Buried In Buttercream

looked around at the basic shabbiness of the place, he said, “Are you sure you want to spend our first night here? I’m sure we could score a better place if you wanna.”
    “No,” she said. “This place has sentimental value.”
    She thought back to when they had been investigating a case here on the island and had missed the last ferry home. They’d been forced to spend the night here together. And it had always been a secretly treasured memory for her.
    “It’s not like we did anything here,” he said. “Other than sleep, that is.”
    She turned and saw something akin to a scowl on his face. With Dirk you couldn’t always tell for sure. A lot of his expressions looked like scowls.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t even think to ask you ... Did you want to get a nicer place?”
    He looked at her like she was some sort of alien species. “Savannah,” he said, “I’m a guy. Guys don’t care about ‘nicer.’ If it’s got a bed, we’re happy.”

    She came out of the bathroom, wearing the beautiful white negligee that her sisters and Granny had bought for her. The soft chiffon flowed gracefully all around her, the floral lace and tiny pearls were strategically placed to accent her feminine curves.
    Dirk was sitting on the side of the bed, wearing a pair of simple black pajama bottoms. His chest was bare.
    Over the years, she’d seen his chest many times before. And the sight, nice as it was, had never caused her pulse to quicken like this. But then, she hadn’t been about to go to bed with him.
    “You look gorgeous,” he said. “I like the gown. Better than those Minnie Mouse jammies I’ve seen you in.”
    “Oh, thanks,” she said with a shy giggle.
    On the desk and the nightstands, several pink votive candles flickered, lighting the room with a soft, rosy glow.
    “Where did you get the candles?” she asked.
    “Brought ’em.”
    “You did?”
    “Yeah, I had ’em in my suitcase.”
    She smiled. “Nice touch.”
    She looked over and saw that he had placed his red rose boutonnière on one of the pillows. “Oh, you darlin’,” she said. “That’s really sweet.”
    “If it’s sweets you want”—he jumped up and rustled around in his suitcase for a minute—“I’ve got that covered, too.”
    He produced a gold box of Godiva truffles and handed them to her.
    “Boy, you are too much.”
    “Nothing’s too much for you, Van.” He ran his hand down the sleeve of her nightdress. “I’m just so happy to be here ... with you.”
    “Me, too.”
    He took her hand and gently led her over to the bed.
    “You wanna, um, relax ... or somethin’?” he asked.
    “Yes, relaxing sounds nice.”
    They awkwardly climbed onto the bed. Savannah lifted the boutonnière from her pillow and stuck herself with the pin. “Ouch,” she said, setting it on the nightstand.
    He took her hand, looked at it, then put the injured finger to his lips and kissed it.
    “Your hand’s shaking, Van,” he said. “Are you okay?”
    “Sure,” she said, feeling anything but okay. “I guess I’m just a little nervous.”
    “Nervous? Why?” He laced his fingers through her hair and massaged the back of her neck. “It’s just me. You’re not afraid of ol’ Dirk, are you?”
    “No. It’s just that ... we’ve waited so long for this and ...”
    He cupped her face in his big, warm palm and traced the edge of her upper lip lightly with his thumb. “And what, sweetheart?”
    She gulped. “And I ... I don’t think I could stand it if you were ... disappointed.”
    He threw back his head and laughed. And the deep, male sound of it went through her, touching her warmly in intimate places.
    “Savannah, my love,” he said, “you never fail to amaze me.” He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Sweetheart, it isn’t possible for you to disappoint me. I have no expectations.”
    She looked up at him and said, “None?”
    “Well ... okay a few.”
    He kissed her, deeply and passionately, then said, “You don’t mind if I do that, do you?”
    “Oh, no,” she said when she’d caught her breath. “Not at all.”
    He chuckled and eased her gently back onto the bed, then leaned over her. “And would it be okay if I did this?”
    He trailed one finger from her cheek, down her throat, to where the gown dipped and showed a bit of cleavage.
    “Okay,” she replied.
    Slowly, he untied the ribbon that held the front of the gown closed. But when he started to brush the satin aside, she