Page 45 of Smooth Sailing
Nodding, she moved to the cabinets. The confession stayed with her, but it wasn’t oppressive. Instead, it felt like a shared secret, a trust given and accepted.
She reached for the dishes, glancing at him. His shoulders were looser, less tense, as if unburdening himself had physically lightened his load. A warmth unfurled in her chest, threading itself with the pull of attraction.
After setting the plates on the counter, she touched his arm, waiting for him to meet her gaze. “Thank you for trusting me with that,” she said softly.
He met her gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks for listening. It’s . . . nice to have someone who doesn’t judge.”
The silence settled between them. But as their gazes held, something shifted, loosened, and then melted away. His expression transformed—the vulnerability fading as his eyes crinkled at the corners. A warm flutter replaced the weight in her chest, and she returned his smile.
Stepping away, she searched for glasses, aware of him watching her. His attention sent a thrill through her. The air between them crackled with energy, but it wasn’t nervousness that made her pulse quicken—it was anticipation.
Returning to him, she briefly pressed against him. “You know,” she said, her voice low and teasing, “if you keep looking at me like that, we might not make it to dessert.”
His sharp intake of breath was gratifying. She continued her tasks, her movements purposeful and assured, reveling in the charged atmosphere they’d created. The heavy conversation from earlier hadn’t been forgotten, but it had evolved into something else—a new level of intimacy that only heightened her attraction.
They sat at the sleek, modern dining table crafted from rich walnut wood. Its rectangular surface was the perfect size for an intimate dinner for two. The table was positioned near the floor-to-ceiling windows that dominated one living area wall, offering a panoramic view of the bay.
The October night had already settled in, wrapping the world outside in darkness. The bay was a vast expanse of inky black; the far shore was barely visible, marked by a few scattered lights from homes and small businesses.
The aroma of their meal mingled with the ambiance created by the view, making the moment feel almost surreal. She took her first bite and, again, couldn’t help but moan at the explosion of flavors, the exquisite taste heightened by the equally exquisite setting. “Oh my god, Max. This is incredible,” she said, savoring another bite of the ravioli.
He grinned. “Told you my cooking was better than takeout.”
Between bites and conversation, she studied Max. His forearms flexed as he cut into his food. The subtle bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed was mesmerizing. Until she noticed another huge yawn overtaking him. It was his third in a short span of time. The wall clock read a little after ten, and before heading home, he’d mentioned taking a quick nap. Thinking back, the man was always tired.
She set her fork on the table. “Do you have mono?” she asked, only half joking.
He snorted. “No. Why do you ask?”
“Well, on the drive here, when I stopped for the restroom and a snack, you were sleeping when I came out and didn’t wake up until we’d arrived. You also mentioned you might take a nap today. Last week, when I swung by your office, you were hunching over some blueprints and asleep.”
“I never did get that nap today. I’d spent it on the phone, checking up on my other jobs.” He chuckled. “Which is probably why it seems like I have mono. I’d had a full schedule before taking on this job and the pineapple house. To keep up, I’ve had to forgo some of my beauty sleep,” he added with a wry smile.
She tilted her head, studying him. “Why did you do it? Take this job, I mean.”
“Because the challenge sounded interesting.” His fingers traced the rim of his water glass, his touch light and deliberate. “And I could tell it was important to you.” The sincerity in his voice melted her heart.
“That means a lot to me.” She reached across the table, touching his hand, and awareness zinged through her. “But I don’t want you running yourself into the ground.”
He turned his palm, catching her fingers in his. The touch sent a spark through her. “Don’t worry about me. I’m tougher than I look.” Another yawn overtook him.
She noticed the fatigue etched in the lines around his eyes. A wave of affection washed over her. “Hey, why don’t you go grab a shower? I’ll clean up here.”
He looked like he might protest, but another yawn escaped. “You sure? I don’t mind helping.”
“I’m sure,” she said, standing and gathering their plates. “Go on, get some hot water on those muscles. I’ll be right behind you.”
The moment the words left her mouth, a spark of heat jumped between them. His gaze met hers, a flicker of interest cutting through his exhaustion. “Is that a promise?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.
She didn’t hesitate and met his gaze, a slow smile spreading. “Definitely,” she replied, her tone leaving no doubt about her intentions. “Consider it incentive to stay awake.”
He stood, and for a moment, she thought he might close the distance between them. Instead, he stretched, his shirt riding up to reveal a tantalizing strip of skin. “In that case, I’ll try not to fall asleep in the shower,” he said with a wink.
“No promises on what I’ll do if I find you asleep,” she called after him. “I might take you up on the offer to smother you with your pillow.”
His laughter echoed down the hallway, and she rushed to finish the dishes. The anticipation of what might happen when she joined Max energized her. She was done playing —they would finally act on the tension building between them.
Chapter Twenty-one
