Page 76 of Revenge Honeymoon

Emily quietly fixed the collar of his dress shirt that had turned up in the middle of everything. The touch of her fingers on his neck was like molten lava. Did she have any idea what she did to him?

“That’s right.” Emily stepped forward, her voice steady and sure. Her wrap slipped off her body exposing her décolletage. “Keeling. Nine o’clock.”

The maître d’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat. “Yes, mademoiselle. Please follow me.”

At that moment, Max fell hard for Emily. Sexy and strong? Funny and smart? Four boxes checked. How many more could there be?

He offered her his arm, she accepted, and they stepped out of the elevator and followed the maître d’ into the restaurant.

Chapter20

Not What She Expected

As the maître d’ led them into the restaurant, Emily hoped Max couldn’t see she was trembling. Her knees were weak, her head was a mass of disjointed thoughts, and her whole body had come alive.

He had kissed her.

Thoroughly and completely.

Wow.

She waited for her dream to end and to find herself in bed making out with a pillow.

His hard chest pressed up against hers in the elevator? Yes, please.

His firm lips on hers? Yes, please.

His fingers tangled in her hair? Yes, yes, and yes.

And now she was expected to sit at a table and casually eat a meal while everything in her wanted to drag him back to the elevator and ride it up and down all night.

Ride it up and down...

Oh.

Goodness.

A zing exploded in her core and spread throughout her body. The kiss had started a chain reaction she couldn’t stop. She wanted to follow it all the way to the end. Her temperature ratcheted up a few degrees.

She didn’t have time for this. She had a job to do. That kiss in the elevator had seriously compromised her focus on the goal: deleting Ruby’s photo.

“Madame Keeling?” Their server stood next to their table with an expectant look on his face. “Would you care for a drink?”

When had they been seated?

She touched the suede seat cushion beneath her, grounding herself.

Max cleared his throat. “Oh, we’re not married.” He avoided her gaze.

The server’s brow wrinkled, and his eyes darted to the side. “I see.”

Why didn’t Emily even ponder what a date on a honeymoon cruise might trigger? How to explain?

“I’ll have a glass of pinot,” she said before more of an explanation was offered. Maybe wine would calm her nerves.

“Very good, mademoiselle.” The server looked at Max pointedly. “And the monsieur?”

He handed back the wine list. “Same.”

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