brief, wry smile. “And on such a limited budget.”
How she’d arranged all this so quickly, he had no clue. None.
A wide, two-person wooden lounger had been set up in one corner, its blue cushions covered with a canary-yellow blanket. Within arm’s reach, a little plastic table boasted an ice-filled bucket teeming with water bottles and—
How the hell had she located that sparkling pear cider? Sure, he’d mentioned it once or twice in passing as his favorite Swedish beverage, but American grocery stores didn’t stock non-alcoholic drinks from Sweden, and neither did the convenience mart in the hotel. He knew that for a fact.
Her tablet rested on the table beside the bucket. Was she planning to work?
She followed his gaze. “It’s fully charged, and I downloaded a couple of tennis matches from earlier today. Your friend Nick was playing, and so was that woman from Sweden. Or if you don’t feel like watching tennis, I have a few of Jane Austen’s audiobooks on my phone now, so we could listen to them instead.”
Foolish woman. As if he wanted to see or hear anything but her tonight.
“I hope you like the food.” She nodded toward the insulated bags atop the larger table, just inside the entrance. “I had to microwave everything that was supposed to be hot, since I didn’t have access to an oven.” Her shoulder lifted in a small, nervous shrug. “But it’s all from IKEA, so hopefully it’ll remind you of home.”
Of course. Of course.
That was where she’d gotten the cider. That was where she’d probably bought—
“There are meatballs, of course. Lingonberry jam. Gravy. Rosti potato patties. And I got a gooey chocolate cake for dessert.”
“Kladdkaka,” he said, his voice rusty. “I haven’t had that since my last visit home. It’s my mom’s favorite.”
“I packed plates and silverware and napkins. A battery-operated lamp too, so don’t worry about eating before dark.” She was speaking quickly, her words rushed and higher-pitched than normal. “The food should be fine for a little while longer. I thought you”—she faltered—“uh, we might want to get in the water now, while…”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “While it’s still light outside.”
Because he’d said he wanted to see her naked in the sun. In the ocean. Even though she had so many reasons, completely legitimate reasons, to avoid exposing herself that way.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Got hold of himself.
“I didn’t expect this from you, älskling.” Despite his sweaty clothing, he reached out and folded her into his arms. “I didn’t—I don’t—want you to make yourself uncomfortable for my sake.”
“I needed to do something special for you.” Her voice was muffled by his shoulder, her hands almost painfully tight on his back. “You don’t ask for anything, and you’ve given me so much—”
He flinched at the bolt of pain. “This is repayment, then? An attempt to balance our accounts before you leave?”
“No.” She leaned back to meet his eyes. “This is me, trying to make you as happy as you’ve made me, because I…” Her jaw worked. “Because I care about you.”
His heart unclenched.
Sweet. She was so sweet. This was so sweet.
Bending down, he rested his forehead against hers. “Tess, you’re enough for me. No grand gestures required.”
Her hazel eyes flickered with hurt. “You don’t like what I did?”
“Don’t like it?” He couldn’t help but laugh. “This is amazing. Thoughtful. Humbling. Thank you for all of it.” His legs brushed against hers as he edged even closer. “I love it. I love—”
No, he wasn’t going to blurt that out on impulse. Before he said it, he needed to examine his own heart and prepare himself for resistance, because he already knew she wouldn’t believe him. Wouldn’t trust the words, even if she trusted him.
He chose different words, ones she could accept more easily. “I love how much you wanted to make me happy. Even though I don’t need meatballs or a tent or you naked in the sun for that. I just need you. Full stop.”
Her eyelashes fluttered down, and she bit her lower lip.
“What if I want to be naked in the sun too?” It was a whisper, shyer than any he’d heard from her. “I told you that. Remember?”
He did. The images inspired by that conversation had been looping endlessly in his brain for over a week now.
“But your work…” His thoughts were muddled now. By lust. By hope. “If you regretted this, if you suffered for anything we did together, it would gut me. We can trust Brendan, but