“I could, but Kurt and Sarah would get an eyeful when they came out of the cabin after we landed.”
She moved her hand to his chest to push herself upright. As she shifted her position, her thigh brushed against Nathan’s cock and she realized he was hard again. “Oops, not much we can do about that right now.”
“There’s always the limo ride to the restaurant.”
Chloe choked as she shook her skirt down and smoothed the crumpled sateen while he straightened his own clothing. The plane banked and she practically fell into her seat, hastily buckling the seat belt.
Then they were on the ground and Nathan was escorting her to a black limousine parked on the edge of the tarmac. She caught a brief whiff of the sea as he handed her into the car.
She slid across the seat to let him in beside her, shivering a little when the car’s heater chased away the chill of the northern wind. As he sat and stretched his long legs out, he said, “I was joking about the limo ride.”
Chloe relaxed. She was still dubious about that thin partition between the driver and the backseat providing any privacy. “Maybe on the way back to the airport,” she said.
He put his arm around her shoulders to pull her close as the limousine glided into motion. Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, he said, “After the oysters.”
Chloe let her hand rest on his thigh, feeling the hard muscle under her palm. She let her gaze trace down the length of his leg to the polished black loafers. A shiver of delight shook her as she felt his fingers playing in her hair where it fell over her shoulder. It was almost too much to bear, this sensual onslaught.
She forced her brain to begin to function on a less primitive level. “You said you were working on the Prometheus project. What happened?”
His fingers stilled. “I couldn’t focus on paperwork so I decided to try a change of scene.”
“Why couldn’t you focus? Are you still not feeling up to par?” She kept forgetting he’d been ill only four days before.
A pause as though he was debating what to say. When he spoke, his voice was pitched low. “I kept imagining you. On the desk. On the conference table. On the sofa. Against the wall.”
“Oh.” She felt a warm, melting sensation between her legs as she imagined the same thing, only from her point of view. She cleared her throat. “So you went down to the R and D lab?”
“Since I was already frustrated, I decided I might as well.”
She tilted her head to discover a slight smile curling his lips. That made her brave. “And what did you find out there?”
“The team is dedicated, brilliant, and young. They have some great ideas, but they missed a few key steps.”
“So you fixed Prometheus?”
He laughed. “Your faith in me is touching. I made some suggestions.”
“How did you feel about being there?”
“Feel?” Surprise colored his voice.
“Did you enjoy being back in the lab?”
She thought he wasn’t going to answer her question. Then he shifted slightly on the seat. “Yes and no.”
“That’s definitive.”
“It felt like my brain was firing on all cylinders for the first time in years. But the technology—” She could feel him shake his head. “I might have left it too long.”
“You’re not going to let a few new gizmos chase you away, are you?”
“Virtually every tool in there was four generations newer than anything I’ve used.”
“So you just need a refresher course,” she said lightly. “Geniuses can learn anything.”
She sensed another head shake. “I won’t stop you from calling me that as long as it extends into the bedroom.”
“And your office,” she said.
The limousine made a sharp turn and thudded over what sounded like a wooden bridge. Chloe leaned across Nathan’s wide chest to peer out the darkened glass of the car. “Where are we?” She could see water beside them and a rocky shoreline dotted with bare trees and a few sprawling shingled houses.
“On the causeway leading to the restaurant.”
The limo continued onward a few minutes and then stopped. As Nathan helped her out of the car, the sounds of seagulls crying and waves slapping against rocks surrounded her. The wind was even stronger here, and Nathan wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she shuddered in the cold. They stood in front of a building constructed of classic weathered New England shingles and white wood trim, but with huge arched windows that glowed with a golden light. “The Weather Vane Inn” was painted in block letters on a small wooden sign affixed to a white post.
“So you just have to know this is here,” she said.
“It functions on word of mouth,” Nathan said, leading her to the dark-blue front door. “Nothing more is necessary when the food and setting are this good.”