Her heart beat faster. “For how long?”
A corner of his mouth kicked up. “As long as you want.”
She couldn’t read his eyes.What do you want? Do you want me to stay?
“Okay,” she whispered.
He regarded her solemnly. “You want to go out for dinner tonight or should I bring something home for us?”
“Home sounds wonderful.”
A blush raced over her face. They were not playing house. A day on his boat did not equal an invitation to move in. Still, she was here, wasn’t she? On his boat. In his home. In his space.
“I’ll pick something up, then.”
He leaned forward. Cupping her jaw, he kissed her, a long, sweet, simmering kiss that brought her fully awake. Her blood hummed.
“Is that what you’re bringing home?” she asked breathlessly when he raised his head. “Because, yum.”
His smile kindled deep in his eyes. “It’s on the menu.”
“I can’t wait.”
Enjoy the moment, she told herself after he left. Because, really, the moment was kind of perfect.
She pulled on her clothes and went out on deck with her cup of coffee. Tiger mewed to join her.
She eyed the kitten uncertainly. “Okay, but if you look like you’re making a break for it, it’s the cabin for you,” she warned.
Released into the sunlight, Tiger sniffed around before jumping to curl on the padded bench.
So he’d done this before, Lauren thought, reassured.
But for her, this was all new. The setting. The feelings. She filled her lungs with the ocean-scented air. She loved the Pirates’ Rest, with its glimpses of sea and sound, the deep, wraparound porch, the sheltering garden. But this...
A bird, its black-tipped wings as sharp as the angles of a kite, darted over the water, blazing in the sunlight. Atop the dunes, the tall sea grass plumes swayed and bowed like dancers in the breeze. The world around her teemed with life, the sky flushed with promise, the sea sparkling with possibilities as far as the horizon.
She got her laptop and a second cup of coffee, setting up for the day. Settling in.
Bring on the happy ending, she thought, and began to type.
The sound of an engine roused her minutes—hours?—later. A car, low-slung, sleek, and white, purring down the unfinished road.
Lauren raised her head as the car parked at the edge of the dock. A woman got out, greyhound thin and graceful in white jeans and a black T-shirt, her hair caught back in a sleek, dark ponytail, huge sunglasses flashing on her face. She marched toward the dock as if she knew where she was going. As if she had every right to be here.
Maybe she did. But from what Jack had said, this was development property, not yet open to the public.
Lauren slid her laptop to the bench and stood, shading her eyes against the sun. “Can I help you?” she called.
The woman stopped. Angled her head. “I’m looking for Jack Rossi.”
She had a husky, well-modulated voice, with a hint of accent—the swallowedL, the longawin place of theo—that was somehow familiar.
Lauren’s nerves prickled. “I’m sorry, he’s not here right now,” she said politely. “Can I take a message?”
“Where is he?” Answering a question with another question.
Lauren’s breath caught. “He’s at work. If you give me your name, I can tell him you stopped by.”
