Malcolm tipped up his glass, swallowing the last of the wine in it, and decided that it was time to put the second half of his plan into action. Turning aside from Hoshi, who was happily watching the tiny pale sail of a distant yacht, he rolled over and pulled the scanner out of the rucksack. He'd keyed in the settings the night before, and watched with deep satisfaction as the readings confirmed what he'd hoped they would: that he and Hoshi had the hilltop completely to themselves.

He was aware, of course, of the presence of scanning satellites in orbit. There was an extremely remote possibility that a camera somewhere might pick them up, but the likelihood of anyone paying attention to such a deserted spot was virtually nonexistent, and if by any chance they did, the distance was too great for detail. Besides which, right at that moment, he couldn't give a damn.

He set the scanner atop a lump of rock behind them. A small 'ping' confirmed that the programme he'd installed was working. If anyone came within a kilometre of them, it would give him instant warning.

The sound attracted his companion's attention. She turned her head, and looked in puzzlement at the scanner. Then she looked at his expression. Then, enchantingly, she blushed. It made him want to kiss her in even more places than he'd already thought of, and he'd thought of a remarkable number already. "Malcolm! You want to ...here?"

"I believe seagulls are very broad-minded." Which was a bloody good thing, in view of what he intended to do with the contents of the other container.

He brought it out, and removed the lid. "You won't believe how much you're going to enjoy this."

She looked at the bowl of crushed pineapple, and smiled, doubtless remembering all the trouble she'd had to go to in order to find out his favourite food, back in the heady first days of the voyage aboard Enterprise. "I hope you've brought a spoon."

"I don't need a spoon." He turned his stare up to maximum. "And I never said you were going to be eating any."

"But you said – MALCOLM!" As the penny finally dropped, she blushed even more.

He put the container on the turf, and lowered his head to it. He used his tongue with the utmost delicacy to scoop a small amount of the sweet fruit out of it, watching her from under his brows as he did so.

For some reason this appeared to affect her powerfully. He'd rather hoped it might. It was certainly doing things for him; lying flat on the turf had suddenly become extremely uncomfortable. He'd have to adopt appropriate measures when circumstances required.

"Yes," he said softly. "That's exactly what I brought it for. I'm going to eat every last bit of it. In due course."

In a remarkably short time after that they were locked together, kissing passionately. He was aching to start eating pineapple, but he had interesting things to do before he could get around to that part of the proceedings. Aided by the fact that her tracksuit top had mysteriously come undone, he began kissing down her neck – she had a beautiful neck, he told her, just in case she hadn't been listening when he mentioned it on any of a score of previous occasions; and – no, he'd save them for a bit; and did she know, he continued, that she had the most gorgeous bellybutton?

Apparently he had told her before. Either that or she wasn't really interested in him paying compliments to her bellybutton right now. Which led him back to the parts he'd decided to save for later, which were so delectable that really nothing but the thought of pineapple could have induced him to pay them less than the full attention they deserved, though they still got quite a lot.

Pineapple. Want. Pineapple. Now. He rather thought Hoshi did too, to go by the way she was kicking her tracksuit bottoms down. And – oh, my. He'd thought the fluffy dressing-gown was a revelation. Now, where was that container of pineapple? Thanks to her foresight, he wouldn't even have the bother of getting her knickers off first.

Hoshi was hitting his shoulder. Oh, you just wait till I get going, my girl. You'll never walk past a greengrocer's again without going weak at the knees.

... 'Shuttle'? ...

Hoshi Sato, the woman with the supersensitive hearing.

What the – was a –ing shuttle doing in this –ing neck of the woods at this –ing hour?

In the effort to act the gentleman he'd been brought up to be, Malcolm only mouthed the words that sprang to mind as he hastily helped to restore his fiancée to a state of respectability. Screaming every one of the round Anglo-Saxon derivatives in his wide vocabulary, however, wouldn't have even come close to expressing the emotions aroused by actually having had his fingers in that damned pineapple when it dawned on him that the impacts of his beloved's fist on his shoulders hadn't actually been encouragement to get on with the dessert course.

A minute or two later even he could hear the familiar note of the shuttle engine. He turned over, shading his eyes to stare up for the silver shape. Still at enough of a distance for no details to be visible; the scanners would have picked up their biosigns, but thankfully even if whoever was aboard had used their enhanced forward cameras his body would have been between them and Hoshi.

