“Where are you taking me?” Turner asked.

Bridget had insisted on driving them to By Invitation Only, claiming that Victor was too tired after the long flight and she didn’t trust him behind the wheel.

It was true, but only partially. She had a surprise for him.

“You’ll see in a moment.”

He glanced out the window. “It looks like we are going to my apartment.”

Damn it. The guy was too shrewd for his own good. “Now look what you’ve done. You ruined my surprise.”

“Which is?”

She cast him a sidelong glance. “It won’t be much of a surprise if I tell you. Patience, my dear.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not easy to surprise me.”

“I know. Could you be a sport about it and pretend for five more minutes?”

“I don’t see what’s the point, but I’ll humor you.”

“Thank you.”

Sometimes the guy was such a dry stick. Oh, well, no one was perfect.

“I’ll even close my eyes.”

That was nice of him. “Just don’t fall asleep.”

“I won’t.”

That remained to be seen. Flying first class, he’d had a comfortable fully reclined seat to sleep in, but the question was whether he had. The events that had preceded the flight had probably left him in an agitated state.

Knowing Victor, Bridget suspected he’d been busy replaying every move and action in his mind and trying to figure out if he could’ve done anything differently.

Fortunately, he wasn’t snoring by the time they reached his building. “Unless you agree for me to carry you in, you need to open your eyes.”

His eyes still closed, Victor chuckled. “Watching a tiny thing like you carry me inside might give the security guy a heart attack. I can’t have it on my conscience.”

She sighed. “So you know where we are.”

“Obviously.”

“But do you know why?”

“You want to show me something Ingrid had done?”

“You guessed it.”

It was good Victor didn’t have an immortal’s sense of smell, or he would have known she was up to something.

“Close your eyes,” she said as they reached his door.

“As you command.”

Using the key Ingrid had dropped at her office, Bridget opened the door, and led Turner inside. “Okay, you can open them now.”

Hesitantly, Victor opened one eye and then the other. “It’s done.”

“Surprise!” Bridget clapped her hands. “Do you like it?”

They’d agreed not to take peeks during the renovation and let Ingrid do her thing uninterrupted. As always, the interior designer delivered and then some.

“I don’t recognize the place.”

“Is it good or bad?”

“Good.” He turned in a circle. “It feels so welcoming. Homey. I want to check out the couch.”

She took his hand and tugged. “I have a better idea. Let’s check out the rest of the apartment first.” Meaning the master bedroom.

Victor’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Lead the way.”

Even the hallway was beautifully decorated with framed art hanging on the walls and sconces bisecting the space in between every two pictures. Earth tones galore, and yet Ingrid had managed to preserve some of the contemporary feel by using a light palette of colors and fixtures that were not overly ornate.

“Are you ready for the master bedroom?” Bridget paused in front of the closed double doors.

“Should I close my eyes again?”

“I didn’t see it yet either. Should we both close our eyes?”

“If you want to.” From his tone, it was obvious he thought the idea silly.

“Nah, let’s just go in.” She depressed the handle and pushed the door open.

“Wait.” Victor caught her elbow. “I want to carry you in.”

“That’s silly.” She giggled as he lifted her anyway.

“What better way to test the new mattress’s bounciness than dropping you on it.”

Bridget wrapped her arms around his neck. “No one is dropping anyone. I’m not letting go.”

“Fine. More weight means more bounce.” Holding her tight, he leaped onto the beautiful four-poster bed, turning mid-air to land on his tush.

Pretty impressive for a forty-six-year-old human on chemo. It seemed the side effects were finally lessening.

“Thank you.” He kissed her.

“For what?”

“Pushing for this makeover. It’s perfect in a way I couldn’t have envisioned. I tried to make the place look less sterile for you, I even had Brian, my media specialist and a man of exquisite taste, come and spruce the place up a bit. But you saw the results.”

“You mean the few pillows and a blanket he threw on the couch?”

Victor grimaced. “Yeah, that was Brian’s work.”

“But you asked him to do it.” Which she thought had been incredibly sweet. He’d wanted his apartment to look nice for her.

“Well, to be honest, he suggested it, along with the wardrobe makeover.”

Bridget laughed. “That explains so much. At first, you seemed so uncomfortable in these clothes, as if you were wearing a costume. But now you own the look, Mister Suave.”

“You think I'm suave?”

“Indeed, and so very sexy.” She lowered her voice and batted her eyelashes. “I think we should put this bed to the test.”

Victor dropped back on the bed, pulling Bridget on top of him. “Kiss me, pretty lady.”