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Once they were seated, the server placed a platter on the table filled with the conch fritters she loved.
‘This looks delicious, thank you,’ she said.
‘Jevon said they’re your favourite.’ The boy beamed, then addressed Rene. ‘I’ve left the rest of the meal on the serving trolley, Mr Gaultiere, as you requested,’ he said. ‘And Jevon says you’re all set for the rest of the week—he’s left an assortment of meals in the freezer and the fridge is fully stocked. If there’s anything you need, Marcia said to contact her. She wanted me to let you know a cleaning crew will be here for an hour each morning, but otherwise you’ve got the island to yourself.’
Rene nodded. ‘That’s great, Jerome. Tell everyone I appreciate their hard work and to enjoy the break.’
The boy smiled. ‘Yes, sir.’
He left swiftly, leaving them alone in the moonlight.
‘You dismissed the staff for the rest of the week?’ Mel asked, trying not to overthink his motives. She guessed it must have been a titanic effort to prepare for their arrival at such short notice, and they certainly deserved the time off.
Leaning back in his chair, Rene’s intense gaze roamed over her. ‘Yeah.’
‘Why?’ she asked, the butterflies doing somersaults.
Was it possible he craved the chance to spend some time alone with her? That his feelings might have deepened, too?
He shrugged, before lifting the carafe of hibiscus lemonade. ‘They’ve earned some paid vacation after the shifts they all put in getting this place ready,’ he said as he poured them both a glass. ‘And we don’t need to be waited on, we proved that in the cabin.’
‘True.’ She forced a wry smile to her lips as the butterflies relaxed.
She scooped up a bite of Jevon’s delicately spiced fritters, then swallowed it down with a mouthful of the fragrant lemonade.
She’d got way ahead of herself again but, even so, the chance to spend the rest of the week—until they could take the test—alone with him here was filled with possibilities.
‘Plus, I don’t want to risk anyone seeing you naked in the rainfall shower, or anywhere else for that matter.’ The low tone made the pulse of awareness at her core pound. ‘Anyone but me, that is.’
‘That sounds rather presumptuous,’ she said, trying to get the butterflies to behave again. ‘And possessive.’
But her half laugh came out on a raw breath when his eyes narrowed.
‘Presumptuous? I don’t think so.’ His lips curved, the sensual smile as provocative as his gaze when it dipped to her breasts—the nipples poked against the light cotton like missiles ready to launch. ‘But possessive?’ He let out a strained laugh, the sound arrogant and amused. ‘Definitely.’ He leaned forward, to trace a finger over the pulse point punching her collarbone. ‘If you haven’t figured it out yet, Melody, you’re mine. And I suspect you always will be.’ The kick of fierce joy was swiftly followed by apprehension though when he added, ‘Your body knows it, even if you don’t.’
His finger trailed down to brush the tight peak. She jolted back as savage yearning swept through her body.
‘I thought we agreed this isn’t just about sex?’ she managed as the cutlery she’d barely used clattered onto her plate. ‘That I need more than that.’
‘I’m not sure there is more,’ he said, but the muscle in his cheek tensed, and she wondered if he was really as confident and in control as he appeared.
She hoped not, because that would put her at even more of a disadvantage.
‘I know you want everyone to think that, Rene, but I don’t believe you,’ she offered, determined not to let him use his usual avoidance tactics.
He cocked his head to one side, but the shuttered expression wasn’t fooling her this time, because the muscle in his jaw was working overtime again.
‘You think because I have a few unexplained scars I’m a good guy, is that it?’ he said, the curt tone another giveaway. ‘We have an incredibly strong physical connection, Mel. Unlike you, I know exactly how rare that is, because I’ve never shared anything like it with another woman. But don’t make the mistake of confusing the endorphin rush of great sex with something more.’
She stiffened, absorbing the deliberately patronising tone—and the well-aimed hit to her confidence and belief, not just in herself but also in him and what they could have, if he would only let her in.
‘It’s not just the scars, Rene, it’s other stuff.’
He swore softly. ‘Like what, dammit?’ He sounded angry now, but somehow it felt like progress, the mask he had worn for so long starting to slip.
‘The nightmares… They seemed so real. You sounded so terrified, like an animal caught in a trap they couldn’t escape.’ She took a steadying breath, sympathy and compassion overwhelming her again as she recalled his broken, desperate pleading. ‘Or a child being punished for something they didn’t understand.’
His eyes narrowed, the frown becoming catastrophic, but he didn’t deny it.