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I took a drink, then rested my elbows against the railing and took in the view.
“You’re right, the view is amazing from up here.”
“It was especially amazing the other night when I spotted a certain someone walking toward me on the beach.”
Max held his bottle up in a toast then took a drink. My face heated and I flashed a shy smile then looked back out at the ocean.
“I totally understand why Aunt Winnie never came back to Scranton. This place suits her perfectly.”
“What about you?”
I shifted to face him.
“What about me?”
“Does it suit you?”
I shrugged.
“I think it’s safe to say it suits me perfectly right now. The change of scenery is nice.”
He nudged his head toward the Adirondack chairs and we stepped back and took a seat. The view is slightly obscured by the railing, but it’s still impressive.
“Have you been able to write?”
“Not yet, but I think I’m getting there.”
I explained my newfound plotting process and how I feel the words on the edge of my brain, but can’t put them to paper just yet. Or computer, as the case may be. I’m sure he has no idea what I’m talking about…non-writers usually don’t…but he listened and actually seemed interested.
“I’m predicting that once you get started, you’ll finish this book in record time.”
“Say that louder so the universe hears,” I said. “But let’s not talk about writing anymore. It’s boring.”
I tipped the bottle to my lips and emptied it. I felt Max watching as I swallowed and shifted my eyes in his direction.
“I don’t think anything about you is boring,” he said. “In fact, I find you fascinating.”
Max’s heated stare had me tingling in places that have been dormant for a long time. Imagine what he could do if the rest of his body joined in. The problem is, while the desire is there, I’m in unfamiliar territory here.
I picked at the label on my empty bottle, then looked down at it, as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.
“Eve?” I glanced over at him. “Are you okay?” I nodded. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t.” He raised his brow. “Not really. I’m just–” I gestured as I searched for the best words to explain. “I started dating my ex-husband when I was eighteen and we were married for twenty years. It’s been a long time since I dated anyone, much less done anything else.”
He placed his bottle on the deck and shifted to better face me.
“Eve.”
His voice was low, intimate. The husky sound arousing in its intensity. My gaze met his and I lost myself in his chocolaty depths. Part of me wanted to look away, but I was too mesmerized. He moved closer and continued to speak.
“I really like you and from the moment we met, I felt drawn to you. I’d like to get to know you better, see where this can go.” Reaching out, he stroked my cheek, using just his fingertips. “But I hope you know I didn’t invite you here expecting anything.”
From anyone else, everything he’s saying would sound like pathetic lines, but I feel like Max is being honest. It’s only fair that I am too.
“I felt that connection too,” I said. “And even though I don’t think you asked me here because you expected anything to happen, I wouldn’t mind if something did. I just might need you to be patient with me.”
I put my head down to escape his gaze. Max leaned closer and the arousing combination of his warm skin and sea air drifted to my nose. He took the empty bottle out of my hand and placed it on the deck floor next to his.
