Moonlight Cove by Sherryl Woods Page A

bite her tongue to keep from asking what woman he saw. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. If he said it was her, what then? No, better to leave it alone.
    “For the longest time, in mine it was Brad Pitt,” she said to lighten the moment. “And then he had to go and dump Jennifer Anniston and get together with Angelina Jolie. That ruined it for me.”
    Will laughed. “And nobody’s been able to replace Brad?”
    “If I tell you, will you promise not to blab to a single soul?”
    “I am the very soul of discretion,” he assured her.
    “Tim McGraw,” she said. “But then, I gather Faith Hill has a wicked temper when anyone gets too close to her man.” She sighed dramatically. “Who can blame her, though?”
    “Who, indeed?” Will said with a chuckle.
    Suddenly being in a confined space with all this talk of daydreams was too much. Jess stood up. “We’ve done enough for today. Let’s go down to the kitchen and raid the fridge,” she suggested. “We can have a picnicon one of the tables overlooking the beach. All of the guests have checked out, so we have the whole place to ourselves.”
    Will stood up and followed her downstairs to the inn’s large gourmet kitchen. “Um, Jess,” he began hesitantly as he stood in the doorway.
    She held the door of the refrigerator open and looked back at him. “What?”
    “Last I heard, you couldn’t cook. Maybe we should go out and grab a burger or pizza or something.”
    “We’re both a mess, and I don’t want to take the time to clean up,” she said, then grinned. “Never fear, Gail always leaves a few things tucked in here for me. Next to Dillon, she’s the best chef in town.”
    His expression brightened. “In that case, let’s see what the possibilities are,” he said, stepping up behind her.
    He was so close, she could smell the lingering scent of his aftershave. Suddenly it took everything in her not to turn around and bury her face in the curve of his shoulder. She straightened so suddenly, she bumped her head on his chin.
    “Sorry,” she said, regarding him with a wince. “Are you okay?”
    “Nothing an ice pack won’t cure,” he said, then stopped her when she would have reached into the freezer for one. “I’m kidding. I’m fine.” His eyes lit up. “And I see roasted chicken in there. Can we have that?”
    “We had chicken for lunch.”
    “Doesn’t matter. There’s nothing better than cold chicken with a glass of wine. I’m assuming you can come up with a bottle of pinot grigio or a sauvignonblanc. I’ve heard the wine cellar here is second to none.”
    “Cold chicken and wine, it is,” she said. “I’ll grab the chicken. You check out the wines.” She gestured toward the oversize wine cooler they’d had installed just a few weeks earlier. It was stocked with some excellent California labels, as well as several local wines and even a few more expensive French vintages. Will whistled as he scanned the labels. “Excellent selection.”
    “Gail knows what she’s doing. I don’t,” Jess said, digging through a drawer for a corkscrew. “Pick whatever you want.”
    She found a few more things for their meal—some cut veggies, a wedge of cheese, a cluster of chilled red grapes and a loaf of French bread baked earlier in the day. The tray was loaded down when she’d finished.
    Will shook his head at the sight of it. “I thought we were having a simple snack.”
    “This was simple,” Jess said. “Did you see me turn on a single burner on the stove? You take the tray. I’ll take the wine and glasses.”
    The sun was starting to dip in the west when they sat down at one of the picnic tables scattered around the inn’s sweeping lawn. Will poured the wine, then held up his glass.
    “To simple meals with good friends,” he said quietly.
    There wasn’t anything even remotely suggestive in his words, no hint of innuendo that he wanted something more. And yet Jess thought she could read the desire in his eyes and