Sean. Donna Kauffman
I’m here was bought either in the Denver airport or in the hotel lobby this morning. I probably have the receipts on me somewhere.”
Now she flashed another smile. “I guess flowered shirts and bathing suits aren’t necessary in Colorado.”
He looked at her in mock disbelief. “How did you know I favor tacky island wear? What gave me away?”
She laughed and he felt…He couldn’t put a name to it. Freer?
“Just a guess,” she countered. “Although, to be honest, you look more like a faded-sweatpants-and-ancient-college-T-shirt kind of guy.”
He grinned. He’d jogged in that exact ensemble this morning. “You win.”
“My father would be so proud.”
“Is he back home in Louisiana, I hope?” He lifted a hand as she stiffened and backed away. “It was the accent that gave you away. I have family in Baton Rouge.” He let the South back into his voice as he said it.
“Ah.”
She didn’t offer any additional comment and Sean spent a moment casting about for something else to say. Then he just came out and asked what he really wanted to know. “So, are you here with family?” Not as clumsy as blurting that he wanted to know if she was married, but it ran a close second.
“No,” she said, but once again didn’t elaborate. “You?” she asked after a moment.
“No. I’m solo. Here and in Denver.” Oh, great, how desperate and pathetic did that sound? But, if anything was going to happen—and he’d be a fool to say no, right?—well, he didn’t want any misunderstandings. So he braved it out. “You?”
She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, as if it wasn’t of any consequence to her. “Solo. By choice.”
“Obviously,” he said with an appreciative smile, then winced when she merely rolled her eyes. “Too strong, huh? I’m a bit out of practice.”
That got a small snort out of her, which made him laugh.
“Honest,” he told her. “The workaholic thing. Makes dating and relationships a bit tough.”
“So you don’t make it down to the island office often then.”
“This would be the inaugural time, yes.”
“Hmm,” she said.
They both drifted into a short silence while Sean tried to come up with something clever and witty and unmoronic to say. It might have been a while since he’d done the verbal tango with a woman, but he usually wasn’t this rusty. “I’d be glad to take you and your scooter wherever you’d like to go.”
“Actually, I was only planning to push it until I came upon a place with a phone. The resort can come and get both me and this death trap.” She sent the bright yellow scooter a fulminating look.
“You two not getting along?”
She shifted the look to him.
He grinned. “I thought maybe you’d just run out of gas.”
“What I’ve run out of is enthusiasm for forced frolic.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. That sounds ungrateful and whiny. And though I’m feeling more than a little of both at the moment, neither is directed at you. I appreciate the offer of help. If you have a cell phone, I’d be in your debt if you’d allow me to use it to place a call.”
“Why don’t we pile this in the back of my Jeep and go find someplace that serves cold drinks and a hot meal? Then I’ll take you both to your hotel.” He lifted a hand when she began to protest. “It will allow me to meet my Good Samaritan quota for the day and it will keep you from committing scooter-cide.”
She laughed despite herself. “You have a point. I’ve listened to a lot of debate on the death penalty, but this is the first time I’ve considered administering it myself.”
“You haven’t listened to my dinner conversation yet.”
Her smile remained. “I’ll consider that fair warning.”
“Are you accepting then?”
She shifted her weight and he just knew she was going to turn him down. Hell, considering how dorky he was acting, he’d turn himself down. You’d think he’d never flirted with a beautiful woman before. Something about her though…just left him tongue-tied.
She paused just long enough in answering that he suspected she might actually want to say yes despite whatever reservations she had. He was surprised at how badly he wanted to sway her to a yes. Even more surprising was that he wanted her company and yet wasn’t already picturing them naked and sweaty. In fact, he doubted very seriously this would lead to anything of the sort. It was clear she wasn’t the one-night-stand type. And, frankly, a few brief flings aside, neither was he. Or he would have hit the bonfire.
But, at the moment, an attractive companion who would make dinner a lively and fun occasion sounded pretty good. And if there was a little spike of sexual tension to go along with it…well, he wasn’t going to quibble.
“Did you have other plans for dinner? Or did the Scooter of Death ruin that, too?”
“No,” she said. “No plans.”
“Then say yes.”
Her lips parted slightly in surprise. Maybe he’d said that a bit more commandingly than he’d intended.
“Please,” he added with what he hoped was a winning smile. Brett was the Gannon who’d been blessed with all the easy charm, although Clay ran a close second. Sean had always been a bit more serious by nature, had always had to work at the charming part.
“Would it be asking too much to head to where I’m staying first?” she asked.
He could have told her he’d take her to the moon and back first if she’d agree to dinner.
“I’d just like the chance to change. I’m a little—”
She broke off when Sean reached out. She instinctively pulled back, but he reached anyway…and tugged the tag off the back of her shirt. “There. Now you look perfect.”
“Oh, you’re such a liar. But my ego thanks you.” She shook her head and laughed a little as she contemplated what she was about to do. “I really shouldn’t do this.”
“Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t rescue each other from our own inability to relax. We’ll force each other to sit and watch the world go by without being active participants in it for a whole hour or two.”
“Just one good reason?”
“What, you have a list? Am I handling this that terribly?”
Her laugh was fuller this time. “Just badly enough to be endearing and to make me less self-conscious.”
“Thanks. I think.”
She smiled. “You just strike me as someone who is way too used to getting his own way.”
“Oh?”
“Rusty flirting skills notwithstanding, you have this…commanding way about you.”
Any other woman would have said that and it would have sounded suggestive as hell. Not with her. She’d simply sounded…honest. Maybe it was the quirky way her brows furrowed when she said it, as if she couldn’t quite decide if she liked commanding, rusty flirts or not.
So why his body reacted the way it did…he couldn’t say. Dinner. This was just about dinner.
“I take it you don’t respond well to commands,” he said when she let the silence spin out. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Mostly because he had this absurd need to reach out and snatch her sunglasses off to get a better look at her eyes…and what was going on behind those glasses. “What about a humble