She looked stunning.

Raoul was momentarily speechless when he opened his door and saw her there. He recognized the dress; she’d worn it before to some luncheon function or something. But there was something different tonight that he couldn’t put his finger on. Something that made her glow from the inside out. He’d like to think it was him, but he knew more realistically it was probably from the spa treatments he’d set up as a surprise for her.

Apparently that had been a good move on his part.

“You look beautiful,” he said quietly, standing aside. “I’m nearly ready.” He’d showered and changed after their day, choosing a tan summer suit with a white shirt and no tie. He wondered if he should reconsider that and pick one from the selection he’d brought, but then Stephani smiled at him and any thoughts of neckties fled.

Anticipation curled through his belly, taking him by surprise. These feelings—excitement, anticipation, even carnality—he’d never expected to feel them again. He pushed any guilt aside. It felt good to be alive. It felt good to be with her. Nothing else really mattered tonight, did it?

“I had a table reserved for us on the veranda,” he said, trying to sound normal when inside he was quaking. Quaking! Like a schoolboy on a first date. “Do you have a wrap?”

Her face fell. “I never thought. Can we stop by my suite first?”

“Of course.” He held out his hand. “And I can have the table moved if you like. We can sit inside.”

“No, I like the veranda.” She smiled up at him. “We’re almost always in formal dining rooms. The fresh air is . . . well, it feels like freedom, doesn’t it?”

He knew what she meant. And yet, the moment they stepped outside his suite, he dropped her hand.

They stopped for a moment as she went inside to get her wrap. When she came back out, a light ivory wrap covered her shoulders and looped around her elbows.

She was all class. She smiled up at him and put her hand at his elbow. Together they walked to the elevators and traveled down to the second floor where the restaurants were situated.

The veranda seating was elegance and comfort together. Wicker chairs provided a light, tropical vibe, but the candle lamps and white flower arrangements on each table provided intimacy and romance. They’d barely been seated a moment when a bottle of champagne was delivered to the table.

“Is champagne all right?” Raoul asked.

Her eyes lit up when she saw the bottle. “Is there ever a bad time for champagne?” she asked. The bottle was popped, the fizzy liquid delicately poured into crystal. The remainder of the bottle was nestled into a silver bucket of ice beside the table.

Raoul met Stephani’s gaze and lifted his glass. “To a beautiful night.”

Her cheeks flushed just a little, and when she reached to touch the rim of her glass to his, her shawl slipped off her shoulder. She was so beautiful. And he was really starting to realize how much she’d been there for him. In the early days it had been her job. He’d barely known her, after all, and was just happy to help someone in Ceci’s family by giving her a job, and happy to have someone so very capable running his office. It had been a win-win situation.

Somehow, over the years, they’d become friends. It had been in part because she’d attended some of the family functions, too, at Ceci’s insistence.

Then, when Ceci was gone . . . suddenly Stephani wasn’t family anymore. Except she was, and she stepped in and shouldered so much of the load. At the time he hadn’t seen it, but looking back now, he knew he’d been mired in grief and she’d kept things afloat.

Because she cared about him, expecting nothing in return.

It had taken all this time for him to see her. To really see her. And the vision was breathtaking.

They began with a delectable shrimp salad and artichokes with truffle ham and black olives, followed by more champagne. Their mains came—beef filet for him, braised lamb for her, and a bottle of full-bodied red. They chatted and laughed, made eyes at each other over the glimmer of the candle, and tasted each other’s dishes.

He loved how she seemed to enjoy the simple pleasures. The beef was tender and flavorful, and she closed her eyes as she tasted it from his fork. When she opened them, her tongue swept over her lips, licking away the butter and shallot sauce, and her pupils re-adjusted to the light. He swallowed tightly. Did she know what such an innocent gesture did to him?

“I haven’t said thank you for this afternoon,” she said quietly, toying with a roasted fig. “It was amazing, Raoul. Simply amazing.”

“You are welcome. And that’s just a sample of what the spa has to offer. We have three full days left, Steph. I want you to book yourself for one new treatment each day.” He winked at her. “Sometimes being a guinea pig is a pretty good job.”

“I will if you will,” she countered, surprising him. “There are men’s treatments too, you know. And if we’re supposed to be mixing business with relaxation, you deserve some pampering, too.”

He laughed. “Me?”

