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For a moment she was positive he would kiss her again. And even though she was still torn over his being a Rockwell, she held her breath waiting for the press of his lips over hers.
But he must have read her mind—and the conflicts she was still struggling with—because instead of kissing her the way she could see that he wanted to, he sucked in a harsh breath, then stepped back. “Come on. Let’s get to your secret.”
But just because he didn't kiss her, that didn't stop him from rubbing seductive little circles on the sensitive skin of her palm with his thumb as they continued toward a boathouse. With every soft caress on her hand, she felt her breath grow shallower, her legs get weaker, and her need for him ratchet up another million levels.
By the time he led her to a shed beside the boathouse and handed her two metal rakes, she was a lust-filled mess. “Would you mind holding these?”
“Sure.” It took everything she had to keep her voice from being breathless. Husky. “But what are we going to do with them?”
From the way his dark eyes had dilated and he was running his hand roughly through his hair, he looked just as wrecked by unfulfilled desire as she was. “You’ll see.”
He snagged a bucket, and then she followed him into the boathouse. Tools and boating equipment filled the high-ceilinged building. Large workbenches lined the walls, with cabinets above and below. Quinn reached into a cabinet beneath one of the work areas, grabbed a towel and tossed it over his shoulder. He took the rakes from Shelley and put them in the bucket.
“Now we’re ready,” he said as he led her away from the boathouse along the main road.
Yes, she thought. She was so freaking ready to kiss him again, it wasn't even funny...
Still, she tried to focus on the secret he was about to show her. “We’re either going to build some funky sand castles,” she guessed, “or you’re going to use the rakes to dig a shallow grave, bury me before the tide comes in, and hope no one notices.”
“Sweetheart, if those are the best ideas you can come up with for a rake and a bucket, you haven’t spent nearly enough time on the island yet.”
Sweetheart. He barely knew her, yet the endearment sounded natural. Just as natural as it had when he’d said it to her last night. Right before she'd thrown herself into his arms and learned just how good a kiss could be. Good enough to turn a girl wanton.
“I already love it here on the island. So much, in fact, that I’d like to stay longer.”
He shot her a questioning glance. “Are you considering extending your vacation?”
“I don’t know exactly what I’m thinking yet, but even in the short time I’ve been here…I feel like I fit, you know?”
“I can’t imagine you not fitting in anywhere.”
“Oh, there are definitely places,” she said softly.
But she didn’t want to go into details on her family life right now. She wanted to get to know the real Quinn Rockwell, and if she told him about her childhood and her concerns about wealthy people as a whole, he might try to bend to please her.
She didn’t even know why she’d revealed to him that she’d like to stay longer, but once the words were out, she knew they were true. She did feel like she fit in with the easygoing lifestyle here, at least what she’d seen of it so far. She felt relaxed and accepted here, just like she always had with her aunt in Eastham.
Shelley was glad that he didn’t push for details as they walked down a side street to a sandy, rutted road that looked like it had seen better days. Every part of her was keenly aware of his athletic build, the firm outlines of his thighs against his khaki shorts, his strong hands engulfing hers. He was just so sexy and confident, and best of all, noticeably lacking the air of self-importance that surrounded her father like a cloud. Quinn felt substantial—not that she needed a big man to protect her, or that she was looking for one, for that matter, but she felt safe with him.
At the end of the dirt road, a hill rose up to meet thick, spiny bushes. “We’re heading through there.” He nodded to a narrow path between the thorny bushes. “I’ll go first to clear away the branches.”
“What’s over the ridge?”
He grinned, and her heart started pounding faster at the way the expression utterly transformed his face, from handsome to heart-stoppingly gorgeous and carefree.
“Your surprise.” Quinn carefully pushed aside the bushes.
He held the bucket in one hand high above the tops of the bushes and used his other hand to hold the branches away from her, oblivious to the way thorns were clinging to his own shirt.
