“You heard me.” She bumped into him as the boat did another little roll over some wave. He put his hands on her hips to steady her. Shaking him off, she jerked up the next domed lid only to find tiny crescent cut sandwiches. Clanking it down, she looked under the third.
“For the love of God, do your people not ever serve chocolate? I need liquor or chocolate for this discussion. Since I can’t drink thanks to the shot, I want chocolate.”
Whirling she faced him and, had her mood been less dark, the utter surprise in his expression might have been comical.
“No, I’ve never slept with Terry. I’ve never even considered it. Yes, I’ve slept with him in my house on more than one occasion. He’s held my hand during take offs and landings for the last seventeen trips because planes scare the crap out of me. If you understand the math of velocity, they’d scare the crap out of you, too. He was there when I got the news about your stabbing, and he held me while I cried. He’s the only person I know who knows who you are and what you mean to me. He also held his ground and tried to protect me whenIdecided I couldn’t do this anymore.”
She took a step toward him and planted a finger in the middle of Sebastian’s chest. “It bothers you he’sfriendlywith me and heoversteps? Guess what? I have to stare at buxom models, practically spilling out of their clothes, hanging all over you, all the time.” She punctuated each word with a thrust of her finger against his chest. “So suck it up and get me some chocolate.”
It nearly ruined her demand when she weaved her way back to the bed, but she sat with a thump and folded her arms. Sebastian eyed her a long moment before saying in a soft voice edged by concern. “You’re afraid of flying?”
Really?She stared at him.Thatwas his takeaway? No, she wouldn’t answer him. Not while her emotions staged a prison break and rioted through her system. The physician gave her a sedative because she’d experienced a rather rude anxiety attack thirty seconds after Sebastian left the room. Terror from the whole day swamped her. Sebastian lived in a fortress barricaded by armed guards. She’d always known about the potential danger, because his security was rather impossible to miss, but she hadn’t understood the ramifications, not truly, until today.
A moment later, she heard him pick up the phone and say, “We need chocolate. Yes, hot chocolate is fine, but…No, just bring all of it. Thank you.” He hung up and a couple seconds passed before the bed dipped with his weight. His arm came around her. She stiffened, but he didn’t pull her to him so much as drop his chin onto her shoulder and hold her.
Only the hushed sound of his breathing filled the quiet. She could feel the steady thump of his heart where his chest pressed against her back. The rigidity in her spine began to ease because of his nearness. Being surrounded in the rich masculine scent of him further calmed her, but beneath the smell of him, she could detect the barest hint of cordite—gunpowder. He didn’t have the time to shower or do much of anything since the island attack, too occupied trying to look after her and Terry.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” she whispered on a sigh. His arm tightened once, but he said nothing. After a long moment, she frowned. “Bastian?”
“I’m not saying a word until the chocolate gets here,” he told her solemnly.
Surprised, Meredith twisted to look at him and, beneath his very serious mask, a glint of humor warmed his eyes. The corner of her mouth started to twitch and, as one, they burst out laughing.
Chapter 9
Sebastian
True to his word, Bastian didn’t say anything until the chocolate arrived. When it did, he filled two mugs with hot cocoa and set up a tray on the bed. By unspoken agreement, they sat across from each other. The chef sent up a tray of chocolate delicacies from strawberries wrapped in dark and white chocolate to mousse. “You know, a candy bar would have sufficed.”
The corner of his mouth curved up. “Don’t tell Philippe. He will be disappointed if you don’t enjoy these. Desserts are his favorite to prepare, though I admit his talents are wasted on me and my brothers.”
“I suppose offending him wouldn’t help anyone.” Meredith wrinkled her nose, but picked up one of the strawberries.
“No.” He sighed and set his mug down on the table next to the bed. The weighted bottoms on the cups and plates kept them steady. It was amazing how comfortable she was with the sway of the yacht. It had taken her several visits to acclimate. “Meredith, are you really afraid of flying?”
She sighed, wishing not for the first time that she hadn’t blurted her confession out. “Yes. It makes me nervous. The doctor gave me a prescription, but sometimes I don’t have itwith me.” Like when he would surprise her, sending a car to the school to fetch her with no warning. She’d leave without even a bag to her name and endure the trip. “I got used to it, and you were always waiting for me on the other end of the flight.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He frowned. “I’ve flown you all over the world.”
“I know.” Meredith finished the strawberry and reached for one of the glass dishes filled with dark chocolate mousse. Dipping her spoon in, she shrugged. “I wanted to see you and it never seemed important once I was there. I’m not always afraid. You actually make me forget I’m on a plane when you’re with me.”
His expression softened. “Be that as it may, tell me when something frightens you. I can’t fix it if I don’t know there is a problem.”
“Oh, you mean like me not knowing you wanted to marry me? How was I supposed to know, again?” She pinned him with a look. “Which conversation about that lovely little gem did I miss?”
Bastian leaned his head back and let out a groan. “I’ve wanted to propose since our first anniversary.”
Her spoon halted halfway to her mouth. They’d been on the yacht during their first anniversary, her very first trip. He surprised her, one of many over the course of their weeklong interlude. She remembered it was the first time Bastian made sure it was only the two of them. Even with the yacht’s staff and his regular security, she’d seen very little of anyone besides Bastian. They’d sailed through tropics, swam in crystal clear waters, and just played together. “I don’t remember a proposal…” Granted, they drank alotof wine over the duration of the week, but she’d remember regardless, wouldn’t she?
Amusement warred with exasperation in his expression. “Do you remember the night we dined on the deck?”
She remembered skinny-dipping afterward, and her face heated. Bastian showed her the glowing plankton and fish. The water had been warm, like silk. Clearing her throat, she nodded and stuffed a spoonful of mousse into her mouth to keep the decadent thoughts to herself.
His smile deepened, revealing his dimple. Everything in her went low and tight. She loved him so much. “I am referring to the dinner, not the beauty afterward.”
“Yes.” She blushed and dipped her head to let her hair fall over her face. It never failed. He could turn her into a puddle of schoolgirl neuroses and longing with one look. “I remember. We ate something incredibly fancy with four names and seven courses and a bottle of very expensive French wine that you told me a story about.”
This time he gave her a true grin. “And they delivered the black velvet box with the dinner.”
