Make My Wish Come True

by Fiona Harper

  She felt as if she were in a wonderful dream. Marco had chosen her.

  Oh, not for love and promises and happy-ever-after, she wasn’t that foolish. Or she wasn’t prepared to let herself be that foolish, not after only a few days. But being the sole focus of someone’s attention, the one who shone, rather than the person in the shadows, was rather seductive. To be honest, she was a little drunk on the idea.

  Or maybe that was the cocktails...

  She was more than halfway through her holiday and it had been about time she tried out some of those strange names on the bar menu, rather than going for the same varieties of wine she always had back home. The one she had in her glass now was a house speciality. It was aptly named a Pelican Bite and was made of light rum, lime juice, melon liqueur and a few other things she had memorised, but now couldn’t quite remember.

  She crinkled her nose to help her think what... Had it been triple sec or vodka? For some reason the list of ingredients was starting to get a bit fuzzy.

  She ate scallops and mahi-mahi with chillies and papaya and rice so light she was surprised it didn’t float away, but her mind wasn’t on the food, which was criminal, really. All she could think about was Marco—how his fingers felt against hers as he reached to touch her hand across the tablecloth, how those sculpted lips moved as he ate, how they’d curve knowingly when he found her studying them. How she knew she’d be tasting them again before the night was over.

  The thought made her feel shaky and fluttery all at once. Maybe that was why she’d reached the bottom of her latest cocktail without noticing it.

  ‘Are you ready to go?’ he asked, nodding to her half-eaten coconut and lime ice cream, which was now not much more than a lumpy puddle on her plate.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, after hauling in a deep breath. ‘I’m ready.’

  Oh, but she so wasn’t ready. Not for what was coming next, even though she desperately wanted to be. She wanted to be the woman she’d pretended to be with Marcus. She wanted to be impulsive and wild and passionate. But she was scared that even if she did get up the courage to take him to her bed, once they’d got there, the fog of this other, better self would evaporate, and he’d be left with boring, ‘good old Juliet’ in bed.

  But as they left the restaurant, walked down the tiled steps and waited for a shuttle to appear to take them back to their villas, Marco pulled her to him and kissed her. Juliet’s head swam and her skin tingled. She forgot to second-guess herself and just kissed him back, losing herself so much in the moment that the polite beep of the shuttle’s horn when it arrived made her jump. He pulled away from her smiling and she breathed out.

  Okay. So maybe she could do this after all. Maybe the chemistry had fizzled out between her and Greg at the end, but it certainly seemed to be sizzling hot between her and Marco. His kisses were perfect. Almost too perfect, as if he knew just when the most romantic moments were and took advantage of every single one, but she could hardly hold that against him, could she?

  She spent the buggy ride back to their exclusive little cove tucked under his arm in the back of the shuttle. Every now and then he would press his lips to her hair or run his fingers up her bare arm, and a slow fire lit somewhere deep inside, one that he stoked with each touch, each movement.

  So when the driver dropped them off outside her villa, she swallowed any remaining fear and turned to Marco. ‘Would you...would you like to come in for...’ her words froze in her throat. God, she was such a chicken. Or a prude. Maybe both. ‘...for a dip in the plunge pool?’

  He leaned down and kissed her. Not fiercely. Not hungrily. But slowly, deeply, the sweet control promising more than raw passion could have done. ‘Yes, Giulietta... I would like that very much.’

  Her fingers shook as she pulled the key card from her little handbag. Thank goodness it was one of those locks with a touchpad. If she’d had to swipe it, they might have been standing there all night.

  ‘One moment and I will be back,’ he said, then looked down at her grandmother’s ring on her finger. ‘Perhaps you should remove that. The chemicals in the water may not be kind to it.’ And he disappeared out the door in the direction of his own villa.

  ‘I’ll see you in the pool,’ she called after him, smiling. That was why she liked this man. He was thoughtful and kind. He gave. Just the confidence he’d given her had made her believe that maybe she didn’t have to resign herself to either a life alone or finding Greg mark two and settling down to a life of mediocrity. Maybe she could meet the love of her life. Why not? She sighed. Such a pity it couldn’t be Marco.

