the attire?”
“Casual. In fact, wear the worst clothes you have. Don’t want to ruin something expensive.”
I don’t tell her that everything I own is expensive. It would feel pointless—like rubbing it in her face or something. But I can do jeans and a T-shirt.
We finish eating and head back out on the deck to look at the night sky as we make our way back to shore. One of the staff members turns on some music, and it filters through the outdoor speakers hanging above our heads. It’s a soft, slow song—something romantic, just like the dinner we had. I look over at her and hold out my hand. “Dance?”
She lets out a quiet laugh. “Okay,” she agrees, setting her still-full wine glass down on the table between us.
We both stand and she slides her hand into mine. I lead her out to the center of the deck and spin her around to face me. She falls into my chest and a puff of air whooshes out of her mouth, blowing across my jaw and neck. My eyes want to close at the heat and closeness, but I hold it back as I steady her.
I start leading her around the deck with her in my arms. She’s awkward at first, stiff and unsure, but the longer we dance, the looser she gets. “Let me guess, you took ballroom dancing classes as well?” she asks.
I know she’s being a smart-ass, but I laugh. “I did. Does it show?”
She rolls her dark eyes. “A little.”
Although it’s dark outside with the sun gone, there are small lights scattered around the boat. When I spin her around, the light shines against her eyes and I see that they’ve dark again. Midnight with a hint of blue. I can’t help but wonder what it means. When I brought it up before, she quickly changed the subject and ran off.
The last time I noticed the change in her eyes, we weren’t doing anything but eating cake. She was on one side of the island while I was on the other. We were both leaning against the island, with the cake between us. We were eye-to-eye. I remember how sweet she smelled after her shower, and how beautiful she looked with her soaking-wet hair and clean skin free of all makeup. I remember how turned on I was in that moment. Then it hits me: was she turned on like I was? Does the darkening of her eyes mean she wants me? God, I wish I could test that theory. The night we got too close, were her eyes like they are now? I try thinking back, but it was so dark in the living room that night that I didn’t notice . . . I couldn’t notice. The fire burning in the fireplace was the only light in the room. I remember seeing it reflecting in her eyes. They were big and dark, but I couldn’t see the color clearly enough.
If I leaned in right now, would she let me kiss her? Would she let me take it further? I can see myself pulling her against me and carrying her inside. I feel my body start to come to life and I push the thoughts away immediately. We’re so close right now, she’d surely feel it if I got excited. That would give it all away if nothing else did. I decide not to act on anything tonight. I don’t want to push her too far after I’ve just gotten her to talk to me again, but I will watch for this in the future—for any sign she may feel differently about me than she did before.
The song ends and she steps back. Her cheeks are burning, and her eyes are dark but sparkling. “Well, thank you for the dance, kind sir,” she jokes.
“Anytime, sweetheart,” I reply as I release her hand, watching her walk back to the table. She picks up her glass of wine and takes a drink. I wonder if she’s using it as a way to cool off after our dance. It wasn’t anything that would cause her to break a sweat, unless there were emotions bubbling to the surface she didn’t want to feel.
When we make it back to the penthouse, the living room is dark, with the exception of the flames dancing in the fireplace. I have to admit, this would be the perfect setting to try for that kiss. I’ve never considered myself a chicken before now, but something