Love Overboard - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,25

her place at the table and almost went faint at the sight of the feast she’d created. It was wonderful. All modesty aside, she didn’t think Lucy could have done a better job.

Mr. Pease helped himself to mashed potatoes and poured hot gravy over his turkey slices. “This is great. This is just like Thanksgiving.”

Mrs. Pease studied her roll. “These rolls are delicious, and they’re in so many different shapes. What a wonderful idea. This roll looks just like a…” Her face turned scarlet, and she dropped the roll onto her plate with a small gasp.

Mr. Pease looked at the roll. “It looks like a man’s parts!” His face creased into a broad grin. “Daggone if it doesn’t!”

Stephanie examined her own roll, then clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

“I couldn’t make crescents,” Melody explained. “They kept falling apart.”

Ace had removed his dark glasses. He had two rolls on his plate, side by side. “My rolls are in love,” he said.

Melody glared at him with her raccoon eyes. “Your rolls aren’t in love. Your rolls are in heat!” She waved her butter knife at him. “Your rolls should be emasculated, you little runt.”

Ace put his glasses back on. “Hey, I don’t go around making dirty rolls, do I? Noooooo. Is this the pot calling the kettle black?”

“You told me you loved me and wanted to marry me.”

Ace sliced a piece of turkey. “Yes, but I didn’t say when.”

At ten o’clock Stephanie squared her shoulders and knocked at the door to Ivan’s cabin.

“Couldn’t resist getting a look at my gyroscope, huh?” he said, pulling her inside. His bed was perfectly made with a red plaid blanket and white sheets. The small electric cabin light was lit. He sat on the bed and patted the spot next to him.

Stephanie sat on the edge and folded her hands in her lap. “This isn’t going to work. I feel uncomfortable. Probably everyone’s standing outside your door listening.”

“Probably everyone’s sound asleep after that turkey dinner.”

She shifted on the bunk and cracked her knuckles. “So, what do you want to talk about? Sex?”

“Gonna jump right in, huh?”

“Yeah.” She took a shallow breath. “Let’s get it over with.”

“You sure you want to talk about sex?”

“Absolutely.” She sprang to her feet and paced in the narrow cabin. “Sex has been on my mind a lot lately. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon. So I figure I should get it out in the open. You know, get it off my chest.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Actually, I was wondering if… if you wanted to go to bed with me.”

The subtle approach, Ivan thought, smiling. Was it any wonder he was crazy over her? “Is this a rhetorical question or a proposition?”

“I suppose it’s a rhetorical question. Does that make a difference in your answer?”

She was contemplating having a romance, and he happened to be convenient, Ivan thought. Still, Stephanie wasn’t the sort of woman to participate in indiscriminate sex. If she was considering a romance, that meant she’d decided she liked him. And that was good because he thought this relationship had real potential. Maybe it was the low-pressure weather that was affecting his mood. Or maybe it was the right time in his life. Or maybe Stephanie Lowe was simply the right woman. Whatever the reason, the bottom line was that he was a goner, Ivan admitted. He was in lust, but even worse, he suspected he loved Stephanie Lowe. Being in lust was the rush of passion that made your stomach flip and your gut knot up. It was novelty, excitement, a chase. Love was a more gentle emotion. And he was experiencing both.

He hadn’t always been so discriminating in the past, but Stephanie had something special to offer him, and he wanted to make sure her first time was perfect. He didn’t want her having any reservations or regrets. “Steph, any man would be a fool not to want to go to bed with you, but—”

“Here comes the but. That’s what Steve said… but. You’re not going to dump on me, are you?”

“No!”

“But you don’t want to go to bed with me. I can tell you don’t want to go to bed with me.”

“Of course I want to go to bed with you, it’s just that—”

“Yes?”

This was something that needed to be handled delicately. He searched for the right words and drew a blank.

“You aren’t going to give me a lecture on loose morals, are you? Listen, Buster, I deserve to have a romance. I’ve hung on