Burned Hearts (Burned 3)

“Mikaela,” I said. “Dane agreed she should hear from us that he’s alive, before it’s broadcast globally. Which really could happen at any time now.”

I hadn’t put much thought into how that would drastically change our lives—yet again. One more issue to confront. There would be massive media interest and that might also cast the spotlight on the Lux, prematurely revealing its resurrection.

Damn, I really needed to consult with Amano about all of this, but I wasn’t exactly getting the warm and fuzzy vibes from him these days. Not that Amano ever exuded the warm fuzzies, but he definitely wasn’t looking to chum it up with me of late.

Kyle asked, “Do you think Mikaela can keep all your secrets?”

A legitimate question—I’d mentally posed it myself.

“I trust her,” Dane said. “It’ll be a leak related to the trials that outs me. I need to be ready when that happens. Tying up loose ends ahead of time will be helpful.”

“When’s the party?” Rosa chimed in, already knowing we’d make an event out of the baptism. With her help.

I spared a glance toward Dane. “Saturday night?” Just a few days away, but between Rosa and me, we could nail down all the arrangements.

“If that’s what you want,” Dane said, his prominent features softening.

My stomach fluttered. “That’s what I want.”

He grinned.

The backs of my eyes prickled, but I blinked away actual tears. This whole new family scenario stirred a lot of emotions, but I tried to remain collected. I’d had enough of the drama and the freak-outs.

“Seven o’clock,” I told everyone. “We’ll have a cocktail reception, then the ceremony, then dinner.”

I could see Rosa begin to make checklists in her head, the way I did for every festivity. She’d demonstrated on numerous occasions her ability to match my event-planning style and we complemented each other nicely. I was thrilled to have something celebratory to work with her on.

No more gloom and doom.

It would be a fun evening. Lots of champagne. Lots of food. Lots of laughter.

Precisely what this house needed.

chapter 13

On Saturday morning, Amano and Kyle picked up the elaborate arrangements I’d ordered from the florist I’d frequently worked with on weddings. I placed them, along with dozens of candles, throughout the foyer and the great room. The floor-to-ceiling glass doors were opened to let in the fresh, rain-scented air. I added soft background music as Rosa stocked the wet bar and then nestled bottles of champagne in the strategically placed standing chillers throughout the large space.

We set up several hors d’oeuvres stations with fancy finger foods on silver platters and a seafood tower. The tasks occupied my mind and kept my anxiety at bay over seeing Mikaela. I’d called her to invite her to the reception, leaving the actual occasion vague. A get-together I thought she might be interested in attending was all I’d said. She’d been surprised when I’d given the creek house address and gate code, so I’d briefly mentioned Rosa’s involvement and that seemed to appease Mikaela’s curiosity.

I couldn’t drop Amano’s name, of course. He was supposed to be dead as well. This was all tricky and delicate—like every other part of my life with Dane. But he’d agreed that including Mikaela in the circle of trust was the right thing to do. If Kyle had been presumed dead I’d want to know if he was really alive.

While Rosa went to work on dinner, I ducked into the enormous dressing room Dane and I shared. He was stepping out of the shower and I admired the view. He caught me gawking in the reflection of the mirror of the double vanity and gave me a cocky grin.

“Nice to see I still enthrall you.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Was there drool pooling in the corner of my mouth?”

“Funny.” He wrapped a thick towel low around the hips and tucked in the end.

“Must you cover up?”

“Yes, I must. You keep eyeing me as though I’m the Last Supper and we’ll never be ready in time.”

Yes, I feasted upon him with my gaze locked on his mouthwatering body. Fat drops rolled along the side of his neck, a few collecting in the indentation between his clavicle, others trickling down his expansive chest. One coated his small, pebbled nipple, and I couldn’t help stepping toward him and flicking my tongue over his hot skin, licking up the moisture.

He let out a sexy sound.

I gloated inwardly. Maybe I shouldn’t worry so much about Mikaela’s model perfection and worldly sophistication.