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Bishop rests his chin against my shoulder. “Happy?”

I cover his hands with mine. “Ridiculously.”

“Good.”

I turn my head and kiss him.

His hand comes up to cradle my cheek.

And for a few minutes, we forget about everything else, including the fact that bathwater doesn't stay warm forever.

Eventually, I shiver.

Bishop notices immediately. “Cold?”

“A little.”

“Come on.” He shifts behind me, careful as he stands.

Water runs down his chest and arms as he steps onto the bathmat. I take a moment to appreciate the view because I'm only human.

He catches me looking. “See something you like?”

“Unfortunately.”

He grins and reaches for one of the enormous white towels. “Up you go.”

I stand, and before I can reach for the towel myself, he wraps it around me. It's ridiculously soft. Warm, too. He must have heated it.

Of course he did.

He tucks it securely around my shoulders and rubs my arms. “Better?”

I nod. “Much.”

He kisses my forehead. “Good.”

I glance toward the bench. “Where are my clothes?”

He smiles. “Not gonna need them.”

My eyebrows rise. “Oh, really?”

“Really.” He takes my hand and leads me toward the bedroom.

The bedroom looks like the second half of a very elaborate plan.

More candles glow on the dresser and bedside tables, safely arranged away from the curtains and bedding. A bottle of champagne rests in an ice bucket beside two glasses, and there's a small stack of wrapped presents on the bed.

I stop in the doorway. “Bishop.”

He looks over his shoulder. “What?”

“Did you secretly hire a romance consultant?”

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

“Not even a little.”