“Parts of you. The rest . . . I’ve got the perfect opportunity to reacquaint myself.” She can’t miss the innuendo in my tone, and I wonder if it’s going to put her off. I’m happy that it doesn’t.
“You do need to reacquaint yourself. But you’re right on the lobster.” She drops the menu so it lands on the table with a slap. “I’m getting it. As a matter of fact, I’m going to eat lobster until I can’t eat lobster anymore. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
“Is that right?”
She nods seriously. “Who knows when I might get another chance to sit on a private island and eat lobster that probably came from a hundred feet away?”
“Well, hell, if you eat the kitchen out of its supply, I’ll have to catch you some myself.”
Her blue eyes widen.
“What? Don’t think I can?”
“I know you can fish. We’ve done that.” Kat’s referring to the time we went deep-sea fishing in the Bahamas one weekend. “I don’t know about lobster catching.”
There are a hell of a lot of things Kat has never seen me do, like rappel down a cliff or jump out of a plane. I kept it all from her, but I think it’s time to start filling her in on exactly who I am.
Tragedy might have forced us both to build walls, but over the rest of our days here, we’re going to knock them down, brick by brick.
“So, what’re you gonna give me if I go out tomorrow morning and catch you a lobster?”
Her brows lift, and her eyes take on a mischievous glint. “Give you? You think you need some kind of incentive?”
I lean forward with my elbows on the table. “When the incentive is a gorgeous blonde I want more than my next breath, I think there’s a good chance I could rise to the challenge.”
Surprise flashes across her face, taking the place of her playful expression for a moment, but she pulls it back in place. “I think we could work out something.”
Andreas chooses that moment to return with our drinks. “Now, do you know what you’d like for dinner? If so, I’ll send over your server. And if you’d like any ceviche to start, I can get that for you right away.”
Kat’s eyes light up at the word ceviche. Raw seafood or fish mixed with lime juice, tomatoes, onions, cilantro, and some other stuff that allows the juices to “cook” the fish isn’t my thing, but Kat loves it. She goes nuts over sushi, and this is the closest thing in the Caribbean.
“We’ll take some. Just for her.”
He nods with a smile. “Indeed. I’ll send it over with Eduardo.”
After a bad experience in Honduras with that stuff, I’ve never touched it again. But Kat doesn’t know that story because it’s another part of the life I’ve kept hidden from her.
Kat has confessed everything she was keeping from me, which means I need to figure out how the hell to tell my wife she’s not the only one who’s been hiding things since the day we met.
Chapter 12
Kat
“You don’t want to try the ceviche?” I ask. Dane’s fairly adventurous when it comes to food, so his absolute refusal shocks me.
“I’m good.”
Have I mentioned my husband is stubborn as hell about some things?
“Even though we’re literally in the middle of the ocean and it’s the freshest you’ll probably ever have?”
He shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak, but a short, dark-skinned man comes to the table bearing the dish that’s the subject of our contention.
“Ma’am, sir. I’ll be your server this evening. My name is Eduardo.”
“Thank you, Eduardo.” I reach for a chip and dunk it into the deliciousness to take a bite. I shoot Dane a look. “Amazing.”
“Excellent. Excellent. Now, what can I get you for your main course?”
“I’ll take the snapper filet, and my beautiful wife will have the lobster,” Dane says, ordering for us both.
“Wonderful. We’ll have it out as soon as we can. The fishermen dropped both the lobster and snapper off only a few hours ago as they were going in for the day. They dive for the lobster all around the coral heads here.”
Dane raises one eyebrow in a look that says told you I could catch one close by, and I make an oh really face of challenge in return. It feels so good to have this easiness between us again.
I smooth my face into a normal expression before responding. “Thank you so much, Eduardo.”
Someone, likely Andreas, turns on the stereo, and reggae music comes to life in the background.
“So, are you going to become Dane Cross, great lobster hunter, in the morning?”
“Why not? I’m pretty sure you’d like it.”
“It would definitely be impressive.” I laugh and pick up my drink to take a sip. “You did a great job picking this place. How did you even find it?”
“Arianna.” He says the name like I should know who Arianna is.
“Arianna? Who’s that?”
Some of that easiness filters away as the smile fades from Dane’s face. “The woman who works in my office. Has worked in my office for over nine months now.”
A creeping wave of guilt sweeps through me. This is something I should probably know.
“Um . . . did you mention her before?”
Dane leans forward over the table. “More than once. After you, she’s basically the most important woman in my life.”
I stiffen, not liking how that sounds or how it makes me feel. Arianna. She sounds young. Probably beautiful.
I reach for my drink and suck back a sip. Then another, just because. I set it down, and defensiveness closes around me like a shield.
“I remember you were going to hire someone to answer phones and things. I assumed you hired an older retired woman like you mentioned. Not someone who sounds like she was probably a college cheerleader.”
Where did that come from?
“Actually, I’m pretty sure she was a gymnast back in Israel, but gave it up when she came to the States for grad school.”
“Israel?” Given my limited number of Israeli acquaintances, all I can picture is the actress who played Ziva David in NCIS, draping herself over my husband’s desk at night while they strategize about . . . whatever the hell import brokers do.
Arianna.
Great.