Page 65 of Frozen Heart
“Cancún.” He was grinning, enjoying my surprise.
He’d remembered, even though I’d just mentioned it once. Emotion swelled in my chest, until I could barely speak. “When?”
Radimir made a show of checking his watch. “We’re leaving for the airport in... thirty-seven minutes.”
“What?!I’m not packed!” I wasn’t evendressed.
“What do you need for Cancún? Passport. Sunscreen. Sunglasses.” His eyes gleamed. “A swimsuit.”
Books,I added mentally. “But I don’t have summery clothes…”
“There are shops at the airport. I will buy you whatever you want.”
“But the store?—”
“I’ve already spoken to your friend Jen. She’s happy to watch the store. She said to say, “don’tworry and have a good time.”
Oh my God.I flung my arms around him. “Thank you!”Then I shook my head in amazement. “How did you book all this?When?!”
“Yesterday. Remember just before the wedding dinner, when I went to the bathroom? I made a few phone calls.”
He’d organized a honeymoon as soon as the wedding turned real. I hugged him even tighter. And then I ran off to get dressed.
Less than an hour later, we were climbing out of a limo at O’Hare International Airport. I started making my way towards the end of the long, snaking check-in line. But Radimir slipped his arm around my waist and led me to a small desk at the end of the room markedPlatinum Club Check In.“Radimir Aristov,” he told them. Then he glanced at me proudly. “And my wife.”
I wasn’t ready for the way my heart lifted when he said it like that. I found his hand and squeezed it hard.
In less than sixty seconds, we were checked in and shown through to a private lounge. A waiter passed me a glass of champagne. There were plates of pastries and fancy coffee machines, five different gateaux, canapes andyou could just take whatever you wanted.Or I could get my nails done, or a facial.
“Would you like a massage?” asked Radimir. “Very soothing.”
“Maybe later.” I was looking at the other women in the lounge. They were all effortlessly elegant, lounging in white armchairs in flawless white travel outfits, their matching white leather carry-on bags with their gold Gucci logos artfully displayed beside them. I was in jeans, sneakers and I’d thrown my books and other essentials into a blue nylon backpack witha broken strap. “Were you serious about buying me clothes?” I mumbled.
“Of course.” He tugged his waistcoat straight. “And a swimsuit,” he said firmly.
That was the second time he’d mentioned swimsuits. No one had ever gotten excited about seeing me in one before, but there was no mistaking the lust in his eyes, and it lit a warm glow inside me. I nodded and he took my hand and led me towards the airport’s stores.
A few hours later, I was sitting in a huge, gray leather seat that turned into a bed, thirty-thousand feet in the air. Anotherglass of champagne was in my hand, and I was browsing the lunch menu in amazement. Did I want the pan-seared salmon with a lemon-garlic butter sauce served on a bed of lime cilantro rice? Or the honey-glazed pork chop served with mango salsa and roasted green beans?
And barely four hours afterthat,I was walking out of the air-conditioned airport in Cancún and into scorching tropical heat. After months of freezing winds and damp slush, it felt like heaven.
As the limo whisked us off to the resort, I stared out of the window at the ocean. I’d always figured the photos were Photoshopped but...no, it reallywasthat beautiful cyan shade you see in the ads.
The hotel was an ultramodern block of smooth white wrapped in bands of smoked glass windows, as if someone had parked a spaceship next to the beach. But after check-in, we were taken down a winding path to a quiet glade where a handful oftraditional villas looked out over their own private beach. “Will we get our ownvilla?”I squeaked.
Outside, the villa had white stucco walls and traditional, heavy wooden shutters. But inside it was sleekly modern, with crisp white bed linen and a wet room. I looked out of the window at the ocean, then back at the hotel where there were four restaurants, six pools and a spa. “What do you want to do first?” I asked, overwhelmed.
He stepped closer and his eyes glazed with lust. For a moment, I thought he was going to just toss me on the bed. But then his eyes went to the collection of paper bags I’d picked up in the airport stores. One bag in particular.
“Oh,”I said. “I get it.”
“You could wear it to the pool,” he told me. “Or to the beach. Or just...in here.”
I felt a smile tug at my lips. He was always so sophisticated, so in control...but when something turned him on, he transformed into a big, horny beast, and I loved him for it. “Okay,”I said, defeated. “Give me a minute.”
In the bathroom, I adjusted straps and tweaked fabric until it was sitting right. Then I put my hair into a braid, so it didn’t turn into a damp cloud if I swam and opened the door.
He’d helped me pick out the swimsuit—he’dinsistedon it—but he’d only seen it on the hanger. Now he saw it on me and?—