He didn’t like the sound of regret in her voice. “I’m glad you brought me up here, and I’m not trying to sway you to do anything you don’t want to do. I just really want to kiss you.”
“Oh, swaying me would not be much of a challenge at the moment. I would very much like to continue on with this little escapade, but the timing is bad, and the obstacles are big, and I have a lot going on in my life right now that needs . . . fixing. I can’t get distracted from that. As much as I would like to be distracted.”
Now, see? This was where men and women differed. If he wanted to be distracted from his troubles, Emily Chambers would be the first person on this island he’d call. In fact, she’d be the only person he’d call. She might even be the person he called when he wasn’t on this island. But women liked to have everything organized and labeled before the enjoyable and entertaining distractions began. That never did make sense to him, but it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it.
He leaned back against the ledge and window again, keeping one arm around her waist. “What needs fixing? Stuff with Chloe’s dad? Or your dad?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s not personal stuff so much as it is professional stuff. I need this island renovation to go well. Like I really need it go to well, and . . .” She hesitated, as if weighing her words and deciding if she could trust him or not. “Can you keep a secret?”
“I can say without reservation that I keep secrets better than any person on this island.”
That scored him a weak smile from Emily. “I have a flip house back in San Antonio that my business partner is trying to sell, and the place has been a nightmare since the moment we got the keys. Because of all the problems we had with it, well, I ended up a little overextended. Financially speaking. I borrowed some money from Gigi, and that’s why I’m renovating her cottage for her. Sort of my down payment on the money I owe her.” She looked relieved to have told him, but added, “But no one knows. Just me and Gigi, so please don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell your dad because he might tell my sister, and then she’ll tell everyone else. And see? That’s why we can’t kiss each other. Because if I keep kissing you, I’ll keep telling you secrets and then you’ll tell me secrets and then we’ll both be keeping secrets from our families and it will all get too confusing.”
“We don’t have to tell secrets. We don’t have to talk at all. We could just, you know, kiss . . . and stuff.”
That earned him a roll of her eyes. He thought his solution was pretty practical, but she wasn’t going for it. He stood up and pulled her with him, his hands resting loosely on her hips as she faced him. “Emily, is it possible you might be overthinking this just a little bit?”
It took a moment for her to meet his eyes, and the faintest tilt of a smile crossed over her lips.
“Maybe. Probably. But until I know for sure, there should be no more kissing.” She sounded very prim, like a teacher telling him to shush. He felt duly reprimanded but not at all as if he’d learned his lesson.
“Just one more?” he said, holding up his thumb and index finger to indicate tiny. Oh so small. “Just one more little one? I don’t think that was my best work, and what if this is the only time we ever kiss? Then you’ll go on for the rest of your life thinking that’s the best I can do. I don’t think my ego can take that.”
He sure as hell hoped this wouldn’t be the only time they ever kissed. In fact, he was going to make damn sure of it, and then some. But for the moment, this angle was going to work for him. He could see her indecision. He leaned closer, his lips nearly touching hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as he whispered against her mouth, “Just one more.”
Chapter 21
“I will take the damn yoga class, Emily, because a deal is a deal, and yes, I think Yoga Matt is cover model material, but don’t think I’m going to forget all about Tag just because of some sexy yoga instructor. Besides, even if I did like him, I’d be waiting behind about fifteen other women. He’s like the pied piper around here. Haven’t you seen all the future Mrs. Yoga Matts lining up?”
Emily and Lilly were walking down Anishinaabe Trail on their way to Monday evening yoga at the Episcopal church, and according to Emily’s friends from drunk puzzle night, Matt was very hands-on with his instructions. So much so that several of them did positions wrong on purpose just so that he’d come and adjust their pelvis.
But Emily didn’t want Yoga Matt adjusting her pelvis. The only person she wanted anywhere near her pelvis was Ryan. Holy hell. What was she going to do about that? They’d kissed for half an hour at the top of that lighthouse Saturday night, and if it weren’t for a group of unruly teenage boys riding by on bikes, hooting and hollering and cheering them on, they might be there still. That’s just what she needed. Local kids seeing her fooling around in public and word getting back to her dad. At least they weren’t spotted by Dmitri Krushnic.
After that, Ryan had walked her back to Main Street and offered to go with her all the way to Gigi’s house, but she’d told him no. She needed to get her bearings before facing her grandmother because Gigi would take one look at her face and know she’d been up to something. The woman couldn’t see well enough to pick out matching shoes, but she’d spot those invisible kisses from a mile away.
Sunday at church had been particularly painful. Father O’Reilly droned on about . . . something. Emily hadn’t been listening. She was too busy fantasizing about Ryan showing up at her cottage with a picnic basket full of grapes and cheese and wine and seducing her on the front porch, which was a ridiculous and impractical fantasy because whenever she was at the cottage, she was grimy and sweaty and wearing her rattiest clothes, and she’d never have sex on the front porch where anyone could see them. So she’d start the fantasy over where somehow she was at the cottage but freshly showered and wearing a sundress and Ryan wouldn’t bring cheese because that kind of stuck to her teeth and would ruin the kissing part of the fantasy. But then Tiny or Horsey or Georgie would show up and spoil everything. Seriously? What was the matter with her? Even in her own fantasies she could not overcome the roadblocks. It was as if God had put a mental firewall up in her brain because she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about sex in church.