“Well, I haven’t looked at their services, but you’re probably spared from a body scrub or get rid of cellulite wrap.” She grinned, and took a sip from her wineglass. “But a facial feels so good. And you could do a massage, or a manicure.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Then he refilled her wineglass and they chatted longer, lingering over their entrees until they were finally cold and the candle on their table had burned low. Raoul was surprised to see they were the only ones left on the veranda. They’d certainly lingered over their meal.

“Dessert, Your Highness? Mademoiselle Savalas?”

“What do you think?” he asked.

She looked up at the waiter. “I’ve been longing to try the blackberry vacherin since I arrived.”

“My favorite, mademoiselle.” He smiled at her.

“And I’ll have the lemon tart,” Raoul said, giving a nod. “And we’ll each have a glass of Sauternes. ¿Sí, Stephani?”

He was so used to making decisions that he’d forgotten to defer to her, but she didn’t seem to mind at all. He certainly hadn’t meant to speak for her.

“That sounds lovely. Merci.”

When the waiter was gone, Raoul apologized. “I didn’t mean to order for you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s fine.” She gave a little shrug. “Raoul, I’ve known you long enough now that if I didn’t want it, I would have simply spoken up and said so.” She reached across the table and put her hand over his. “You have never been autocratic with me. And I have never once felt I couldn’t speak my mind if I really needed to.”

“Except to tell me your feelings.”

“Telling you my feelings wouldn’t have been helpful. That was a matter of discretion, not intimidation. They are two very different concepts.” She squeezed his fingers. “And far more complicated than whether or not I wanted a dessert wine.”

“You’re very good for me, you know,” he said, turning his hand over and twining his fingers with hers. “It can be lonely, being seen as the title. But you see me as a person. As a man.”

“More than is appropriate,” she murmured, keeping her voice low and intimate.

Dessert arrived and he slid his fingers away from hers, somewhat reluctantly. They still needed to be discreet, and despite the lack of diners around, it was no secret among the staff that he was here. He scooped up some of the tart, but barely tasted it as their eyes met time after time, and it seemed as if the lingering part of dinner was over. Now there was a different energy, a desire to finish, a need to move on to whatever came next.

Because something was going to happen tonight. He wasn’t sure what, but something was. He’d been utterly appropriate ever since their arrival, but now . . . he wanted to move forward. But only if she was on the same page.

When their dishes were cleared, he held out a hand. “Shall we?”

“Of course.”

She stood, and wobbled a little. Her eyes widened as she picked up her little purse. “Oh my. I do believe the wine has gone to my head.”

“Maybe a walk on the beach?” It was nearly dark now, and the stars were starting to poke through the indigo sky.

“I’m afraid of slipping in the sand,” she confessed. “But I wouldn’t say no to a stroll through the gardens.”

She took his arm once more, and looked up at him with a tenderness that made him want to say the hell with it and sweep her up in his arms. Such a spectacle was out of the question, though, so he stroked a finger over the hand that rested on his elbow.

The gardens would prolong the evening, but Raoul was more sure than ever that it would end with the two of them in his suite. What happened after that was up to her.

* * *

Stephani tried to ignore the way her pulse quickened every time Raoul touched her, but it was no good. She’d had a little too much wine at dinner, but figured a walk in the resort gardens would be a good way to clear her head.

Only she’d been so wrong.

Their steps slowed as they made their way along the cobbled paths. The rosebushes, hedges, and shrubs were no doubt beautiful, but in the evening light, they cast secretive shadows. It was secluded and hardly anyone was there. One moment they saw another couple, the next they were completely alone.

“It was a good day,” Raoul said softly. His shoulder brushed against hers.

“Yes, it was.” She couldn’t look up at him. Couldn’t meet his gaze and let him see the temptation, the longing she knew had to show. So she kept her eyes straight ahead on the path, focused on remaining steady on her slim heels. “I’ve never felt so pampered, Raoul. Thank you so much.”

“I wanted to do it for you.”

His words sent a thrill through her. A boss would say “you earned it.” But wanting to do something for another person . . . that came from affection.

“You never realize just how much tension you’re holding in your body until someone works it out,” she replied, but immediately was aware of the innuendo of her words. Or maybe that was just because she couldn’t get him off her mind. All evening she’d been thinking about sliding that suit jacket off his shoulders and unbuttoning the white shirt. She’d seen him shirtless before, like this morning in the pool, and she wanted him with a yearning so intense it sometimes threatened to overwhelm her. Until last week, everything had been in her imagination. But she’d tasted him now, touched him. Knew the texture of his skin and the sound of his sigh in her ear.

Too much wine. She’d definitely overdone it.

“Steph,” he said, and halted.

