The Sooner the Better by Debbie Macomber Page A

was having trouble controlling her temper. He figured she probably didn’t lose it often; a fine Southern belle like Lorraine had good manners drilled intoher the way boot camp had taught him the basics of soldiering.
    â€œI’ll answer your question if you answer mine,” he said, savoring the last bite of fish and washing it down with a swallow of beer. There was plenty left in the galley, but he didn’t mention that. If she wanted breakfast she’d have to ask for it.
    â€œAll right,” she said with obvious reluctance.
    The boat bobbed gently, and she’d regained some of her color. A good sign, he supposed. Until she found her sea legs she’d be miserable. Jack wasn’t sure which he preferred. Sick as a dog, she still managed to be a nuisance. He hated to think how much she’d annoy him when she was a hundred percent herself.
    â€œYou wanted to ask me something?” She sounded impatient.
    He weighed his thoughts. Teasing her was definitely entertaining, but he felt a little confused about this unaccountable need to learn what he could about her. It must be on account of Thomas; he simply wanted to know what kind of woman his friend had for a daughter. “I realize this isn’t any of my business,” he said, “but I’m afraid curiosity has gotten the better of me.” He chuckled dryly. “What’s your husband like? Is he as much of a prude as you are?”
    Her gaze fell to the wedding ring on her left hand as though she was surprised to see it there. Forgotten Mr. Whoever-he-was already?
    â€œI imagine the two of you are quite the pair,” he went on. “Do you ever jump each other’s bones?”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œYou know, get so hot for each other you can’t wait to get your clothes off. That’s when sex is best, don’t you think?”
    Her eyes went wide as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I find you both vulgar and offensive.”
    Jack laughed. It was far too much fun baiting this woman. “You don’t like me any better than I like you. That’s perfectly fine by me. But you can’t blame a guy for being curious about the type of man who’d marry someone as highfalutin as you.”
    â€œI don’t know what—”
    â€œI bet you and your stuffed-shirt husband make love every Wednesday and Sunday nights, regular as clockwork.”
    â€œThat’s none of your business!”
    He laughed again. “I’m right, aren’t I? You do it in the dark, too. And when you’re done you make polite little sounds, give each other a peck on the cheek, then roll over and go to sleep.”
    â€œIs there a reason you’re so interested in my love life?” she asked. She was pretending to be bored but not doing a very good job of it. He watched as color seeped up her neckline and into her cheeks.
    He ignored the question.
    â€œAre you interested in the love life of every woman you meet,” she asked, still faking disinterest, “or is it just me?”
    Jack snickered as if to suggest someone like her would be the last woman on earth to tempt him. “Just wondering,” he answered. “I’m not doing a survey or anything.” However, much as he hated to admit it, she had a point. He didn’t normally provoke women. There was just something about her….
    It was the clothes she wore, he decided. The conservative pantsuit. No one wore white out here. Not that it looked so white anymore. And it didn’t help matters that it fit her like a glove. She’d removed the jacket and theshort pink top hugged her waist and allowed him to speculate about the soft swell of her breasts beneath. He shook his head. The woman had no sense; if he’d had nefarious designs on her—which he certainly didn’t—she’d be in trouble.
    â€œYou’ve asked your question, Mr. Keller, stupid as it was, and now