own desire if that happened.
Attempting to rein in her hormones, Serena took the first step down. She prayed she didn't turn her ankle in the spiked, strappy heels and go careening down the stairs. She was almost certain the dress wouldn’t stay in place should that happen, and though she wore a pair of lace boyshorts and a strapless bra, she didn't trust the pirate not to cop any feels under the pretense of aiding her. The thought should bother her, yet she found it strangely arousing. His heated gaze wasn't helping matters any either.
Christophe met her halfway up the stairs, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. "You look..." he trailed off, seeming at a loss for words as sheer wonderment crossed his features. She was both delighted and mortified. She'd suspected the dress was overkill.
"Uh...thank you. You look nice as well." God, I'm such a twit. He looked the same as he did earlier. Hot.
He grinned as he assisted her down the stairs. "I'm much obliged that you wished to see me this eve." His left hand covered hers as she clung to his arm while he led her downstairs. She wouldn't have been able to pull away from him if she'd wanted to. In fact, her palm might have seared itself to him.
Realizing she should reply, Serena refrained from retorting that he hadn't given her much choice since he wouldn't go away, and nodded instead . I'm so bad at this. No wonder I don't get asked on second dates.
Hold on. When had she gone from humoring Becky Ann and Mrs. Baker to wondering about second dates? Clearly she was out of her mind, high on the pheromones he was shooting in her direction. Needing attention she'd gone far too long without.
They were seated right away, being docked giving them an advantage since the majority of the guests were on the island. As Christophe pulled her chair out for her, she noticed Becky Ann taking a seat with Paul on the other side of the restaurant. She waved, but Serena glared. Her friend wore jeans and a T-shirt, having forced her to wear the skimpy dress. There would be retribution. Painful retribution.
"I see your companion has found a gentleman of her own," Christophe said, taking his seat across a far too small table for two. His legs brushed hers. When she shifted, they did so again. He did it on purpose, keeping her out of her comfort zone. "I wager she's here to chaperone?" He arched a golden eyebrow and teased, "A little far away to do so properly. Besides, what if conversation needed to be course corrected?"
"Perhaps." She licked her dry lips, ignoring how his gaze dropped, lids lowering. His nostrils flared. "Or maybe this is a really nice restaurant and they wanted to eat here too." Glasses of water had been placed for them when they arrived. Serena gulped hers, needing something to do with her hands before she started fidgeting. This is a bad idea. A really bad idea.
The waiter approached before the conversation could go any further. Christophe ordered a pork chop with a baked potato and she asked for the filet mignon with a potato as well, but hers was mashed. She tried, and failed, to ignore the way he grinned with approval when she ordered meat instead of a salad. At least he wouldn't pressure her on her diet. Salads were great and all, but she did enjoy meat.
Once the waiter left to put in their order, Christophe said, "It doesn't bother me if you insist on a chaperone. I know my story is a little odd, and I respect your caution. It's also no different than I'd expect where I'm from." It was interesting he'd said where and not when . Could this be a flaw in his story, or had he momentarily forgotten his circumstances?
She folded her hands in her lap and stared at the table. "Really?" Maybe he was saying what he thought she wanted to hear.
The creaking of the table shifting heralded his movements before she could comprehend what he was up to. Christophe leaned forward and tilted her chin up with two fingers, his sincere expression held her still. "Why do you shield
Attempting to rein in her hormones, Serena took the first step down. She prayed she didn't turn her ankle in the spiked, strappy heels and go careening down the stairs. She was almost certain the dress wouldn’t stay in place should that happen, and though she wore a pair of lace boyshorts and a strapless bra, she didn't trust the pirate not to cop any feels under the pretense of aiding her. The thought should bother her, yet she found it strangely arousing. His heated gaze wasn't helping matters any either.
Christophe met her halfway up the stairs, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. "You look..." he trailed off, seeming at a loss for words as sheer wonderment crossed his features. She was both delighted and mortified. She'd suspected the dress was overkill.
"Uh...thank you. You look nice as well." God, I'm such a twit. He looked the same as he did earlier. Hot.
He grinned as he assisted her down the stairs. "I'm much obliged that you wished to see me this eve." His left hand covered hers as she clung to his arm while he led her downstairs. She wouldn't have been able to pull away from him if she'd wanted to. In fact, her palm might have seared itself to him.
Realizing she should reply, Serena refrained from retorting that he hadn't given her much choice since he wouldn't go away, and nodded instead . I'm so bad at this. No wonder I don't get asked on second dates.
Hold on. When had she gone from humoring Becky Ann and Mrs. Baker to wondering about second dates? Clearly she was out of her mind, high on the pheromones he was shooting in her direction. Needing attention she'd gone far too long without.
They were seated right away, being docked giving them an advantage since the majority of the guests were on the island. As Christophe pulled her chair out for her, she noticed Becky Ann taking a seat with Paul on the other side of the restaurant. She waved, but Serena glared. Her friend wore jeans and a T-shirt, having forced her to wear the skimpy dress. There would be retribution. Painful retribution.
"I see your companion has found a gentleman of her own," Christophe said, taking his seat across a far too small table for two. His legs brushed hers. When she shifted, they did so again. He did it on purpose, keeping her out of her comfort zone. "I wager she's here to chaperone?" He arched a golden eyebrow and teased, "A little far away to do so properly. Besides, what if conversation needed to be course corrected?"
"Perhaps." She licked her dry lips, ignoring how his gaze dropped, lids lowering. His nostrils flared. "Or maybe this is a really nice restaurant and they wanted to eat here too." Glasses of water had been placed for them when they arrived. Serena gulped hers, needing something to do with her hands before she started fidgeting. This is a bad idea. A really bad idea.
The waiter approached before the conversation could go any further. Christophe ordered a pork chop with a baked potato and she asked for the filet mignon with a potato as well, but hers was mashed. She tried, and failed, to ignore the way he grinned with approval when she ordered meat instead of a salad. At least he wouldn't pressure her on her diet. Salads were great and all, but she did enjoy meat.
Once the waiter left to put in their order, Christophe said, "It doesn't bother me if you insist on a chaperone. I know my story is a little odd, and I respect your caution. It's also no different than I'd expect where I'm from." It was interesting he'd said where and not when . Could this be a flaw in his story, or had he momentarily forgotten his circumstances?
She folded her hands in her lap and stared at the table. "Really?" Maybe he was saying what he thought she wanted to hear.
The creaking of the table shifting heralded his movements before she could comprehend what he was up to. Christophe leaned forward and tilted her chin up with two fingers, his sincere expression held her still. "Why do you shield
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