friendship. It’s easier that way, and no one gets hurt.”
“In my experience there’s a fine line between love, lust and friendship.”
“It’s a line I’d rather not cross while I get where I want to with my career,” Sloane told her.
“Do you think you can really differentiate your feelings so easily?”
“Why not? I have so far.” Sloane had to admit that she had never before met anyone like Gene, whose powerful, manly presence and damned good looks made her at least have second thoughts about her long-held rules. In the end, she wanted to remain steadfast, so neither of them ended up regretting whatever they seemed on the verge of starting.
“Hope it works out the way you want,” Kendra said.
“Me, too.” Sloane lifted her glass. “First things first. I’ll see if Gene is agreeable to dinner and whatever else may end up on the menu.”
At 8:00 p.m., after spending hours getting situated in her new home, Sloane called Gene. She was uncharacteristically nervous as his phone rang, as if he had given her any reason to be. She sucked in a deep breath, hoping she wouldn’t have to leave a message, preferring to actually talk to him.
“Hello, there,” Gene answered, his smooth voice deep and sexy.
Sloane folded her legs beneath her in the chair. “Hi. Are you busy?”
“Not really. Just hanging around the house socializing with my guests, sometimes playing babysitter, other times referee.”
“Does it ever get old, not being able to separate your personal and professional life?” Sloane asked curiously as she wondered if she could do the same.
“Actually, it’s just the opposite,” he claimed. “Running a bed-and-breakfast, each day brings about new adventures and sometimes challenges, with a constant changeover of guests. Everyone has a story and they’re only too happy to share it with the others. It’s almost like being at summer camp where the campers are essentially one big happy family.”
“I never went to camp,” Sloane admitted, but almost wished she had. Especially if he’d been one of the campers. “But I see your point.”
“Thought you would.” Gene paused. “So how did your house search go?”
“Better than expected. I found a nice beachfront condo.”
“Great! Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Sloane stilled her nerves. “If you’re not busy, I’d like to invite you over for dinner tomorrow night.”
Gene didn’t hesitate. “I’d love to have dinner with you at your new place…on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“You let me bring the wine.”
She brightened. “You’re on.”
“Then it’s a date,” Gene said sweetly.
“How does seven-thirty sound?”
“Like music to my ears. I’ll be there.”
“Wonderful,” Sloane told him. “Hope you still like good old-fashioned continental U.S. dishes?”
“Of course,” he assured her. “Feel free to make whatever you’re good at and I’ll be only too happy to eat it.”
Sloan laughed. “Sounds like a can’t-lose proposition.”
“Maybe because that’s what it is,” Gene spoke confidently. “We’re both on the winning team here. All we need to do is play the game.”
“I see.”
Sloane thought the metaphors were cute. Were they really embarking on a game—perhaps of truth or dare? Or engaging in something with much more substance? She gave him her address, which was only a few blocks away from his bed-and-breakfast. Sloane could imagine that with the short distance, they could easily go back and forth if this were the direction their burgeoning friendship was headed.
Ever since talking to Sloane on the phone, Gene had been looking forward to going to her new condo for dinner. It was a great way to get to know each other better in a more intimate setting than a luau, hotel café, or even a bed-and-breakfast with people steadily coming and going and private time a luxury. He was convinced that the electricity generated from their kisses deserved to be explored
“In my experience there’s a fine line between love, lust and friendship.”
“It’s a line I’d rather not cross while I get where I want to with my career,” Sloane told her.
“Do you think you can really differentiate your feelings so easily?”
“Why not? I have so far.” Sloane had to admit that she had never before met anyone like Gene, whose powerful, manly presence and damned good looks made her at least have second thoughts about her long-held rules. In the end, she wanted to remain steadfast, so neither of them ended up regretting whatever they seemed on the verge of starting.
“Hope it works out the way you want,” Kendra said.
“Me, too.” Sloane lifted her glass. “First things first. I’ll see if Gene is agreeable to dinner and whatever else may end up on the menu.”
At 8:00 p.m., after spending hours getting situated in her new home, Sloane called Gene. She was uncharacteristically nervous as his phone rang, as if he had given her any reason to be. She sucked in a deep breath, hoping she wouldn’t have to leave a message, preferring to actually talk to him.
“Hello, there,” Gene answered, his smooth voice deep and sexy.
Sloane folded her legs beneath her in the chair. “Hi. Are you busy?”
“Not really. Just hanging around the house socializing with my guests, sometimes playing babysitter, other times referee.”
“Does it ever get old, not being able to separate your personal and professional life?” Sloane asked curiously as she wondered if she could do the same.
“Actually, it’s just the opposite,” he claimed. “Running a bed-and-breakfast, each day brings about new adventures and sometimes challenges, with a constant changeover of guests. Everyone has a story and they’re only too happy to share it with the others. It’s almost like being at summer camp where the campers are essentially one big happy family.”
“I never went to camp,” Sloane admitted, but almost wished she had. Especially if he’d been one of the campers. “But I see your point.”
“Thought you would.” Gene paused. “So how did your house search go?”
“Better than expected. I found a nice beachfront condo.”
“Great! Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Sloane stilled her nerves. “If you’re not busy, I’d like to invite you over for dinner tomorrow night.”
Gene didn’t hesitate. “I’d love to have dinner with you at your new place…on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“You let me bring the wine.”
She brightened. “You’re on.”
“Then it’s a date,” Gene said sweetly.
“How does seven-thirty sound?”
“Like music to my ears. I’ll be there.”
“Wonderful,” Sloane told him. “Hope you still like good old-fashioned continental U.S. dishes?”
“Of course,” he assured her. “Feel free to make whatever you’re good at and I’ll be only too happy to eat it.”
Sloan laughed. “Sounds like a can’t-lose proposition.”
“Maybe because that’s what it is,” Gene spoke confidently. “We’re both on the winning team here. All we need to do is play the game.”
“I see.”
Sloane thought the metaphors were cute. Were they really embarking on a game—perhaps of truth or dare? Or engaging in something with much more substance? She gave him her address, which was only a few blocks away from his bed-and-breakfast. Sloane could imagine that with the short distance, they could easily go back and forth if this were the direction their burgeoning friendship was headed.
Ever since talking to Sloane on the phone, Gene had been looking forward to going to her new condo for dinner. It was a great way to get to know each other better in a more intimate setting than a luau, hotel café, or even a bed-and-breakfast with people steadily coming and going and private time a luxury. He was convinced that the electricity generated from their kisses deserved to be explored
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