They were in the shadow of a hedge, the little green leaves nearly black in the growing dark.

“We shouldn’t . . . we’re in the garden, Raoul. We still need to be discreet.”

“I know. I just . . . one kiss. Just one to get me through until we get upstairs to some privacy.”

Whoosh. The flames she’d tried to keep banked throughout the evening flared to life. He murmured something in Spanish, but she couldn’t make it out because he was pulling her close at the same time, pressing his mouth to hers. She opened her lips to him, inviting him in.

“Mmmm.” His lips vibrated with the sound, and desire rushed through her limbs to her core. Even though she was in heels, he was taller than she, and she stood a little more on tiptoe to nibble at his mouth. Her wrap slipped off her arm and dangled to the grass, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to taste him, to feel the urgency pounding between them.

He pulled away, breathing hard, his lips slightly swollen. “You were right. This isn’t wise. One kiss isn’t going to satisfy me and I’m not into public displays of . . . well.” He cupped her jaw. “There are stolen kisses and then there’s playing with fire.”

“I know,” she replied. “I knew it would be like this. I knew—”

He cut her off with another searing kiss, then tugged on her hand. “Stephani, I know you said you wanted to be ready, so I’m going to ask you and I want you to be honest with me.”

Her heart clubbed so hard against her ribs she could hear it in her ears.

“Will you come to my suite tonight? Stay with me?”

She nodded dumbly, her chin bobbing up and down. He reached over and snagged the end of her shawl, tucking it back up over her shoulder.

“Okay, then,” he said, letting out a huge breath. “Okay.”

She got the feeling he was trying to measure his steps so that they didn’t appear to hurry, but they were failing miserably. Her sandals tripped over the stones as if she were dancing, and once inside they headed straight for the elevator bank. They rode up alone, and Stephani had the crazy urge to kiss him while the doors were shut, but she also knew there were probably cameras feeding through to a security room somewhere. She also knew that guaranteed privacy was rarely ever really guaranteed.

The doors opened with a subtle ding.

Before they ever got to their hallway, Raoul was fishing in his pocket for his key card. She stood back while he inserted it in the slot, then waited as he swung open the door and pulled her inside.

The door shut with a definitive click, Raoul tossed the key card on a nearby chair, and then pressed her against the closed door as he kissed her thoroughly.

Never in her life had she been kissed this way. Not even the other night when they’d made out on her sofa. This was desperation and desire and naked need, and she gave herself over to it. Her shawl slipped to the floor in a puddle of ivory silk. Raoul plunged his hands into her hair, scattering pins and tearing the petals on the fragile hibiscus blossom. When his mouth glided up her neck, her eyes slammed shut and she half gasped, half moaned with delight.

He put his hands in hers, then pinned them against the door as he deliberately devoured her mouth.

She wilted, succumbing completely to the pleasure rushing through her body. She pulled her hands away from his, then pushed his jacket off his shoulders. “Need to touch you, too,” she rasped, ripping his shirttails out of his trousers. He reached behind her, between her and the door, and found the little hasp of her zipper. It slid down, down, down to the hollow of her spine, until his hand slipped just inside and touched the indentation just above her tailbone.

The time had passed for modesty or even restraint. Now there was only room for honesty, and Stephani took a step away from the door, slipped the dress from her shoulders, and let it drop to the floor.

Raoul’s breath came out in a rush. “Dios mío,” he breathed. “You’re beautiful.”

She’d kept her underwear simple but pretty for the evening—a bra and panty set in ivory satin. It wasn’t just that he said she was beautiful, she felt beautiful. She still wore the sandals on her feet, and she took a few steps toward Raoul until she could reach the buttons on his shirt. One by one she slipped them through the holes.

“You’re sure?” she asked quietly. She didn’t want to keep going if he had reservations of any sort. “I know it’s the first time since . . .”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. Truth was, she couldn’t know for certain if it was his first time since Ceci’s death or not. She only assumed because of the man he was. He wasn’t the type to have casual sex. Particularly not when he was nursing a broken heart.

He smiled tenderly at her. “Are you asking for consent, Stephani?”

“I guess I am.”

“Then I’ll answer. I’m sure. I’m sure that I want to do this, and I’m sure because it’s with you, and I know I’m safe. I trust you, more than anyone in the world. I want you so much I ache with it. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The urgency was now mixed with an emotion she found hard to define. There was a gravity now, a depth that terrified her and made her incredibly happy all at once.

“More than you know,” she whispered, as she moved into his arms.