  She also understood that whatever was going on between them would only stretch for the lifespan of this holiday. She’d never been one for flings. She liked the partnership, the give and take of a relationship, and one-night stands seemed so...selfish. Just taking what you wanted instead of having the courage to give and be given to.

  She’d had a few boyfriends before she met Greg, but she hadn’t really been with anyone seriously before him. She’d met him when she was nineteen. He’d smiled at her at a friend’s birthday party, then he’d come over to talk. He’d been confident and fairly nice-looking. Not too much of a jerk. And he’d been ambitious. She’d bought into it wholeheartedly. They’d plotted together to become one of those couples with not just a nice house, but a lovely one, with good jobs and adorable kids—the kind of life everyone else envied.

  And she’d done her bit. Given everything she had to make it come true. What a shock it had been when she’d discovered it hadn’t been enough after all, that Greg had decided he wanted more, and she wasn’t the one capable of giving it to him.

  How could she have done? She’d emptied herself for him. How on earth had he expected her to have anything left?

  For the first time she realised that maybe she shouldn’t have done that. Not because giving yourself totally to one person was wrong, but because Greg hadn’t done the same, not towards the end. That kind of one-sided relationship wasn’t very healthy, and by continuing in it, she’d enabled him to become more and more selfish until he’d taken all she had and walked away with it.

  So maybe it was time for her to be totally selfish, to reach for what she desired and to hell with the consequences.

  She’d always tucked her own desires away, like they were guilty secrets she shouldn’t admit to, but now she catalogued all those things she’d neatly folded and stored away in her subconscious. There was nothing so scary or horrible. Nothing dirty or shameful about what she saw. Just dreams. Hopes. Wishes...

  And she knew what she wanted to wish for now. If she was going to wish for one thing this Christmas, it was going to be Marco.

  She took a long glance at the undisturbed bed as she slid her grandmother’s ring off her finger and placed it on the bedside table. Then she took her time getting ready, slowly peeling off her sundress and putting on Gemma’s red bikini—no, her red bikini—then she spritzed some of her perfume on and twisted her hair up into a loose bun. Then she walked back down to the terrace to meet Marco. No T-shirt this time.

  He was already waiting in the plunge pool when she emerged from the doors. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she walked towards him, an appreciative gleam in his eye, and she discovered she liked watching him watching her. Something bold and unafraid unfurled inside her as she walked down the steps into the cool water and dipped herself under. There was a seat running round half of the small pool and she rested her bottom on the opposite end of the ledge to Marco so she could look at him. She wanted to drink in the sight of him in.

  He handed her a slim glass. That was when she noticed the champagne bucket sitting beside him. ‘Where did that appear from?’

  He gave her that sexy little half-shrug accompanied by an even sexier half-smile. ‘What is Christmas without champagne?’

  She took the flute from him and sipped the boisterously bu
bbling liquid, only just poured, by the looks of it. It was perfect. Crisp and dry and heady. But after only a sip she placed it down on the edge of the pool and looked at Marco. The moment she’d been waiting for was here, and she was going to tick this box good and proper.

  He was looking very relaxed, leaning back against the opposite edge of the pool, arms stretched wide along the edge. His eyes widened a fraction as she stood and waded the few steps towards him, as if he hadn’t quite been expecting her to do that. His mouth parted in a delighted smile as she took the glass out of his hands, stole a sip, then placed it on the tiles behind his head. But surprise warmed into something else as she placed a knee on either side of him and lowered herself onto his lap.

  She ran her hands up his chest, from under the water until they broke the surface, and then she slid them up his glistening shoulders, round his neck and pulled him closer.

  This felt right. She wasn’t scared any more, of not being sexy enough or not being young or pretty enough, of the reality not living up to the fantasy, and she teased his lips with her own, exploring, tasting, doing whatever she felt like doing, and the heat inside her began to swell.

