The music slowed and stopped.
“Would you like to go somewhere else?” Isaac asked in a soft voice.
I studied his strong masculine features, but couldn’t get a fix on how he wanted me to reply. So selfishly, I went with what I wanted.
“Sure.” Although my voice was noncommittal, my heart did an excited flip-flop. It felt like I was stepping into the unknown. In truth I was—I had no idea how Isaac felt or what he wanted from me. For all I knew, he could be dancing with me on a dare.
The thought sobered me for five seconds, then the unconscious shifting of my feet sent a wave of sensation arrowing outward from my achy clit. Oh, man. I was in big trouble here.
Outside, the air was cooler. A soft breeze tugged at my curls, caressed my bare shoulders and sent my skirt swirling around my legs.
Isaac took my hand in his again. “Would you like to walk on the beach?”
Frankly, I didn’t care what we did. I was too busy trying to put a brake on my unruly hormones. I prayed I’d get through the evening without embarrassing myself.
“Sure.” A woman of many words.
“There’s a bar at the far end of the beach. It’s quieter than the Bowls Club. We can talk.”
Momentary glitch. Isaac wanted to talk. Shit. Hell. Damn. My wayward hormones didn’t think much of that idea, but I nodded. “Sounds great.” My hormones would just have to get with the program.
“What are you doing with yourself now Susan is married?” Isaac asked.
“I haven’t had a chance to make any plans,” I said, trying to ignore the heat crawling from his hand up my arm. “She’s only been married a month. I’ve been busy helping organize this trip for the RSA. I thought I might get an office job once things settle down. I’ll probably need to retrain, but I’m willing to do that. I’m a quick learner.”
“Good for you.” Approval colored his words, and I felt as though I’d received an encouraging pat on the head. I basked in the support.
We paused at the traffic lights for the signal to cross, then headed for the beach. Hand in hand, we wandered down the Esplanade, the surge and retreat of the waves a romantic backdrop.
“Are you okay walking in those shoes?”
“Sure.” I swear I have a bigger vocab than that, but my hormones were doing a real number on my vocal cords. Obviously, my blood was being rerouted to more important areas. Speech wasn’t important when it came to sex. I cleared my throat, determined to show to better advantage. “What made you decide to move to Australia?”
Isaac seemed to hesitate. “I wanted a change. The bar I mentioned is at the end of this block. We can get something to eat there too.”
Hmmm, nifty change of subject. I wondered at the story behind his move from New Zealand. “I am a little hungry.”
“We can fix that.” His gaze caught mine again and lingered.
Suddenly, everything was hot and heavy again—my body hungry for sexual release. He was going to fix that? Or give me food?
My mind worked busily as we neared the restaurant/bar. One glass of wine, I decided. I couldn’t risk a drop more. For goodness sake, Isaac had gone out with my daughter. I shouldn’t be having licentious thoughts about this…this boy.
“Sophie?” Isaac stopped walking outside a pavement café. All the outside tables were full. Laughter and good-natured chatter filled the air. “Sophie.”
He seemed uncertain, as if he was asking a question. Isaac frowned, hesitated, then drew me into his arms and kissed me.
Shock held me still. This kiss wasn’t chaste. It wasn’t hurried. This was the kiss that a man gave his lover. Instinct replaced surprise. My hands crept around his neck as I gave myself up to the pleasure of being kissed like a woman. His lips nibbled at mine, then his tongue traced along the seam of my mouth in a silent order for me to open for him. No problem there. My mouth opened, and his tongue slid inside. God, I couldn’t believe it. A sigh of delight whispered from me at the surge and retreat of his tongue. He tasted, gently biting.
Tormenting.
To my dismay, he pulled away. I wanted to grab his face and force his lips back to mine. Not finished. More! Please—heck, I was ready to beg if it would get me more of the same.
“I wanted to do that at the Bowls Club.” He stroked a finger across my cheek and tucked a wayward curl behind my ear. “You haven’t slapped my face, so I’m guessing you’re okay with me kissing you.”
A definite question. Okay. Moving right along here. “We could do it again,” I said, a hopeful note clearly discernable.
His masculine chuckle held amusement, but his chocolate brown eyes caressed me as if he too, wanted more kissing. “Not inside the restaurant. My staff will take notes and give me a hard time tomorrow.”
