He gave her an odd look. “It is, actually, but they’re very discreet. We aren’t the only ones who own the beach. On one side is a property Ethan’s friend Alex Damon owns, and on the other is Steve Freeman’s.”
“Steve Freeman the rock star?”
“Yup. There are other houses farther down, like the Pryces’ family home and so on. No fences between the properties.”
That made sense. People wealthy enough to own something like this probably didn’t want to see ugly fences and guards lurking around. They wanted a tropical resort, not a concentration camp.
Their cars drove past a gate manned by three machine-gun toting guards, their white smiles startling against dark sweat-beaded skin. Then there was a two-lane road for another twenty minutes or so through vegetation the color of jade and malachite.
Located on a private beach surrounded by lush tropical forest, the Lloyds’ vacation home was a white two-story structure that sprawled like a happy Great Dane. A uniformed housekeeper and two men came out to greet them at the main entrance. The petite woman introduced herself as Fern; the others were Manup and Tad. The men started porting in Gavin and Amandine’s belongings.
The mansion was stunning. The foyer ceiling soared, giant windows facing the beach and forest. The floors were made of polished teak, and the kitchen, dining and living rooms all connected in an open layout that shared a gorgeous view of the aquamarine ocean. The master bedroom suite on the second floor looked out onto the beach and an outdoor pool, and had a huge balcony with a shade over an intimate glass table and chair set for two. Crisp white sheets and numerous fluffy pillows spread over the king-size bed. Unsurprisingly, the house also had a large office in the back that had a forest view, the vibrant greens providing a soothing counterpoint to the room’s dark wood paneling.
“Done with the tour?” Gavin said after she’d returned to the master bedroom.
The staff had already unpacked most of their things, and he’d changed into a pair of shorts…sans shirt. Her mouth dried at the sight of his lean, muscular torso. She hadn’t seen him topless in a while. He wasn’t classically handsome the way many aspiring actors and models were, but it didn’t matter. He was the most gorgeous man to her, a godling among mere mortals. How could something this perfect be hers?
“Amandine?” he prodded when she didn’t say anything.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“If you need anything, just let Fern know.”
“Okay.” She took a comfy couch by the balcony. “Do we get wifi?”
“Of course. That’s how we stream the latest movies. There’s a theater on the first level.”
“Good god,” she muttered. The master bedroom suite had a giant flat-screen TV and entertainment system. She should’ve expected a separate room reserved for watching films. Gavin rarely had the time to see any, but he loved movies.
“Hungry?” Gavin asked.
“A little bit.” She hadn’t eaten much on the flight, and it was well past her usual dinner time.
“I asked Fern to set the table on the balcony. Hope you like Thai.”
She smiled. “Thai will be fine.”
* * *
Gavin didn’t show it, but he felt some relief. He hadn’t been a hundred percent sure if bringing Amandine to the family vacation home was the right thing to do. In three years of marriage, she had neve
r hinted she’d wanted to come even though she’d had several opportunities. That was why he’d booked trips to Bora Bora and the Maldives. He hoped the privacy and beautiful natural surroundings in Thailand would soothe Amandine’s anger and help mend the rift between them.
The evening breeze from the ocean was cool and brought down the humidity. Little wisps of golden hair whipped around Amandine’s heart-shaped face as the two of them sat at the table on the balcony, facing the beach. Fern set down a big bowl of roasted duck with mild curry. Then came a platter of fried rice and vegetables. Gavin’s mouth started watering in anticipation; he knew she was a fabulous cook. It was a shame she had no interest in relocating to L.A.
Once she was gone, Gavin served Amandine, putting a huge mound of rice and several big pieces of duck on her plate.
“That’s fine,” she said, raising a hand for him to stop.
“You’re eating for two.”
“More like one and a tenth. The baby is still teeny.”
“Still. When you start having morning sickness, you won’t be able to eat much.”
“Gavin, if we’re going to be together you’re going to have to respect my wishes on some things. And one of them is how to feed the baby.”
Reluctantly, he stopped piling her plate and placed it in front of her. It wasn’t just the worry about her pregnancy that made him want to give her more food. He’d noticed she hadn’t eaten much during the long flight from L.A.