A Husband's Regret (The Unwanted Series)(54)

Their kiss had been mostly silent, punctuated by heavy breathing and the  occasional gasp or desperate moan. Now, as he lifted his head to stare  into her eyes, he smiled gently down at her.

"I love you," he whispered, and Bronwyn's face lit up as she smiled radiantly at him.

"I know you do, Bryce . . . but I never get sick of hearing those words," she told him.

"Well, since I'll never get tired of saying them, I guess we'll have to  resign ourselves to making each other revoltingly happy for the rest of  our lives." He stepped away from her reluctantly, and Bronwyn had to  bite back her protest as his gorgeous-and visibly aroused-body moved  beyond her reach. When she unconsciously raised one of her hands toward  him, he tut-tutted and waved a finger back and forth in front of her  face

"Hands off the merchandise, lady. I have plans for this evening and I  can't have you distracting me. Why don't you head up for a nap and a  shower? And chat with Kayla like you've been dying to do for the last  hour? Leave me to prepare our dinner."

She grinned at the thought of him bumbling about in the kitchen. He  really wasn't the domestic god he seemed to think he was. He made a  terrible mess and his meals were often culinary disasters, with  unpalatable over- or undercooked dishes. Still, he tried-bless him-and  she appreciated his efforts. He was always so disgustingly pleased with  himself that she didn't have the heart to mention the occasional raw  potato or the burned edges on a steak. She blew him a little kiss and  headed toward the hallway, picking up her overnight bag along the way.

"Dress code?" she turned to ask him, and he shrugged.

"Casual."

She nodded and turned away again.

"Give the munchkin my love."

She flicked him a thumbs-up to acknowledge his request.



She made her way back downstairs an hour later, feeling refreshed after a  short nap and a long shower. She had also called Kayla to say good  night but the little girl had been distracted by a game she was playing  with Rhys and Rick, so the call had been a little rushed. She had taken  Bryce at his word and hadn't dressed up, wearing only a pair of jeans  and a loose T-shirt. She hadn't bothered with shoes at all; the  under-floor heating kept her feet warm enough





  

Whatever Bryce was cooking up in the huge kitchen smelled surprisingly  good. She was a little mystified when she got to the kitchen and saw no  trace of him. Curiously, she poked around a few of the scattered  Tupperware containers left on the white marble top of the gorgeous stone  island in the middle of the kitchen. The whole house had a spacious log  cabin feel to it, with its stone floors and wooden walls and  high-beamed ceilings. Unfortunately her search yielded little in the way  of answers except to inform her that whatever Bryce was offering for  dinner was of the stick-in-the-microwave-and-heat variety. Which could  only mean that he had asked someone else-probably Celeste-to cook it.  She smiled ruefully at his minor deception, but her taste buds were  truly grateful.

She heard a sound coming from the living room and headed in that  direction. She found him out on the large, covered balcony, which had a  spectacular view of the lagoon. In fact, they were so close to the water  that it actually felt like they were on a boat out on the lagoon when  they stood on the balcony. In winter, they were able to enclose the  space entirely by slotting in glass panes between the eaves and the  balcony railing. It allowed them to still enjoy the view without being  exposed to the cold wind and rain. It was a pretty mild evening, so  Bryce had a couple of the panes open, allowing the night sounds and the  fragrant briny air to drift in.

He was bustling around the round table that he had shifted into the  center of the balcony. It was covered in a white tablecloth-the finest  linen of course-and he had pulled out all the stops, bringing out the  best china and silverware for the occasion. He also had a gorgeous  bouquet of red roses in a crystal vase as the centerpiece of the table.  He was currently struggling to keep the candles lit. Every time he  managed to get one tiny flame burning, a breeze would snuff it out, and  he was starting to curse under his breath. She giggled to herself when  he tried again, only to be foiled by another mischievous gust of wind.

She lovingly traced the lines of his strong back with her eyes and saw  that he had changed his clothes. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans  that conformed beautifully to the gorgeous curve of his firm butt and a  black dress shirt with a pair of running shoes. His hair was damp and a  bit messy, so he must have showered sometime in the last hour.