He watched it swoop closer, not bothering to move. Why should he? He was on leave, and with the woman he loved. No public morality had been outraged, and if the seagulls had been offended they bloody well knew what they could do with their complaints.

"It's not one of ours," said Hoshi. For a moment he wondered how she knew – at this angle the name on the side wasn't visible. Then he realised she knew the sound of their own shuttlepods. Another point for her super-hearing.

"It wouldn't be. She's not due back till next week." Then Trip would want to carry out field tests of the new engine upgrades, and he'd be expected to do the same with the weaponry. Once upon a time the prospect would have had him practically frothing with excitement. Now, for some reason, he hardly felt able to summon up more than a weary sense of duty. The anti-fraternization regulations meant that when he and Hoshi could be married – whenever that would be – they would have to leave Enterprise; afterwards, if fate permitted, they'd both take up duties back on Earth, he in R&D and she in teaching again. If the threatened war materialised, of course, things might turn out very differently; the flagship of the Fleet would have duties that no later commitment could supersede. But in the meantime, he was holding on to hope, however slender it might grow as the days passed. He'd realised with some surprise that he was actually looking forward to the change, even though it might not be as exciting as exploring the far reaches of the galaxy; and although he'd found a family of friends aboard the ship, he was also looking forward to a new life with Hoshi and the hope of presently starting a family of their own. And he knew that Hoshi was delighted at the thought of going back to teaching.

Apprehension stirred as it occurred to him to wonder why the shuttlepod was coming for them – because the flight path unmistakably indicated an intended landing. In ordinary circumstances, if leave had been cancelled for any reason, they'd have received a summons via the hotel's reception to return to HQ. If it was so urgent that a shuttle had to be sent, he rather feared something serious must have kicked off. His stomach plunged with the anxiety that events on the war front might have moved faster than anyone had calculated; and bitterness followed the apprehension, that this had to happen on this day, of all days.

The shuttle slowed and began its descent. It was obviously aiming for the saddle at the top of the hill, where there was sufficient space for it to land safely, although it would take a skilled pilot to put it down without a jolt on the uneven surface.

Grimly accepting that duty called – at least they'd had the sunrise – Malcolm packed away everything that he'd brought up here, stood up and helped Hoshi to her feet. As they crossed the summit and began looking for the safest way down, the shuttle landed as lightly as a feather.

They were perhaps half way to the flatter ground when the gull-wing door lifted. The sea breeze stirred the hair of two officers looking out through the hatchway: both of them instantly familiar. Their faces didn't seem to be wearing the solemnity he'd have expected if some kind of crisis was imminent. Far from it; they were both grinning from ear to ear.

"The captain? And Trip?" Malcolm halted in astonishment. He glanced at Hoshi, and his bewilderment grew, for she wasn't looking surprised at all. As a matter of fact, she was wearing the expression of a cat which hasn't just got away with the cream, but has successfully absconded with the whole bloody dairy.

His perplexity was only increased by the sight of Travis and Liz – Travis's presence explained the delicacy with which the shuttle had been put down, but why Crewman Cutler should be here was completely beyond him.

"I get the feeling I'm the only one around here who has no idea what's going on," he muttered.

"Not for long!" Hoshi smiled up at him saucily.

"Malcolm!" Captain Archer stepped down from the shuttle and greeted him cheerfully. It was at this point that it became apparent that both he and Trip were in their dress uniforms, which simply added to the air of utter unreality.

"Sir." Disregarding the fact that he was on leave and out of uniform, the lieutenant automatically assumed a parade rest posture. He was aware that it probably looked somewhat odd, considering he was standing rather awkwardly on a patch of rocks, and that a spring of heather had got up his trouser leg and was tickling the skin just above his left ankle; but the size of the grin on Trip's face was filling him with a sense of formless apprehension that quite obliterated any capacity to care about what he looked like just then.

The captain stepped easily past him and climbed the couple of metres to the summit, where he looked around with evident approval for what he saw.

"Nice view, Malcolm," he said casually. "Got a few minutes to spare?"

Well, I was quite enjoying the view I was having before you and your bloody shuttle showed up, but ... He could hardly make that sort of response to his commanding officer, however. More bewildered than ever, he swallowed. "I, er ... yes, sir, of course. Whatever you need me to do."

Archer turned around and looked down at him; a smile played around his mouth. "Well, a little bird told me this is kind of a special place for you. So I was thinking you might just like me to do you that little 'favor' here that you asked me about a while ago on board ship."

