When she realized her mouth had slung open, she snapped it shut. “That’s good.” She ignored the blood that had left her brain to race to parts decidedly south. “But it’s not the best I’ve heard.”
“Oh yeah?” One slashing black eyebrow slanted up his forehead. “You think you can do better.”
“I know I can.” She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and leered at him. “You have a kind face, sir. The kind I’d like to sit on.”
His startled expression was better than she could have hoped for.
Licking a finger, she made an invisible hash mark in the air. “Score one for Chrissy.”
Was it her imagination or was his voice raspy when he said, “Do youeverlet anyone get one over on you?”
She looked at him as if a colony of oysters had grown from his ears. “It that a real question?”
“I thought there was a pretty obvious question mark on the end.”
“Why in the world would I let someone get one over on me?” She loved their banter. Too bad that was all they could share. “Where would be the fun in that?”
“Oh…” He shrugged and she was momentarily mesmerized by the way his shoulder muscles bunched. She remembered how unforgiving they felt beneath the tight grip of her fingers. “I don’t know. Sometimes it’s nice to let your opponent take the lead. There’s so much satisfaction in stealin’ it back from them.”
“Is that what we are, Wolf? Opponents?”
“Never,” he swore. “You and me? We’re Lance Bass and Justin Timberlake.” When she tilted her head in confusion, he finished with, “In sync.”
She made a gagging noise. “I think I like you better when you’re walking around sounding like a fortune cookie.” When he opened his mouth, she lifted a finger. “Butdon’ttake that as an invitation to start throwing quotes my way again.”
He faked a pout. “First you tell me I can’t quote folks, and now you’re sayin’ you don’t like my cheesy metaphors either? What’s left to me, woman? Dad jokes?”
“Don’t you technically have to be adadto tell dad jokes?”
“Not accordin’ to my nieces and nephews.”
The thought of him surrounded by a bunch of kids all clamoring for his attention made her heart ache so much she couldn’t think of a good comeback.
He took pity on her and filled the silence. “So? What do you say?”
“About dad jokes?”
“Drinks.”
“Oh…” She tried to think of a good excuse, but her mind kept seizing on the truth. Which was that she was scared to have drinks with him. Once she got some rum in her blood, she might not be able to resist the urge to strip him naked and pounce on him. And if she stripped him naked and pounced on him, she’d undoubtedly lose a bit of her heart to him. Because as much as she hated to admit it, she’d inherited more than her mother’s wide smile. Josephine had also passed down a penchant for forming emotional attachments to the exactwrongsort of man.
Chrissy realized she’d been quiet for too long when he tilted his head and regarded her thoughtfully. “It isn’t a marriage proposal, Chrissy.”
“Ha!” She shouted too loudly. To cover up her gaffe, she chucked him on the arm. “Okay, buddy. Sure. How about we meet at Schooner Wharf Bar at nine o’clock?”
“You mean the scene of the crime?” Both of his sleek, dark eyebrows reached for the sky.
“Aha!” She pointed to his nose. “So you admit your behavior was criminal.”
His mouth flattened. “It was a figure of speech. And anyway, you said I’m off the hook.”
“You are,” she assured him. “But even if you weren’t, I’d choose Schooner. The Salty Cod Band is playing tonight.”
“They’re the ones who turn hip-hop into lounge tunes?”
“Yes. And it’s hilarious.” She lifted her hand to shield her eyes against the sun at the sound of an approaching aircraft. “My ride’s nearly here.” She hitched her chin toward the seaplane that seemed suspended like a marionette against the blue of the sky. “Better go help my clients get packed up.”
She was half a dozen steps down the beach when he called, “Chrissy?”
