Calling her that, even in my head, compounded that exhilarating feeling, turned it into an electric jolt. It was more than physical attraction, more than sexual excitement. I was over the moon and so goddamn lucky that this woman—this amazing, strong, beautiful, brilliant woman—had chosen me to be the man to stand beside her for the rest of our lives.

We’d paid some heavy prices get to this moment. But being here with her, watching that shiny diamond sparkle in the sunlight off her left hand, knowing it was my ring she wore, my name she bore, me whom she had chosen… To be here in this moment after all that was worth any cost it had taken to get us to this point.

And I was certain there was not a happier man on this planet at this moment than me.

She kissed me back, with every bit of enthusiasm I showed her. And when she looked up into my eyes, the pure love I felt shone right back at me. She reached up, smoothing my hair against my head as it ruffled in the wind.

“Well, well, Mr. Drake. Here we are—you and me, alone at last. I can’t think of a better honeymoon.”

“You’ll be sick of me soon.”

“Not a chance.” Her wide grin parted those kissable lips and revealed her gleaming teeth.

I took her hand, and we relocated to the bridge for an unobstructed, two-hundred-degree view.

“Next stops, Lesser Antilles Archipelago,” the captain said. “Any directions?”

I turned to my wife, who was staring out the window, gazing at the wide, deep blue ocean before us. “Mrs. Drake?” I asked.

She turned to me. “Yes?”

“Any direction for the captain?”

She frowned at me for a minute before smiling. “Out there?” she mumbled. “How about thataway? Second star to the right and straight on till morning?”

I shook my head. “It’s your order. Give whatever you want.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Let’s go west, then. I’ve always wanted to sail off into the sunset. And straight in to our future.”

I pulled her against me, kissing her neck. “As you wish, Mrs. Drake.”

 

 

Chapter 24

Katya

Jedi Boy: Cranberry—your last bug reports were incomplete. I hope you’re on the way into the office. I need that shit done yesterday.

Me: Just landed. Those reports are SO complete. You have to stop inventing all these excuses just to see me.

Jedi Boy: Not everyone can just drop their work to go sun themselves in the Caribbean for weeks.

Me: Jealousy looks so unflattering on you.

Jedi Boy: You’re starting to piss me off.

Me: I love you, too, darrrrrrrrrrrling! <3 <3 <3 *smooch*

 

I looked up and scanned the large room that Heath and I had just entered on our way to baggage claim. Signs everywhere labeled it Customs and Immigration.

My roomie—and travel buddy—leaned down with a knowing smirk. “That your team leader again? We just barely landed. Was he stalking the flight info?”

I shrugged. “Probably. He can’t run his damn department without me, apparently.”

Heath gave me an obnoxious wink. “Maybe it’s more than just a work thing. I bet he’s been pining away for you.”

I shook my head. “I don’t buy into your dumb theory about that.”

His massive shoulders twitched. “Doesn’t matter whether or not you buy into it. Someone who pesters you as much as he does isn’t doing it just because of work. He wants you.”

“Maybe he just savors the role of pain in the ass.”

Heath pointed at a sign that bore both the stars and stripes beside a big red maple leaf. “Over here. Canucks go through the same line as Americans.”

“Lucky us.” I tucked my cell phone into my back pocket and began digging around in my backpack for my passport as we fell into line.

We wound through long lanes of retractable nylon stanchions that formed a little maze. Around me, I caught scraps of different languages spoken. Spanish mostly, but also Arabic and Chinese. The people speaking these languages appeared every bit as diverse as the languages themselves—women in colorful hijab scarves, men in robes or loose fitting trousers. All looking as exhausted as I felt after their own long flights.

Hearing spoken French, oddly, reminded me of home. No matter where someone lived in Canada, even in the most English of the provinces like my home British Columbia, he could not escape the plush accents of spoken French. Despite all those years I was required to take it in school, however, I still understood hardly a word.

“This place is usually packed. We must have hit a lull,” Heath said.

As we walked directly to the passport agent, I kept my head down. I had no idea if they used facial recognition cameras here. And it was probably paranoia on a tin-foil hat crazy kind of level to assume that anyone would be actively hunting for me. But if I was in a database somewhere…

Breathe, Kat. Don’t be nervous. I swallowed, trying to ignore the pulse pounding at my throat, drying my mouth. I’d finished my water bottle on the plane and was completely parched. And damn, did I ever have to use the washroom. Could I back out now and run for the toilet? Breathe, Kat. Don’t show your fear.

Flashing through my brain at light speed was every possible problem that could occur.

No. There would be no problems, I assured myself. I shook the tension out of my shoulders. I’ve got this.

There wouldn’t be a problem, would there?

Governments didn’t communicate that well between themselves, anyway. No way could this passport controller guy have any ideas about what went on in Canada. Americans seldom cared enough to know much of anything about the country just north of them. So neglect becomes my ally.

“Ladies first,” Heath gestured to the next available passport control officer, and I nudged ahead of him, making a face at his flowery show of chivalry.

“I’ll let any ladies around here know. In the meantime, Awesome Gamer Chicks first,” I replied, and he snorted.

It would be perfectly fine. Perfectly normal. But if there was nothing to worry about, why was my heart thrumming at the base of my throat as I pushed that little navy blue booklet across the counter toward the man in the booth?

I grinned wide, hoping the toothy smile would help with my plans of distraction.

“Hey, there. How are you?” I piped.

The man, middle aged with dead eyes, showed no reaction whatsoever. His sausage-like fingers snapped up my passport, and he fumbled to the right page. I waited while he flipped to my picture then held the book in front of him to glance from the picture to my face and back again.