Sean

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He shook off that thought. He had too much swirling around in his fevered mind as it was. He fiddled with the menu, which wasn’t for Sam’s. That parking lot had proved to be packed, so he’d driven closer to Morning Star and eventually found a small restaurant tucked below a resort on the opposite side of the cove from his hotel. He could see the lights twinkling from the rooms of his hotel and the glow of the bonfire still roaring on the beach.

“Do you know what you want?” Laurel asked.

He pulled his gaze away from the streaks of gold limning the water in the cove and laid his menu down without looking at it. He looked directly at her instead. “I think I do.”

Her grip on the menu tightened and she swallowed. Then she closed her menu, as well. “Me, too.”

His lips twitched. “Does it have anything to do with seafood?”

She smiled and he liked the confidence he saw in her eyes. “Not unless you plan on going swimming first as a way to draw out this torture even further.”

He slid his hand across the table, let his fingertips drift over the backs of her fingers, liking the slight shiver that raced over her. “Torture? Gee, most women I take out to dinner appreciate the chance to have someone else cook them a meal.”

She lifted one shoulder in a light shrug, the setting sun highlighting the teasing glint in her eyes. “I’m not most women.”

“On that we’re agreed.”

She arched an eyebrow, but he merely held her gaze steadily.

“So, is it the company then?” he asked.

“If your company was in question,” she continued, “I’d hardly have agreed to dinner. Much less…”

She let that last part trail off, her boldness faltering, then disappearing completely. She went to slide her hand away from his touch, but he covered it, held on.

“Laurel.” He waited until she looked at him again. “You know what? Let’s have dinner. Maybe a walk on the beach. Talk. I enjoy your company. I’d like to have it for as long as you’ll allow. Period.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again on a short laugh. “Thank you,” she said finally. “I guess I’m not as cosmopolitan as I’d wanted to believe.”

Now he laughed. “Suave is not exactly my middle name.”

“I don’t know, you were pretty smooth back there on the dock.”

“Then you didn’t feel my knees knocking together.” Or my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest. He sat there, knowing he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath, feeling a bit poleaxed by the intensity of it…and yet he’d settle for dinner, conversation, a short stroll. If it meant keeping her around a bit longer.

Which answered his earlier question. It was about her, not opportunity and availability. If he were home, yes, he’d be more than willing to date her, court her, do what was necessary to earn the right to intimacy with her. And he’d probably even enjoy the journey as much as the destination. Despite the nagging physical need, he was truly enjoying himself. Desire just added a nice edge to the whole thing, especially now that he knew she was feeling it herself.

Of course, the downside to this whole scenario was that he wasn’t home, which meant he didn’t have unlimited time to plan and execute a serious pursuit. In fact, what he had was dinner. And whatever time together she decided to give him afterward. And then…pfft.

He didn’t even know her yet, and it still pissed him off. Fate had finally put a woman in his path who literally stopped him in his tracks…only to serendipitously do it at a time when he couldn’t explore the possibilities with her. Beyond dinner.

Which he was wasting with all this meandering introspection.

“So…snapper?” he asked lightly, or as lightly as he was able. “Or steak?”