As he’d requested, his staff had set a small round table in the great room. The dining room was too large, the table too big. Being close to Sara was paramount.
From the crystal stemware to the solid sterling settings, the table was perfect. Shades might not make great company, but they were excellent house staff. He pulled out her chair to seat her, then seated himself.
Vitus came from the shadows to fill their wine glasses, then the meal service began. Sara gushed over the wine, the food, the place settings...it seemed he had done everything right.
Until dessert.
Her smile faded slightly as Vitus set the pear poached in champagne and drizzled with raspberry sauce before her.
“Something wrong?” Azrael asked.
“No, everything’s wonderful.” She nudged the pear with her spoon.
“You don’t like fruit?”
“I love fruit. It’s very good for you.”
He grinned, suddenly aware of his error. “But it’s not chocolate, is it?”
She smiled sheepishly. “Chocolate is a weakness. But ignore me. This is lovely, really.”
He sat back, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “What would your ideal dessert be? More of that coffee ice cream?”
“You can never go wrong with coffee chocolate chip, but for a meal like this it’s probably a little too ordinary. Maybe something like one of those gooey chocolate volcano cakes, or some sort of triple chocolate mousse.”
He nodded toward her plate. “You mean like that?”
Glancing down at the mound of chocolate decadence now in front of her, she exhaled sharply. “How did you do that?”
“This is my world.” He shrugged, watching with pleasure as she dug in. “My power here is almost limitless.”
“Mmmmm...” She pulled the empty fork from between her lips and sighed. “That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted.” She took another bite, licking an errant dribble of chocolate sauce from her bottom lip.
Azrael’s groin tightened as if she’d licked him.
“If this is life in the Underworld, I think I’m ready to die.”
He straightened. “Don’t say that, Sara. Mortal life must run its course or—”
“I know, I know.” She waved her fork at him. “The whole Shade thing. I was just kidding. But I do like it here. At first I thought it was a little gloomy, but now I’m thinking it’s just...” She waved her fork again. “Atmospheric.”
Maybe she knew there was no daylight here? He let that thought be, if only to keep from telling her the truth of his sunless world.
She scooped up another bite of dessert and offered it to him. “You really should try this. It’s delicious.”
He leaned forward. “You’re the only sweet I want.”
She fluttered her lids and fanned herself with her hand. “My, my, Mr. Reaper, you do know how to woo a girl, don’t you?” She laughed, the most wonderful sound ever to echo in the halls of his home. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m pretty much a sure thing.”
“A sure thing?” Some mortal expressions eluded him.
She finished another bite of dessert, then shook her head, her cheeks coloring. “Never mind.”
She tipped her head toward the piano. “Is that just for show or do you play?”
“I play.”
“Really?” Her brows lifted in shock.
“And that surprises you because?”
“I don’t know...it just never occurred to me that the Grim Reaper would play the piano. And human guys who look like you are usually into sports and working out and, well, not playing the piano.” She stared at him expectantly. “Aren’t you going to play something for me?”
“What? No.” He’d never played for anyone. Certainly, the Shades overheard when he played, but they didn’t count. His music was private. Just for him. And probably not very good.
“No? Why not?” A bemused smirk bent her mouth.
“It’s not something I do for...guests.”
“Well, of course it isn’t. You’ve never had guests. Now you do.” She stood up, walked to piano and drew her finger across the keys in a slow scale. “And I want to hear you play something.”
He sighed and crossed his arms, forcing back a grin. “Maybe this is why I don’t have guests.”
Narrowing her eyes did nothing to diminish the mischievous light in them. “Yes, I think you’re right. Your lack of hospitality must have something to do with it.” She plopped down on the bench and plunked out a halted rendition of Chopsticks.
“As you wish,” he called over the racket as he stood.
She stopped playing and scooted to one end of the bench, patting the empty spot. “It’s all yours, maestro.”
“Chocolate makes you wicked.”
“You should see what champagne does to me.”
He focused his attention and instantly an ice bucket on a stand appeared beside the piano, complete with a frosted bottle of bubbly. Two glasses rested on the piano top.
“Very impressive.” She plunked a key. “Play now, drink later.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “If you’re really good, maybe we’ll drink that bottle in the tub.” She laughed and blushed, covering her mouth with her hand.
He focused a second time, mentally adding a plate of fine chocolates to every room in the house, including both of their nightstands. When the night was over, she’d be too tired to blush. He flexed his fingers. Channeling everything he felt for Sara, he began to play.
The music poured out of him, lush and aching. Full of longing and desire. It suffused the room. The house. His world.
His woman.
Sara’s eyes were closed, her head tipped back and to the side. The flush had slipped from her cheeks and down to the glimpse of skin visible above the neckline of her ivory top. Dessert indeed.
Her hand lifted to her throat, her fingers touching the pendant he’d given her.
He played on, weaving his power into the notes until he could feel them sweep across her skin as if his hands glided over her. He became the music and she became his instrument. Softer and slower, then more insistent, he played her until she quivered beside him.
