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“So, how about sailing?” I ask her.
“What about sailing?”
“Hannah said that the New York Times is going to be around. Thought we'd get out on the water for a little while, give them a really good pictorial. Do you know how to sail?”
She shrugs. A smile plays on the corner of her mouth. “I know how to look decent in a bikini and wear one of those cute little filmy sarongs, if that's what you mean.”
“Close enough,” I admit.
We’ve got a crew, so it's not like I really expected her to do anything. And now I am totally picturing her in a bikini with a little skirt, hanging off the front of our sailboat. Her eyes flicker down to my crotch, and I figure I’ve got a fairly impressive boner to stare at. Maybe she would still be interested?
“So that's what I came here to tell you,” I smile.
She tips her head to the side. “Took you long enough.”
“What. I think we had a nice conversation here. I guess we’re a talking relationship after all.”
“Hmmph. I guess we are,” she answers grudgingly.
“Thank you for showing me your home. I’ll see myself out.”
/> Her cheeks redden slightly as I lean forward to kiss her forehead, smelling her hair.
“Yes… It was nice to see you,” she says in a small voice.
With that, I give her a real smile, one with my defenses totally down, to show her how it's done. I like her best when she's open with me. That's when I feel like we’re really getting somewhere.
But I have to wonder as I walk back down the front hall toward the door, where is it we’re getting to?
Chapter 35
Emmet
The New York Times columnist told me that he was on the sailing team in college, but I wasn't quite expecting him to be so gung ho about the whole project. He is coiling rope on the deck, grinning like a fool when I hear footsteps behind me and I turn around to see Bella, resplendent in a salmon colored bikini top and floral sarong tied just over her thigh. My breath literally catches in my throat as I look her over with all that smooth, creamy skin on display. She stops a few feet away from me and shyly toes the dock boards with the tip of her sneaker.
“Is this all right?” she asks as she pushes her sunglasses up into her hair.
“It's outstanding!” I sigh, sliding my arms under hers and pulling her close to me. “You realize you are practically naked right? Right out here in public?”
She wrinkles up her nose, nuzzling the tip of my nose with hers in an adorably intimate gesture.
“I'm really glad you like it,” she sighs as she kisses me, her lips sweet as ever.
“Permission to come aboard?” Dillon calls out. I set Bella back on the dock, watching Dillon charming the New York Times guy. He seems to be relaxing into our arrangement, finally. No more outbursts, no more attempts at sabotage. I see him smiling at Bella once in awhile when he thinks she’s not looking. Maybe he's glad that it's almost over. Just a few more days now.
I'm not sure I feel the same way.
“Permission granted!” the columnist yells back to Dillon. He waves vigorously with his arms over his head. “Hi, I'm Kent!”
“Hi, Kent!” Bella yells back. She turns to me, rolling her eyes and smiling prettily. “Okay, let's go impress the New York Times!”
We walk up the wooden gangplank onto the main deck of the sailboat, and Bella coos appreciatively at all the equipment and ropes and other sailing ephemera. Kent makes a great show of walking her up and down the boat, pointing out that he knows the name of every single thing on here.
I don't, I have to admit. I have a crew on hire. I don't have to remember the names of all the widgets and gears and crap like that. I just have to remember that when the sail swings toward the other side of the boat, I need to get the hell out of the way so I don’t get knocked into the water. That is the one thing I know about sailing.
That, and there is a big old waterbed downstairs. I also know that.
Unfortunately, Kent is going to be with us for the duration of our three-hour Lake Michigan cruise — which I guess is not technically a cruise but a “sail” — so there will be no time to slip Bella out of that bikini top. At least not right away.
