“KEEP YOUR EYES CLOSED until I tell you to open them.”
Nick positioned Danielle in the center of the room, then stalked to the wall and flipped the switch.
The moment he heard Danielle’s delighted gasp, he grinned from ear to ear. She hadn’t kept her eyes closed, as he’d ordered. Nothing new. Following rules was not her forte and at this moment, he didn’t give a damn. The overjoyed expression on her face made every splinter, every gouge in his fingers, every late night working on her surprise well worth the effort.
“Oh, my God! Nick, how did you…”
Her question trailed away as she spun in the bedroom of their new condominium. She turned slowly, her eyes as bright as the tiny pinpoint lights he’d built into the hand-carved shelves. Sparkles shot at her from each of the blown glass or faceted crystal perfume bottles they’d collected over the past six months from, so far, fourteen separate countries. They’d amassed over one hundred pieces, some from cheap tourist shops, others purchased from museum-quality collections, seeking to replace the bottle that as of yet, had not been recovered. Each new phial had become a memento from a half year Nick knew he’d never forget.
With a quivering hand, she glided toward their favorite find, a ruby-red atomizer that had once belonged to a sultan’s beloved concubine. She lifted the perfume bottle from the mirrored stand and gave the bulb a squeeze. A scent as old and exotic and spicy as a desert oasis floated into the air, sparking Nick’s memory of their trip to India, where they’d stayed in a medieval palace still owned by the royal family who ruled the area. The bottle had been a gift from the princess, who’d heard about their burgeoning collection. That night, he and Danielle had made love with moonlight streaming in from the desert, the scent of the ancient perfume floating around them on their silk bed. Tonight, they’d make love on the bed he’d created for her, surrounded by the spoils of their travels and ensconced in a love Nick never imagined could feel so new, and yet, so timeless, at the same time.
“I can’t believe you did all this!” Danielle exclaimed, replacing the bottle before she turned and jumped in his arms. “Thank you!”
He spun her carefully, invigorated by the adoration in her eyes.
“See that blank wall, there, above the bed?”
She reluctantly looked away from him, grinning shyly when she spied the beautifully stark space, already prelit with tiny lights. “Is that for me, too?”
“This is all for you. But I expect you can paint your most private masterpiece above our bed, for only the two of us to enjoy.”
She kissed him then, long and hard and hot. The taste of her injected him with a unique magic unlike any ever created by his people. The flavors tripped every sensual wire in his body, ensuring that he’d never be able to part from her. Never.
When they’d first met, he’d believed that once Danielle accepted that she was the reincarnated soul of his beloved Sofia, they would marry, have children, settle down somewhere in the center of the country, where they could fulfill his gypsy yearnings for travel on any given day. He hadn’t factored in the influence of the woman she’d become in her new life.
Nothing that he’d predicted had come to pass, and in retrospect, he was glad. It hadn’t been enough for him to love Sofia, the woman she’d been, and admire Danielle, the woman she’d become. To satisfy Danielle’s needs, he had to love the new woman more than he loved the old. She’d insisted they take the time to see if he could love her and despite his desire to close the chapter between his two lives, he’d agreed. They promised to take one day at a time, to build on the passion borne in another lifetime. The truest test came when he’d finally disclosed the full story about his past—about his death and reanimation.
She’d retreated from him for two days—forty-eight hours that rivaled the century he’d spent in the twilight plane between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Finally, she’d returned to him, claiming that she no longer cared about how he’d come into her life, just that he was finally back where he belonged.
But when her brother had offered her a position overseeing a collection of investments he’d made around the globe, Danielle had jumped at the chance, causing Nick to fear that separation would end their affair. Then she’d begged him to come along. He was a gypsy, after all. And traveling in a private jet beat a secondhand vardo anytime.
Pillow Talk had opened on time, on budget and to great success. For a weekend reservation, even the rich and famous had to call four weeks in advance. And Nick’s craftsmanship had spawned dozens of orders for carved beds from patrons who’d fallen in love with the ones in the restaurant. He’d been able to charge prices he would never have imagined people could afford, and had hired a staff to do the majority of the work, leaving the intricate carving for him during his infrequent trips home.
They’d attended Pillow Talk’s opening night, but had spent the majority of the past six months jetting from Bangkok to London, from Sydney to Taipei. Sebastian Stone possessed an incredibly diversified portfolio and Danielle had found her niche in making sure her brother’s interests in everything from oil refineries to luxury hotels were being managed with care. When she’d invited Nick to join her, his wanderlust had found an amazing means of satiation. While she tended to business, he explored. In the evenings, they shared the spoils of his meandering, including all the perfume bottles now housed in what would soon be their home.
“I want you to love everything about this room,” he said with a seductive grin, well aware that Danielle had chosen the condominium mainly because it was minutes from the private airport where Sebastian kept his plane. “Every time we’re here, I want you to be surrounded by memories of our new time together.”