Reed's jaw dropped.

He and Hoshi had gone to the captain shortly after the ugly episode with Terra Prime and asked him to marry them. It had apparently needed a lot of permissions and paperwork, and whatever had to be got through hadn't been sorted by the time they came home. Or at least, that's what he'd assumed. Now, it was dawning on him that the delays which had seemed to him just another manifestation of Starfleet bureaucracy had in fact been nothing of the kind.

He looked down at Hoshi. At least she had the grace to look guilty, or at least as guilty as it's possible to look when you're grinning all over your face. "Would you happen to know anything about this, Ms Sato?" he enquired somewhat acidly, struggling to control the answering grin that was trying to take over his own face.

She giggled, which was all the answer he really needed, but her expression sobered and softened into love. "I wanted it to be somewhere really special for you, Malcolm."

"Hey! Hey! No kissin' the bride till afterwards!" shouted Trip, making shooing movements. "Come on, your clothes are in the shuttle!"

The two of them separated reluctantly. "'Clothes'?" repeated Malcolm, bewildered.

"If you want me to officiate, that's one of the conditions," said Captain Archer, smiling. "Regulations say I can perform the ceremony for members of my crew when under my command. And if you're under my command, you've got to be in uniform, Mister."

Reed exhaled. It wasn't exactly what he'd envisaged wearing on the happiest day of his life, but what the hell!

"I can't promise not to laugh if you come out wearing a coverall and a veil," he warned as they walked to the shuttle, where Liz and Travis had disappeared again, presumably finishing off whatever preparations were appropriate. "It wouldn't work." He leaned closer as they got to the hatch. "But at least you know what we'll be having for our first meal together," he whispered. "Though I suppose we'd better wait till we're alone."

An emergency blanket had been secured from one side of the shuttle to the other. Liz whisked Hoshi into the forward side of it, Trip and Travis pulled him into the rearward. A full set of his own dress uniform (not his coverall) was sitting on one of the benches, neatly folded, with a set of blues on top of it. They even had a pair of his boots and socks ready.

He'd already showered that morning (how long ago it seemed now!), but he allowed them to strip off his leisure clothes and help him into his uniform, applying squirts of deodorant in the appropriate places in case of any attack of last-minute nerves. The almost incessant whispered advice they supplied at the same time was completely unnecessary, but he took it in the spirit in which it was intended. More giggles from the other side of the curtain indicated that Hoshi was receiving much the same from Liz, although that was just as superfluous.

Part way through the preparations, however, a thought struck him that stopped him in his tracks, horror printed on his face.

"Now don't say you've changed your mind!" Trip wagged an admonishing finger at him. "After we've been to all the trouble we have to set this up, you're marryin' that woman if I have to make it a phase pistol weddin'!"

"Rings!" Malcolm hissed. "How can I marry her if we've got no rings?"

With the insufferably-pleased-with-himself expression of a conjurer producing a starship out of a matchbox, Trip delved in his breast pocket and took out a soft piece of scarlet material, carefully folded. He opened it to show two matching rings, both of brushed duranium to match Hoshi's engagement ring, which the ensign had proudly worn around the ship after her engagement to Malcolm had finally become public knowledge. "They'll be the right size, too. Got the measurements from your medical scans in Sickbay. Phlox was tickled to death."

"God, I wish I'd thought of something that simple when I was trying to get the size for the engagement ring." Although even if he had thought of it, his innate compulsion for secrecy would have prevented him from taking Phlox into his confidence on so intimate a matter; besides which, the challenge of getting the measurement he needed by covert tactics had appealed to him. It had taken him some minutes of agonising stealth to slip a loop of string around Hoshi's finger without waking her, long after she'd fallen asleep in his bunk one night. He'd suffered less anxiety the first time he'd disarmed a bomb.

Captain Archer looked in through the hatch after a couple of minutes. He had what was almost certainly a prompt card in his hand. "How long does it take to get a couple of officers ready for their wedding around here?" he asked.

"Can't say about the bride, but I guess the bridegroom's about ready to go," said Trip, polishing a few imaginary fingerprints from Malcolm's rank pips with his sleeve.

Reed glanced down automatically, and it was at that point he noticed that there were three pips where there should be two. He stared incredulously, first at the third pip and then at the captain. "Sir?"

