though Sabrina wouldn’t be there as a buffer between them.
Her sister hated going out, other than an occasional night at the Pot with Morgan and her closest friends. Whenever Sabrina had to be in a public place off the island for more than a few minutes, she often started to act jittery. She said it made her anxious, and that she couldn’t enjoy the food or the company. Sabrina’s idea of fun had always been to curl up on the cozy love seat in her room with her nose in one of the library’s murder mysteries. She devoured them like chocolate.
“Great,” Ryan said, smiling. He had the best smile. It practically melted the panties right off her body. “I’ll check the ferry connections and make a reservation for seven thirty.”
“Sounds good.”
He took off his server’s apron and hung it up. “And now I’ve got a heavy date with some insulation.”
“Well, you wouldn’t want to disappoint her,” Morgan said. “I hear she can be a real taskmaster.”
Ryan’s smiled turned thoughtful. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
As she watched him leave the kitchen, Morgan thought that there was very little in life that Ryan Butler couldn’t handle.
Including her.
Ryan attacked his sixteen-ounce New York strip with enthusiasm. “Great steak. How’s your tuna?”
Morgan took a small bite, her eyelids fluttering half shut with pleasure. “Mmm, divine,” she purred. When shelet out a happy sigh and licked her lips, Ryan felt it all the way down to his groin.
And she was just eating, for God’s sake. Just imagine if she were really trying to turn him on.
Everything about her was so delicate, including how she ate. He’d always punched food down fast, no matter how fancy or fussily prepared. And he’d take a good steak over seafood most of the time, even in Maine. He had little enthusiasm for lobster, no doubt because he’d grown up eating it almost every day. When he was in school, he’d sometimes trade his mom’s lobster rolls for PB&Js or, better yet, sandwiches made out of ham from those little round tins. He’d never had a shortage of mainland kids happy to swap.
“I have to say it again, Morgan—you look amazing tonight.”
She wore the proverbial little black dress—nicely short, he was happy to say. It lovingly hugged her slim form and exposed her tanned arms and shoulders. On the ferry, she’d covered up with a black lace shawl, leaving it on in the cool restaurant. A gold pendant with its single pearl nestled in her sweet cleavage, and her gleaming blond hair looked like silk and begged to be touched—preferably while he was buried deep inside her.
It had practically killed him not to draw her tight against him as they sat thigh to thigh on the short crossing from Seashell Bay to Diamond Cove. Though it was a thank-you dinner, not a date, people on the boat had sure looked at them like they were a couple. And no wonder, because the sexual energy between them was almost palpable.
“Tell me as often as you want,” she said with a smile. “By the way, you clean up pretty nicely too.”
Ryan had worn his navy blazer—the one he kept at his parents’ place—along with gray dress slacks, a white shirt, and his Iraq vet tie. “Thanks. I only wear this jacket about once a year, so I don’t even know if it’s in style.”
She rolled her eyes, as if the idea of him caring about style was ridiculous. Which, of course, it was.
He glanced around at the casually upscale restaurant. It was great other than the fact that they had to dine inside instead of on the lawn or expansive deck. Everything outside was still soaked, but the drizzle had finally tapered off and a few muted purple rays from the setting sun colored the picturesque Diamond Cove marina.
“Sabrina doesn’t know what she’s missing,” he said. “It’s too bad she didn’t want to come.”
Morgan scrunched up her nose. “She didn’t mean to seem ungrateful. You know she’s just built a little different from most
Her sister hated going out, other than an occasional night at the Pot with Morgan and her closest friends. Whenever Sabrina had to be in a public place off the island for more than a few minutes, she often started to act jittery. She said it made her anxious, and that she couldn’t enjoy the food or the company. Sabrina’s idea of fun had always been to curl up on the cozy love seat in her room with her nose in one of the library’s murder mysteries. She devoured them like chocolate.
“Great,” Ryan said, smiling. He had the best smile. It practically melted the panties right off her body. “I’ll check the ferry connections and make a reservation for seven thirty.”
“Sounds good.”
He took off his server’s apron and hung it up. “And now I’ve got a heavy date with some insulation.”
“Well, you wouldn’t want to disappoint her,” Morgan said. “I hear she can be a real taskmaster.”
Ryan’s smiled turned thoughtful. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
As she watched him leave the kitchen, Morgan thought that there was very little in life that Ryan Butler couldn’t handle.
Including her.
Ryan attacked his sixteen-ounce New York strip with enthusiasm. “Great steak. How’s your tuna?”
Morgan took a small bite, her eyelids fluttering half shut with pleasure. “Mmm, divine,” she purred. When shelet out a happy sigh and licked her lips, Ryan felt it all the way down to his groin.
And she was just eating, for God’s sake. Just imagine if she were really trying to turn him on.
Everything about her was so delicate, including how she ate. He’d always punched food down fast, no matter how fancy or fussily prepared. And he’d take a good steak over seafood most of the time, even in Maine. He had little enthusiasm for lobster, no doubt because he’d grown up eating it almost every day. When he was in school, he’d sometimes trade his mom’s lobster rolls for PB&Js or, better yet, sandwiches made out of ham from those little round tins. He’d never had a shortage of mainland kids happy to swap.
“I have to say it again, Morgan—you look amazing tonight.”
She wore the proverbial little black dress—nicely short, he was happy to say. It lovingly hugged her slim form and exposed her tanned arms and shoulders. On the ferry, she’d covered up with a black lace shawl, leaving it on in the cool restaurant. A gold pendant with its single pearl nestled in her sweet cleavage, and her gleaming blond hair looked like silk and begged to be touched—preferably while he was buried deep inside her.
It had practically killed him not to draw her tight against him as they sat thigh to thigh on the short crossing from Seashell Bay to Diamond Cove. Though it was a thank-you dinner, not a date, people on the boat had sure looked at them like they were a couple. And no wonder, because the sexual energy between them was almost palpable.
“Tell me as often as you want,” she said with a smile. “By the way, you clean up pretty nicely too.”
Ryan had worn his navy blazer—the one he kept at his parents’ place—along with gray dress slacks, a white shirt, and his Iraq vet tie. “Thanks. I only wear this jacket about once a year, so I don’t even know if it’s in style.”
She rolled her eyes, as if the idea of him caring about style was ridiculous. Which, of course, it was.
He glanced around at the casually upscale restaurant. It was great other than the fact that they had to dine inside instead of on the lawn or expansive deck. Everything outside was still soaked, but the drizzle had finally tapered off and a few muted purple rays from the setting sun colored the picturesque Diamond Cove marina.
“Sabrina doesn’t know what she’s missing,” he said. “It’s too bad she didn’t want to come.”
Morgan scrunched up her nose. “She didn’t mean to seem ungrateful. You know she’s just built a little different from most
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