Page 35 of His Hawaiian Heart
I did so and nothing I’d imagined had prepared me for what I saw. Samantha was no longer standing in front of me. In fact, she was no longer standing. She was seated on the hood of the Range Rover, leaning back on her elbows, her legs crossed and one foot was swinging. And that foot, well, it was no longer clad in a boot. Instead, an emerald-green stiletto encased her toes and her heel.
“Well? What’s your choice?” she asked as she slowly uncrossed her legs only to recross them with her other foot taking its turn to swing, the hiking boot concealing her entire foot and a great portion of her ankle as well.
I walked to the car and slid my hands up her legs and slowly and deliberately uncrossed them. Then, I slid my hands down to take a foot in each one and smiled up at her, lifting first one and then the other. “Mango papaya.”
Her nose crinkled and she tilted her head. “I’d wonder if you were making fun of me, Mr. Blackwell, but I know you’d never do that.”
“Oh?” I said, quirking my brow. “What else do you think you know about me, Doctor Laughlin?”
She sat up only to lean forward and wrap her arms around my neck. “I know you act tough but you’ve got a great heart. I know you’re willing to spend an entire day with me pretending to like bugs, but would far rather be doing something else?—”
“You’re not so smart after all. I actually did enjoy every moment of the time I spent with you yesterday?—”
“Buuutt?” She drew the word out, that sexy smile doing things to my insides not another woman ever had.
“But, there are indeed other things I’m looking forward to doing with you and doing to you.”
“Then I suggest you pick a fruit and let’s get this show on the road. Unless, of course, one of those things on your kink list is exhibitionism?”
“I plead the fifth, until after dinner at the very least.”
“How about we skip dinner and go straight to play?”
I smiled and shook my head. “You know why.”
“You’re worried about Cookie. How is it that we are mature, intelligent adults but the mere thought of disappointing Papa Cookie has us shaking in our boots?”
I chuckled. “Because neither of us is the type of person who makes promises with the intention of breaking them.”
Her deep sigh would have been more believable if it hadn’t been accompanied by an enigmatic smile. “When you’re right, you’re right.”
“Good thing for you to remember.” I ran my hands down her legs again. “And as much as I think you rock those boots, I’d have to be absolutely insane to let you off the hood of this car wearing anything but those amazing flip-flops.”
Her face went blank for a moment and then she started laughing at my reminder of her claim that first night we’d hiked into the camp. Getting herself under control, she smiled and softly said, “Just the flip-flops?”
“God, you’re going to be the death of me, babygirl.”
Laughter filled the air again as I bent in order to untie her boot and slide it off. Tucking the boot into the backpack, I retrieved the second heel. As she slipped her toes into it, I ran my nail along the sole of her foot and enjoyed the shiver she couldn’t contain as I finally snugged the heel of the shoe against her own before bending to kiss the top of her foot.
“Now that my choice has been made, how about yours? Do you want to choose where we eat?”
“I don’t care where or what we eat, Sam. I just care that we do it together. As for my choice of prize? I think I’ll keep that to myself for a tad bit longer if that’s okay?”
“Yes, babygirl, that’s perfectly okay.”
With that and her wardrobe taken care of, I picked her off the hood and deposited her in the passenger seat, tossed the backpack into the backseat, climbed behind the wheel and started the car. I knew that if I did indeed pull into a drive-thru, she’d not bat an eye, but I had other ideas. I’d asked her to let me show her my island, and I was a man of my word.
Chapter Fifteen
Samantha
The restaurant was exactly as one I’d imagined Sam would choose. It was every bit as classy as he was. Not that I believed he ate here often. For that, I pictured him sitting at the counter in some local diner, or joining friends at a table in a place very few tourists would ever know existed, or even eating a sandwich leaning over his kitchen sink.
Did he wear a suit that spoke of familiarity and comfort in some Fortune 500 boardroom? The answer was an unequivocal yes. Did he drive both a limo and a Range Rover? Again, yes, and the ease in which he drove both told me he not only felt at home behind the wheel of either, but with an expertise that had me feel safe. But he also filled out a pair of jeans in a way that had my breath catch. Shirts with sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, and boots that weren’t bought because of the name of any designer, but for their comfort. Plant all that atop a horse that towered over me, and I knew those all told a truer story of Samuel Blackwell.
There was so much I wanted to know about Sam, but I wasn’t in a great rush. Right now, I was content to trust my instincts.The fact he’d closed his eyes despite the slight stiffening of his posture and brief clenching of his fists told me trust was an issue with him. Someone had hurt him and it hadn’t just been a graze. Whatever had been done had caused that trust to wobble off its axis, and whoever had done it, had wounded him deeply. The gift he’d offered me back by the side of the road was worth far more to me than anything a person could buy.
I was sure dinner had been Michelin-star worthy, but to be honest, with the exception of Cookie’s cookies, I wasn’t much of a foodie. When I was hungry, I ate. It didn’t much matter to me if it was Lobster Thermidor or a chili dog. As long as it filled my stomach until the next time it growled, I was satisfied.
