it romantic?”
His heart thudded as it occurred to him that she was trying to be romantic for him. His Myrna—whose romantic streak was normally hair-thin—had arranged this outing to give him the warm fuzzies. And it had definitely worked. The location was spectacularly romantic, but his wife’s gesture was what had his eyes strangely misty.
“It’s incredibly romantic,” he said around the tightness in his chest.
She beamed as if he’d paid her the best compliment she’d ever had and reached for a plate of Danishes. She insisted on feeding them to him by pulling off pieces with her fingers and placing them into his mouth. She made him wash the sweets down with ice cold beer, which… yuck. But he choked it down without complaint because he knew that she was being thoughtful and trying to please him, and there was no way he’d do anything to make her feel like this wasn’t the best surprise he’d ever had, because it was right up there with her agreeing to marry him and her telling him that she wanted to start a family. Eventually his happiness got the better of him and he pulled her against his side for the closeness he craved. Yeah, he was a badass, famous metal guitarist who thought he just might die if he didn’t get to cuddle with his wife at that exact moment, and if anyone had a problem with that, well, fuck them.
Myrna linked her fingers with his and pressed her face against his neck. Her warm breath caressed his skin. The sweet scent of her hair and skin—vanilla with a hint of coconut—filled his nose. He didn’t need the view of the ocean stretched before them. His paradise was wrapped securely in his embrace.
“Should we pick out names?” she murmured. “Or will that jinx us?”
His arms tightened. Even now she was thinking about babies.
“I didn’t think you believed in luck,” he said.
“You’re right, I don’t. So if we have a boy, I think we should name him after your father,” she said.