Chapter Six

The

sun

had

dropped

much

lower

by

the

time

they

got

back

to

the

docks,

and

a

warm

glow

of

pinks

and

turquoise

was

slowly

spreading

across

the

evening

sky.

It

was

absolutely

beautiful.

Sandra

stayed

behind

to

enjoy

the

tranquility of the sea

as

the

rest

of

the

passengers

disembarked. She closed her eyes, basking in the sounds of

sea

gulls echoing across the

water, the soft creaking of waves broke the stillness as they caressed

the

wooden

pillars

of

the

walkway. She was relaxed and comfortable and yet oddly reenergized.

“One

of

the

most

beautiful

sights

I’ve

ever

seen,”

Creighton

said

softly,

making

her

aware

that

he

was

still

sitting

beside

her.

She

nodded

again,

drawing

a

deep

breath.

This

specific

moment

was

definitely

worth

all

the

sacrifice

she

had

made

in

order

to

come

here.

When

she

looked

back

toward

Creighton,

she

blushed,

realizing

he

was

watching

her.

“Ruelle

needs

to

close

up

the

ship

for

the

night,”

he

told

her

gently, an inviting smile caressing his lips as he took her

hand

in

his.

The

touch

of

his

hand

on

her

bare

skin

sent

a

sudden

shudder

racing

through

her

arm

and

into

her

stomach,

causing

her

heart

to

skip

a

beat.

She

looked

up

into

those

dark-blue

eyes

and

smiled.

“Do

you

have

plans

for

supper?”

he

asked

as they walked together down the wooden walkway and up the short path to the hotel.

She

felt the warmth of his touch as it coursed through her arm and into her breast as he watched her intently.

“I

don’t

have

anything

special

planned.”

“Would

you

like

to

have

supper

with

me?”

he

asked

with

another

dazzling

smile that warmed her down to her toes.

“I

would

love

to,”

she

said

suddenly, glancing downward when

she

realized

how

eager

she

sounded.

“Great.

Do

you

like

pasta?”

he

asked

as

they

walked

into

the

lobby

of

the

hotel.

“I

love

pasta,

but

I

don’t

eat

it

much.

It’s

not

very

good

for

the

waistline.”

She bit her tongue as she tried to put a halt to the

malfunctioning

filter

between

her

brain

and

her

mouth. She looked up

into

the

dark

eyes that traveled down

her slender body and felt a strange tingling in her inner thighs, when

his

eyes began inspecting

the

area

of

discussion.

“I

don’t

think

you

have

much

to

worry

about.”

His eyes seemed to take on a light of their own as his lips twitched into a seductive grin,

squeezing

her

hand

and

causing

her

to

bite

her

bottom

lip

to

keep

from

giggling

like

a

schoolgirl. Pausing, he leaned into her, surprising her as he kissed

her

cheek, his touch sending currents of electricity across her skin.

He

smelled

of

seawater

and

a

masculine

muskiness

that

was

so

alien,

so

alluring,

that

several

new

sensations

began

to

awaken

deep down

inside

her.

“Eight

o’clock.”

He smiled at her with a raised brow as if waiting for an answer, but all she could do was

nod, a lump of anticipation blocking her vocal cords.

His

smile

brightened

as

he

released

her

hand

and

slowly

walked

away

toward

the

lift.

She

stood

there in a dumbfounded trance, watching

for

several

moments

before

she

realized

she

was

standing

in

the

middle

of

the

lobby

alone.

She

drew a deep breath to calm her nerves and headed

toward

the

stairs on legs that felt like jelly. Her

room

was

on

the

second

floor,

so

a

lift

really

wasn’t

necessary,

and

besides

that,

she

felt

like

she

needed

a

little

exercise

to

get

the

anxiety

raging

through

her

veins

under

control.

She

opened

the

door to her room,

tossed

the

key

card

to

the

stand

next

to

it,

and

pulled

the

dead

bolt

across

the

frame.

The

room

was

small,

but

efficient, and decorated in dark orange and white. There

was

a

queen-sized

bed, a dark reddish-orange comforter and matching drapes,

a

chest

of

drawers,

a flat screen television and

a round table

with

two

chairs

near

the

large

French-style doors that opened onto a private balcony.

The

bathroom

was

quite

nice

with

the

spa

tub

and separate shower

against one wall of the

room, a double

sink in the center across from the door, a toilet

and

bidet

against the opposite side

behind

a

half

wall

of

frosted

glass. It

was

by

far

the

best

thing

about

the

room,

and

she

had

used

the

luxurious

tub

twice

so

far.

With

her

kindle

in

hand,

and

a

glass

of

wine

on

the

ledge

next

to

her,

the

pulsating

bubbles

easily

relaxed

the

jet

lag

from

her

back

and

legs.

She

felt

like

a

queen

and

relished

every

second

she

spent

in

the

porcelain

bowl.

The

clock

on

the

bedside

table

read

five

fifteen

in

dark-red

numbers.

She

had

enough

time

to

take

a

quick

tub

before

her

date

with

Creighton.

Her

date!

Good

Lord,

she

couldn’t

believe

she

was

going

out

with

a

man

she

had

only

just

met, and the anxiety began to raise its head again.

She

wondered

what

her

sister,

Cathy,

would

say

about

her

going

to

dinner

with

a

very

handsome

man

she

had

known

for

less

than

six

hours.

With

a

weary

smile,

she

knew

exactly

what

Cathy

would

say.

“Good

for

you,

‘bout

time,

don’t

forget

to

wear

underwear.

It’s

the

taking

them

off

part

that’s

most

exciting.”

Her

sister

was

the

fun

one,

she

thought

as

she

gathered

together

the

items

she

needed

for

her

bath.

Cathy

was

the

outgoing

and

going

out

one, the one who had been

on

more

dates

than

the

number

of

books

Sandra

had

read,

and

that

was

a

lot.

Cathy

hated

staying

home

where

Sandra

preferred

silence

and

solitude,

curled

up

on

cold

nights - and hot

ones

for

that

matter - with

a

glass

of

wine,

a

good

book

and

soft

classical

music

in

the

background.

That’s

probably

why

she

rarely

dated. Her

expectations

were

too

high

for

any

man

to

meet

them.

Sandra wanted

the

handsome

hero

she

had

always

read

about,

the

knight

in

shining

armor,

the

rugged

and

unpredictable

rogue

who

stole

the

heroine’s

heart and

seduced

her

until

she

was

mindless

and

satiated

from

the

long

sessions

of

passion

and

sex.

That’s

the

type

of

man

she

was

looking

for,

not

a

country

boy

whose

only

interest

was

playing

backseat

bingo,

or

a

quick

roll

in

the

hay.

She

was

looking

for

the

adventurous

type,

handsome

beyond

words,

a

gentle

instructor,

the

type

that

could

do

things

like

scuba

diving

on

the

spur

of

the

moment and eat pasta with a strange girl from another country.

She

was

looking

for….

Creighton

Ashford.