“Your legs seem to be back to their old selves, Bergman.” I smile up at Viggo as he sashays toward me, twinkly lights strung across the deck bathing him in a magical golden glow. “And you,” he says, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close, the slow dance music swelling around us, “have finally stopped walking like you got railed in a flower field this morning.” I gasp. Viggo grins devilishly and wiggles his eyebrows. “I love scandalizing you.”