He sounded hopelessly sentimental, and he didn’t care. Since he’d walked onto that construction site six months ago, they’d gone on a roller coaster ride of passion, danger and now, exploration. Only last week, he’d come to the conclusion that they’d finally put the negative events of their initial meeting to rest, after visiting Margo at the St. Lucius Psychiatric Hospital in California. Margo had been weaned off the drugs and her prognosis had been positive. She’d admitted to Danielle that flashes of someone else’s life still plagued her, but her therapists had taught her how to cope and not act on the negative emotions the visions sometimes inspired. She’d also insisted that she’d entered the warehouse only after someone else had broken in. She knew nothing about the perfume bottle or its reputed magical powers.
Danielle and Nick had agreed that explaining to Margo or her doctors about Milosh and their theory of reincarnation wouldn’t help anyone. In fact, they might have both been locked up in the padded room next to Margo’s for the duration.
Instead, Danielle had encouraged her former friend to continue with her therapy, which Danielle had arranged, using her brother’s ample resources. They’d both admitted that Milosh was no longer a part of their lives—at least, until the next go-around.
Armand, back in Paris, hadn’t agreed with Danielle’s decision not to press charges against Margo for the attack. He also wasn’t happy that he didn’t turn out to be Milosh, evil or not. The Frenchman seemed convinced that he’d been someone in Sofia’s past—a brother, a cousin, her faithful dog. Determined to return to France and explore the possibilities through past-life regression, he’d healed from his injury in record time. He’d also seduced the nurse he’d met at Chicago General and convinced her to return to Paris with him and provide private care for his head injury. Amazingly, the couple was still together after all this time, and Danielle couldn’t have been happier that her former lover had found someone to hold his interest for longer than a week. Again, Nick saw her joy as a sign. She was ready, finally, to move on.
And Nick wasn’t going to waste another moment. The time was right—perfect. The scene was set. Champagne fizzled in the ice bucket next to the bed. He’d purchased an entirely new set of the Divines’ edible body paints, currently sitting on a silver tray in the middle of the bed. Tucked into the night table was a special gift from Cecily Divine, a strange, red leather-bound book called Sexcapades, which she’d made him promise not to open until he had permission from Danielle.
So why was he sweating? Why was his heart thundering against his chest so that he was certain Danielle could feel the pounding through her blouse?
“You only want me to remember our new time together, not the old? That doesn’t seem possible anymore,” she said, eyes twinkling. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and pressed her body against his. “Though our new times have been incredibly…adventurous.”
Instantly, his blood heated and his cock tightened. She could arouse him with just a glance, and with her body, she could drive him insane. Was he really ready for a lifetime of physical and spiritual slavery to a woman who would rule his heart for eternity? Did he have any choice?
“And we’ll keep exploring together, Danielle. For all time, if you’ll continue to have me.”
He put her down and in the fashion he’d seen in countless films, he dropped to his knee and took her hand in his. She stepped back, her eyes wide, but he didn’t release her, even when her hand began to shake.
“Nick, what are you doing?”
He arched an eyebrow. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Losing your mind.”
“Seems appropriate, since I’ve already lost my heart.”
“Oh, God.” She wavered, but remained standing. She drew her free hand to her mouth and her eyes glistened with moisture. The sight of his lover nearly overwhelmed with emotion brought a lump to his throat.
“Danielle, I love you. I love who you’ve been and I love who you are now. I’ve no doubt that I will be helplessly, hopelessly in love with whomever you become in the future. But believe it or not, I could love you so much more if you’d only become my wife.”
With a gasp, she fell to her knees in front of him. She took his other hand. “You’ve been my husband, my mate, for eternity. I know that in my soul. I love you, Nick.”
Their kiss was soft and gentle, not an exploration, because they knew the territory with a familiarity that spanned time, but with a loving need he doubted they’d ever truly satiate, no matter how many lifetimes they tried.
She broke away with a teasing grin. “So, where’s the ring?”
Nick pressed his lips together, waylaying a knowing smile. “On the bed.”
She jumped up, spinning toward him with bright, accusatory eyes when she saw the silver tray.
“That’s body paint.”
“Yes, it is,” he confirmed, standing.
She licked her lips. “Where’s my ring?”
“Inside one of the jars, I think. Hmm,” he said teasingly, brushing his body against hers while he ran a finger from her belly to her breasts. Her nipples peaked beneath her blouse and his mouth instantly watered for a taste of the woman who ruled his world.
“I can’t remember if I stuck it inside Blueberry Blush or Cheeky Cherry Chocolate. Or maybe it was one of the other six new flavors. I guess we’ll have to use them all up until we find it.”
She ripped open his shirt with one forceful tug. “Could take us all night,” she said before leaning forward and swiping a wanton lick across his chest.
“Maybe, but one thing is undeniable.”
She stopped nibbling on his neck long enough to ask him, “What?”
“We’ll have one hell of a good time looking.”