  Marco seemed to know she needed this, to take control, to set the pace, and even though he kissed her back, softly, firmly, he left his arms splayed on the rim of the pool. She kissed him more deeply, losing her sense of time and place, only aware of the growing need inside her and relishing the slow winding journey she was taking to its completion. She felt the gradual build of tension in the muscles of his torso, she sensed when keeping his hands off her became an effort rather than a teasing game.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered into his ear, knowing what he wanted and knowing that he would understand what she meant.

  Marco’s arms were around her in a second, hauling her to him and, his hands roving the bare skin of her back. Juliet broke the kiss, gasping for air, before diving back in, getting lost again. This was a new Marco too, she realised. Even though his kisses had often been passionate before, there had always been a sense of control in them, a sense that he was making tiny decisions, of what she needed next, of how to coax a response from her, almost as if he was a master choreographer, improvising a dance of limbs and hands and lips.

  But this was different. She knew the exact second his control snapped. When he broke away, panting, his hair was messy from where she’d been running her hands through it and the water from them dripped down through his hair to his forehead and rolled down over his cheekbones. He looked half-drugged, just as swept up in the moment as she was, and she liked that. She liked that she could do that to him. She’d come into this fling—or whatever it was—feeling grateful that a man like him should even look at her, but not any more. She met him eye to eye as an equal.

  ‘Are you sure you want this?’ he asked her breathlessly, and the slight frown of concern on his forehead only made her decision more solid.

  ‘Yes. I want this. I want you.’

  In one smooth movement, Marco wrapped his arms tightly around her then lifted her from the water. She made a little noise of surprise as he carried her out of the pool, across the terrace and through the living room of her villa, leaving tiny puddles in his wake with each footstep, and then he climbed the stairs to the bedroom, where he gently lowered her onto the bed.

  The old Juliet would have shrieked about getting the bedclothes wet, but this Juliet didn’t care. She wanted it wild and messy and untidy. She wanted to be right in the middle of this cyclone they were creating around them.

  She didn’t let him move away, but pulled him down on top of her. ‘Mio Dio, Giulietta...’ he rumbled against her neck as he started to kiss her there. She inhaled sharply as he reached the bit just under her ear and twisted her head away to give him better access.

  Mio Dio was about right.

  But just as her eyes were closing she got a close-up view of her bedside table: the lamp, the alarm clock, earplugs, her sleep mask...

  Juliet’s eyes snapped open again and she froze.

  ‘My ring!’ she said, pushing herself up on one arm, totally forgetting the hot Italian who had his teeth on her earlobe. ‘Where’s my ring?’

  * * *

  ‘RIGHT, TIME TO GET into your PJs!’ Gemma said loudly.

  All three younger children started to whine.

  ‘I didn’t say you had to go to bed yet,’ she told them, shooing them up the stairs. ‘But it’s eight o’clock and you at least ought to be ready for bed if I’m going to let you stay up and watch another movie.’

  Groaning turned to cheering and Jake, Josh and Polly rushed up the stairs. Gemma let out a loud sigh once they’d gone. She went and put an arm round Vi, who was standing in the living-room doorway. ‘How are you feeling this evening?’

  Violet made a face. ‘Stupid,’ she said and looked at the floor.

  Gemma squeezed her gently. ‘I meant physically, but knowing you were daft is good too. You’ll learn from this mistake.’

  Violet looked up at her from under her fringe. ‘You think so? I seem to do stupid stuff all the time and it never makes me any better.’

  Gemma nodded, but all the while she was thinking, Join the club. What had she been doing letting Will kiss her like that?

  She’d known when Tony had glanced upwards where things had been heading. She’d also known that Will’s honourable genes hadn’t let him stand by when a damsel needed rescuing, even if that damsel was her, but that didn’t mean she’d had to lean in quite so eagerly, did it? She’d made a total fool of herself.

  She kissed Violet on her head then wandered back into the living room to see what Doris was up to. Gemma found her sitting in an armchair, leafing through Juliet’s notebook.

