His eyes hungrily regarded the merest glimpse of black lace pant-

ies, paired with black-silk stockings that were held up by a garter belt. Finally and gloriously, a pair of black pumps decorated her feet.

Gabriel nearly had a heart attack when he gazed at the shoes alone.

“Bonsoir, Professeur. Vous allez bien?” Julia purred.

It took a moment for him to figure out why she’d made this

linguistic choice, so taken as he was by her figure and her footwear.

Julia was wearing his beret.

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When his eyes finally met hers, she watched him swallow hard.

She pouted at him provocatively and removed her hat, tossing it at him. After he threw it aside, she walked slowly, very slowly, to the bed.

“I really like my Christmas present, Professor.”

Gabriel gulped, at a loss for words.

“Have you seen the back?” She pivoted her hips, watching him

over her shoulder.

He reached out a finger to touch the laces that tied the cor-

set, dragging his hand down to the panties that cut across her pert backside.

“Enough teasing, Miss Mitchell. Come here.” He pulled her to him, bringing their mouths together in a forceful kiss.

“I’m going to take my time unwrapping my gift — with the excep-

tion of the shoes. I hope for your sake they’re comfortable.”

After ten minutes of knocking on the door, the room service

waiter had to take their dinner back to the kitchen and await further instructions.

The instructions never came.

P

Long after midnight, beautiful music hung in the air from Ga-

briel’s new playlist, including songs by Sarah McLachlan, Sting, and Matthew Barber. Julia was lying on her stomach amidst a tangle of

linen sheets, drowsy and satisfied. Her back was exposed down to

the two dimples that rested above the curve of her backside.

Gabriel had artful y placed part of the sheet over her bottom

and retrieved his camera. He stood by the bed, snapping picture after picture until she yawned and stretched, like a sleepy cat.

“You’re exquisite,” he said, placing the camera to one side so he

could sit by her.

She looked up with wide, happy eyes as he began running his

long fingers down her spine, then gave a rueful smile. “When you

love something, you don’t see its flaws.”

“That’s true, I suppose. But you’re beautiful.”

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She shifted so she could see him better, hugging her arms around

a pillow. “Love makes things beautiful.”

A familiar tightness spread across Gabriel’s lips. His hand stilled on her lower back, just over the dimples.

She read the unspoken question in his eyes. “Yes, Gabriel, you’re

beautiful to me. The more I know you, the more I see who you really are and the more beautiful you become.”

He kissed her, the light, appreciative kiss of a teenage suitor, and ran his fingers through her long, brown hair. “Thank you. You’re

hungry, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He looked over at the door. “I think we missed our dinner because

we were feasting on — ah — other things.”

“And what a feast it was, Professor. At least there’s a fruit basket.”

She sat up, wrapping the sheet around her torso, while he walked

over to the large basket that was sitting on the coffee table. He found a Swiss army knife in the kitchenette, made an adjustment to the

music, and brought a mango with him to bed.

“I needed to match the song to the fruit,” he said, his blue eyes

sparkling. “Now lie back.”

She felt her heart rate begin to increase.

“You don’t need this.” Boldly, he pulled the sheet away. Now they

were both naked.

“Who’s singing?”

“Bruce Cockburn.”

He began cutting the mango slowly, his eyes exploring Julia’s body.

She gave him a quizzical look. “Naked lunch?”

“More like a naked midnight snack.”

With deft fingers he cut a small slice of the fruit, juice dripping from his hands and onto her abdomen. She arched an eyebrow.

“Hmmm.” He peered at the juice with an impish expression. “I’ll

have to take care of that.”

She opened her mouth as he leaned forward to feed her. “You

have a feeding fetish,” she said, licking her lips and angling for more.

He bowed before her in obeisance, his tongue snaking out to

capture the liquid from her stomach. “Pardon?” he asked.

Julia groaned incoherently.

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“It isn’t a fetish so much as an act that gives me joy. I like to care for you, and there’s something sensual about sharing food with a

lover.” He eschewed her lips to kiss her shoulder, the tip of his tongue tasting her skin. Withdrawing, he cut another slice of fruit. A few droplets fell like liquid sunshine on her left breast.

“Damn. Forgive my mess.”

He ran a sticky hand up and down her ribs, tantalizing one of

his favorite erogenous zones, before placing his lips to her chest.

“You’re killing me,” she managed as his wet mouth found her

nipple.

“I seem to recall saying that to you once. And you promised it

would be a sweet death.”

Julia opened her mouth to indicate her willingness to accept

another piece. “I should have said a sticky death.”

He placed a piece of mango on her tongue before stroking her

lower lip with his thumb.

“I’ve thought of that. Don’t worry.”

Without warning, she moved so she was straddling his lap and

placed her hands on either side of his face, pulling him toward her.

They kissed passionately for a moment before she took the mango

and knife from his hand and placed a piece temptingly in her mouth.

He gave her a heated look before he brought their lips together,

tugging the piece of fruit away with his teeth.

