Page 36 of Spindrift

“Allright.” Morgan gave the grill a tap with her tongs and nodded her approval ofthe temperature.

“Needa hand?” Emilia asked.

“Igot it, but you can tell me how you like your steak.”

Servedby you.She reallyhad to turn off her internal commentary.

“Mediumrare is fine, or however it turns out. I’m not picky when it comes to foodcooked by someone who isn’t me.”

“Nota fan of cooking?”

Emiliahesitated before answering. She had liked cooking, once. Hannah hadn’t cookedat all, and her schedule had been even crazier than Emilia’s, so she’d donemost of the work involved in feeding them. Cooking for herself, however, feltlike a chore. It also reminded her of her father.

“Iused to.” She couldn’t lie to those eyes.

Morganhad to have noticed the past tense, but she didn’t push it. Emilia put that asone more mark in her favor. At this rate, the boating safety comment would soonbe buried.

“Yourcookies were good.”

“Youmust like them crunchy.”

“Ido, actually. I have to grab the steaks. Do you need another beer?”

“Whatabout this precious angel?” Emilia tucked Hermione against her chest.

“Clearlyshe’s made herself at home. Keep her.” Morgan’s eyes trailed slowly downEmilia’s chest, then jerked away as if she’d just realized where she waslooking. Emilia glanced down to discover that Hermione had tucked her nose intoher shirt, nestling into—and revealing—her cleavage.

“Yes,she has,” she said, suddenly happier than she could remember being in months.Maybe it was the beer, or the way the little dog sighed in contentment, ormaybe it was the intoxicating thrill of power that Morgan’s poorly disguisedattraction inspired, but she didn’t care. “And I do need another drink.”

Chapter Seven

Morganhoped her friends would attribute the flush in her cheeks to the heat of thegrill, and not because she done anything so idiotic as getting caught staringat Emilia’s chest.Stop acting like a teenage boy. You know better. Thatdidn’t erase what she’d seen.

“Aww,”chorused the largely female audience when Emilia and Hermione entered thekitchen. Stevie smirked as she met Morgan’s eye, no doubt correctly gaugingMorgan’s reaction. Emilia had managed to tug the loose, silvery material of hershirt back up, but it was still provocative.

“Someonegive that dog a steak,” Stevie said when she leaned past Morgan to grab anotherdrink from the fridge.

“Iwill kill you.”

“Mhmm.”

“Hey.”Lillian raised her voice over the buzz of conversation. “I made Morgan build afire, so let’s move this outside.”

“Plusall the fridge beer is gone,” said Stevie.

Thatwasn’t entirely true. Morgan grabbed the last one and tossed it to Emilia, whocaught it one-handed.

“Opener?”

“Tossit back.” Morgan looped her belt buckle around the top and popped it off.

“Showoff.” Stormy patted her on the back. “I could use you at the bar if you’regoing to pull stunts like that.”

“She’dmake good money in tips,” said Emilia. Her face was smooth and unruffled—unlikeher eyes. They met Morgan’s for only a second, but the look in them hit herdead center. She handed Emilia the beer wordlessly as Stormy laughed.

Steaks. She grabbed the first platter andreturned to the grill.

Morgantook the few moments of solitude to ground herself.This shouldn’t be thishard. She barely knew Emilia. Yes, she was attractive. Her eyes followedthe curve of Emilia’s waist as she took a seat by Lillian and the Watsons.Scratch attractive. Emilia was hot. Breathtakingly, inescapably, hot. She’dworn just enough makeup tonight to highlight her long lashes and the red of herlips, as if Morgan hadn’t already noticed those qualities. As if she hadn’t thoughtabout how Emilia’s long hair would feel running through her fingers, or how thesmooth skin—

---