He swore even more vituperatively than before, and she rolled her eyes  before walking up to stand beside him. He was so absorbed in his task  that he didn't notice her until she placed a hand on his back. He jumped  before relaxing when he saw that it was Bronwyn.

"I can't get the damned things lit," he groused, gesturing to the two  tall, white candles beautifully showcased in their sterling silver  holders. Bronwyn twined her arm around his and sandwiched his large hand  between hers. She rested her cheek against his hard deltoid and  contemplated the problem, while idly playing with his fingers before  straightening up and smiling at him. The living room light illuminated  the balcony just enough to enable them to see each other. She held up a  finger indicating that he should wait there before dashing back inside  for a few minutes.

She returned with a triumphant smirk, holding up four little scented  Glade candles in glass holders. They usually kept them around for  candlelit baths. He grinned and grabbed a couple of the glasses from  her.

"Vanilla? My favorite," he announced happily as he placed them  strategically around the table. After they were lit, he frowned  doubtfully at the scant light they offered. "Are there any more?" he  asked, and she nodded.

I didn't want to ruin your dinner by having the whole place reek of vanilla. Everything would taste like cake, she signed.

Fair point, he acknowledged.

"I think this is perfect." She waved her arm at the table and he smiled.

"I think you're perfect." She snorted at that unnecessary bit of flattery, and he grinned again, sweeping her up in a hug.

"I'm starving," he growled, nipping at her neck to let her know exactly  what he was starving for. As if the erection insistently pushing against  her wasn't proof enough of that. She giggled and pushed him away.

"Down, boy," she teased. "I want to see what culinary feast you've  prepared for us tonight." She didn't miss the flash of guilt in his eyes  as he uncovered the chafing dishes at the other end of the beautifully  decorated table.

"We have"-he cleared his throat nervously, keeping his eyes  averted-"roast beef soup with crème fraîche, followed by salad with  vinaigrette dressing." More throat clearing. He really was getting truly  awful at deception. "Stuffed flank steak served with baby potatoes in a  garlic butter sauce, and triple chocolate mousse for dessert."





  

Her lips twitched at his discomfort as he raised miserable eyes to hers,  and when he saw her gentle smile, he heaved a huge, sad sigh.

"You know, don't you?" he asked wretchedly, and she nodded. "I'm sorry. I  wanted everything to be perfect tonight, and I didn't think burned meat  and hard potatoes would cut it this time." Again his gaze shifted  slightly to the left of her as his cheeks lit with shame. She put a soft  hand on his jaw and turned his head until he was looking at her again.

"Bryce, you're a man of many talents . . . unfortunately, cooking isn't  really one of them. I love you for trying and even though those other  meals weren't perfect, I enjoyed them because of the love that went into  the preparation. That said, this looks truly delicious, and I'm happy  you decided to forgo cooking tonight. Where did this come from?  Initially I thought you may have asked Celeste to prepare something for  us, but this doesn't at all resemble anything she has cooked for us  before."

"Yeah, it's from a local restaurant. They delivered it earlier when the  housekeeper was still here. They left very specific instructions on how  to reheat everything. I hope nothing has dried out or spoiled."

"I'm sure it'll be fine." She waved aside his concern. He helped her  into her chair and draped a napkin over her lap with flair. He sat down  to her left and angled his chair so that he could see her face and hands  clearly. The meal was divine, and they joked and fed each other as they  devoured the food in front of them. They had made their way through  half a bottle of delicious Cabernet Sauvignon, and as they licked the  last of their chocolate mousse off their spoons, Bryce reached for the  bottle to refill their long-stemmed wineglasses with the burgundy  liquid. He raised his glass and eyed her expectantly. She smiled and  raised hers as well.

"I know that I'm not the easiest guy to get along with, Bron," he  murmured, his voice shaking. "And that when you decided to give this  relationship a second chance, you also took on a whole boatload of my  emotional crap." His voice wobbled, and he paused to gain control of his  emotions. "I'm just so happy that you gave me another chance."