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Her face warmed. “Yes.”
“Would you like to see me again?”
She nodded, no longer trusting her voice.
He smiled and sat back, a wicked gleam in his eye. “I knew you’d come around.”
Her mouth dropped open, but she laughed. “Arrogance, confidence…whatever you choose to call it, you have entirely too much of it.”
* * *
The walkback to Will’s house was like a scene from a movie. The silvery moonlight played on the ocean, and the waves gently lapped against the shore. He reached for Elizabeth's hand, and was pleased when she took hold of his without hesitation.
“You and Georgiana seem very close,” she said.
“We are.”
“She's lucky to have you.”
He frowned and stared straight ahead. “I do my best. Sometimes it doesn’t seem like enough.”
He abruptly changed the subject, asking her about Martha's Vineyard, the lights of which could be seen twinkling in the distance. She was shocked to learn he’d never visited the island, and she told him she’d be happy to play tour guide sometime this summer.
They arrived at his house and decided to enjoy the clear, moonlit night from the Adirondack chairs in his yard.
“Wouldn't it be nice if we had some music?” she asked, smiling charmingly.
He grinned and squeezed her hand. “Very subtle. I'll be right back.”
He walked up to the house and returned a few minutes later, carrying a guitar and his old Harvard sweatshirt.
“Will this do?”
“Sure. I was hoping you had a music app on your phone or something, but I guess the guitar is okay.”
His eyes roamed her face, tilted up to his and wearing a mischievous smile, and he battled the sudden urge to kiss her. Instead he handed her the sweatshirt, and when she pulled it over her head, it hung down to the tops of her thighs, and she had to roll the sleeves back several times.
He repositioned the chairs so they were facing each other, and she sat with her bare feet curled under her.
He lightly strummed the strings. “Any requests?”
“Hm. Are you going to sing too?”
He groaned playfully. “All right. What would you like to hear?”
“I don't know. Play somethingyouenjoy playing.”
He’d never done this before, never played his guitar or sang for a woman other than his mother and Georgie, yet here he was, ready to do so without hesitation. He began with an old song he used to sing to Georgie all the time; the lyrics were especially meaningful, and he could play and sing it in his sleep.
Elizabeth quietly applauded when he was done. “That was wonderful. One more? Please?”
He paused. “One more...for a kiss? A kiss for a song?” He felt like he was moving too quickly—for both of them—but he was having a hard timenotkissing her.
She stared at him, her gaze unwavering. “You want to kiss me?”
“Yes. Very much.”
His heart thudded heavily as he waited for her to make her decision. When she untucked her legs and scooted forward on the chair, he set his guitar down and moved toward her until their knees bumped. He smiled softly, his eyes on hers, and raised his hands to gently hold her face. His thumbs traced over the softness of her cheeks, and then he kissed her slowly, lightly caressing her lips with his.
