Page 140 of My Real Love Affair

“Be right there,” I said.

I spritzed on perfume that was tropical and beachy. I checked my reflection one last time, forced my smile to reach my eyes.

I was going to enjoy my evening. The anonymous troll could get bent.

CHAPTER 43

AUSTIN

When Melody appeared at the top of the stairs to the dining deck, I forgot how to breathe.

The dress draped across her curves in a way that was both elegant and devastating. Her skin glowed, dusted with something that sparkled. She very literally shimmered under the fading sunlight.

She looked luxurious. Soft. Like something precious and rare that I didn’t quite deserve. But tonight, she was mine.

“Hi,” she said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks as she caught me staring.

“Hi.” I managed to remember how to speak. “You look incredible, although that doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“You like the dress?”

“I like what’s in the dress.” I stood, pulling out her chair. “But yeah, the dress is pretty spectacular too.”

“Such a gentleman,” she said.

“I’m learning.”

She laughed as she sat. I caught a whiff of her perfume. It wasn’t the usual citrus. It was something lighter. Something that reminded me of the beach. I kissed the top of her head and moved back around to sit on my side. But damn, all I reallywanted to do was grab her and drag her right back downstairs and ravage her. The day had been foreplay. I was primed and ready. I wanted her more than I wanted anything else.

But Jean-Pierre had been working on this meal all day. I could at least pretend to have some self-control. And I knew she had gotten dressed up for me. Just me. That was worth something. I wasn’t going to mess up her perfect makeup just yet.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Starving,” she replied.

I felt like something was off. The shower had been sensual. More foreplay for my already charged libido. But now she seemed to be withdrawn. Was she upset I didn’t finish what we started? I hated that she was constantly second-guessing my desire for her.

“Good,” I said. “Dinner is going to be perfect.”

I was wrong. It wasn’t perfect. Dinner was a masterpiece. Jean-Pierre had outdone himself with each course. Fresh local fish prepared three different ways, tropical fruits arranged like art, flavors I couldn’t even begin to identify but that somehow worked perfectly together. Each plate was presented like a work of art, colorful and creative and almost too beautiful to eat.

Almost.

We ate slowly, talking and laughing, watching the sun sink lower on the horizon. Melody told me about a disaster photoshoot she’d done early in her career where everything that could go wrong did go wrong. I told her about the time I’d crashed a Bancroft company party and accidentally started a rumor that we were acquiring a competitor.

The conversation flowed easily, like it always did with her. And yet something continued to feel off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Melody was smiling, laughing in all the right places,engaging with everything I said. But there was something in her eyes. A distance. Like part of her was somewhere else.

After dessert—some kind of passion fruit creation that melted on the tongue—Claire appeared with a knowing smile.

“If you’ll move to the lounge chairs, we have a surprise for you.”

We settled into the cushioned chairs on the upper deck. Melody curled against my side. I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her close, breathing in that perfume that was driving me crazy.

“What’s the surprise?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

Right on cue, the first firework exploded overhead.