  ‘He’s quite a man, that one, isn’t he?’ she said, looking up.

  Gemma rolled her eyes. ‘He’s a total plonker, that’s what he is,’ she replied. ‘I don’t even know how he managed to wangle an invite from Juliet—probably because the rest of the family is sick of “Uncle” Tony and he hasn’t got anywhere else to go.’

  Doris gave her a knowing look. ‘I didn’t mean him,’ she said, watching Gemma’s reaction very carefully. ‘I meant the other one.’

  ‘Oh.’ Just thinking about what had just gone on under that blasted mistletoe had Gemma’s cheeks heating, even though it had been so tame it was hardly worth counting. ‘Well, I suppose he’s okay,’ she said, looking down and suddenly reminding herself of Violet. ‘Not really my type, though.’

  Doris just threw back her head and let out a dry laugh. ‘Who is, sweetheart? I was married to Mr Waterman for over forty years. Fool of a man! Always up to mischief. Everybody said it wouldn’t last, that we were too different, but that man adored me until the day he died.’ Her tone grew heavier as she finished her sentence and she glanced away before looking Gemma in the eye. ‘What I’m saying is that you can’t run from it for ever, pretending you’ll always have another chance. Life doesn’t always work that way. Sometimes you’ve got to be brave and grab it while it’s there in front of you.’

  Gemma didn’t know what to say to that. No one had ever implied she wasn’t brave before. Everyone saw her as madcap, impulsive, ready for anything. Except when it came to relationships, she realised. In that respect, she was just as emotionally constipated as Juliet.

  ‘Talking of Will...he said he’d walk you back over the road.’ She looked around and frowned. ‘Where is he?’ She hadn’t seen him since the incident in the hall. In fact, she’d been deliberately not looking for him.

  Doris shrugged. ‘Don’t know. But when you find him, tell him I’m ready to go when he is.’

  When you find him. That meant she was going to have to go looking. And Gemma wasn’t sure she was even ready for that, let alone being brave enough to grab onto love and not let go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 
JULIET JUMPED OFF THE bed and began hunting on the floor around the bedside table. ‘It’s got to be here somewhere! It can’t have just vanished!’

  Marco pushed himself up from the mattress and came to join her, watching her try the drawer and slam it closed again. ‘Are you sure you left it there?’

  She nodded. ‘I only took it off after you’d suggested it at the door, maybe only twenty minutes ago. And I was in the room the whole time until I came down to meet you in the pool—apart from the short while I was in the bathroom.’

  It wasn’t hard to search the surrounding area. The furniture in the room was beautiful, but it wasn’t plentiful, and the tiled floor made it easy to spot anything that might have dropped onto it or under the high mattress of the bed. After a thorough ten-minute search, they both sat back on the bed, breathing heavily.

  Juliet looked across at Marco. This was so not how she’d imagined getting breathless this evening.

  ‘Maybe you put it in the safe?’ he said.

  She shook her head. ‘No...I’m sure I left it there.’

  ‘You didn’t move it afterwards? Why don’t you check, just in case?’

  Okay, she had been in a bit of a dreamy fuzz, and she’d had two Pelican Bites, but had she really forgotten moving it? She sighed. There was only one way to find out for sure.

  She jumped up and snagged a filmy kaftan to throw over her bikini. Now the heat of the moment had been well and truly drenched, she was feeling a little exposed. Marco followed her downstairs and stood behind her, looking over her shoulder, as she crouched down and opened the door to the sideboard where the safe was housed. She punched the number in quickly—Violet’s birthday—and the heavy metal door sprang open. The inside was covered in dark, fuzzy material, so those diamonds should have sparkled at her the instant the light hit them, but there was nothing. She reached inside and patted around anyway, shoving her passport and the great wad of cash aside. She hadn’t needed all that money in the end, anyway, seeing as Pelican’s Reach was all-inclusive, but Gemma had neglected to tell her that.