One Lavender Ribbon (14 page)

“You’ll love this mix, then. And do you serve it with mushrooms and croutons?”

“Always. Oh, and a boiled egg. I make homemade croutons, you know.”

“Really?”

“I got the recipe from a friend not too long ago. I’ll bring you some.”

He noticed her stretch to glance out the back window again. “Will’s getting the boat ready for the day.”

“Uh-huh.”

He watched her. She watched Will. “Sure is going to be nice out there. The water’s smooth, and the cold front brought in a cool breeze.”

“Sounds fabulous.” Sort of. Adrienne was terrified of boats. She’d had a bad experience once, and Eric had made fun of her for it. Boats and her—not simpatico. But the naked-to-the-waist man outside? Now
that
she could stare at for hours.

She’d only in the last few months been able to look at men without feeling like she was cheating on her husband. Even though they’d separated practically a year ago and her divorce had been final months ago. One thing she could thank Ryan for, she supposed. Ryan, her furniture-moving grad student with the killer smile and smooth confidence. He’d broken through all those barriers of false propriety, even grabbing and kissing her without warning or invitation on occasion. At first she’d frozen at his touch. But then she’d remembered she wasn’t a married woman anymore and she had settled into that first kiss. It was nice. The next one was nice. And the next, and several more after that. Was Will a good kisser? For a horrible second, she thought she might have said that aloud.

She breathed relief when she realized Pops was still up to his elbows in her box of vegetables and still chattering about salad. Her gaze and her mind drifted through the window. Tan skin, rolling muscles, denim shorts cinched around smooth hips. It was hard to breathe.

Pops dislodged himself from the box and leaned forward to pick up the bait bucket Adrienne had brought. “Boy, this thing is heavy.”

And before she knew it, she was slipping it from his grasp and trying not to consider how Will’s mouth would measure up to Ryan’s.

A loose towel in one hand and shirt off, Will wiped the morning dew from the otherwise sparkling boat, the
Miss Betty May
. He scrubbed back and forth, removing the moisture that had settled on her. Aggravation from the week’s work dissolved with the brush of his hand. Everything about a boat was therapeutic, even bathing it.

He was almost finished when he noticed he wasn’t alone. The wind carried the scent of flowers to him before she spoke a word. He groaned inwardly, reaching for his shirt. He pulled it on and hopped off the boat, his deck shoes grabbing the wooden planks of the pier. “Good morning.”

“It is,” she returned.

She looked . . . guilty and gorgeous. A purple tank top hugged her upper body, emphasizing her curves. Shorts accentuated those amazing legs. Adrienne’s neck glistened with a tiny locket. That neck. The kind he could nuzzle into and not come up for air for hours. It was the curve. Tantalizing, smooth, inviting him to nibble. And there they stood. Wordless, staring at each other. Awkward, but somehow that was okay.

Finally, she blinked. “Um, I brought this down for Pops.” She nodded at the bucket of bait she held.

But he didn’t take it from her. Instead, he regarded her, wondering just how long she’d been standing there watching him wipe off the boat.

She blinked again, innocently, but below the surface, he could see her squirming. A honey-smooth spot on her throat throbbed. She motioned to the bucket that he had yet to take from her.

But taking it might mean an end to her standing there waiting on him. Watching him. She might disappear back up to the house. No, he didn’t really want to rush this. Some of the best things in life were rushed when they shouldn’t be. It was a crime, really. He was pretty sure this was one of those moments. “I hope you haven’t been standing there long with that heavy bucket.” He took his time tucking his shirt into denim shorts. He caught her eyes trail from his chest down to his hand, then quickly snap back up to his face.

“No,” she said a little too quickly.

But he
still
didn’t take the bucket. “So I didn’t keep you waiting?”

“Oh, no.” She waved a hand. “I just walked down here.”

At that moment, Pops stuck his head out the back door. “Did you fall in, Adrienne? It doesn’t take five minutes to drop off a bucket of bait!”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. So she
had
been watching him. Something white hot shot into his gut and curled there.

Cheeks stained crimson, she gestured with her free hand toward the canal. “I was just admiring your . . . your boat. It looks beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

When she began to move the bucket to her free hand, he reached for it. “Let me take that.” This put him in close enough proximity to drag her scent into his lungs. He welcomed it.

“Thank you.” She rubbed her palm where red streaks left their mark.

Will dropped the bucket on the deck behind him, bait sloshing. He took her hand in his, drawing her closer. He ran a finger over the lines on her palm. Concern drew his brows together. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so heavy.”
Really chivalrous.
But honestly, it wasn’t every day he caught a gorgeous woman checking him out. He’d just wanted to enjoy it a little while. But he’d left her there holding a ten-pound bucket. Nice.

Adrienne mumbled an answer he didn’t quite catch. For a tiny little thing, she was pretty strong. She hadn’t even complained about the bucket. Of course, she
was
remodeling a house. Couldn’t be a wimp and do that. Still, he’d left her under the strain of his bait. Not the most gentlemanly thing he’d ever done. “Really, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she whispered.

A breeze pushed at her back, pressing her closer to him, lifting her hair and forcing the feminine scent deeper into his lungs. Her smell bounded off his skin in waves. Marking him. He wasn’t in any hurry to move away.

