Page 95 of Shea's Hero

Shea shakes her head. “I think I’m all set. Thank you.”

“We’re good,” I tell him. “Thank you. The food was fantastic.”

“Very well.” He smiles more broadly. “Would you like it charged to your room, or should I get the bill?”

“The room is fine,” Shea answers quickly. “Thanks so much.”

As soon as the server walks away, she rises from her seat and leans down to whisper in my ear. “I want to get upstairs to our suite. Dinner was fantastic, but I want to make love to my very sexy boyfriend.”

Oh.

My pants go tight.

Shit. Not now. Not when I have to walk through an entire restaurant to leave.

Sternly commanding the lower part of my body to calm down, I give myself a second before standing up. Then I wrap my arm around Shea and tuck her against my side before answeringquietly, “I’ve been thinking about taking that dress off you since the second I saw you with it on.”

“Oll.”Her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, and her breath catches. Glancing down, I notice her nipples pressing at the fabric of her dress. “Let’s hurry, then.”

“Yes.” I kiss her cheek, feeling the warmth of her velvety skin beneath my lips. “Let’s.”

But as we make our way back to our suite, it’s harder and harder to keep my cool. My pulse starts to skitter unevenly, and my back prickles with cold perspiration. It’s a struggle to keep up the easy flow of conversation we had throughout dinner as the moment of truth edges closer.

Just as we turn the corner into the hallway where are suite is located, Shea stops midway through her proposed itinerary for tomorrow—a trip to the Olympic bobsled run, lunch at one of the local breweries, and a drive to the summit of Whiteface Mountain, all of which sound great—to glance at me with a furrowed brow. “Oll, are you okay?”

“Sure. Of course. I’m great. Why?”

She inspects my face carefully. “Are you sure? Because you just got really quiet. And you seemed fine at dinner. Did you eat something that didn’t agree with you?”

I barely stifle a groan. Wonderful. I’m about to ask the most important question of my life, and Shea thinks I have food poisoning. Which isn’t the romantic feel I’m going for atall.

“I’m fine,” I reassure her. “Really. I was just thinking. That’s all.”

“If you don’t like my ideas for tomorrow, we can do something else. It doesn’t matter to me. We can have a lazy day at the beach if you’d rather relax. Or we can just hang out in the suite, order room service, hang out on the porch…”

“I love your ideas.” Slowing my pace, I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I think everything you said sounds perfect.”

“Okay…” There’s still a hint of doubt in Shea’s voice. “But you know, this isourvacation. So don’t feel like you have to agree to everything I suggest. If there’s something you want to do, just say it.”

Stopping in front of our door, I pull out the key card and swipe it, waiting for the little light to turn green before turning the knob. I don’t open the door though, but hold it slightly ajar, not quite ready to go inside. “Shea. I know that. But I want to do all those things. The bobsled run sounds awesome. So does the brewery. And I can’t wait to see the view from the top of Whiteface Mountain. I read you’re supposed to be able to see over a hundred miles if the weather is clear.”

“That’s what I read, too.” Her voice lifts with enthusiasm. “And I was talking to Hanna, you know she loves hiking, and she was telling me about the elevator that goes into the mountain to take you to the summit. You can see all the rocks inside and everything. It sounds so cool.” Pausing, she looks at me curiously. “Are you going to open the door?”

Yes. Thatwouldbe the natural thing to do.

“Right. Of course.”Did my voice just shake a little?With a deep inhale, I push the door open and peer inside, doing a quick visual sweep to make sure everything looks as it should.

And just for a second, my heart actually stops.

When I emailed the resort’s event planner a couple of weeks ago, asking if she could help set this up, I had an idea of how I wanted it to look. I sent photos and lengthy descriptions outlining what kinds of flowers there should be, how many candles, where they should go, and the exact brand of champagne that should be chilled and waiting.

So I knew it would be nice. But this?

It’s perfect.

“Oliver, why are you just standing…”

Shea trails off as she walks into the room, her eyes going wide as she takes it all in.

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