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He shrugged, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. “I was thinking about that summer.” He didn’t need to clarify. “So do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Remember.”
She was avoiding his eyes. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I remember.”
“That was the first time we ever made love on a boat.” He was gratified to see that she was breathing fast, her breasts rising and falling rapidly beneath her soft T-shirt. Oh, yeah. She remembered.
“I don’t want to talk about this.” She shot off the couch and stood over him, rubbing her arms briskly as if she were cold and her velvety-brown eyes held a determined look. “Are you leaving?”
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