His face broke into a relieved smile when he saw her, which made her stomach flip and her knees go weak. The man was a goddamned Adonis with his green eyes, dark beard, and those tattoos. He’d changed while she was gone and he wore linen drawstring pants and a white, long-sleeved t-shirt that pulled across the muscles of his chest and shoulders. She could see the swirls of ink showing through the thin fabric of his sleeves and her fingers ached to trace the lines.
“Perfect timing,” he said. “Your dinner is served.” He performed a smart little bow and swept his hand to the side, ushering her into the suite. She went willingly, doubts and thoughts of begging off disappearing at the sight of him.
She held up the bag in her hand. “Dessert,” she said, “as promised. I hope you like gelato.”
“