The heat of her frenzied body radiated into him as he finished. Not until the last notes died away did she open her eyes.
“What...what was that?”
Foreplay, he thought. “Didn’t you like it?”
“Like it? I think I almost...” She trailed off, fanning herself. “Never mind.” She exhaled hard. “I’ve never heard music that sounded like that. I could feel it in every cell of my body.”
He commanded new music to fill the air, something slow and deliberate. At the first notes, he stood and held out his hand to her.
“Dance with me.” It was a command, not a request.
“I’m not sure I can stand just yet. I feel strangely weak.” She smoothed a hand down her thigh. “Too much wine or something.”
“I’ll support you.”
She took his hand, let him pull her up. Her gaze went sideways, to the enormous gilt mirror on the side wall. “I’m not dressed for dancing.”
Cradling her chin in his fingers, he turned her face to his. “And how should you be dressed?”
“In a beautiful gown, with jewels, and my hair done up. Something more romantic than jeans.”
“Something like this?” He curved her back toward the mirror so she could see what he’d done.
“Oh, it’s beautiful.” Her voice was little more than a breathy whisper as she surveyed the elegant red gown she now wore. Her fingers trailed the circlet of diamonds and rubies at her neck, drops of the same at her ears. She turned her head to better see her upswept hair. “I feel like Pretty Woman.”
“Who?” He worked a little magic on his own attire just as she came around in his direction.
“You know, the movie with-” She stopped when she saw him, her eyes alight with undeniable desire. “You should always wear a tux.”
&n
bsp; “Always?”
“At least for a little while.” Her hand grazed his lapel, pausing on his chest. “I feel like a princess.”
“You could be queen.” He pulled her into his arms, his hands possessively at her waist.
“Queen?”
“Of this world. Marry me, Sara.” He wasn’t sure where the words had come from, but he’d never meant anything more in his life. “I never knew what life could be until I met you, and now I know an existence without you isn’t something I want to face.”
“Is it even possible?” A thin line of moisture rimmed her hopeful eyes.
“I can take human form as often as you need me to.”
“I’m not sure...there are so many questions I need to ask...”
“Like what? Ask me.”
“You don’t understand, there are things I need—”
“Surely tonight should help you see what I am capable of. There’s nothing I can’t give you, Sara.”
She swallowed. The tears were closer to spilling. “Even children?”
Chapter Sixteen
All emotion vanished from Azrael’s face except one. Panic. Just as Sara had expected, he hadn’t counted on her wanting children. They hadn’t fit into Ray’s timeline either.
“Forget I said anything.” She spun away, not wanting him to see the hurt she knew must be shining in her eyes.
But he held her tight. “No, Sara, it’s not what you think.”
She shook her head, inhaled to calm herself.
“You caught me off guard,” he said. She glanced up as he continued. “You must understand that for a Reaper, children never even seem like a possibility worth thinking about. But in my human form...” He hesitated. The beginnings of a smile crept along his mouth. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t be possible. And wonderful.” He laughed. “Might be a bit of an odd life for them, living between both worlds, but you’d be a great mother.”
He tugged her close again. “Say yes, Sara. Say yes.”
“I don’t think odd begins to cover it.” She scrunched her mouth to one side, a spring of emotion welling in her. “But odd has never stopped me before.”
His jaw unhinged. “Does that mean...”
“Yes.” She nodded, unable to keep the joy from her face. “I’ll marry you.”
He swept her into his arms, twirling her around and making her laugh. He stopped suddenly, his brow furrowed. “I didn’t think this through very well.”
Her heart sank in preparation of his next words and a shuddered sigh escaped her lips. What now?
“I didn’t get a ring.”
He winked, lifted her hand and kissed the joint of her ring finger, leaving behind a sparkling diamond fit for a princess. Smaller diamonds accented the round center stone. This was really happening. She was engaged.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Like it? I love it.” She took a closer look and her heart made a quick ascent back to her throat. “Oh, Azrael. That’s...that’s...huge! I can’t possibly accept something that extravagant.”
“Why not?” His expression grew stern. “As my wife, you must know I will not abide you having anything less than the best. It’s a husband’s job to spoil his wife.”
She almost laughed, wishing Ray could hear those words. She tilted her hand, sending a shower of sparks into the air. “No one will even think it’s real. At least not on me.” She held the ring closer. “It’s breathtaking.” She shoved her hand out again. “Like something you’d see on a movie star.” Giddiness threatened to overwhelm her. “Or on the finger of woman whose husband likes to spoil her senseless.”
He laughed. “I’d be happy to make the stone smaller.”
She clutched her hands together, covering the ring. “I’ll learn to deal.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He twirled her away, then in against him, her back to his chest. A happy sigh escaped her and she tipped her head to look up at him, leaning against his hard body. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Believe it, because it is.” He kissed the side of her neck until she squealed. “In fact, let’s make it real. Right now. Tonight.”
She twisted around to look at him. “You mean get married right now?”
“Yes. There are places in your world where mortals marry impulsively all the time.”
