“Oh.” Dorie flashed Andy a small smile. “You don’t have to babysit me.” She began to stack up a second plate now, speaking with a slight speech impediment, almost as if her tongue was suddenly too big for her mouth. “I can get it.”
“I’m not babysitting.” Andy was really pouring on the southern charm. “I enjoy your company. What’ll it be?”
“Um… soda?” Her plates had reached Mt. Everest proportions, but she kept piling the food on.
Christian eyed her petite frame. Where the hell was she going to put it all?
“How about something with a kick?” Andy asked her.
Ah, Christian thought. Let the alcohol-plying begin. But Dorie wouldn’t fall for that. She was sweet and naive, but not that naive. Nobody was that naive.
“It’s not like you have to drive home.” Andy leaned in, waggled a brow. “And afterwards, we could dance.”
Her plate wobbled and Andy steadied it for her.
“I’m not a very good dancer,” she murmured.
“All that matters is that you do it.” Andy shot her the smile that probably got him laid nightly. “Come on, Dorie. Live a little.”
Come on, Dorie, slug him a little.
But Dorie nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Okay, I’ll take that drink with a kick. Your pick.”
Christian shook his head. Unbelievable. She had fallen for it.
“Atta girl.” Moving to the bar, Andy looked over the display of piña coladas, bushwhackers, daiquiris, choosing two rum punches, no doubt for their potency and potential seduction aid.
Christian’s jaw hurt and he realized he was clenching it. Andy moved back to Dorie, taking one of her plates so she could drink.
“Here it goes,” she said. “Liquid courage.”
“What could you possibly need liquid courage for?” Andy asked.
Christian wondered the same thing. Dorie sucked down her drink, then set both her empty glass and her second very full plate on a nearby table. Drawing a deep breath, she tipped her head back to look up at the baseball player. “I’ll have that dance now. If you still want it.”
With a smile, Andy pulled her in close, sliding his hand low on her spine. Then a little lower…
Christian frowned.
Dorie squirmed.
Andy grinned.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Dorie muttered.
“Do you?”
She blushed adorably. “I was in a hurry when I got dressed.”
Andy laughed. “Are you somehow apologizing for not wearing panties?”
“It’s just that-”
“Can I see you later?”
She looked up at him, extremely cute, and extremely flustered, and Christian had the inexplicable urge to pull her away from Andy.
Crazy.
“See me?” Dorie repeated. “As in go out with me see me?”
“Yep,” Andy replied.
“We’re on a boat.”
“In the South Pacific. Nothing more romantic than that.”
She blinked, slow as an owl. “You want to be with me.”
“Say yes, Dorie.”
Say no, Dorie.
“I have to use the restroom,” she said, and hightailed it out of Andy’s arms.
Finally.
FIVE
The rum punch had gone straight to Dorie’s head. Or maybe that was just amazement that she was really here, on a sailing yacht, out of her comfort area.
Make that a couple of time zones out of her comfort area.
Baseball Cutie wanted to be with her. Boggled the mind, it really did. In the bathroom just off the galley, she looked at herself in the mirror. “I’d love to go out with you, Andy,” she told her reflection.
See? How hard was that?
How was she going to do this whole living life thing if she couldn’t talk? Well, she’d be a mime if she had to, because this was an opportunity of a lifetime. He was the opportunity of a lifetime.
She touched up her gloss and headed back to the salon, looking around at the beautiful boat as she did. The interior gleamed with obvious care and pride in every nook and cranny, and the view… unbelievable. She was used to tall buildings, smog, and traffic twenty-four/seven. Here there was nothing but glorious open water.
And gorgeous, tongue-swelling inducing men. Remembering that odd conversation she’d overheard, she stood there a moment trying to put faces to the voices she’d heard.
But couldn’t.
Captain Denny was talking to Christian near the door. Gorgeous Grumpy Doctor had lost his baseball cap, and now his dark hair tumbled loose and free. He hadn’t changed those faded, well-worn Levi’s, and surrounded by elegance and sophistication, he looked like the last holdout.
His gaze snagged hers, and she couldn’t help but notice he seemed rough and tumble and… trouble, pure trouble. Before she could look away, he cocked a brow, and slowly dropped his gaze down the length of her.
Then again, it might just have been her rum punch.
Yet he did it again, definitely eyeing her skirt. Looking to see if she’d put on panties? Something went through her at that. A bit of daring. Bravery. And because of it-and the slip she’d added-she executed a little curtsy, spreading the material of her skirt out with her fingers, inviting him to do his best to try to see through it.
An invitation he freely took.
His gaze traveled slowly down to her toes and back up, and by the time his eyes landed on hers, they were two scorching balls of pure flaming heat.
Yowza.
She hadn’t realized the full potency of the serious sex appeal he was packing behind that edgy, dangerous front. So much so that she nearly staggered back a step. She actually had to look away to breathe, and then, unable to help herself, she turned back.
He was still looking at her.
She swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of even attempting to play, because unlike Andy, who probably ran bases during a World Series game looking relaxed and easygoing, Christian was one long, lean line of tensed muscle.
Ready.
But for what, she hadn’t a clue. Just thinking about the possibilities did the oddest thing-it heated her from the inside out. Interestingly enough, her tongue didn’t swell.
It made sense, she supposed. The men in her life had mostly been safe and sweet and kind. Fun and easygoing. Her father. Her sister’s husband. Her own too few and far between boyfriends. She liked fun and easygoing. In fact, it was what drew her to Andy. Fun and laid-back counterbalanced all the stresses in her life, such as working at Shop-Mart when she really wanted to be designing clothes.
But, and this was something she’d never really admitted to herself until she’d won this cruise, something had been sorely missing.
What, exactly, she wasn’t yet sure. Sex? Definitely. But if she could just get her nerves under control-and her tongue-she could have that. No, this went deeper. Maybe she needed adventure. Excitement. Danger.
A brooding rebel.
Another peek at Christian assured her that she was the only one still thinking about this because he and the captain were deep into conversation, both looking… extremely uptight? In fact, there was a tic in the captain’s jaw, and Christian’s eyes were still hot, but no longer sexy hot.
Temper hot.
Huh. Maybe things weren’t as comfy cozy as they seemed, which was a disturbing thought considering they were in the middle of the ocean.
Denny stepped onto a platform, and Dorie realized it was some sort of observation deck, and that he could control the boat from right here. Good to know.
He called Bobby to his side. Bobby tugged on his baseball cap. Whatever Denny said made the three of them look even more tense. Unable to help herself, Dorie shifted closer.