naive.
“It’s not like you have to drive home.” Andy leaned in, waggled a brow. “And afterwards, we could dance.”
Her plate wobbled and Andy steadied it for her.
“I’m not a very good dancer,” she murmured.
“All that matters is that you do it.” Andy shot her the smile that probably got him laid nightly. “Come on, Dorie. Live a little.”
Come on, Dorie, slug him a little.
But Dorie nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Okay, I’ll take that drink with a kick. Your pick.”
Christian shook his head. Unbelievable. She had fallen for it.
“Atta girl.” Moving to the bar, Andy looked over the display of piña coladas, bushwhackers, daiquiris, choosing two rum punches, no doubt for their potency and potential seduction aid.
Christian’s jaw hurt and he realized he was clenching it. Andy moved back to Dorie, taking one of her plates so she could drink.
“Here it goes,” she said. “Liquid courage.”
“What could you possibly need liquid courage for?” Andy asked.
Christian wondered the same thing. Dorie sucked down her drink, then set both her empty glass and her second very full plate on a nearby table. Drawing a deep breath, she tipped her head back to look up at the baseball player. “I’ll have that dance now. If you still want it.”
With a smile, Andy pulled her in close, sliding his hand low on her spine. Then a little lower . . .
Christian frowned.
Dorie squirmed.
Andy grinned.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Dorie muttered.
“Do you?”
She blushed adorably. “I was in a hurry when I got dressed.”
Andy laughed. “Are you somehow apologizing for not wearing panties?”
“It’s just that—”
“Can I see you later?”
She looked up at him, extremely cute, and extremely flustered, and Christian had the inexplicable urge to pull her away from Andy.
Crazy.
“See me?” Dorie repeated. “As in go out with me see me?”
“Yep,” Andy replied.
“We’re on a boat.”
“In the South Pacific. Nothing more romantic than that.”
She blinked, slow as an owl. “You want to be with me.”
“Say yes, Dorie.”
Say no, Dorie.
“I have to use the restroom,” she said, and hightailed it out of Andy’s arms.
Finally.
FIVE
The rum punch had gone straight to Dorie’s head. Or maybe that was just amazement that she was really here, on a sailing yacht, out of her comfort area.
Make that a couple of time zones out of her comfort area.
Baseball Cutie wanted to be with her. Boggled the mind, it really did. In the bathroom just off the galley, she looked at herself in the mirror. “I’d love to go out with you, Andy,” she told her reflection.
See? How hard was that?
How was she going to do this whole living life thing if she couldn’t talk? Well, she’d be a mime if she had to, because this was an opportunity of a lifetime. He was the opportunity of a lifetime.
She touched up her gloss and headed back to the salon, looking around at the beautiful boat as she did. The interior gleamed with obvious care and pride in every nook and cranny, and the view . . . unbelievable. She was used to tall buildings, smog, and traffic twenty-four/seven. Here there was nothing but glorious open water.
And gorgeous, tongue-swelling inducing men. Remembering that odd conversation she’d overheard, she stood there a moment trying to put faces to the voices she’d heard.
But couldn’t.
Captain Denny was talking to Christian near the door. Gorgeous Grumpy Doctor had lost his baseball cap, and now his dark hair tumbled loose and free. He hadn’t changed those faded, well-worn Levi’s, and surrounded by elegance and sophistication, he looked like the last holdout.
His gaze snagged hers, and she couldn’t help but notice he seemed rough and tumble and . . . trouble, pure trouble. Before she could look away, he cocked a brow, and slowly dropped his gaze down the length of her.
Then again, it might just have been her rum punch.
Yet he did it again, definitely eyeing
“It’s not like you have to drive home.” Andy leaned in, waggled a brow. “And afterwards, we could dance.”
Her plate wobbled and Andy steadied it for her.
“I’m not a very good dancer,” she murmured.
“All that matters is that you do it.” Andy shot her the smile that probably got him laid nightly. “Come on, Dorie. Live a little.”
Come on, Dorie, slug him a little.
But Dorie nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Okay, I’ll take that drink with a kick. Your pick.”
Christian shook his head. Unbelievable. She had fallen for it.
“Atta girl.” Moving to the bar, Andy looked over the display of piña coladas, bushwhackers, daiquiris, choosing two rum punches, no doubt for their potency and potential seduction aid.
Christian’s jaw hurt and he realized he was clenching it. Andy moved back to Dorie, taking one of her plates so she could drink.
“Here it goes,” she said. “Liquid courage.”
“What could you possibly need liquid courage for?” Andy asked.
Christian wondered the same thing. Dorie sucked down her drink, then set both her empty glass and her second very full plate on a nearby table. Drawing a deep breath, she tipped her head back to look up at the baseball player. “I’ll have that dance now. If you still want it.”
With a smile, Andy pulled her in close, sliding his hand low on her spine. Then a little lower . . .
Christian frowned.
Dorie squirmed.
Andy grinned.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Dorie muttered.
“Do you?”
She blushed adorably. “I was in a hurry when I got dressed.”
Andy laughed. “Are you somehow apologizing for not wearing panties?”
“It’s just that—”
“Can I see you later?”
She looked up at him, extremely cute, and extremely flustered, and Christian had the inexplicable urge to pull her away from Andy.
Crazy.
“See me?” Dorie repeated. “As in go out with me see me?”
“Yep,” Andy replied.
“We’re on a boat.”
“In the South Pacific. Nothing more romantic than that.”
She blinked, slow as an owl. “You want to be with me.”
“Say yes, Dorie.”
Say no, Dorie.
“I have to use the restroom,” she said, and hightailed it out of Andy’s arms.
Finally.
FIVE
The rum punch had gone straight to Dorie’s head. Or maybe that was just amazement that she was really here, on a sailing yacht, out of her comfort area.
Make that a couple of time zones out of her comfort area.
Baseball Cutie wanted to be with her. Boggled the mind, it really did. In the bathroom just off the galley, she looked at herself in the mirror. “I’d love to go out with you, Andy,” she told her reflection.
See? How hard was that?
How was she going to do this whole living life thing if she couldn’t talk? Well, she’d be a mime if she had to, because this was an opportunity of a lifetime. He was the opportunity of a lifetime.
She touched up her gloss and headed back to the salon, looking around at the beautiful boat as she did. The interior gleamed with obvious care and pride in every nook and cranny, and the view . . . unbelievable. She was used to tall buildings, smog, and traffic twenty-four/seven. Here there was nothing but glorious open water.
And gorgeous, tongue-swelling inducing men. Remembering that odd conversation she’d overheard, she stood there a moment trying to put faces to the voices she’d heard.
But couldn’t.
Captain Denny was talking to Christian near the door. Gorgeous Grumpy Doctor had lost his baseball cap, and now his dark hair tumbled loose and free. He hadn’t changed those faded, well-worn Levi’s, and surrounded by elegance and sophistication, he looked like the last holdout.
His gaze snagged hers, and she couldn’t help but notice he seemed rough and tumble and . . . trouble, pure trouble. Before she could look away, he cocked a brow, and slowly dropped his gaze down the length of her.
Then again, it might just have been her rum punch.
Yet he did it again, definitely eyeing
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