Sinners On Tour 06.1 Take Me to Paradise (Encores #1) (4 page)

Chapter Five

Myrna snuggled into her pillow and reached across the bed for Brian. She’d expected him to be sound asleep with exhaustion after their romp in the shower that had culminated in the comfortable king-sized bed, but the space beside her was empty. She lifted her head from the pillow and through the patio door spotted him standing against the balcony railing. He faced the ocean, his naked masculine form silhouetted by the orange globe of the sinking sun. Her girlish heart skipped a beat at the sight. She hadn’t known she still possessed a girlish heart before this man had become the most important facet of her life.

Wrapping a sheet around her nude body, Myrna rose from the bed and approached her husband. Her heart thudded with the anticipation of his touch, his kiss. She wondered if he would always make her pulse race. She was sure that even if they were both in their nineties and living in a nursing home, the sight of him—hell, the
thought
of him—would make her heart flutter. There was only one thing missing from her happily ever after, but it wasn’t from lack of trying. She pressed a hand to her lower abdomen and prayed for the miracle she wanted to share with Brian. Maybe she’d already conceived. But wouldn’t she know if she had? She didn’t feel any different. Surely creating a new life that was a mix of herself and the man she loved would make her feel something.

“I thought you were asleep¸” Brian said.

She lifted her gaze to his and smiled. “I was. Is there a reason you didn’t want to share the sunset with me?”

His arm circled her back, and he tugged her against his side. He placed a kiss near her temple and said, “I didn’t want to disturb your rest. I figured you were tired.”

“I did enjoy that nap. Why aren’t you resting?”

He shrugged. “I’m not really tired. I guess I’m used to traveling.”

And it kept them apart far more than she liked. It also made getting pregnant exceedingly difficult. Maybe someday she’d be able to join him on tour, but her current job situation wouldn’t allow it. She was already pushing boundaries by taking off on her honeymoon in the middle of the semester. She had probably overplayed the “recovering from the accident” card, but when she’d glimpsed mortality, she had realized that the only thing in her life she couldn’t live without was Brian.

“Hold on,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Myrna turned to watch him go into the suite. Yes, the sunset was spectacular, but it was no match for the allure of Brian Sinclair wearing nothing but her undivided attention. He switched on the kitchen light, and she could see him rummaging around, but she couldn’t tell what he was doing. A few moments later he returned with a bottle of champagne and a pair of flutes.

“I figured a toast was in order,” he said.

She remembered when he’d toasted her on their wedding night. He’d drenched her in champagne and licked it off her body. She wouldn’t mind a repeat performance, but tonight he played gentleman. After popping the cork, he poured them both a glass of champagne and set the bottle at their feet.

“To Myrna,” he said, tilting his glass toward her. “More beautiful than a sunset, more precious than diamonds, and finer than silk. I love you more with each breath I take.”

Her husband was an incurable romantic.

Myrna lifted her glass. “To Brian, who’s forgotten that champagne tastes better like this.”

She lifted her flute and tilted it toward her chest, a large drop splashing onto her chest before Brian caught her hand.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he said, his intense dark eyes locked with hers.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she wet her lips in preparation for his kiss.

“But sometimes I’d like a moment to enjoy your company outside the bedroom.”

“Technically, we’re not in the bedroom,” she said.

He chuckled. “Baby, with you, everywhere is the bedroom.”

“Then you have no choice. The only place to enjoy me is in the bedroom.”

He shook his head, his lips twisted in an amused smile. “You’re too clever for your own good.”

He claimed her lips in a heated kiss and then pulled away, his forehead resting against hers.

“Let me try this again,” he said, and lifted his glass once more. “To Myrna. Sexier than sin. Hornier than Trey.”

She snorted, thinking she could give the guy a run for his money.

“More irresistible than a cold beer on a hot afternoon.”

“And far less romantic than her husband,” she said, fighting the urge to tackle him to the deck and have her way with him. She knew she needed to allow these moments of tenderness between them to play through without instigating mind-blowing sex. Well, sometimes. Brian needed this kind of charming affection to make him happy, and she most assuredly wanted him delirious with joy.

“He doesn’t mind,” he said.

“Yeah, he does. He’s just too sweet to admit it.”

“I am not sweet.”

“Whatever you say,” she said with an indulging smile. “Sweetie.”

So maybe she couldn’t give him a baby as easily as they’d anticipated, but she could meet his other needs. Even ones she didn’t necessarily share.

“I raise a toast to my dearest husband, Brian. Sexier than an Italian sports car. Sweeter than syrup. More romantic than a sunset on the beach.”

Which they were missing because they were so wrapped up in each other. Not that she minded.

“What else?” he prompted.

She searched her brain for similes. “More tender than a Crock-Pot roast.”

He laughed, the arm around her back tightening to pull their lower bodies closer. “See,” he murmured, “you are romantic. No one has ever compared me to a hunk of meat before.”

“You don’t hang around your groupies much, do you?”

“Not if I can help it.” He lifted his glass once again. “To us. Two very different people perfect for each other.”

She’d definitely drink to that. Eyes locked with Brian’s, she smiled and clinked her glass against his before sipping her champagne. She’d wanted to come up with some unique and unusual way or place to make love to him while they were here, but it occurred to her that her planning something heart-stoppingly romantic would be much more meaningful to him. And knowing Brian, she also knew that if she romanced him, he would rock her world in the sack. Or on the beach. Or wherever they ended up sharing the day together.

His lips tasted of champagne when she kissed him briefly, but she pulled away before she got lost in him again. “I’ll be right back,” she promised and returned to the bedroom to find her clothes. She needed to talk to the concierge before the hour grew too late so she could plan a perfect day for her perfect husband.

