Georgeanne stood on the steps of the Princeville Hotel on the island of Kauai. The tropical sun warmed her bare shoulders and the top of her head. It had taken her several days to completely master her sarong, but she now wore the fuchsia flowered material tied behind her neck and covering her swimsuit. She’d stuck a big orchid behind one ear and laced a pair of pink Hercules sandals up her ankles. She felt very feminine and thought of Lexie. Lexie would have loved Kauai. She would have loved the beautiful beaches and cool blue water. Lexie would have to settle for a T-shirt. Georgeanne and John needed time to themselves and had left their daughter with Ernie and John’s mother.
A rented Jeep Cherokee rolled to a stop next to the curb. The driver’s-side door swung open, and her heart swelled beneath her breast. She loved to watch John move. He was filled with supreme confidence and walked with the fluid assurance of a man at ease with himself. Only a man comfortable in his own skin would have chosen to wear that particular blue shirt with huge red flowers and big green leaves. He was so self-assured, he sometimes overwhelmed her a little. If she’d let John have his way, they would have been married the day after he’d proposed. She’d been able to hold him off for a month so she could plan a nice wedding at a little chapel in Bellevue.
They’d been married a week now, and she loved him more each day. Sometimes her feelings were too big, and she couldn’t hold them all in. She’d catch herself staring into space and smiling, or laughing for no reason at all, unable to contain her happiness. She’d given John her trust and her heart. In return, he made her feel secure and loved with an intensity that sometimes took her breath away.
Her gaze followed him as he walked around the four-wheel-drive. He opened the passenger door, then he turned and smiled up at her. Georgeanne remembered the first time she’d ever seen him, standing next to a red Corvette, broad-shouldered and gorgeous, looking like her savior.
“Aloha, mister,” she called to him as she descended the stairs.
A frown wrinkled his brows. “Are you naked beneath that thing?”
She stopped in front of him and shrugged one shoulder. “Depends. Are you a hockey player?”
“Yep.” A smile smoothed away his frown. “Do you like hockey?”
“No.” Georgeanne shook her head and lowered her voice, affecting the rich southern drawl she knew drove him wild. “But I could probably make an exception in your case, sugar.”
He reached for her and slid his hands up her bare arms. “You want my body, don’t you?”
“I can’t help myself,” Georgeanne sighed, and again shook her head. “I’m a weak woman, and you’re simply irresistible.”