Page 96 of Booked for Summer

‘It is. Plus, it’s also the most exclusive place on the island.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, Mr Money Bags.’ She followed him through the salon to the bridge, noticing a couple of large cool bags. ‘Are we having a picnic?’

‘Do you want a picnic?’

‘Definitely. I love eating sandwiches on the beach. I’m sure that’s where they get their name from. I bet they started off as wiches, but were renamed after they were eaten on the beach and everyone realised it was impossible not to get sand in amongst the cheese and pickle.’

‘They’re named after the Earl of Sandwich.’

‘Ha, I knew that.’ She winked at him. ‘Just checking you did.’ He laughed, and it was hard not to swoon. He made her heart flutter when he was serious, but when he relaxed, when that laugh came out to play, he was devastating. ‘What if I’d said I didn’t want a picnic?’

He pushed a lever and the boat eased away with a smooth surge of power. ‘Then I’d have asked what you did want.’

‘And we’d have done that?’

‘Yes.’

How on earth was she supposed to keep from falling in love with a man so hellbent on pleasing her? ‘Lucky for you, I’m a cheap date.’

His intense grey eyes rested on hers. ‘There is nothing cheap about you.’

Holy mackerel. ‘You’re good at this.’

‘What?’

‘Making me feel good, yet really, really turned on at the same time.’

‘I’ll keep the turned-on bit in mind.’

Her belly did another low flip. ‘So…’ She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘So we’re having a picnic on the beach. Any other plans? I’m wearing my bikini, in case swimming is involved, and in my beach bag I’ve got a towel and my book in case sunbathing is part of the deal.’

‘Wearing the bikini is a given. Anything else we do is up to you.’

‘But I have to be in the bikini.’

‘For at least some of the day, yes.’

‘Sounds reasonable, as long as you’re in trunks. No T-shirt.’

He flicked her a look. ‘That can be arranged.’

‘Good. Equality at last.’

He gave a little shake of his head, but she noticed his mouth curve upwards.

A little while later the beach came into view, flanked by rugged cliffs and rolling dunes. He drew the boat to a stop and dropped the anchor.

She gazed across at the beautiful stretch of deserted sand opposite, waves lapping gently up to it. ‘Is this the part where we swim to shore?’

‘If you like, but I’m taking the dinghy.’

She felt like she was in one of Enid Blyton’s adventures as he stowed the cool bags into the small dinghy and then helped her on board. ‘Oh, no oars.’ She mock pouted as he started the small motor. ‘I was looking forward to seeing your rowing prowess. Plus watching your muscles ripple.’

‘I thought you’d done that earlier, with the ropes.’

She sighed dreamily. ‘You noticed, huh? But surely my viewing isn’t rationed.’

He looked bemused for a moment, and then let out a low laugh. ‘Fuck, you’re good for my ego.’

---