Page 5 of Her Forever SEAL

“I had help.”

She set the clutch down and reached for the next box. She lifted the lid and the color came into her face immediately. A demi-cup bra in ivory lace. Lace panties. A garter belt and stockings. She looked up at Mason and he was watching her with an expression that was entirely too pleased with itself.

“Mason Gault,” she said.

He said nothing.

She set that box aside very carefully, then reached for the last one and lifted the lid and just sat there.

She reached in and turned the shoe over in her hand. When she saw the red sole she understood exactly what she was holding and set it back down in the tissue paper like it was something that could break.

“I can't wear these,” she said. “These need to be kept under glass. These need to be admired from a safe distance and never actually put on a human foot.”

Mason laughed out loud, the real kind, the kind she had been collecting for twenty-two years.

“I'll be in the living room,” he said, and pulled the bedroom door mostly closed behind him.

She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment in the quiet and looked at everything spread around her. The dress. The clutch. The lingerie she was absolutely going to wear. The shoes she was apparently going to put on her actual feet tonight.

She thought about the girl she had been at twenty-two, eating cup noodles on a beach blanket and thinking she was not worth very much.

Then she got up and started getting dressed.

Everything fit like it had been made for her. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror in all of it and thought, with complete sincerity, that she was never taking any of this off. Not ever. She leaned toward the orchids on the nightstand and breathed them in, and she loved him so much in that moment it was almost difficult to contain.

When she walked out into the living room, Mason turned from the window and looked at her. He didn't say anything for a moment, and that silence was its own kind of compliment.

“The rooftop restaurant,” he said. “That's where we're going.”

She felt the delight move through her from her stomach outward.

She crossed to the sofa and opened her purse to get her phone and gift for Mason to put it into the clutch so she could give it to him at dinner. The phone fit, but not the thick envelope.

She dropped the envelope back into her purse.

He crossed the room, reached for her hand, and tangled their fingers together. She looked up at him in his charcoal suit and felt, not for the first time and not for the last, like the luckiest woman she knew.

He opened the door to the suite and they headed for the elevator.

The elevator was taking too long.

Mason stood beside Sophia with the small box of leftovers from the restaurant in one hand and her hand in the other, watching the floor numbers change with the waning patience of a man who had very little to begin with.

“You know,” he said, “this chocolate cake is not going to taste anywhere near as good as anything your bakery produces.”

Sophia tilted her head and considered this with the seriousness it deserved. “You never know. It's always good to check out the competition. I can always learn something.” She paused, and when she continued her voice had dropped into something that was not quite her normal register. “Anyway, we're probably going to need something to eat later.”

Mason looked at her.

She looked back at him with an expression that was perfectly composed and completely innocent but really not innocent at all.

He laughed.

When the doors finally opened he ushered her down the hallway at a pace that had purpose behind it, and after about four steps Sophia said, “Mason. Slow down. I am not used to shoes this high.”

He stopped. He turned and looked at her, and then he looked at the shoes, and then he looked at all of her, the silver dress and the clutch and her hair and the way she was looking at him with laughter just behind her eyes, and he felt something that was equal parts affection and desire and gratitude. He had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky to find and marry Sophia, but he hoped he would never take her for granted.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “You look incredible. You look—” he searched for the right word and landed on the true one —arousing. You look completely arousing and I am finding it difficult to be patient.”