I heard on the grapevine at Lorn’s that Suzie is pregnant. Did you know?

Mom xx

Dylan stared at the screen for long minutes, the untouched cup of coffee in his hand going cold.

He could clearly picture his mother sitting under the dryer at Lorn’s salon, her hair in rollers, reading some out of date magazine while the town’s latest tittle-tattle flowed around her. Her sons had provided a rich seam to mine for the local gossipmongers over the years, and she’d become accustomed to wearing her silence and serenity like an invisible cloak. It was that or fight back, and with sons like her boys, that was too much fighting for any one woman.

Suzie was pregnant. Dylan closed his laptop and looked out over the Mediterranean from the open fronted cafe, remembering his coffee and finding it unpalatably cold. Was he bothered? On some level, perhaps. He didn’t want to analyse his own feelings where Suzie was concerned; she hadn’t been his girl for a while now. They’d both moved on, through choice on her part and necessity on his. He’d filed her away, along with all of the other associated bad memories, in a seldom-visited box at the back of his brain. The box was dirty. Battered, as if it had been kicked around in a temper. Padlocked with a big rusty lock that he’d deliberately lost the key to because he never wanted to have to open it again.

This was home now. Ibiza. Sunshine. Sand. Sea. Sexy girls in cowboy boots.

He hadn’t expected to find sanctuary on board a boat kitted out with its own private glitter-ball, or in the arms of a girl with wild curls and questionable taste in footwear. But then he'd learned the hard way that life throws you curveballs, and sometimes the best thing to do is just try and catch them, hoping like hell that no one guesses you don’t even know the rules of the game.

Sophie turned off the webcam, tears on her cheeks from blowing kisses to Tilly and her parents after their daily catch up session. Being apart from their daughter was proving hard on her heart, even if she was clearly having the time of her little life being spoiled rotten by her grandparents.

Lucien handed her a chilled glass of wine and stroked a tender hand down her hair.

“Don’t cry on your birthday, Princess. She’ll be here next week.”

Sophie placed her hand over his on her shoulder and turned to kiss his knuckles, knowing that Lucien missed their little girl almost as much as she did.

“Being here alone has its compensations,” he murmured, taking her hand and tugging her to her feet. “Come with me. I made dinner reservations.”

“You did?”

He rolled his eyes. “Come with me.”

Sophie let him lead her, her eyes drawn as always to the lone wolf inked across his naked, sun bronzed back, brought to life by the subtle shift of his muscles as he moved. At thirty-six, he was a man who turned the heads of women in any room he walked into, yet whose own head was turned by no one but her. His loyalty and lust were for Sophie alone, a thrill that never got old for her.

“I need to go and get ready,” Sophie said veering off towards the stairs down to their suite.

“No you don’t.”

Lucien didn’t turn around, just kept hold of her hand and led her out onto the terrace and down the warm stone steps at the side of the villa. Heady, scented honeysuckle meandered along the wall beside them, loading the air with sweetness as anticipation warmed Sophie’s bones. Lucien had assumed an air of mystery, which usually meant nothing but good things. Sometimes wild things, sometimes shocking things, but always, always good.

He turned to her at the bottom of the steps, reaching into his jeans pocket and producing a large, old key. “This way.” He slid the key into an arched gate in the wall, then shouldered it open. Sophie glanced past him to see what lay beyond. She hadn’t ventured past that point, in truth she hadn’t given any thought to what was on the other side of the gate. Cliff, she’d vaguely assumed.

Lucien stepped through and set off down the rocky, uneven path, Sophie following close behind him.

“What’s down here?”

“Dinner.”

She glanced dubiously around the small slice of wilderness. “Do we have to catch it with our bare hands?”

“Would I make you do that on your birthday?”

He wouldn’t, she was almost certain. Almost. Previous birthdays had involved many things: surprise trips, private movie screenings, jewels that had made her gasp. This was a different approach, very different. Picking her way down a dusty Ibizan cliffside like a mountain goat was definitely unusual.

“Nearly there,” he said, then turned unexpectedly and drew her against him for a slow, sizzling kiss. For a few seconds Sophie didn’t give the slightest thought to where they were heading, because being kissed by Lucien was utterly immersive. His hand drifted over her breast, and she felt her nipple ripen for him through her flimsy sundress.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he murmured, drawing his thumb around the nipple.

“No.”

He ran an experimental hand down her spine and over her backside, checking if she had anything at all on beneath the cotton. She didn’t. She gasped when he unexpectedly lifted the dress up, grasping the seams as he tugged it off over her head.

“Lucien,” she breathed, feeling exposed and instantly hot for him.

“If it was up to me you’d never wear clothes,” he said, his hands back on her breasts as his tongue moved lazily in her mouth. He stopped when she slid her hands down his abs and popped the top button on his jeans.

“Not me, Princess. Just you.”

He stepped away from her and inclined his head towards where the path ahead of them curved out of sight.

“Dinner is just around the corner.”

Panic warmed Sophie’s cheeks. “I’m not going to find a table full of people round there, am I?” She’d taken Kara at face value when she’d said that she was spending the night with Dylan. Had she been covering for Lucien’s birthday surprise?

He glanced back to her. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you know I’d die of embarrassment?”

He must have caught the genuine anxiety in her voice, because he stopped and turned again, his palm soft against her hair.

“Just us, Princess. I promise.” He traced a fingertip from her lips, between her breasts, over her stomach, and came to rest just above the crevice between her legs. “No one else gets to see you like this.”

The possessive edge to his softly spoken words served only to make them sexier. He was a caveman in all the best ways. He moved his finger inside her folds for the most fleeting of seconds, his eyes knowing on hers as he skimmed her clitoris before turning his back to lead her on to dinner.

She came to an abrupt standstill when they rounded the rock, completely taken by surprise at what she saw.

“I never even realised this was here,” she said, her palm flat against her breastbone.

“I know. I wanted to keep it a surprise.”

She stepped forwards into a natural, totally private alcove worn into the rock, so deep it made a room in itself, enclosed by its three rocky walls. A four-poster day-bed nestled in the space, made of simple plain driftwood dressed with gauzy white drapes and sheets. Beyond the alcove, the cliff dropped away down to the sea below. In the distance the huge peach sun sank slowly into the horizon. Candles flickered on the natural ledges around the alcove, and a table stood beside the bed topped with silver domes. For a few seconds Sophie forgot she was naked. Lucien’s birthday surprise had completely enchanted her.

And then he moved in close and dropped to his knees in front of her, and she remembered again, really fast.

“So, it’s your birthday,” he said, wrapping his arms around her thighs and kissing her stomach. Her shoulders touched the smooth, cool stone wall behind her as Lucien hooked her leg over his shoulder, opening her sex to his eyes. He cradled the cheeks of her ass in his hands and looked up her body. “Let me give you something.”