Archer smiled. "Call it a wedding present. You earned it, Lieutenant Commander Reed. And you never know, even if we never have to make that call to pull you back to Tactical, one day you might get tired of R&D."

"All we need now is someone volunteerin' to cry," Trip broke in irreverently, sparing Malcolm the necessity of speech when he could hardly breathe for the lump in his throat. "Won't be a proper weddin' without somebody cryin' their eyes out."

"Isn't that the bride's mother's job, sir?" Travis pointed out. "Hoshi wants me to give her away. That makes me her daddy, doesn't it?" All four of them looked a bit dazed for a moment at this; considering the two ensigns were much of an age, it was stretching things a bit.

Trip was the first to recover. "Well I can't 'cause I'm the best man, the cap'n can't 'cause he's the legal guy, and Liz can't 'cause she's the bridesmaid. Can't ask Hoshi to on her weddin' day."

"Don't look at me, I'm the bridegroom. I'm not supposed to cry." Malcolm had regained a little of his composure by this time.

"Somebody's got to do it," the chief engineer said firmly. "Travis, you just got volunteered."

The helmsman opened his mouth to protest and shut it again, obviously knowing when he was cornered. He picked up a handful of paper handkerchiefs with the pretended air of one prepared to do his duty, however onerous it may be. "Pity Commander T'Pol isn't here, you could have asked her to pretend to be the bride's mother," he said brightly, after he'd dabbed at his eyes and sniffed a bit theatrically.

"Correction, Ensign. You could have asked her to do it. I don't fancy getting my knackers torn off and stamped on before my wedding night."

"Maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea," admitted Travis, laughing.

"You got that right. C'mon, Malcolm, let's get you into position."

"No, that's what I'm supposed to say to Hoshi later."

"Jeez, for a guy who went round Enterprise for the first six months like he'd got a duranium rod up his ass, you sure did a good job of hidin' that sense of humor." Trip grabbed his elbow. "Off we go, Loo-tenant!" Habit was evidently hard to break, and Malcolm forbore to point out that that title was now inaccurate – mostly because he'd become secretly rather attached to that affectionate drawl.

"With you in just a minute!" yelled Liz from the other side of the curtain.

As Malcolm stumbled back out of the shuttle after Trip, his mind in a joyous daze, he touched the captain's arm. "Sir, weren't you supposed to be in talks at Headquarters?"

"Even the brass in a council of war get to take a break occasionally. I just coaxed Captain Hernandez into loaning me one of Columbia's shuttles for the day." Archer smiled. "Important Starfleet business."

The ex-lieutenant coloured. "In the circumstances, I'm not sure that's the correct description, sir."

"On the contrary." The captain put a hand on his shoulder. "Making two of my officers very happy is a very important business to me, and since I'm acting in my capacity as a representative of Starfleet, then to my mind that makes this very important Starfleet business."

"Then I can only say how grateful I –" The lump in his throat stopped him again, but the squeeze from the hand on his shoulder before it was released said that his gratitude was understood.

The three men walked up to the summit and took up position: Malcolm with Trip at his shoulder and Captain Archer facing him. Travis, of course, had remained behind to escort the bride. The sun had risen higher by this time, but the sky was still cloudless. He'd been right, earlier on: it was going to be a marvellous day, but for even more reasons than he'd imagined.

"Shouldn't somebody be playin' some music here?" demanded Trip. "'Here Comes the Bride', or somethin'?"

"Mendelssohn. 'The Wedding March'," murmured Malcolm. "But we already have music." He squinted up into the blue, where the first notes of a distant skylark were tumbling through the clear air.

"Well. Not quite what I had in mind." The chief engineer grumbled good-naturedly, but fell silent, surveying his surroundings with admiration.

"Ready or not, here we come!" called Liz moments later.

The captain coughed. "Maybe just a little more formal, Crewman," he said patiently, rolling his eyes in her direction.

Malcolm snapped rigidly to attention, his eyes fixed forward. Beyond the skylark's song he could hear the ceaseless murmur of the waves far below, hushing and murmuring against the base of the cliffs. The contrast between his state of mind today and what it had been on his previous visit was almost beyond description, highlighting every reason he had for gratitude. The life he'd perceived as being utterly without worth or hope back then had come to glorious fruition when he fell in love with the woman he was about to marry.

