"Rips out your heart and makes you laugh?"
"Yes. Men never get that. I'm not going to tell you the whole thing, just that it's wrenching and charming and sad and affirming. It's unspeakably romantic."
"And that's what you do, secretly, in your bed at night, when you're alone."
"It is. Hundreds of times. I've had to replace the DVD twice."
Obviously baffled, he studied her as he drank champagne. "A dead guy's romantic?"
"Hello? Alan Rickman. And yes, in this case, it's wonderfully romantic. After I watch it-and finish crying-I sleep like a baby."
"What about Die Hard? He's in Die Hard. Now that's a movie you can watch a hundred times. Maybe we should do a double feature some time. If you can handle that."
"Yippee-ki-yay."
He grinned at her. "Pick a night next week, and you're on. But there has to be popcorn. You can't watch Die Hard without popcorn."
"Fair enough. Then we'll see what you're made of." She brushed her lips to his. "I'm going to change. It won't take me long. Maybe you should bring the champagne into the bedroom."
"Maybe I should."
In the bedroom he took off his jacket and tie, and thought about her. Thought about the surprises and facets and layers of her.
It was odd, really, to think you knew someone inside and out, and discover there was more to learn. And the more you learned the more you wanted to know.
On impulse, he took the rose from the vase and laid it on a pillow.
When she stepped out into the candlelight, he lost his breath. Black hair tumbling over white silk, smooth skin gold against white lace. And those eyes, he thought, deep and dark, looking into his.
"You said something about dream date," he managed.
"I wanted to do my part."
The silk flowed over her curves as she walked to him, and as she lifted her arms to wind them around his neck in a way that was so essentially Emma, her scent shimmered in the air like the candlelight.
"Did I thank you for dinner?"
"You did."
"Well . . ." She scraped her teeth over his bottom lip-lightly, lightly-before the kiss. "Thanks again. And the champagne? Did I thank you for that?"
"As I recall."
"Just in case." On a sigh her mouth met his. "And the candlelight, the rose, the long walk, the view." Her body moved against his, leading him into a slow, circling dance.
"You're welcome."
He drew her in, closer still, so her body pressed to his. Time spun out as they circled, as mouth clung to mouth, as heart beat to heart.
She drew in his scent, his flavor. So familiar and still so new. Her fingers trailed up into hair bronzed and gilded by the sun, then curled, tugged to bring him just a little closer.
They slid down together onto smooth white sheets, and into the perfume of a single red rose. More sighs now, more dreamy movements. A caress, a tender touch, shimmered over her skin. She stroked his face, opened-body and heart-as she found, with him, passion wrapped in the shimmer of romance.
Here was all she wanted, had ever wished for. The sweetness and the heat. And as she gave, more and more, she filled until she was dizzy with love.
His flesh to her flesh, so warm, brought her a quiet joy even as pulses spiked. His lips pressed to her heart as it beat for him.
Did he know it? Couldn't he feel it?
And when he took her up, slowly up, his name-just his name-bloomed in that heart.
She clouded his mind like a silver mist, sparkled in his blood like champagne. Every languorous move, every whisper, every touch seduced, entranced.
When she broke for him, rising up like a wave, she breathed his name. And she smiled.
Something inside him stumbled.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured. "Impossibly beautiful."
"I feel beautiful when you look at me."
He skimmed his fingers over her breast, watched her eyes glow with fresh pleasure. He lowered his mouth, a gentle taste with teeth and tongue, and felt her body quiver with fresh need.
"I want you." Her breath caught as she arched under him. "You're what I want, Jack."
She surrounded him, taking him in, moving with him in slow, savoring beats. Surrounded, he lost himself in her.
SATED, HE RESTED HIS CHEEK ON HER BREAST, LET HIS MIND drift.
"No chance of playing hooky tomorrow and staying right here?"
"Mmm." Her fingers threaded through his hair. "Not this time. But what a nice thought."
"The way things stand we'll have to get up at dawn."
"I find I often do better on no sleep than with a few stingy hours."