Anything But Love by Abigail Strom

Author:Abigail Strom
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781503936768
Published: 2016-07-11T18:30:00+00:00

The moment was past—again. Was every day in Bermuda going to come with these temptations? The temptation to set aside chivalry and whatever the hell else was stopping him from acting on his instincts?

He had the bathroom first when they got back to their cottage. They were eating at the hotel’s informal restaurant tonight, so after he showered and shaved he put on a pair of khakis and a polo shirt.

When Jessica came out of the bathroom, he had to catch his breath. She looked fresh and sweet and lovely. She was wearing a light blue dress, very simple, and she’d tied a navy blue scarf around her throat.

After a moment he realized the significance of her choice.

“You’re wearing St. George colors,” he said with a sudden grin.

“They’re playing again tomorrow,” she reminded him.

“I know.”

A few minutes later, strolling up the flagstone path to the main building, Ben tried to identify the feeling that kept creeping into his consciousness as he walked beside Jessica.

And then, with an uncomfortable shock, he realized what it was.

It was the first-date feeling.

Which, of course, made no sense on any level.

This wasn’t a date, for one thing. And even if it were, it wouldn’t be their first.

But neither of those very obvious truths made the feeling go away. That subtle desire to protect, to impress, to brush up against her at every opportunity.

Not to mention the slow burn of desire running through his veins.

A few hours had gone by since they’d had their last rum swizzle. If they avoided alcohol during dinner, would that satisfy his criteria for sobriety?

He let Jessica precede him into the lobby and shook his head. A sober Jessica, he felt sure, would retreat to the safe and predictable. Fooling around with him was a temptation that came over her while she was under the influence. In her right mind, she’d always think better of any random desires she experienced when she was drinking.

But there was nothing stopping him from eying her curves as she walked in front of him, or admiring the subtle sway of her hips.

The first-date feeling carried over into dinner. Everything felt different, and not just because they both drank iced tea instead of wine or cocktails. He was aware of the candlelight that illuminated their table and the way it flattered Jessica’s creamy skin. She wore her hair down, the soft blonde waves moving like water over her bare shoulders. When she bent her head toward her plate, a strand would fall forward, and every time she tucked it behind her ear he wished he could do that for her.

They talked about cricket and rum and gambling, and the music and dancing they’d seen when they went to the food tents for lunch.

It wasn’t just a first date. It was one of the best first dates he’d ever had.

No, he reminded himself. Not a first date. Dinner with an old friend who was going through a rough time.

They’d finished their entrees. Jessica was sitting with her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, gazing out the window.

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