“But if I did, you’d be more than welcome to it.”
Oh. Warmth smoked through her, chasing away the embarrassment with another kind of heat—the kind she never seemed to feel anymore. Yet Danny Murphy could call forth that delicious response in no time flat.
Apparently, she’d come to the right person to reawaken her libido. Now, if only she could convince him to sign on for the mission she had in mind.
“Thank you. I didn’t mean for that comment to slip out, but I guess for a minute it felt like old times.” She couldn’t help the smile that started in her heart and worked its way to the surface. And she couldn’t stop smiling, even as he came over to her side of the car and opened the passenger door. He wore a gray T-shirt and a pair of loafers with his white uniform trousers. “I think I’m probably putting the cart before the horse to flirt with you when I don’t know your official relationship status. Danny, are you seeing anyone?”
His mom hadn’t mentioned anyone special in his life in their brief phone conversation, but then again, it seemed as though Danny kept some distance from his family these days. A lot could happen in six months while the USS Brady stopped in ports all over the Atlantic.
He stood in the open door after she got in, his green eyes briefly skimming her legs while she adjusted her skirt around them.
“I’m unattached.” The way he said it lent the words a slightly ominous quality.
Or had she imagined that?
“Me, too,” she admitted, her voice failing her a little at the thought of how very unattached she’d become in the last handful of years. Some days, it seemed that she connected more with the pets she photographed than actual human beings.
Danny lowered himself so that he was eye-to-eye with her.
“Do you mind waiting a minute while I run inside and finish changing?” He held a pair of khakis in one hand. “The restaurant doesn’t open to the public until noon, but I know the owner and he’s got something for me.”
“Sure.” She nodded, hypnotized by the sight of him after so long. With the partial change of clothes, he looked more like she remembered already, except perhaps for his clean-shaven face. When they’d met, he’d worn a dark soul patch trimmed beneath his lower lip and the shadow of short hair at his chin.
She still remembered exactly what that scruff of bristles felt like against her when he kissed her. What would he feel like now?
“Good.” Rising, he pressed the old-fashioned lock on the door. “You should keep the doors locked even though this is a good neighborhood, okay? I’ll be right back.”
She tried not to think about that small protective gesture as he slammed the door shut and jogged up the back steps of a dockside restaurant. The day had started off so well. She didn’t want to lose the pleasantly flirtatious vibe by remembering the time she hadn’t been behind a locked door and a man had grabbed her right off the street, yanking a bag over her head.…
Panicking, she rolled down the window for fresh summer air. Claustrophobia was more of a problem right now than the likelihood of getting kidnapped two blocks away from a huge U.S. military installation. She dragged in deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She refused to end up like her mom—perpetually nervous about everything. And, thinking of her mother’s constant worries, Stephanie checked her cell phone to make sure it was off. Phone calls from a nervous parent were not welcome when she was trying to seduce a man.
“Hey,” a familiar voice called from nearby, sooner than she expected. “Are you okay?”
She watched Danny descend the wooden steps, his white trousers in hand now that he wore a pair of faded khakis that conformed to muscular thighs. He also carried a couple of huge take-out bags, one of which was topped with three baguettes that stuck out of the paper sack. Hauling in one more deep drag of the salty sea breeze off the harbor, Stephanie wiped a little sweat from her forehead and gave him a thumbs-up.
“I’m good to go,” she called back, not wanting to ruin this reunion with stupid stuff from the past that did not rule her life anymore. “And I’m dying for a ride in this baby.”
She patted the side of the Gran Torino through her window. Then, recalling he was still locked out, she leaned over and popped the door on his side.
“Fair enough.” He slid in beside her, tossing the take-out bags and his extra pair of pants in the backseat. Then he dropped a set of dog tags into the console with a bunch of coins. “But will you be disappointed if we eat lunch at my place?” He started the engine and then jerked a thumb toward the bags of food. “I’ve had an order in at this place for six months and I hate to miss out on homemade manicotti.”
By now, the scent of basil-laden tomato sauce wafted her way. She peered back at the huge bags and frowned.
“I don’t know. Are you sure there’s going to be enough food for me in there?”
He laughed and the sound soothed her like a hug. The last of her claustrophobia disappeared, carried away by the warm breeze drifting through the windows as they drove past pawn shops and pizza joints toward the main road.
“Jerry packed enough grub to feed six people, which should be about right for the two of us.”
He cranked the radio and lowered his window. She realized the song playing was one his band used to cover, a ballad with hard-core guitar harmonies and a screechy lead vocal. For a moment, the years rolled away, a weight lifting from her chest. It had been easy to be with him five years ago, too. He could be charming when he wanted, but more often he was quiet. She’d liked that about him because she was the same way with a public personality and a private one. And both sides of her had felt comfortable around Danny.
She lifted her voice to sing along while he drove. On a quiet stretch of access road before they met the highway, he stuck his head all the way out the window, letting the wind whip through his hair. She was tempted to copy him, it looked so fun. When he ducked back into the car, his dark hair stood straight up in the center, as though he’d been through a wind tunnel.
They took turns singing on the way home, maybe because it was easier than talking. Sometimes that public party persona was simpler to deal with than the moodier private one. But she half dreaded asking him to have a fling. Something told her he wasn’t going to jump in with both feet the way he had five years ago. He struck her as more serious now, for one thing. She’d seen it in that powerful stride when he’d walked down the boat ramp, felt it in the way he’d tensed when she’d flirted with him.
Half an hour later, they were on the far side of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, rumbling over coastal roads. They passed a sign welcoming them to Cape Charles.
“It’s beautiful out here.” She’d grown up on Long Island, but it had been easy to forget you lived anywhere near the water with the dense urban sprawl from the city. Here, the scent of the bay hung in the air and patches of beach were occasionally visible through the trees. Blue water sparkled under the early afternoon sunshine.
“When I left Cape Cod, I tried to choose a place that felt like home. My house here is a pretty good compromise.” He hit his turn signal just then, pulling into the driveway of a gray, cedar-sided house that would have been lovely even if wasn’t overlooking the water.
Perched on the beach as it was, she couldn’t imagine what the Nantucket-style home had cost him.
