Page 50 of Just One Summer with the Grumpy

“Wait,” I said, suddenly looking around at the empty table. “There’s no menu.”

“They only serve one meal each night, and it’s always incredible. I brought the chef in from Peru. He’s heralded as one of the best in the world.”

“I look forward to it,” I said, meaning every word. “I’ve only gotten three chapters into the first thriller you gave me, but I’m really liking it so far. I’m not just saying that.”

“There are no cowboys and train chase scenes, unfortunately, but I think you’ll find the ending riveting.”

“It’s already riveting. The hero is attractive in my head, so that helps. He’s got these striking dark brown eyes and an obsession with his sunglasses, and he’s tall like a football player and a little grumpy. Kind of like someone else I know.”

“Agwe’s only grumpy in the morning when he stays up too late.” Chase winked.

I laughed. He squeezed my hand again, and oh, man. Even that sent a shockwave of awareness through me. I forced myself to look away as the conversation continued, fully aware of the power this man had over me when he looked deep into my eyes.

New girl, indeed. I didn’t know how many other “girls” he’d dined with here, nor did I want to know. But I did know that one hundred percent of his attention was now focused on me, and I intended to enjoy every moment while it lasted.

The dinner turned out to be lobster seasoned with citrus and some kind of sweet sauce that made me want to fetch them more lobster from the ocean so I keep eating all night long. Chase seemed pleased with my reaction, and we ate until neither of us could stomach another bite.

I never got the chance to offer to help pay, as Chase simply stood and pulled me to my feet. As we made our way to the elevator, I chided myself. As the owner, of course he wouldn’t need to hand over his credit card. This entire restaurant existed because of him.

Neither of us wanted to go home yet, so we walked lazily to the beach. I removed my expensive heels—also chosen by the dress shop staff—and left them on a lounge chair next to his shiny black shoes. Then we walked in the sand together, hand in hand, in the moonlight. The wind tugged a curl free from the pinned pile atop my head and tossed it into my eyes. Chase halted, hooked it with a single finger, and tucked it behind my ear before I had the chance.

“I can see why so many people want to get married here,” I murmured. “It’s the most romantic place I’ve ever seen.” Not that I’d ever been anywhere but New York and home, but I couldn’t imagine anything better than this. Even if better beaches existed, they didn’t have Chase—and that made all the difference.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, searching the shore. Before I knew what had happened, he swept me into his arms and kissed me deeply.

I practically went limp in his arms before coming to my senses and wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

If fireworks didn’t explode all around us, it certainly felt like it. This took yesterday’s kiss to an entirely new level. My veins buzzed from the wine earlier and the intoxication of his lips on mine, tasting like sweet lobster and peppermint and the fresh air of his tropical island paradise. Just when I could stand it no longer, his lips left my mouth and left a trail across my jaw and down my throat, his hand still intertwined in my hair.

I wanted to pull him down, down, and even more down until we found ourselves tangled in the sand.

He must have been thinking along the same lines, because his free hand slid down around my waist, pulling my hips against his and his mouth crashed onto mine again. Were we vertical? Horizontal? I couldn’t tell, our limbs all intertwined like this.

Okay, this wasn’t just a new level. This was a new planet altogether. I’d never wanted someone so desperately.

I opened my eyes for the slightest of seconds and saw movement in the trees.

Chase must have felt me stiffen, because he pulled away and looked behind us.

“I thought I saw someone,” I admitted reluctantly, barely able to get the words out. My heart sprinted a marathon in my chest, and my body surged with heat and wanting. Maybe it was good having somebody spying on us. It would prevent me from making a very public mistake.

“I should probably take you home anyway.” I heard the same reluctance and breathlessness in his own voice. He slid one hand along my back and around my waist, and we walked across the beach together to fetch our shoes.

As I slid the second shoe on, I saw it again—a face in the trees. Only this time, I recognized the face.

The pool man.

TWENTY-THREE

I sat backin my chair with a sigh before beginning the poem over again.

No man is an island entire of itself; every man

is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;

if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe

is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as

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