closet.
“I got you covered.” He slid from the stool. “Let me get this baby docked and settle with the office.”
When he returned from the marina office, Laura was in the galley, hunkered over the box. A pack of pantyhose lay on the bar, and she picked through her pink plastic cosmetic case like a child searching for all the red M&Ms.
“This is great! All my makeup. My comb. My toothbrush.”
“Why do you keep all that stuff in your desk?” he asked, not hiding his amusement, knowing the habit was probably a “girl” thing.
She continued digging in the case. “I like to be prepared. Brush my teeth after lunch. Mayonnaise leaves an awful aftertaste.” She wrinkled her nose.
He found the look captivating.
“And I like to fix my makeup before meeting my friends for drinks,” she added, then stopped shuffling through the case. She looked up, perplexed. “Why do you think they’re here? All my things?”
Chase’s lightheartedness faded. “I don’t know,” he lied. The box was probably headed over the side of the boat with her dead body. “But I’m glad I found it.”
“Me too.” She stood, hugging the plastic case.
He slid a long, flat box across the bar.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Hopefully, everything will fit. It was a gift for a woman I dated a few years ago. Before I could give it to her, we stopped seeing each other. I was looking for my clothes in the closet and found it.”
Laura removed the lid and peeled back the white tissue paper. Her green eyes, a mixture of awe and joy, stared at the contents. She ran a hand across a pair of black silk slacks and a red cashmere/silk blend boat-neck sweater.
“Chase, how lovely.”
He was happy she liked the clothes. “Check the sizes.”
She glanced at the tags. “The slacks will be a trifle big, but I can manage with safety pins. The sweater’s perfect.” She smiled, her green eyes twinkling. “You have excellent taste.” Her expression turned pensive. “I’m sorry you and your girlfriend didn’t work out.”
Chase had met Rhonda in a bar. While spending a few days together, she had admired the outfit in a store window. An impulse purchase, he later decided against giving it, afraid that gifts gave the wrong impression of their relationship. She had been a woman he wanted to pass time with, and nothing more.
“She wasn’t actually my girlfriend. And I’m glad you like the clothes.”
An anxious joggle shook his stomach, a jolt not from hunger either. He couldn’t wait to see Laura wearing the outfit.
They both showered, changed, and Laura masterfully applied the liquid concealer to her bruises. Her honey gold hair cascaded around her shoulders. The slacks and sweater complemented her slender frame, the silk clinging, outlining her curves perfectly. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Even if she had one to wear, she didn’t need it. He had noticed how firm her breasts were as she sat in her slip and he tended to her bruises.
Her perfect body had Chase fighting off some familiar stirrings. He focused on her face. With her golden hair, green eyes as dazzling as a precious emerald, and a rosy glow to her cheeks, Laura was one stunning woman.
He had dressed in navy trousers and a navy and white-striped sports shirt. He declined her dab of concealer around his black eye. Men should have battle bruises.
A light, misty breeze blew from the bay as they walked along the pier.
“Do you like seafood?” he asked.
“Love it.”
“Me, too. I know just the right place.”
Chase’s restaurant choice, ShipBottom , was a good one. Crowded with patrons, ShipBottom was a small, homey family-type establishment, brightly lit with palm tree centerpieces on the white cloth-covered tables.
Chase ordered a bottle of white wine. They began their meal with seafood chowder, their conversation sprinkled with childhood reminiscences of summer vacations.
“I was so little when my father died.” She crumbled crackers into her bowl. “My
“I got you covered.” He slid from the stool. “Let me get this baby docked and settle with the office.”
When he returned from the marina office, Laura was in the galley, hunkered over the box. A pack of pantyhose lay on the bar, and she picked through her pink plastic cosmetic case like a child searching for all the red M&Ms.
“This is great! All my makeup. My comb. My toothbrush.”
“Why do you keep all that stuff in your desk?” he asked, not hiding his amusement, knowing the habit was probably a “girl” thing.
She continued digging in the case. “I like to be prepared. Brush my teeth after lunch. Mayonnaise leaves an awful aftertaste.” She wrinkled her nose.
He found the look captivating.
“And I like to fix my makeup before meeting my friends for drinks,” she added, then stopped shuffling through the case. She looked up, perplexed. “Why do you think they’re here? All my things?”
Chase’s lightheartedness faded. “I don’t know,” he lied. The box was probably headed over the side of the boat with her dead body. “But I’m glad I found it.”
“Me too.” She stood, hugging the plastic case.
He slid a long, flat box across the bar.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Hopefully, everything will fit. It was a gift for a woman I dated a few years ago. Before I could give it to her, we stopped seeing each other. I was looking for my clothes in the closet and found it.”
Laura removed the lid and peeled back the white tissue paper. Her green eyes, a mixture of awe and joy, stared at the contents. She ran a hand across a pair of black silk slacks and a red cashmere/silk blend boat-neck sweater.
“Chase, how lovely.”
He was happy she liked the clothes. “Check the sizes.”
She glanced at the tags. “The slacks will be a trifle big, but I can manage with safety pins. The sweater’s perfect.” She smiled, her green eyes twinkling. “You have excellent taste.” Her expression turned pensive. “I’m sorry you and your girlfriend didn’t work out.”
Chase had met Rhonda in a bar. While spending a few days together, she had admired the outfit in a store window. An impulse purchase, he later decided against giving it, afraid that gifts gave the wrong impression of their relationship. She had been a woman he wanted to pass time with, and nothing more.
“She wasn’t actually my girlfriend. And I’m glad you like the clothes.”
An anxious joggle shook his stomach, a jolt not from hunger either. He couldn’t wait to see Laura wearing the outfit.
They both showered, changed, and Laura masterfully applied the liquid concealer to her bruises. Her honey gold hair cascaded around her shoulders. The slacks and sweater complemented her slender frame, the silk clinging, outlining her curves perfectly. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Even if she had one to wear, she didn’t need it. He had noticed how firm her breasts were as she sat in her slip and he tended to her bruises.
Her perfect body had Chase fighting off some familiar stirrings. He focused on her face. With her golden hair, green eyes as dazzling as a precious emerald, and a rosy glow to her cheeks, Laura was one stunning woman.
He had dressed in navy trousers and a navy and white-striped sports shirt. He declined her dab of concealer around his black eye. Men should have battle bruises.
A light, misty breeze blew from the bay as they walked along the pier.
“Do you like seafood?” he asked.
“Love it.”
“Me, too. I know just the right place.”
Chase’s restaurant choice, ShipBottom , was a good one. Crowded with patrons, ShipBottom was a small, homey family-type establishment, brightly lit with palm tree centerpieces on the white cloth-covered tables.
Chase ordered a bottle of white wine. They began their meal with seafood chowder, their conversation sprinkled with childhood reminiscences of summer vacations.
“I was so little when my father died.” She crumbled crackers into her bowl. “My
Similar Books