A movement on his left told him she had arrived. He wanted so much to look at her and drink in her beauty, but Captain Archer had put on his 'official Starfleet representative' expression, so he had to be content for the moment with what his peripheral vision could tell him. She was in ivory, he could see that much, but there was...

Starfleet's official representative frowned with mock sternness at him, recalling eyes that were showing an inclination to wander.

Afterwards he remembered little of the ceremony; most of it, after all, was just 'legal-ese', a language with which he had little patience except where it concerned important things like starship regulations. Not that a single word of the ceremony that made him Hoshi's husband was unimportant; it was just that he was too busy ... feeling, rather than listening. Feeling the sea breeze pushing against his face, and the sunshine on his skin, and the silky fabric of the white undershirt shifting infinitesimally against his collar bones as he breathed; then feeling Hoshi's hand in his, and the cool strength of the ring as he slipped it on to her finger. It was vital that he speak clearly, because he'd never said anything that mattered more.

"I will."

Then there was the wondering, wonderful feeling of Hoshi doing the same for him. Her hand felt steadier than his had done. The duranium came to rest on his finger as though it had come home.

"I will."

Captain Archer's voice came back into the focus of his attention, warm with affection.

"Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

And at last he was free to look. Look properly; look and look, feeling as though he'd never get tired of looking, at his wife.

She was in ivory silk, a dress that hugged her figure with the elegance of a lily bud; she was carrying a small bouquet of silk flowers threaded with ivory ribbon, she had delicate mother-of-pearl flower earrings in her ears, and in the hollow at the base of her throat he saw the diamond heart pendant he'd bought her for her birthday a couple of weeks ago. Her silky hair was caught back at the sides, though somehow Liz had achieved soft curls in the length of it; over the top of her head was an ornament of white flowers and pearls. Under it her face was radiant with love. He'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

I'm the bridegroom. I. DO. NOT. CRY.

But as he gathered his wife into his arms and kissed her at last, the golden morning blurred for him in a haze of tears after all.

"Just like old times, eh, Malcolm?"

Trip reprised his conjurer's act as he produced a bottle of champagne from the aft locker of the shuttlepod as they all crowded back into it for the wedding breakfast – this being a picnic put together by Columbia's cook in honour of the occasion. "Thought you'd prefer this to bourbon," he added with a wink.

"Infinitely." The two of them shared a wry grin at the memory. And yet after all, Malcolm could find in himself no regret for what had happened back then; as traumatic as it had been, it had been the catalyst for a fundamental change in their relationship, allowing him to finally open up to the 'friend closer than a brother' that Trip had become.

"You haven't noticed yet, have you?" Hoshi asked him playfully, cuddling up to him.

"I've noticed you look absolutely gorgeous," he said, kissing her nose.

"Look a bit lower, stupid." She poked him in the ribs.

"I thought that part was supposed to wait till later. – Ouch!" Feigning indignation, he stepped back and looked more carefully. Apart from the hair decoration and the jewellery, there was the dress of course, and he hadn't had time to look his fill at that yet; funny, though, having the two –

Two rank pips on it.

His lips curved in a proud smile. "Congratulations, Lieutenant."

She inclined her head, indicating the evidence of his similar rise in rank. "The same to you, Lieutenant Commander."

"Hell!" cried Trip. "Now I won't be able to call you plain 'Loo-tenant' anymore!"

Malcolm turned towards him. "Well, Commandah, that's one thing I bloody well won't miss!"

"Aw, go tell the Klingons!" came the inelegant retort. Though the grin that accompanied it suggested it wasn't meant to be taken nearly as seriously as it sounded.

The storage spaces had been packed carefully. As well as the champagne and glasses, there was enough food for double the numbers – including, right at the bottom, a large box that was found to contain a wedding cake, complete with a depiction of Enterprise iced on the top of it that had all of the men shaking their heads in admiration at its accuracy and detail.

"'With best wishes for the happy couple, from Erika Hernandez.'" Captain Archer read out the card that was tucked into the ribbon. "You're honored, you two. I shudder to think what it must have taken her to get that cook of hers to do this in the time."

"Please tell her how grateful we are, sir." Hoshi stood on tiptoe to kiss him, at which there was a general round of applause; Trip and Travis had already claimed a kiss from the bride, and Malcolm had been given his by the bridesmaid – an event which had left both of them unwontedly pink.

