her heart gave that sudden lurch, as it had before they married, when she dreamed about being Mrs. Morgan. At one time in her life, she’d had diamonds bigger than this on purses she carried to the opera. Her new ring held the tiniest, sweetest, most-loved jewel she’d ever had, and if someone said she had to give away all her other jewels in order to keep just this one, she would.
“Here,” said Tom triumphantly. “Here it is. Moonlight Escape. See, I told you we were close.”
He was so excited he was almost bouncing in his seat. It was Tom’s first trip to Hawaii, and while it wouldn’t have been Janet’s first pick of honeymoon destinations, they had plenty of time ahead of them to travel. Tom had insisted on planning the whole trip, and it made her happy to see him so excited.
With some surprise, Janet realized she was just the tiniest bit nervous. This was it . They were together, really married, and soon, they’d be on a bed, naked, with nothing more planned for the weekend but to stay as naked as possible. She warmed at the thought. All the lovers she’d ever had put together couldn’t do half of what Tom could do to her with a single look followed by a kiss. The touch of his mouth scorched her, pushing every rational thought out of her head.
Thank God they’d be at the resort soon. While she wanted to wrap her arms around Tom and kiss him breathless, they were both exhausted, too. The wedding, held at the MacArthur ranch, where Tom had worked for the his whole adult life, had been crazy and wonderful—they’d been married under the full moon, next to the spreading arms of the old oak tree. Janet had worn a simple white dress and a diaphanous white shawl Abigail MacArthur had knitted for her that was light as a cobweb, from a pattern that was too complicated for Janet to ever want to make herself. The party in the barn had gone on for hours, and Tom and Janet had danced and danced. Then suddenly someone looked at a watch, dragged them off the dance floor, and put them in the car for the long trip to San Francisco airport. They’d been traveling ever since. Janet had half-heartedly tried to get Tom to join the mile-high club, laughing at his shock, but even she had to admit that it would have been impossible to fit both his large, incredibly sexy frame in that tiny bathroom without complicating things by trying to fit herself in, too.
Soon, then. They hadn’t slept in the same bed for two days leading up to the wedding, and she couldn’t wait to get naked and stay that way. That’s what a honeymoon was all about, right? And Janet was getting the idea that perhaps honeymooning in your late forties was the right way to do it—you knew what you liked, and you weren’t afraid to ask for it.
Tom turned left across the highway, bumping the car over the rutted dirt road. “Isn’t this great?”
“Charming. I love dirt roads,” she said dryly. But Janet didn’t mind it, actually. Not if it was Tom was driving her over them.
Tom laughed. “You’re gonna love this place. The pictures on the website were great. Our own little house, overlooking the ocean .” Tom said it as if he didn’t see the Pacific every day of his life from the back of his horse.
“Will the ocean look different here, do you think?” she said, turning in her seat so that she could watch him and see the happiness that radiated from his eyes. She knew the ocean did look different, that he’d be excited by the unexpected azure color, the way white foam gleamed from the waves—she wanted to witness every expression on his face.
“It’ll be different, I guess,” he said, palming the wheel with his callused hand on a sharp right turn. Low hanging vines slapped the windshield. “I mean, we’re in a different state, and that only happened to me once before, when I went to Tijuana with buddies after high school.”
“That’s not a…”
“Not a state,” he grinned. “I know. Whole different
“Here,” said Tom triumphantly. “Here it is. Moonlight Escape. See, I told you we were close.”
He was so excited he was almost bouncing in his seat. It was Tom’s first trip to Hawaii, and while it wouldn’t have been Janet’s first pick of honeymoon destinations, they had plenty of time ahead of them to travel. Tom had insisted on planning the whole trip, and it made her happy to see him so excited.
With some surprise, Janet realized she was just the tiniest bit nervous. This was it . They were together, really married, and soon, they’d be on a bed, naked, with nothing more planned for the weekend but to stay as naked as possible. She warmed at the thought. All the lovers she’d ever had put together couldn’t do half of what Tom could do to her with a single look followed by a kiss. The touch of his mouth scorched her, pushing every rational thought out of her head.
Thank God they’d be at the resort soon. While she wanted to wrap her arms around Tom and kiss him breathless, they were both exhausted, too. The wedding, held at the MacArthur ranch, where Tom had worked for the his whole adult life, had been crazy and wonderful—they’d been married under the full moon, next to the spreading arms of the old oak tree. Janet had worn a simple white dress and a diaphanous white shawl Abigail MacArthur had knitted for her that was light as a cobweb, from a pattern that was too complicated for Janet to ever want to make herself. The party in the barn had gone on for hours, and Tom and Janet had danced and danced. Then suddenly someone looked at a watch, dragged them off the dance floor, and put them in the car for the long trip to San Francisco airport. They’d been traveling ever since. Janet had half-heartedly tried to get Tom to join the mile-high club, laughing at his shock, but even she had to admit that it would have been impossible to fit both his large, incredibly sexy frame in that tiny bathroom without complicating things by trying to fit herself in, too.
Soon, then. They hadn’t slept in the same bed for two days leading up to the wedding, and she couldn’t wait to get naked and stay that way. That’s what a honeymoon was all about, right? And Janet was getting the idea that perhaps honeymooning in your late forties was the right way to do it—you knew what you liked, and you weren’t afraid to ask for it.
Tom turned left across the highway, bumping the car over the rutted dirt road. “Isn’t this great?”
“Charming. I love dirt roads,” she said dryly. But Janet didn’t mind it, actually. Not if it was Tom was driving her over them.
Tom laughed. “You’re gonna love this place. The pictures on the website were great. Our own little house, overlooking the ocean .” Tom said it as if he didn’t see the Pacific every day of his life from the back of his horse.
“Will the ocean look different here, do you think?” she said, turning in her seat so that she could watch him and see the happiness that radiated from his eyes. She knew the ocean did look different, that he’d be excited by the unexpected azure color, the way white foam gleamed from the waves—she wanted to witness every expression on his face.
“It’ll be different, I guess,” he said, palming the wheel with his callused hand on a sharp right turn. Low hanging vines slapped the windshield. “I mean, we’re in a different state, and that only happened to me once before, when I went to Tijuana with buddies after high school.”
“That’s not a…”
“Not a state,” he grinned. “I know. Whole different
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