Sean. Donna Kauffman
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“Actually, I was only planning to push it until I came upon a place with a phone. The resort can come and get both me and this death trap.” She sent the bright yellow scooter a fulminating look.
“You two not getting along?”
She shifted the look to him.
He grinned. “I thought maybe you’d just run out of gas.”
“What I’ve run out of is enthusiasm for forced frolic.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. That sounds ungrateful and whiny. And though I’m feeling more than a little of both at the moment, neither is directed at you. I appreciate the offer of help. If you have a cell phone, I’d be in your debt if you’d allow me to use it to place a call.”
“Why don’t we pile this in the back of my Jeep and go find someplace that serves cold drinks and a hot meal? Then I’ll take you both to your hotel.” He lifted a hand when she began to protest. “It will allow me to meet my Good Samaritan quota for the day and it will keep you from committing scooter-cide.”
She laughed despite herself. “You have a point. I’ve listened to a lot of debate on the death penalty, but this is the first time I’ve considered administering it myself.”
“You haven’t listened to my dinner conversation yet.”
Her smile remained. “I’ll consider that fair warning.”
“Are you accepting then?”
She shifted her weight and he just knew she was going to turn him down. Hell, considering how dorky he was acting, he’d turn himself down. You’d think he’d never flirted with a beautiful woman before. Something about her though…just left him tongue-tied.
She paused just long enough in answering that he suspected she might actually want to say yes despite whatever reservations she had. He was surprised at how badly he wanted to sway her to a yes. Even more surprising was that he wanted her company and yet wasn’t already picturing them naked and sweaty. In fact, he doubted very seriously this would lead to anything of the sort. It was clear she wasn’t the one-night-stand type. And, frankly, a few brief flings aside, neither was he. Or he would have hit the bonfire.
But, at the moment, an attractive companion who would make dinner a lively and fun occasion sounded pretty good. And if there was a little spike of sexual tension to go along with it…well, he wasn’t going to quibble.
“Did you have other plans for dinner? Or did the Scooter of Death ruin that, too?”
“No,” she said. “No plans.”
“Then say yes.”
Her lips parted slightly in surprise. Maybe he’d said that a bit more commandingly than he’d intended.
“Please,” he added with what he hoped was a winning smile. Brett was the Gannon who’d been blessed with all the easy charm, although Clay ran a close second. Sean had always been a bit more serious by nature, had always had to work at the charming part.
“Would it be asking too much to head to where I’m staying first?” she asked.
He could have told her he’d take her to the moon and back first if she’d agree to dinner.
“I’d just like the chance to change. I’m a little—”
She broke off when Sean reached out. She instinctively pulled back, but he reached anyway…and tugged the tag off the back of her shirt. “There. Now you look perfect.”
“Oh, you’re such a liar. But my ego thanks you.” She shook her head and laughed a little as she contemplated what she was about to do. “I really shouldn’t do this.”
“Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t rescue each other from our own inability to relax. We’ll force each other to sit and watch the world go by without being active participants in it for a whole hour or two.”
“Just one good reason?”
“What, you have a list? Am I handling this that terribly?”
Her laugh was fuller this time. “Just badly enough to be endearing and to make me less self-conscious.”
“Thanks. I think.”
She smiled. “You just strike me as someone who is way too used to getting his own way.”
“Oh?”
“Rusty flirting skills notwithstanding, you have this…commanding way about you.”
Any other woman would have said that and it would have sounded suggestive as hell. Not with her. She’d simply sounded…honest. Maybe it was the quirky way her brows furrowed when she said it, as if she couldn’t quite decide if she liked commanding, rusty flirts or not.
So why his body reacted the way it did…he couldn’t say. Dinner. This was just about dinner.
“I take it you don’t respond well to commands,” he said when she let the silence spin out. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Mostly because he had this absurd need to reach out and snatch her sunglasses off to get a better look at her eyes…and what was going on behind those glasses. “What about a humble request?”
She laughed lightly. “Somehow I’m thinking you didn’t make it into the Marshals Service by being humble and unprepossessing.”
“I didn’t say anything about being unprepossessing.” He slid his hands out, then shifted a little as he realized the fit of his trousers was being compromised by more than just his hands stretching the confines of his pockets. “Just a nice simple rescue and dinner.”
“And if I just want to be rescued?”
“I’ll be forced to eat alone, which probably means I’ll end up working to pass the time.”
“Ah, so now I would be doing you a favor in return for helping me get rid of this junk heap. And given as how I’m not all that keen on finding myself in need of rescue in the first place, this does make your case stronger.”
“If you decide against me, is there any hope for an appeal?”
She grinned. “Oh, I think you have a very good case for appeal.”
His grin widened. Maybe charm came more easily with the right inspiration. “Do I?”
She smiled, lifting her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “The court finds in your favor, Deputy Marshal Gannon. You are awarded one dinner—in which both parties will make equal payment,” she added with emphasis. “And a rescue, to take place prior to said meal.” She lifted a finger when he began to argue. “You’ve already pleaded your case. In exchange for the rescue, you will be prevented from overwork and exhaustion, which should be against the law anyway in such a gorgeous tropical setting.”
“Thank you, Justice—?”
She stuck out her hand,