Page 47 of One Naughty Night (Single in South Beach)

It was a simple thing, his consulting her on this small issue. Still, Esme knew three weeks ago he would have simply led them where he wanted. Bending to slide out of her high heels, Esme nodded toward the dark expanse of ocean dotted with a handful of tiny lights emanating from boats on the horizon. “Let’s live on the edge.”

He quirked a thick, dark eyebrow in her direction and then scooped up her shoes.

They stepped off the deck and into the sand. Renzo seemed impervious to the soft grain in his boat shoes with no socks. Esme relished the feel of the groomed beach beneath her toes.

The sound of lapping water against the shore grew louder as they neared the incoming tide. Esme sidestepped a forgotten volleyball in the sand before Renzo kicked it back toward the hotel so it wouldn’t wash out to sea.

“So you weren’t up for a blind date tonight?” He halted a few feet from the surf, his voice riding the salty breeze to her ears while her eyelet blouse rippled against her skin.

“What do you mean?” She leaned over to pick up a smooth shell half buried in the sand. He couldn’t possibly know about the blind date Mrs. Wolcott had suggested to her this weekend.

“I asked your matchmaking neighbor to see if she could set me up with you for real this time, but she told me afterward that you couldn’t be swayed.” He set her shoes a few feet away from them, safe from the encroaching water.

“Youwere the date Pauline was angling for?” Her sneaky neighbor definitely had a romanticized view of love. Hard to believe anyone could be so relentlessly optimistic after a handful of divorces, but Esme had to admire the woman’s ability to take a chance.

He nodded, his shadowed expression illuminated by moonlight. “She also told me about your promotion at the museum. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” In the past, she would have shrugged off praise for her accomplishments. Now, she wanted to bask just a little, enjoy the milestones. “I can’t believe you asked Pauline to set us up.”

“She served me tea by the gallon and quizzed me about any male in my family over fifty. I think she might be in the market for another husband.”

Laughing, Esme decided to keep an eye out for bachelor prospects for Mrs. Wolcott. “She’s a sweet person, but she told me it’s taken her fifty years to grow up.”

Esme hadn’t known what to make of that comment at the time, but just now, hanging out in the moonlight with Renzo, she knew she didn’t want to spend her whole life figuring out who she wanted to be.

She wanted to start living now. Tonight.

* * *

Renzo watchedEsme carefully wash the sand off a shell and prayed he could convince this cautious woman that he was the right man for her.

He’d been too inflexible— and maybe a little unwilling—to change for Celeste. Obviously, he hadn’t loved her the way he loved Esme because something about Esme’s steely, quiet strength made him want to change for her.

Or at leasttry.

He wasn’t willing to give up on Esme.

“You know why I wanted the date tonight?” He took the clean shell out of her hand, depositing it into the pocket of his shirt so he could touch her, hold her. He rested his fingers on her shoulders, forced himself not to rush this.

“You were hoping I’d mistake you for someone else and drag you off to bed again?” Her blue eyes glinted with humor even in the dark.

“Okay, call me arrogant all you want, but I’m hoping if I’m ever fortunate enough to find myself in your bed again it will be because you know exactly who I am.” He allowed his fingers to curve around her shoulders, to slide underneath the veil of her hair. “Esme, I wanted to see you again so I could tell you exactly how sorry I am for not having a clue about what you needed when you confronted your former boss. I should have never tromped all over your big moment. If I had it to do all over, I swear I’d find a way to keep my fists to myself and cheer you on from the sidelines.”

“Yeah?” She gave a careless shrug, yet Renzo could feel the race of her heart, the urgent thump of her pulse through her delicate body. “You know, half the reason you were able to knock him out so fast was because I’d just kneed him in the, um… groin… five seconds before that. He barely survived me.”

Renzo smiled, partly at the image of petite Esme kicking butt and partly just because she looked so damn proud. “You know, I figured somebody must have softened him up for me.”

He wanted to draw her close and kiss her, but he wouldn’t be able to stand it if she pulled away. Besides, he hadn’t said nearly everything he needed to.

Clearing his throat, he dove into the heart of the problem. “I can’t promise you that I won’t occasionally act before I think. But if you’d ever agree to give us a second chance, I can promise you I will always try and listen.”

“You would?” She swiped away a windblown strand of hair in her eyes. “Because even though I feel more confident in who I am and what I want these days, I’ll never be the kind of woman who shouts out what she needs or gets in your face to make sure you know what’s important to me.”

His heart squeezed painfully with her words, giving him just a small taste of what he would feel like if Esme turned him down tonight.

“Honey, you could whisper what you want, and I swear to you I’ll go stone-cold silent to hear what you have to say.”

One corner of her beautiful mouth hitched up. “Really?”

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