The bride and bridegroom cut the cake – Trip had brought along his camera to record the event, and photographed this as he had everything else – and then everyone set to work to get the celebration going. There were wedding presents, of course, the captain explained, but they'd just complicate matters here, and they'd been left at HQ for later. There would have to be a celebration on board ship, too, so that everyone else could offer their congratulations.

Laughing and talking, they unpacked the food and began eating. It was the strangest imaginable wedding breakfast, eaten with the guests disposed in the various seats around the shuttle, but as he sat on the bench and looked around him, with his new bride tucked in the curve of his arm, Malcolm thought that nothing could possibly have suited him better. It was unfortunate that T'Pol couldn't attend, but then she was even less of a party person than he was, so perhaps she wouldn't have enjoyed it all that much anyway.

As the best man, it fell to Tucker to deliver a speech; normally this should have contained a wealth of detail specifically intended to mortify the bridegroom, but much to Malcolm's relief – and possibly owing something to one or two sotto voce threats delivered beforehand – it was surprisingly tactful as well as both short and entertaining. Though perhaps it wasn't really so surprising, Reed reflected as Trip concluded his duties with a toast to the bridesmaid; the chief engineer might be unable to pick a decent shirt to save his life, but he was the best mate a man could wish for. The threats intended to make him behave had perhaps not been entirely necessary.

Captain Archer then spoke briefly, wishing the newlyweds a long and happy life together. He also mentioned that the presence of a Starfleet shuttlepod in such an exposed location was unlikely to remain unnoticed for long, and that it would probably be best if they didn't remain there much longer, unless they really wanted to attract an awful lot of attention. "And I'm guessing that's not something you two do really want on your wedding day," he ended with a smile.

"Not particularly." Hoshi smiled brilliantly at him. "I think we had enough of being celebrities when we came home after the Xindi. Now we'd rather just get on with the honeymoon in peace."

"Hear, hear!" said Malcolm, kissing her. The mention of the word 'honeymoon' had reminded him of the words 'pineapple' and 'unfinished business'.

"Well, I thought that's what you'd say. So here's my wedding present to the both of you." The captain handed over an envelope. "You're booked into the honeymoon suite. We'll drop you off before we leave."

"They have a heli-pad in the grounds," added Travis, beaming. "We can put down with no trouble at all."

"And you can get the place you're staying at now to send your things on to you," chimed in Liz.

Malcolm slipped an arm around his wife, and looked around at his friends. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve any of them, but bloody hell, he wouldn't trade even one of them for their weight in latinum.

"Better act fast," advised Trip, glancing through the viewing panel on the shuttle's door. "I think we're about to get company."

The captain had evidently been right. A small crowd had gathered at a respectful distance, just at the top of the path, but it was unlikely they'd stay there indefinitely. News of an event like this would spread, too, and the next thing you knew there'd be a journalist or two or three, and there would go any chance of a peaceful and anonymous honeymoon in whatever luxurious location Archer had seen fit to select for them.

"Better take off while we can," said Travis, politely handing Liz out of the pilot's seat so he could take the controls. "They'll be safe enough at that distance. I'll make sure there's no-one any closer before I start up."

It was the work of a moment to ascertain that nobody had had the temerity to come up to the shuttle. As soon as he knew it was safe to do so, the young helmsman started the engine, and the craft lifted into the air.

Some twenty minutes later, Malcolm and Hoshi stood a short distance from the hotel's heli-pad, watching the shuttle take off again. All around them green hills enclosed the valley and its lakes in sheltering arms, creating a paradise of peace and tranquillity.

"You do realize how odd we're going to look," she said, taking his hand. "Checking into this place in our wedding clothes, with not even a suitcase."

"I'm not worried. There's nothing in a suitcase that you're going to need for the next couple of days except a toothbrush, and they'll sort that out for us if I ask nicely. We'll get our meals sent up." Holding hands, although highly satisfactory, wasn't nearly good enough; he got her into his arms instead, and kissed her. "I don't know about you, Mrs Sato-Reed, but I've got everything I need right here."

"Everything?" she said, smiling up at him lovingly.

"Oh, yes." He shifted his shoulder, where his rucksack was hanging once again. At least they had one item of luggage between them. "And you know one thing I really, really want to find out?"

"Tell me," she purred, leading him towards the hotel's resplendent front entrance. "I want to hear every gory detail."

"I want to find out just how much a married woman enjoys pineapple."

And – to their mutual delight – she did.

Enormously.

The End.