Ocean of Love by Susan D. Taylor Page B

expected to do all the work.”
    “ Tell me my options on each
piece of property. You can do your job and I’ll do
mine.”
    “ Well, okay.” She
hesitated, then launched into the purchase prices and comparison
properties from recent sales. She proposed what she believed were
fair offers including financing options for the required
construction loans. She’d been successful in getting each property
price lowered with the contingency of an executed contract by
midnight. Marissa cocked her head in the most delightful way each
time she wanted to draw his attention to a detail in the
report.
    He served her a sampling of fresh oysters,
steamed mussels, ceviche, grilled lobster in plantain leaves, and
broiled mahi mahi prepared with lemon and butter. He came around
the table and set the plate in front of her.
    She settled back in her chair. “Thank you.
Everything looks delicious.” The breeze moved curling wisps of her
golden hair along the skin by her face and neck, and he longed to
place his mouth on her neck again.
    “ Shall we try the white
wine?” he asked, picking up different bottle that sat chilling in
an ice bucket in the corner.
    “ More wine? I’ll be under
the table if we keep this up.” Marissa’s delicate features were
cast in the metallic glow of the chandelier and candles.
    “ Mineral water then?” he
asked, mentally contradicting her. He wasn’t about to let her fall
asleep early this evening.
    “ All right, fine. Just one
glass since it’s white.” She glanced up at him with a mischievous
tinge in her eyes.
    He poured the wine, relishing how much she
amused him. Then he sighed and returned to his seat. Opening his
napkin, he observed the delicate ministrations of how she sliced
her food and lifted her fork.
    “ Is your family from
Europe?” he asked. “I mean from the way you eat.”
    “ Yes. Scandinavian
heritage.” She licked the butter from her lips. Wiping her face,
she murmured, “Mmm, the fish is so flaky. It melts in my mouth.”
She drew up the corners of her lips into a coy smile, stoking his
arousal.
    He stabbed a fork into a portabella
mushroom, preferring to take in the sight of Marissa enjoying her
meal. If only he could move closer to her, close enough to inhale
her fragrance and touch her hair. Not a single solution came to
mind.
    “ No questions so far? I’m
prepared for even the most outside-the-box concerns,” she
murmured.
    Rapidly, the neurons in his brain sparked.
That’s it. He’d play the idiot savant. “What do I have regarding
the City’s zoning issues to battle? The lot next door is designated
as parking. Owned by the beach?”
    She flipped through the folder on the side
of her plate and held out the section. “Go to page nine.”
    He pretended to miss her
point by refilling their water glasses. His thirst was
unquenchable. She was the delectable dish he feasted his eyes
upon. Marissa , he
silently rolled her name around his tongue.
    “ Where is that point?” He
feigned confusion, peering at his report, and got up. “I don’t
think my report is the same as yours.” He came to her side of the
table, report in hand, and bent over her. “Where are you seeing
that?”
    She pointed to her report.
“Third paragraph from the top. In the text box entitled Seller’s Requirements .
The bullet points for Camile Avenue
Lot .”
    “ Show me. I still can’t
find that section.”
    She repeated her answer for a second time,
and he wondered how much more her patience would endure.
    “ No wonder. I’m on the
wrong page. Do you mind? I think it would be more productive if we
were facing the same direction. Then you wouldn’t have to stop and
point, showing me each detail.” He contained his laughter when she
glanced over the top of her glasses, flustered, and shook her head,
picking up her wine glass.
    “ Fine. Yes, that might help
with getting through the information.”
    He pulled up a chair next to her, report
tucked under his arm. Unusual seating, but he