Delicious Do-Over. Debbi RawlinsЧитать онлайн книгу.
thinking.”
Lindsey looked up into his amused face, and instinctively her hand went to her warm cheek. Silently, she cursed herself, as if she could do a darn thing about the persistent blushing. It so wasn’t fair.
She blithely pressed the cold can against her heated skin. “Not in this lifetime.”
Rick grinned. “After it gets dark we can go swimming, help cool you off.”
“We don’t have swimsuits,” she said, choosing to ignore his teasing. “At least I don’t.”
“Hence, the after-dark part.”
She laughed. “You did not just say that.”
“What?”
“Hence?” She tried to stand, but had a bit of trouble with the loose sand, and accepted the hand he offered.
She gained her footing, and he could’ve released her. He didn’t. He pulled her close, and she felt the heat of his arousal right through her clothes. She tilted her head back and waited for him to lower his mouth. He lightly brushed his lips over hers, then gradually increased the pressure, leisurely kissing her.
Her eyelids fluttered closed, blotting out the pinkish-gold twilight sky, blotting out everything but the feel of his muscled shoulder beneath her fingers. Her ability to reason evaporated on the sea breeze. If he wanted to make love to her right now, right here, she wouldn’t resist.
Slowly he lifted his mouth. She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her. She almost begged him not to stop.
“Let’s eat, huh?” he said, and with a gentle hand, freed the tendrils of hair that had tangled with her lashes.
She almost laughed. How could he be thinking about food? She nodded, swiftly backed up and looked away, hoping he hadn’t seen the disappointment in her eyes.
He used the other towel, and spread out the goodies he’d bought, being careful to anchor down anything that could blow away. After emptying the paper sack, he said, “We’ll use this for all the recyclables. I’ll sort them later.” He indicated the empty plastic bag that had held the ice. “Trash can go in here.”
Lindsey smiled.
“Go ahead,” he said, with a bring-it-on cock of his brow. “I’ve already heard every smart-ass remark there is about how anal I am when it comes to recycling.”
“Actually, I was thinking that there’s enough food here for five people.”
He patted his flat belly. “I’ve been known to eat for four.”
“Hard to believe.”
“I work it off.”
“Surfing?”
“That, too,” he said, and winked.
Lindsey gave him her best eye-roll, and hoped that he didn’t see the pulse zinging at her wrist and neck. She was going to have to have sex with him soon, no matter where they ended up. Just so she could relax. Knowing it was coming, remembering how he had made her feel that one incredible night, was keeping her teetering on the edge.
“How should we do this?” she asked, staring down at the food, and not seeing any plates or utensils.
“No rules here.” He sat down cross-legged, facing the food-laden towel as if it were a set table, and patted the spot beside him.
She joined him, and then helped by opening the box of crackers and container of cut-up fruit. He used a pocket knife to cut slices of cheese, stopping to hold a bit of the soft gouda to her lips.
She opened, and used her tongue to sweep the small piece into her mouth. “Mmm. Good.”
He briefly kissed her, and then licked his lips. “My favorite.”
She shook her head, pretending she wasn’t amazed at the laid-back way he treated everything. Not her. The lightest kiss, the casual teasing, all made her stomach jittery. She focused on their dinner, eyed the ready-made food that she couldn’t identify. “Any minute it’s going to be too dark to see what we’re eating.”
Rick smiled. “Are you adventurous?”
“Define what—” She sighed, and went with the simple truth. “No.”
He removed a pair of chopsticks from a paper wrapper. “Then it’s better you don’t see what’s coming.”
She grabbed one of the plastic forks that had been bundled with the chopsticks. “Uh, I’m not putting anything strange in my mouth.”
His lips twitched. “What a pity.”
She started to say something, thought better of it. She wasn’t nearly quick enough to be witty, had never come up with—much less uttered—a double entendre in her life. There simply was no winning this conversation. She only wished blushing burned calories, but then she’d be a stick. She grabbed a couple of napkins and used them as a plate to hold the crackers while she topped them with cheese.
“You chose this one,” he said, passing her the chicken and rice. “Adventurous or not, I think you’ll like it.”
Since she had made the selection, she opened it up and sampled the cucumber salad first. It was surprisingly good mixed with a sweet vinegary dressing. “I like this a lot,” she said, spearing another cucumber half. “What’s the black flecks on the rice?” She peered closer. They were too big to be black pepper.
“It’s called furikake, a sesame seed-and-seaweed condiment. Don’t make that face.”
“Seaweed? Seriously?”
He nodded. “Try it.”
She was a wuss when it came to trying ethnic food, but she figured a tiny taste wouldn’t kill her. She forked a small portion, found the rice to be stickier than what she was accustomed to, but took a bite.
“Well?”
“Good.” She watched him deftly use the chopsticks to scoop some kind of noodle salad into his mouth.
“Now try some chicken.”
“What are you, my mother?”
Eyeing her, he chewed, swallowed, then set his chopsticks aside. Before she knew it, he cupped a hand behind her neck, drew her to him and gave her an openmouthed kiss. Not a long one, but intense enough to make her drop her fork.
“You tell me,” he said with a cocky grin, and then went back to eating his dinner as if he’d merely suggested she check out the moon rising over the mountains.
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