hair with a wide comb she’d found in a drawer by the sink, Stephanie peered into another wicker basket and found a stack of running shorts. She dug deeper until she spied a gray pair with a drawstring waist that might cinch enough to fit. Her underwear was soaked, so she’d have to go commando. Which might be fine down below, but up top? She stepped from the closet back into the bathroom and checked her reflection. A second T-shirt was definitely in order if she wanted to give the girls halfway decent coverage.
Snagging a second white T-shirt, she pulled it over her head, determined to enjoy her time with Danny from this moment forward. She’d freaked out in the water, but she was done with that now.
Yes, she’d been traumatized when her assignment in Iraq had turned hellish. The family who’d grabbed her and reporter Christina Marcel had been coerced into doing so. Apparently, the family had angered Iraqi insurgents the week before when their oldest son had met with Christina to be interviewed for a story on the effects of the war on the Iraqi people.
Furious that the young man had talked to American reporters, insurgents had killed him and demanded the family use their connections to abduct and hold the reporters or risk seeing another one of their sons gunned down. Her captors hadn’t been as cruel as seasoned rebel soldiers might have been, but Stephanie had still been terrified of them, knowing they would do whatever the insurgents wished.
She hadn’t been raped, although she’d been beaten when she was first taken, to keep her from trying to escape. She’d been scared to death and she still had nightmares about being kept in the dark.
But she’d dealt with it. Put it behind her. And now, years later, she was finally ready for this. For Danny Murphy, the last great memory she had before she went to Iraq. Keeping that in mind, she padded through the hall toward the big, open kitchen.
“It smells fantastic,” she observed lightly, hoping to get this day back on track. She’d survived the worst of her awkward request of Danny, so now she only had to enjoy the fruits of her embarrassment.
He’d said yes, after all. She shivered just thinking about what that meant.
“I hope you brought your appetite.” He stood by the coffee table, arranging plates and glasses on the heavy plank top so they could eat on the sofa. Steam wafted from the plain white dishes loaded with manicotti and red sauce. Salad bowls were heaped with fresh greens and grated cheeses. And a bread basket held several slices of the baguette, some that were plain and some slathered with butter and lightly broiled.
He’d changed into dry shorts and a worn black concert T-shirt for some obscure band, the lettering peeling. His dark hair was still damp and sticking up in a few places as if he’d just used his fingers to shove it out of his eyes.
Her mouth watered for the man as much as the meal.
“I didn’t realize I was hungry until now.” She edged around the sofa to take a spot in front of the low table. “The view is pretty great, too.” Realizing she happened to be staring at him at the moment, she pointed hastily out the window. “I mean, of the bay.”
He sat beside her on the sofa.
“I like the view, too.” He never took his eyes off her. While that comment sank in, he lifted a glass of water and handed it to her, then raised his own. “Here’s to old friends.”
Her heart beat fast. She resisted the urge to tug at the layered T-shirts she wore, knowing her body would be sending obvious signals about how much he affected her. The soft cotton created a pleasurable friction against her breasts.
“Cheers to that.” She clinked her tumbler to his and sipped the water, hoping it would help cool her off. “Don’t let me slow you down, Danny. You must be starving.”
She gestured toward his plate and he grinned.
“I’ll try not to inhale it,” he said as he picked up a fork and dug in.
Following suit, she tasted the manicotti and promptly realized what he liked about the simple dish. The cheese filling was light and amazing. The pasta obviously homemade. And the sauce—yum. She’d polished off half of it before it occurred to her that, delicious as the food was, she wasn’t coming close to fulfilling her real hunger.
Setting her fork down, she wondered how to move things forward with Danny.
“So …” she began, watching him help himself to more of everything. “I don’t mean to sound overly practical about this, but I wondered what you thought of the logistics of … er … you and me?”
He eyed her over a forkful of pasta.
“I may have been out to sea for six months, but I’ve still got a pretty good idea of how the logistics work.”
His wolfish grin stirred her more than the earnest touches of her last—and only—boyfriend after what had happened in Iraq. She had thought something was wrong with her for months while she’d dated Josh, a guy who worked for the agency that had helped with publicity for her book and that vetted the responses she still received on her memoir. She’d thought she wanted to pursue a real relationship with him and had blamed her lack of sensual interest on her ordeal. After all, she had shut down emotionally in a lot of ways afterward.
But maybe the truth was that spark just hadn’t been there with Josh. Not the way it was with Danny. She got back to hammering out the details for a fling, hardly daring to believe it was really going to happen after all this time.
“I mean, where should we conduct this liaison? Here? Or would you like to come with me to my place in D.C.? For that matter, we can find a neutral location if you want to go out of town for a few days.”
He seemed to ponder the idea while he ripped off a piece of bread.
“Can you take some time off from your work?” He passed the bread basket to her, but she couldn’t eat another bite.
“I’m in a good position with work. A friend is filling in for me at the studio and I cleared my personal appointments for a couple of weeks.” She finished her water and then realized how that sounded. “Although, I was also giving myself a vacation. I don’t expect you to hang out with me all that time. I know you must have things to do here since you’re not home all that often.”
“Actually, I promised my folks I’d head home in a couple of days. I’m spending ten days back in Cape Cod so they can invite all the family and throw a big shindig for me the weekend before my brother Jack’s wedding. It’s the only reason they didn’t meet the ship when I came home.”
“So you don’t have much time.” She bit her lip, wishing she had him to herself a little longer. Plus, knowing he’d only be here a few days put an awful lot of pressure on her to get this affair off the ground in a hurry. “Unless we could do this after you get back to Norfolk?”
She was already mentally rearranging her schedule. Beside her, Danny put down his fork on his empty plate.
“Why don’t you just go to the Cape with me?” He finished his water and set the glass on the table, his full attention back on her.
“With all your family? For a wedding, no less?” She knew a little about the Murphys thanks to her friend and former coworker Christina, Danny’s cousin—Stephanie and Danny had met at Christina’s house all those years ago.
The Murphy family was huge, with five biological
