Red Lily (In the Garden 3)
The colors were deep and rich, long windows adding the sparkling lights of the city. In front of one, a table was set for two, and a bottle of champagne sat in a gleaming silver bucket.
There was music playing, slow, soft Memphis blues. Stunned, she turned a circle, saw the spiral staircase that led to a second level.
“You . . . you did this?”
“I wanted to be alone with you.”
Her heart was still in her throat as she turned to face him. “You did this for me?”
“For both of us.”
“This beautiful room—just for us. Flowers and candles, and God, champagne. I’m overwhelmed.”
“I want you to be.” He stepped to her, took both her hands. “I want tonight to be special, memorable.” And brought them to his lips. “Perfect.”
“It’s sure off to a good start. Harper, no one’s ever gone to so much trouble for me. I’ve never felt more special.”
“It’s just the start. I ordered dinner already. It’ll be up in about fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for us to have that drink. How do you feel about champagne?”
“I feel like I couldn’t settle for anything less right now. Thank you.” She leaned to him, took his mouth for a long, warm kiss.
“I’d better open that bottle, or I’ll forget the lineup of events.”
“There’s a lineup?”
“More or less.” He walked over to lift the bottle from the bucket. “And just so you can relax, I gave Mama the number here. She’s got that, your cell, mine, and I made her promise to call if Lily so much as hiccups.”
He popped the cork as she laughed. “All right. I’ll trust Roz to keep it all under control.”
She did a little spin, just couldn’t help herself. “I feel like Cinderella. Minus the evil stepsisters, and well, the pumpkin. But other than that, me and Cindy, we’re practically twins.”
“If the shoe fits.”
“I’m going to wallow in this, Harper, I may as well just tell you that. I don’t know how sophisticated I can be when I just want to jump up and down, go racing around to look at everything. I bet the bathrooms are amazing. Do you think that fireplace works? I know it’s too hot for a fire, but I don’t care.”
“We’ll light it. Here.” He handed her a glass, tapped his to it. “To memorable moments.”
She held the moment, the glow of it. “And to men who make them happen. Oh, wow,” she said after the first sip. “This is really good. Maybe I’m dreaming.”
“If you are, I am, too.”
“That’s all right then.”
He touched her, skimming his fingers over the back of her neck, exposed by her upswept hair. Then with the lightest of pressure eased her toward him. The knock on the door brought on a wry grin.
“Prompt service. I’ll get it. Once they’ve set up dinner, we’ll be completely alone.”
HE MADE IT all happen, she mused. The big picture, the tiny details so the evening unfolded for her like the pages of a storybook. And because of him, she was sitting in an elegant suite, sipping champagne with the romance of candlelight, the shimmer of firelight. Flowers scented the air. There was a lovely meal she could barely taste through the anticipation bubbling in her throat.
Tonight, they would make love.
“Tell me what it was like for you, growing up,” she asked him.
“I liked having brothers, even when they pissed me off.”
“You’re close. I can see that whenever they come to visit. Even though they live away from Memphis, the three of you are like a team.”
He topped off her glass. “Did you wish for sibs when you were a kid?”