Emerson had noticed how much she’d eaten and he knew she needed the calories. Hell, she’d probably eaten more today than she had in the entire last week combined! He suspected that her ribs were showing by now. And he intended to find out. Soon! “Hey Joe,” he greeted the big, bearded guy behind the counter.
Joe turned around, his face revealing his surprise. “What are you doing out here, Jack? I thought you were holed up in your fancy New York place lately.”
Emerson chuckled. “I’m taking a long weekend to show the lady around.”
Joe looked down at Rachel, smiling with his ruddy cheeks. “You’re going to love the island,” he told her. “What’ll you have today?”
“The usual,” Emerson told him.
“Nothing for me,” Rachel spoke up.
Emerson shook his head. To Joe he said, “Give her a taste of the blueberry.”
Joe quickly turned around and a moment later, he handed Rachel a small spoon filled with a purple colored ice cream.
She took it warily, not sure if she could eat another bite.
“Try it,” Emerson encouraged with a knowing look in his eyes. “You’ll never get better blueberries than in Maine.”
She tasted the sample and waited. When the flavor hit her, her eyes widened and she ate the rest of the ice cream sample. “Oh my!” she gasped in a hushed whisper. “That’s amazing!”
Emerson nodded and turned back to Joe. “Two please, Joe.”
Joe chuckled and nodded before turning back to the ice cream bin. He came back a moment later with two cones that were filled to overflowing with the purple ice cream. Emerson slapped a ten dollar bill on the counter, then waved as he took the first bite of the ice cream, ushering her out of the shop while saying goodbye and thanks to Joe.
For her part, Rachel had no idea where they were going. All she could concentrate on was nibbling at the delicious, creamy blueberry ice cream. Emerson led her back down the hill where the ferry boat was off-loading passengers, having just docked one more time. Apparently, the ferry moved back and forth over the harbor constantly throughout the day and night. She took a seat at the front of the boat and concentrated only on enjoying the incredibly rich ice cream. She was very aware of Emerson sitting next to her, but this time, she didn’t even mind that his leg was against hers, or that his arm moved around her shoulders, resting on the back of the seat.
She couldn’t believe it, but by the time the ship was halfway across the harbor, she’d finished the entire ice cream cone. “Oh my! That was wonderful,” she sighed contentedly, sliding down against the seat and leaning her head back against his arm. She was so relaxed from the fried food and sugar, not to mention the two beers she’d enjoyed during their lunch time argument, plus the exercise, the sunshine and the lack of sleep over the past several days. “What are you going to feed me next?” she joked and then stiffened, realizing too late that she was supposed to be mad at him.
But it was hard to stay mad at a man who made her laugh. Not to mention made her feel a lot of other things which were much more disturbing.
She shifted on the hard, plastic-like seat, putting more space between the two of them. When she looked up at him, she blushed because he knew exactly what she was feeling. Time seemed to stand still as she looked at him, breathless and hyperaware of him as a man. A man who knew her body intimately and thoroughly. He’d brought her to the heights of pleasure so many times and she quivered with the effort it took to not throw herself into his arms and forget about all the pain and humiliation she’d endured at his betrayal.
Thankfully, the boat was coming into the dock once again and she took a deep breath. The boat’s horn brought her back, focusing her again on what was important. Surviving with whatever pride she had left after everything was finished between them.
“Come,” he said, taking her hand in his large one and tugging her along down the gangplank. “We’re not done today,” he said.
She had no idea what would be next and she was wide awake now with his warm hand holding hers. She pretended, to both herself and to him, that she wasn’t affected by his touch. But as soon as he let go so she could get back into his Jeep, she knew she was lying.
They drove down to the marina this time and Rachel couldn’t stop the eagerness that sprang to life at the idea of sailing once again. It had been warmer the last time, but she’d loved every moment of it. “Sailing?” she asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide her excitement.
Emerson looked at her carefully, trying to figure out the best way to explain his next lie. “We’re going sailing, yes. But not on the small sailboat we were on last time.”
Rachel smiled brightly, more than eager to try out anything as long as she could feel the breeze on her face, the gentle waves that carried the boat away from the shore and enjoy the amazing sights of the coast from the water. “That’s no problem,” she told him, jumping out of the Jeep, already walking down the dock to where they’d boarded his boat the last time.
Emerson watched for a moment, hoping she wouldn’t be too angry with him now. He enjoyed the gentle sway of her hips even though the sight made his body ache with need to hold her again, to be buried in her heat and hear those soft sighs of contentment after he’d pleasured her thoroughly. Damn, he wished this wasn’t so complicated.
When she started down the dock that would lead her to the smaller sailboat they’d taken out the last time, he grabbed her hand and led her in the opposite direction. “We’re taking another one today.”
She was instantly wary and pulled back, shaking her head when he turned back to face her. “No. I want to go on the one we went out on last time.”
He moved closer, his hand coming up to pull a wisp of hair away from her face. “I think you’ll like this one as well,” he said.
She instantly shook her head. There was a warning in his eyes, something that told her that this was another revelation that would only infuriate her again. She wasn’t angry right now. She was too filled with food, sugar and beer to be angry. There was a pleasant lethargy that she didn’t want to lose by finding out something important about Emerson Jackson. “No. I’m pretty sure that I won’t.”
“Why are you so sure?” he asked gently, trying to figure her out.
She pulled back slightly. “Because it’s probably some huge honkin’ sailboat that will look crazy expensive and won’t be nearly as fun to ride on as what we sailed the last time.”