Her brows knit together. “You mean...Vegas?”
“Yes. We’ll go there.” He took her hand as if to lead her somewhere, then hesitated. “Unless you’d prefer something more elaborate? More traditional?”
Planning her first wedding had nearly put her in the nut house. So many details to contend with, so many preparations for a single day that sped by like a bullet train. Not to mention the expense. And for what? A few hard years that culminated in divorce anyway? She shook her head. “I’ve done that. Didn’t really work the way I thought it would. I think this time it should be different.” She squeezed his hand. “Let’s go tear that town up.”
* * *
“Oh...wow...” Sara inhaled as the bellman opened the doors to the Wynn’s Salon Suite. She and Azrael had only brought a small bag apiece, but apparently a couple grand a night got you a bellman regardless of the amount of luggage you carried. Maybe they shouldn’t have changed into street clothes before they’d come. A ball gown and tux seemed more suited to the exquisite suite.
“The salon suite is one of Wynn’s finest. I trust you will find it very comfortable. Of course, if you need anything while you’re here, simply call your personal concierge and he’ll gladly see to it, twenty-four hours a day.” The bellman handed a card to Azrael, then swept off to the bedroom with their bags.
“This place is bigger than my apartment.” She stood before the wall to ceiling windows overlooking the Strip.
“That will change when we get back.”
She glanced over her shoulder. The look on his face brooked no argument. But then, they were going to be married. Why shouldn’t they buy a new home together? “A place that overlooks the river would be nice.”
He smiled. “Whatever you want.”
A knock thumped the door. The bellman came out of the bedroom and answered it before either of them moved. “Ah, Philippe, there you are.”
The bellman turned to face them. “This is Philippe, your personal concierge. I’ll be going now, unless there is anything else I can do for you.” He stood expectantly by the door.
“We’re fine. Goodbye,” Azrael said.
The bellman didn’t move.
Trying not to smirk, Sara went to Azrael’s side and whispered in his ear. “He wants a tip.”
Azrael peeled a hundred off the roll in his pocket and gave it to the man. “Thank you.”
The bellman smiled but didn’t freak out like Sara expected him to. Welcome to Vegas.
“Have a wonderful night.” He tipped his hat on his way out the door.
Philippe bowed his head slightly. “Is there anything I can get you for this evening? Dinner reservations? Show tickets, perhaps?”
Azrael looked at her. She shrugged. “Why not? We’re here, let’s have fun.”
“Both then,” he told the concierge. “A very romantic restaurant and the very best show. We’re here to get married. I want this to be special.”
Philippe broke out in a wide grin. “Married? That’s one of my specialties. Have you already made your arrangements or would you like some assistance?”
Sara felt her face heat. “Actually, this was very spur of the moment. We haven’t arranged anything. I don’t even have a dress.”
Philippe came to her side and taking her hand in his, patted it gently. “Not to worry my dear. I am at your service.” Releasing her hand, he gave Azrael his attention. “If I may ask, what is your budget? I can tailor plans to suit any dollar amount.”
“Money doesn’t matter. Just make her happy.”
“Very good, sir.”
From the inside pocket of his jacket, Philippe produced a small leather-bound notebook and pe
n. He opened it to a blank page and handed it to her. “If you would be so kind as to jot your sizes down for me, I’ll have some things brought up for you to try on.”
She took it and started writing. He clasped his hands behind his back while he waited. “What day would you like the ceremony to take place, sir?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Very good. How many guests will be attending?”
“None,” Azrael said.
“An intimate ceremony is very romantic. I would be happy to serve as your witness, should you desire.”
“That would be fine.”
“I believe we’ll be able to provide you with a very special day. The Wynn prides itself on exceptional service.”
Sara held the notebook out to him. “I think those are right. I haven’t been dress shopping in a long time.”
“Not to worry. We have a seamstress available for alterations.” He held the pen ready to write. “And for you, sir, a tuxedo or a suit?”
“Neither. I don’t need—” Sara frowned at him. “A tuxedo would do nicely.”
Philippe scribbled something. “Your size, sir?”
“I have no idea.”
“Hmm. I’d say a 42 long, athletic cut, but I’ll send a few sizes on either side of that.” He made more notes. “Anything else I should know? Details of any kind?”
Sara grinned and gave in to her impulses. “I like roses. And chocolate cake with coffee ice cream. And maybe a harpist. Or flutes. I like violins, too. And champagne.”
More scribbling, punctuated by the sharp tap of lead on paper. “Wonderful, wonderful.” He tucked the notebook away. “I’ll take care of everything.” He checked his watch. “I’ll have your dinner reservations taken care of in twenty minutes. Your show tickets will be at the will call window. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes.” Azrael’s eyes twinkled with an unusual light. “I’d like a word with you outside.”
Philippe nodded to Sara. “I will see you tomorrow. Have a good evening.”
“Thank you, you too.” What on earth could Azrael be up to? She watched the two men walk out together, then Azrael shut the door. She thought about trying to listen through the door, but let them be. No use in spoiling a potential surprise.
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