“Where are you going?” Brian said as he entered the room behind her. “I thought we were watching the sunset.”

Not bothering with underclothes, she pulled a pale blue sundress over her head and presented her back to Brian so he’d zip her up. “We were, but it’s over.”

As he slowly tugged her zipper up the back of her sundress. “Oh. I was too wrapped up in you to notice.”

Damn, the man said the most knee-weakening things. She was never going to be able to outdo him in the romance department, but she was going to try on their honeymoon, by God. “I’ll be back soon. I’m just going out to plan a surprise. For you.”

Over her shoulder, she watched a delighted smile spread across his gorgeous face.

“A surprise? Is it that sexual adventure you promised?”

His lips brushed against her shoulder, and she was half tempted to coax him into the very inviting bed. But if she did that, she would have to delay her plans a day. Or, knowing Brian’s insatiable sexual appetite, two or three days.

“It might be. You’ll have to wait and see. Are we going out for dinner tonight or staying in?”

His hands slid around her body to her belly, and the brush of his lips became a seeking caress up the side of her neck. “I don’t think I can keep my hands off you long enough to behave properly in public.”

She was feeling the same way.

“Order room service while I’m out,” she said as she forced herself to step out of his embrace.

He trailed her to the door, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was entirely naked and partially aroused. It wasn’t something she could so easily ignore. She paused with her fingertips on the door handle and took a deep breath, trying to cool her ardor enough to face some stranger at the concierge desk.

“Change your mind about going out?” Brian said with a knowing smirk.

She wished she could get angry with him for being so damned distracting, but how could she possibly ignore the man when he was naked and half—make that
entirely
—hard in his ceaseless desire for her?

“One for the road,” she said breathlessly.

She collided with his hard body, her mouth seeking his as she drew him toward the kitchen. She gasped when he lifted her skirt and planted her warm butt on the cold surface of the countertop. And then he was inside her, filling her as only he could, claiming her in a frenzy of excitement and desire and lust until she shuddered with release and he followed her over the edge. Still buried deep inside her, he captured her face between his palms and kissed her long and deep. When he drew away, her eyes blinked open slowly and if she hadn’t already been boneless with satisfaction, she would have melted on the spot from the intensity of his loving gaze.

“I love you, Mrs. Sinclair.”

“I love you, Mr. Sinclair.”

“Do you think you’ve had enough of me to leave now?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting.

“I’ll never have enough of you.”

He grinned and stroked her hair. “Right answer.”

His smile faded slowly as he stared into her eyes and then leaned in to capture her lips with his. She got caught up in his kiss and in the warmth of his flesh beneath her palms.

She tugged her mouth free of his and rested her forehead against his shoulder. “I do need to go talk to the damned concierge.”

“I don’t need a surprise,” he said. “Just being here with you is enough.”

Enough
wasn’t what she was going for. She wanted to blow his mind and make his heart throb the way hers did whenever he opened his mouth. She hoped this concierge person was better at planning romance than she was. She needed her very own Cyrano de Bergerac under the balcony to tell her how to properly woo her husband. After a quick cleanup in the bathroom and opting to wear panties after all, she left the suite and hurried down to the lobby in search of romance assistance. She really envied women who were naturals at this kind of thing. It wasn’t easy for her to admit that she utterly sucked at it.

Luckily, the concierge just happened to be one of those naturals Myrna envied.

“I usually help men plan these sorts of things,” the middle-aged blonde said as she patted Myrna’s hand.

Myrna laughed. “My husband needs no help in the romance department. He always has his head in the clouds. But I want to be the romantic one for a change. With your help, of course.” She couldn’t believe she was actually flushing, but it was a bit embarrassing to admit to a perfect stranger that she didn’t have a romantic bone in her body.

“So what kinds of things does he like?”

The woman had an accent Myrna couldn’t quite place. Dutch, maybe?

“He loves the beach. And beer.”

“You’re in the penthouse, correct?”

Myrna nodded.

“You have access to a beach
palapa
. It comes automatically reserved with your room.”

“A palapa? What’s that?”

“It’s a bed on the beach surrounded on three sides by curtains and open to a spectacular view of the water.”

Myrna already had all sorts of erotic images racing through her head. “Oh, he’ll love that.”

“How about brunch on the beach? We’ll have room service bring your meal to the palapa.”

“That sounds wonderful. With beer for Brian?”

The woman’s pale blue eyes widened. “For brunch?”

“You underestimate how much my husband loves beer.”

“Perhaps you’d like to visit Balashi Brewery.” She started searching through brochures.

“Is it romantic there?” Myrna asked.

The woman chuckled. “Is beer ever romantic?”

How the hell should she know?

“We’ll save the brewery for another day. So . . . brunch in the palapa covers a few hours of romance in the morning. What else do you have?” Myrna asked, reaching for a stack of brochures.

The woman—whose name was Sharon according to her bronze nametag—insisted that parasailing wasn’t romantic, though it was fun, so Myrna kept that brochure with her brewery one for something to try later in the week. She settled on horseback riding on the beach and a private dinner cruise followed by a stroll to a lighthouse to watch the sunset. A perfectly romantic day for her perfectly romantic husband. Game plan in place, Myrna shook Sharon’s hand.

“Thanks so much for your help,” Myrna said. “I’d have had him snorkeling with sharks and skydiving if you hadn’t reeled me in.”

Sharon smiled warmly. “You should still do those things if you’re interested,” she insisted. “How about on Wednesday?”