plate sitting in front of him. “And if we keep arguing, we’re going to be late, and believe me, it’s no fun being scolded by a fish.”
“You’re telling me you’ve befriended a fish named Moby Dick. Who talks.”
“Would I make something like that up?”
“I’m not sure. Especially after you led me to believe your father considers Horatio your brother.”
“My bad,” she said cheerfully.
He shook his head and scooped up a bit of the omelet. “I don’t know which one of us is crazier—you for talking to a fish, or me for agreeing to tag along to watch you do it.”
Lani had only a split second to decide whether to be annoyed or amused by his aggrieved tone. She opted for amusement.
“Don’t knock it,” she said with a jaunty grin, “until you’ve tried it. You know, Donovan, it certainly wouldn’t hurt if you allowed yourself a little fantasy now and then.”
She took his mug, intending to put it in the dishwasher when Donovan snagged her wrist. “What makes you think I don’t allow myself any fantasies?”
His voice was low and smoky, and his eyes, as they locked onto hers were like a tempest-tossed sea. Slowly, deliberately, even as those nagging little body parts that had been too long ignored began doing the tango, Lani forced herself to relax.
“I was simply teasing, Donovan. Gracious, must you take everything so seriously?”
“I’m a serious person, Lani. I always have been.”
The fact that he had said it so simply, without apology, had her stifling her sigh. It also had her wanting to ruffle dark hair still damp from his shower and tell him to lighten up. Maybe they should tangle those sheets sooner rather than later. Surely morning sex would loosen him up.
With a fingertip, she traced his smoothly shaven jawline, breathing in the wood and sandalwood scent of the soap she’d bought at Natural Indulgences Soap and Candleworks next door to Taylor’s Sugar Shack.
“I’ll bet you were a Boy Scout.”
“Eagle.”
She smiled at that. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I wouldn’t think anything could ever surprise you.” Proving that he could, indeed, surprise her, Donovan stroked the inside of her wrist and caused a jolt in her pulse.
How could what should have been a casual touch make her tremble? Because, Lani realized, for Donovan, there were no casual touches. No simple conversations. Everything the man did, what he said, was serious and seemingly meticulously planned.
Would he be so controlled in bed? No. From the pheromones jolting back and forth between them like lightning bolts, she’d bet her new titanium diver’s watch with electronic depth meter that Donovan was a sex god. After all, so much pent up energy had to go somewhere.
Lani grieved for the young man she had not appreciated when they’d first met: the rookie patrolman who had acted on his instincts. Instincts that were undeniably dangerous, perhaps even a bit foolish. That young man probably would not have risen through the ranks as far as the one now sitting with her in Nate’s sunny kitchen. But she doubted he’d have that aura of sadness hovering over him like a heavy Oregon fog.
She could make him happy. That was what she did. Her true talent, like her father’s bedside manner, her mother’s art, Nate’s writing. Hadn’t her baby-chick contestants assured her it was her calling? Which was, of course, why she’d had no choice but to leave them.
Right now, even as part of her wanted to strip off her clothes and lie beneath him, hot, sweaty, and naked, while he did anything and everything to her needy, tingling body, an equally strong part of Lani wanted to put her arms around him, put that beautiful dark head on her breast, and assure him that he deserved better than the life he seemed to have made for himself back on the mainland. That she could make things better. That he could have that life with her right here on Orchid Island.
And wasn’t that a dangerous, impossible fantasy?
Oh,
“You’re telling me you’ve befriended a fish named Moby Dick. Who talks.”
“Would I make something like that up?”
“I’m not sure. Especially after you led me to believe your father considers Horatio your brother.”
“My bad,” she said cheerfully.
He shook his head and scooped up a bit of the omelet. “I don’t know which one of us is crazier—you for talking to a fish, or me for agreeing to tag along to watch you do it.”
Lani had only a split second to decide whether to be annoyed or amused by his aggrieved tone. She opted for amusement.
“Don’t knock it,” she said with a jaunty grin, “until you’ve tried it. You know, Donovan, it certainly wouldn’t hurt if you allowed yourself a little fantasy now and then.”
She took his mug, intending to put it in the dishwasher when Donovan snagged her wrist. “What makes you think I don’t allow myself any fantasies?”
His voice was low and smoky, and his eyes, as they locked onto hers were like a tempest-tossed sea. Slowly, deliberately, even as those nagging little body parts that had been too long ignored began doing the tango, Lani forced herself to relax.
“I was simply teasing, Donovan. Gracious, must you take everything so seriously?”
“I’m a serious person, Lani. I always have been.”
The fact that he had said it so simply, without apology, had her stifling her sigh. It also had her wanting to ruffle dark hair still damp from his shower and tell him to lighten up. Maybe they should tangle those sheets sooner rather than later. Surely morning sex would loosen him up.
With a fingertip, she traced his smoothly shaven jawline, breathing in the wood and sandalwood scent of the soap she’d bought at Natural Indulgences Soap and Candleworks next door to Taylor’s Sugar Shack.
“I’ll bet you were a Boy Scout.”
“Eagle.”
She smiled at that. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I wouldn’t think anything could ever surprise you.” Proving that he could, indeed, surprise her, Donovan stroked the inside of her wrist and caused a jolt in her pulse.
How could what should have been a casual touch make her tremble? Because, Lani realized, for Donovan, there were no casual touches. No simple conversations. Everything the man did, what he said, was serious and seemingly meticulously planned.
Would he be so controlled in bed? No. From the pheromones jolting back and forth between them like lightning bolts, she’d bet her new titanium diver’s watch with electronic depth meter that Donovan was a sex god. After all, so much pent up energy had to go somewhere.
Lani grieved for the young man she had not appreciated when they’d first met: the rookie patrolman who had acted on his instincts. Instincts that were undeniably dangerous, perhaps even a bit foolish. That young man probably would not have risen through the ranks as far as the one now sitting with her in Nate’s sunny kitchen. But she doubted he’d have that aura of sadness hovering over him like a heavy Oregon fog.
She could make him happy. That was what she did. Her true talent, like her father’s bedside manner, her mother’s art, Nate’s writing. Hadn’t her baby-chick contestants assured her it was her calling? Which was, of course, why she’d had no choice but to leave them.
Right now, even as part of her wanted to strip off her clothes and lie beneath him, hot, sweaty, and naked, while he did anything and everything to her needy, tingling body, an equally strong part of Lani wanted to put her arms around him, put that beautiful dark head on her breast, and assure him that he deserved better than the life he seemed to have made for himself back on the mainland. That she could make things better. That he could have that life with her right here on Orchid Island.
And wasn’t that a dangerous, impossible fantasy?
Oh,
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