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“Why not?”
“Because someone might see you!” she almost yells, spinning around to face me. Her eyes flash dangerously, her brows crinkling in the center as she scowls. “You're almost at the finish line, do you realize that? There's only a few more days before this is all over. All of this!”
She stirs the air in front of her with her fingertips indicating all of this like it's a pot of stew or something.
“What if I don’t want it to be over?”
She rolls her eyes up to the ceiling and crosses her arms, sighing loudly. “That's not the agreement.”
“Agreements can be renegotiated,” I remind her.
I don’t even know why I am saying this. I suppose I just like arguing with her so much that I would say anything to keep the conversation going. But even as the words come out of my mouth and I hear them, it doesn't sound like such a bad idea. And she's right, there are only a few more days left. After that time she’ll be, what, gone? Just like that?
Her lips open and then close. She looks me over shrewdly and for just a second, I feel like her defenses fall again. I can sense the confusion and tumult in her mind. She has that look of someone who doesn't want to move a muscle, it case they divulge something they’re trying to keep secret by mistake.
“We could talk about that later,” I finally say, letting her off the hook.
I glance away to break the tension even more. Out of the corner of my eye I see her relax, just a little bit. She rolls her ankle, flexing her bare toes against the linoleum floor. Some part of my mind wants to know if it would be okay if I dropped to my knees and picked her foot up to lick her toes, but now is probably not the right moment.
“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 th
at'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 13
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.
