Page 138 of My Real Love Affair

That actually sounded amazing. My arms were tired from swimming, and the thought of someone else working shampoo through my tangled mess of hair was tempting.

“Fine. But you actually have to wash my hair. No funny business.”

“I would never.” He was already turning on the shower, adjusting the temperature.

The bathroom filled with steam as we both stepped under the spray. The water was hot enough to soothe my sun-warmed skin but not scalding. I tipped my head back, letting it run over my face and through my hair.

Austin’s hands appeared with shampoo, and true to his word, he started working it through my hair. His fingers massaged my scalp. I couldn’t help the small sound of pleasure that escaped me.

“Feel good?” he asked, his voice low.

“So good. You’re hired as my permanent hair washer.”

“I accept. What’s the pay?”

“Kisses. Lots of kisses.”

“Best job offer I’ve ever received.”

He took his time, thoroughly washing every strand before rinsing it clean. Then came conditioner, which he applied with the same careful attention.

“How do you know how to do this?” I asked.

“Would you believe I went through a long-hair phase?”

“Like you had long hair or your girlfriend did?”

I was only half-joking. But to think of him washing another woman’s hair made me jealous, which was ridiculous. He had a past. I knew that. I didn’t expect him to be a saint.

“Me.” He chuckled. “I think I was sixteen or seventeen. Dad always made sure we had bi-weekly haircuts. Can’t have Bancrofts looking shaggy.

“How long did you let it get?”

“It was just past my shoulders. Then I got over it. It was a pain in the ass to keep up with. But it pissed my dad off. Mission success.”

I laughed and leaned back, allowing him to massage my scalp. “Well, if you lose your trust fund and all the other money you have stashed, you could make a killing washing hair.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

When my hair was rinsed clean, I returned the favor, washing his hair while he closed his eyes and let me work. His hair was thick and soft. I found myself taking my time, enjoying the intimate moment. I couldn’t believe how at ease I was with him. After his declaration on the beach, I decided to do better. I wasn’t going to second-guess his motives or let my self-esteem issues come through. He made it clear he liked what he saw and that’s what I was going to hold on to.

After we were both clean, he stepped out of the shower to give me a few minutes. I climbed out shortly after and slathered on lotion for my skin. I used some of the luxury moisturizer on my face and stepped into the state room.

There was a note on the bed. I smiled and picked it up. It was from Austin, letting me know he would see me at dinner. I knew it was going to be a nice dinner. Yes, it would just be the two of us, but I wanted to wow him. I wanted to feel as good as he thought I looked. When I packed, I had assumed there might be a few nice dinners at restaurants. We weren’t going to a restaurant, but that was okay.

I wasn’t dressing for anyone except him anyway.

My cheeks were pink from the sun despite all the sunscreen Austin had so thoroughly applied. My shoulders too. I’d probably feel it tomorrow, that tight warmth that came with too much sun exposure.

But for now? I looked glowing. Alive. More importantly, happy. I looked like a woman who spent the day on a tropical beach.

I sprayed myself with the glittery body oil I’d packed on a whim, the kind that caught the light and made skin shimmer. Probably too much for a normal dinner, but this wasn’t a normal dinner. This was dinner on a yacht in Tahiti with the man I loved.

The man I loved.

God, it still felt unsettling to think those words. To know they were true. I wasn’t ready to tell him that, but it was the truth. Maybe I would be able to tell him one day. Maybe he’d even say those precious words to me.

I reached for the dress I’d been saving, a simple silk number in blue. It had delicate draped straps and subtle beadwork along the neckline. I had bought the dress months ago and kept waiting for the right occasion. My dating life was pretty much dead. I kept telling myself I would wear it to a party, but it never felt quite right. The only other time I wore it was when I took pictures of it and posted it on my Instagram account. No matter how often I pulled it out of my closet, it never made it out the door.