Page 41 of Sharing Shane

“You didn’t get to finish the one from lunch.”

“Oh.” She took a sip, grateful that the bartender hadn’t stinted on the rum. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. So.” He shoved his sunglasses up onto his head and smiled at her. “What’d you do today?”

She studied his face while she sipped, for some reason wary of that open, seemingly guileless expression. “Not much,” she said vaguely.

“Seen Shane?”

She shook her head. “Not since lunch. Why, is he missing?”

He shrugged, shifting his attention to the ocean. “No. I had dinner with him earlier.”

“Okay,” she said, and not knowing what else to say, sipped her drink again.

They sat for a moment in silence, staring at the ocean and sipping their drinks, before Wyatt spoke again.

“Sorry if I freaked you out earlier.”

She turned to him with a frown. “When?”

“Earlier,” he repeated and gestured with his drink. “In the conference room, when Shane was throwing the idiot out.”

She shook her head in confusion. “You didn’t freak me out. Why would you think you did?”

He shrugged again, his blue eyes surprisingly sober as he turned away from the sea to look at her. “The information that Shane and I are bi-sexual seemed to catch you off guard.”

“Oh. That.” Because it was there, and she didn’t know what to say, she took another sip of her drink. A long one.

“So, if it freaked you out, I’m sorry.”

She let the straw fall from her lips. “’Freaked out’ is the wrong term.”

“Yeah?” A glint of humor lit his gaze now. “What’s the right one?”

“Um. Nonplused?” she ventured, and smiled at him. “Taken aback? Gobsmacked?”

“Gobsmacked, huh?” He smiled back. “Sounds kinky.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” She laughed, oddly comfortable with him despite the little tingles of desire bubbling through her. “Anyway, no offense taken.”

“Good.” He was silent for a moment, sipping his drink, then set it down, twisting it to wedge it into the sand. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure,” she said absently. She was watching his arm flex as he worked the glass into the sand, fascinated by the play of muscle under his skin. He had fabulous arms, rippling with lean muscle and dusted with fine golden hair. Her fingertips itched to stroke, just a little, to see if that hair was as soft as it looked.

She took another drink instead.

“Did you come back to the cottage and take a nap today, or did you rub one out?”

She choked in surprise, spewing her drink onto the sand, and Wyatt pounded her helpfully on the back. She stared at him, eyes watering as she coughed. When she had her breath back, she wheezed out, “Boy, when you said personal, you weren’t kidding.”

“Sorry.” He gave her a last pat on the back. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She sucked in a deep breath and spent a few seconds digging her glass into the sand next to his to buy herself some time. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “Because I know you were turned on when you left, and it’s what I would have done.”

“Would have done, or did?”

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