Gently, his finger rubbed across the marks on her palm. Odd that he didn’t mind this woman’s scent invading his nose and clothes. Odd that he hadn’t minded her throwing crab claws and meat bits all over his kitchen. “I wouldn’t have had my shirt off, but I didn’t know you would be coming down here. I thought you were just picking up some vegetables.”

“I volunteered to,” she said unapologetically, and some brave little flicker caused her dark eyes to dance.

It was unnerving. In a good way. He concentrated his attention on her palm. Soft, smooth flesh, warm beneath his touch.

“Pops was going to bring them, but I thought I should say hello.”

“Sounds like a chore.” His eyes drifted up to hers. Her irises were espresso colored, but this close and in the bright sunlight, he saw multiple flecks of gold. He’d like to mine that gold, unearth the treasure hidden in her eyes.

“Then let me rephrase it. I
wanted
to say hello.”

“Hello, back.” Something warm twisted in his stomach. He allowed his fingers to slide up her arm to her shoulder. Once there, he kneaded gently until he felt a tremor run along her flesh. “Did the bucket hurt your arm?”

She shook her head. His finger drifted under the edge of her shoulder strap, scarcely grazing her skin beneath and causing her top to move ever so slightly. It could have been an accident, a mistake. But it wasn’t. He wanted to see the response it elicited.

A puff of hot breath was his answer. A face flushed with pink, a further invitation. Her skin was velvet. “Good.” He pulled in a breath, reluctant to let go. But what could he do? Continue stroking her? No. Will took a difficult and deliberate step back. The scent of flowers and woman stayed.

Oh, this was a disaster.
She had seen him from the house, shirt off, scrubbing the boat. She’d only wanted to talk to him, and now, with his face inches from hers, his body smelling of the sea, his emerald eyes staring into hers, she found that she’d lost all her words.

Standing this close to a sweaty sailor shouldn’t make you want to get closer. She had watched his long, lean muscles roll rhythmically as he scrubbed back and forth. So he was tan, lean, and muscled. So what? Lots of guys were. It had actually been his hands that caused the blood to pool in her stomach—even before he’d touched her. Every now and then, he’d take the towel away and with long, slow strokes, slide a hand over the smooth white side of the boat, strong fingers gliding, caressing. Those hands could be lethal to a girl. Those hands could thoroughly wreck her. If, of course, she wanted to be wrecked, which she, Adrienne, didn’t. And if, of course, he wanted to wreck her, which
he
didn’t.

She’d watched him grab the pail from her sore arm and effortlessly drop it to the deck behind him. Even through his T-shirt, the muscles in his stomach clenched as he lifted, then relaxed. His hand, first on hers, then sliding up her arm, each movement a dizzying dance.

But this wasn’t just about looking at Will’s body, no matter how good, how perfect it was wiping down the boat. She was also interested in being introduced to the Will Bryant that Leo talked about. She really
did
want to say hello. In fact, if invited, she’d hop right on the boat and spend the day with him. Fear or no fear. She’d go. She’d do it.

As if reading her mind, Will asked, “You want to go along?”

“No, but thank you,” she answered without giving herself a moment to consider it. “But Pops is really excited about going out today.” Adrienne was a master at redirecting the conversation. She’d spent years redirecting it to Eric. After all, the world hadn’t just
revolved
around Eric. He had been its sun, moon, and stars.

“Pops always thinks he’s going to land a trophy sailfish.”

Will wadded a towel and tossed it onto the deck, then turned back to her. “By the way, I’m really sorry Pops asked you to stop at the bait shop on your way over. I don’t know what he was thinking.” He rubbed a hand through thick, dark hair that was adorably unkempt. Just as she’d suspected it would be without all that hair gel.

“Oh, I volunteered. It was the least I could do. He’s giving me a truck load of vegetables.”

Tan fingers spread wide, and his hands fell to rest on his hips. “Sure you won’t come along?”

“No, I’m not dressed for it.”

His gaze drifted down over her, slowly, lingering on the way. “You’re right. Shorts and a tank top are way too formal attire for boat trips.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Tilting her ankle outward drew attention to her four-inch wedge sandals.

His gaze trailed down to them in a long, slow perusal as if he’d been invited to inspect her legs along the way. Goose bumps spread across her thighs and calves everywhere his gaze touched.

“You could slip those off. It’s pretty customary to go barefoot on a boat.”

“Oh.” Well, that was the last of her excuses. One last plea. “It’s going to be terribly hot.”

“Nonsense.” The words came from behind her as Pops stepped past both of them. “If it isn’t too hot for an eighty-year-old man, it isn’t too hot for you, Miss High-Falootin’ City Girl.”

Will helped his grandfather onto the boat and returned to her, an inviting grin animating his face. “There’s plenty of shade to keep you cool.”

Shade? Not likely. There was no shade from his smoldering looks and heat-radiating body. Her gaze moved between Will and the monster of a boat that rested beside them. “I’ve never been on an ocean boat. I mean, a cruise ship once, but you can’t even feel them moving. Smaller boats are . . . kind of scary. I nearly drowned in a canoe.”

“The water is supposed to be smooth as glass today. We’ll go slow if it makes you feel better.” He stretched his hand out to take hers. “You’re safe with me.”

Safe with him. The words dropped to the ground like lead. She’d never met a man she truly felt safe with, least of all one with eyes able to cut right into her soul, which was kind of how she felt with Will.

When she didn’t answer, he whispered, “I promise.” His tongue darted out to moisten a mouth gone slack.

And for a quick moment, the world stopped.