Back in the Lion's Den (17 page)

‘What do you think?’ Sienna said smilingly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face from the teasing wind. But seeing the crease furrowing his forehead, and realising that he was still harbouring doubts, she said simply, and from the bottom of her heart, ‘I love you, Conan.’

Clasped against his hard warmth, she thought about all those women who might regret the end of his bachelorhood—even one in particular—but she knew she didn’t need to worry. His actions said it all. This man was hers. For eternity.

They stood there in each other’s arms until the shadows lengthened over the river and the cool breeze struck up more keenly, scattering bronze and golden leaves around them like sudden handfuls of confetti.

‘Let’s go home,’ Conan murmured deeply, and from his lips the word seemed to mean so very much more. A safe haven. A place where love could grow. A peaceful harbour.

‘I am home,’ Sienna whispered, tightening her arms around him, and knew that home for them both was where the other one was—and always would be.

Read on for a sneak preview of Carol Marinelli’s
PUTTING ALICE BACK TOGETHER!

Hugh hired bikes!

You know that saying: ‘It’s like riding a bike, you never forget’?

I’d never learnt in the first place.

I never got past training wheels.

‘You’ve got limited upper-body strength?’ He stopped and looked at me.

I had been explaining to him as I wobbled along and tried to stay up that I really had no centre of balance. I mean
really
had no centre of balance. And when we decided, fairly quickly, that a bike ride along the Yarra perhaps, after all, wasn’t the best activity (he’d kept insisting I’d be fine once I was on, that you never forget), I threw in too my other disability. I told him about my limited upper-body strength, just in case he took me to an indoor rock-climbing centre next. I’d honestly forgotten he was a doctor, and he seemed worried, like I’d had a mini-stroke in the past or had mild cerebral palsy or something.

‘God, Alice, I’m sorry—you should have said. What happened?’

And then I had had to tell him that it was a self-diagnosis.
‘Well, I could never get up the ropes at the gym at school.’ We were pushing our bikes back. ‘I can’t blow-dry the back of my hair …’ He started laughing.

Not like Lisa who was laughing at me—he was just laughing and so was I. We got a full refund because we’d only been on our bikes ten minutes, but I hadn’t failed. If anything, we were getting on better.

And better.

We went to St Kilda to the lovely bitty shops and I found these miniature Russian dolls. They were tiny, made of tin or something, the biggest no bigger than my thumbnail. Every time we opened them, there was another tiny one, and then another, all reds and yellows and greens.

They were divine.

We were facing each other, looking down at the palm of my hand, and our heads touched.

If I put my hand up now, I can feel where our heads touched.

I remember that moment.

I remember it a lot.

Our heads connected for a second and it was alchemic; it was as if our minds kissed hello.

I just have to touch my head, just there at the very spot and I can, whenever I want to, relive that moment.

So many times I do.

‘Get them.’ Hugh said, and I would have, except that little bit of tin cost more than a hundred dollars and, though that usually wouldn’t have stopped me, I wasn’t about to have my card declined in front of him.

I put them back.

‘Nope.’ I gave him a smile. ‘Gotta stop the impulse
spending.’

We had lunch.

Out on the pavement and I can’t remember what we ate, I just remember being happy. Actually, I can remember: I had Caesar salad because it was the lowest carb thing I could find. We drank water and I
do
remember not giving it a thought.

I was just thirsty.

And happy.

He went to the loo and I chatted to a girl at the next table, just chatted away. Hugh was gone for ages and I was glad I hadn’t demanded Dan from the universe, because I would have been worried about how long he was taking.

Do I go on about the universe too much? I don’t know, but what I do know is that something
was
looking out for me, helping me to be my best, not to **** this up as I usually do. You see, we walked on the beach, we went for another coffee and by that time it was evening and we went home and he gave me a present.

Those Russian dolls.

I held them in my palm, and it was the nicest thing he could have done for me.

They are absolutely my favourite thing and I’ve just stopped to look at them now. I’ve just stopped to take them apart and then put them all back together again and I can still feel the wonder I felt on that day.

He was the only man who had bought something for me, I mean something truly special. Something beautiful, something thoughtful, something just for me.

© Carol Marinelli 2012
Available at millsandboon.co.uk

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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First published in Great Britain 2012
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited.
Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

© Elizabeth Power 2012

ISBN: 978-1-408-97362-2