“Mmmmm,” she hummed. “By the way, I don’t think I ever saw

the security video from our date at the museum.”

She gently squeezed a piece of mango over his chest and began

kissing and sucking across the droplet trail.

“Ah — ah —” Gabriel had trouble finding his words. “I’ve seen

it. It’s pretty hot.”

“Really?” She sat back and languidly ate a piece of fruit in front of him, licking her fingers slowly.

“I’ll show it to you later.” He pulled her into a tight embrace, his hands sliding up and down her back. Then, when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he tossed everything aside so he could lift her into his arms.

“Where are we going?” she asked, slightly alarmed.

“To the beach.”

“But we’re naked.”

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“Our beach is private.” He kissed the tip of her nose and carried

her down to the water’s edge.

“Someone will see us,” she protested as he stepped into the sea.

“There’s only a little sliver of a moon. Anyone who came by would

only see you in silhouette. And what a view.”

He kissed her long and good, adoring her face and neck with his

lips as the gentle tide lapped against them. Then he placed her on her feet so he could press every inch of his body to hers.

“See how we fit together?” His voice was urgent. “We’re a perfect

match.”

They cupped salt water in their hands, cleaning one another’s

flesh. Julia couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss his tattoo, reveling in the way the taste of the sea mingled with the flavor of his skin.

He began kissing her neck and she could feel him smile against

her. “Have you ever seen the film From Here to Eternity?”

“No.”

“Then I need to introduce you to it.” He took her hand and led

her to the beach, where he lowered himself to the sand. “Please,” he beckoned, motioning that she should lie atop him.

“Here?” Her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

“Yes, here. I want to be inside you, but I don’t want the sand to

scratch your skin.” Gabriel pulled her down, and his mouth sought

hers eagerly as the waves gently lapped at their legs. When they cried out their pleasure, the pale moon smiled.

P

A tropical rainstorm moved through the area the following morn-

ing. While the raindrops tapped against the roof of the hut, the

couple made love slowly in a bed covered with mosquito netting.

They found their rhythm in the steady dance of the rain.

When they were both blissful, he suggested that they rinse the

sweat and humidity from their skin in the large bathtub on the ve-

randa. Reclining in vanilla-scented bubbles, Julia leaned against his chest as he wound his arms around her middle. When she was in

his arms she could almost forget the troubles that waited for them in Toronto.

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She felt safe with Gabriel. It was not that he was a powerful man, although his wealth gave him some measure of strength. It was the

way he’d confronted her bullies — first, Christa, then Simon. And

the fact that he’d excoriated her father for a lifetime of neglect.

The vulnerability of the lovers’ bed was well-known to Julia now.

She knew nakedness and intimacy, desire and burning need, and deep, deep satisfaction. But she also knew that Gabriel loved her and wished to protect her. In his arms, she felt safe, for the first time in her life.

“Saturday mornings were my favorite when I was a child.” Gabriel

interrupted her musings with a wistful voice.

Julia traced his lifeline with a single finger. “Why?”

“My mother was passed out. I could watch cartoons. This was

before we lost our cable.” He gave her a half smile, and Julia tried not to cry, thinking of Gabriel as a sad little boy whose only happiness was a few hours of cartoons.

“I used to make my own breakfast. Cold cereal or peanut butter

on toast.” He shook his head. “When we ran out of milk, which we

did frequently, I’d use orange juice.”

“How was it?”

“Awful. It wasn’t even real orange juice — it was Tang.” He stroked her hair absentmindedly. “I’m sure a psychiatrist would have much

to say about the connection between my childhood and my attach-

ment to fine things.”

Impulsively, Julia turned and threw her arms around his neck,

causing a great tidal wave of water to slosh over the sides of the tub.

“Hey, what’s all this?”

She buried her face into his shoulder. “Nothing. I just love you

so much it hurts.”

He hugged her gently. “Those things happened thirty years ago.

Grace was more of a mother to me. I regret not being with her when she died. I didn’t have the chance to say good-bye.”

“She knew, Gabriel. She knew how much you loved her.”

“I think your childhood was far more painful.”

She sniffled against his shoulder but said nothing.

“If meanness makes people ugly, your mother must have been

hideous. My mother was neglectful and indifferent, but never cruel.”

He paused, wondering if he should broach the topic both of

them had been avoiding since the advent of their vacation.

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“Once I became acquainted with Christa Peterson, I thought that

she was ugly. I owe you a debt for keeping me from sleeping with

her. Although I’d like to think that even intoxicated I have better taste than that.”

Julia withdrew, sitting back slightly and toying with the end of

a lock of her hair.

He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t like thinking about you and Christa together.”

“Then it’s a mercy you saved me from her.”

“She’s trying to end your career.”

“The truth will out. You said yourself that Paul heard her aspira-

tions with respect to me. I’m hoping she’ll wash out of the program and we’ll both be rid of her.”

“I don’t want her to flunk,” Julia said quietly. “Then I’d be just as ugly as her, taking pleasure in her misfortune.”

Gabriel’s expression grew fierce. “She was mean to you on more