Christian knew exactly where he was going. When he parked, I marveled at the surroundings. We were right on the water, various midrise condominiums oceanfront with quaint shops and bistros on the other side. The buildings were colorful, artistic, and the atmosphere was definitely beachy.
Even before I climbed out, I heard music coming from all sides. Once outside, I took a deep breath. I’d always loved the ocean, but since moving to Miami had rarely found the time to venture to the water’s edge.
“You’ve been here before?”
“Of course,” he said as if a matter of course. “I have business throughout Florida. This is tucked away and more popular with the locals. I think you’ll enjoy having a cold drink by the water.”
“You’re right.” I certainly couldn’t argue with him. Not about this. Although we certainly had argued about almost everything else. The dock was filled with people, some heading to boats scattered along the attached moors. I noticed the structure before the name, the gazebo huge and positioned over the water. “The Cabana Bayfront. How often have you been here?”
“More often than you might think.” He laughed and guided me to a perfect table where I could people watch and enjoy the pristine view. As soon as we settled in, a waitress headed in our direction.
“With all your girlfriends?” I don’t know why I was bothering getting so personal.
He shook his head. “Usually a client. I haven’t had a girlfriend in years. How about a mimosa?” he asked as if preferring to avoid the subject.
“A champagne man.” When he gave me a look, I threw up my hand. “I know what you’re going to say, but don’t. I’d love a mimosa. Heavy on the champagne.”
“Make it a pitcher with your best champagne,” he told the beautiful girl.
“Yes, sir.”
When she left, I leaned over the table with my arms folded. “Don’t you need to drive home?”
“What if we aren’t going home, at least tonight?”
“Then I’d need to remind you that I was lucky I found matching clothes for court today. It was apparent I was very angry when I packed to head to your house.”
“Yes, my wildcat does have a vicious streak. Who needs clothes?” The moment he asked the question, my expression obviously reflected the snap back to reality.
We weren’t a couple.
“I meant what I said yesterday. I’m not into forcing women to do something against their will, unless we’re talking about business. I thought you might like to get away from life and reality if only for a day.”
“Are you actually being thoughtful?”
“Does that trouble you?”
“Maybe a little. You are the kind of man who uses a hidden agenda to your advantage whenever possible.” At least my answer was truthful.
He snorted, sitting back as the girl brought our drinks. “At least you don’t mince words. I like that about you, along with several other things.”
“Tossing out bait, are you?”
“Maybe so,” he said with the same distinct growl he’d used several times before, the sound that had caused me to melt into a puddle.
Not this time.
Not this girl.
But it was fun toying with him. That always took my mind off real life.
“Would you like a late lunch?” he asked in a way that had me lifting an eyebrow.
“Perhaps.”
He pushed his glass aside, leaning over the small table. Between the scent of the ocean and his masculine aftershave, I was lightheaded.
“I was thinking oysters. Raw. Fresh. Addictive. And a powerful aphrodisiac.”
