He shook his head and gave the bottle another nudge. “No stone crab for you until you drink. And make a toast.”
She raised the wine and dropped her head to one side, thinking. “I would like to toast to the first man who made me…ahem…in the dirt.” Lifting it to her lips, she winked. “Guess yours will have to be in the kitchen, since we’re doing each other on our home turfs.”
He didn’t answer, watching her bring the bottle to her lips and sip. After a second, she handed it to him. “Your turn.”
“All right.” He lifted the bottle. “To…”
He closed his eyes when he drank, deep and long, letting the dry Cabernet cover his tongue and, hopefully, take the sting out of his thoughts and the guilt out of his soul.
“Never been married, John?”
The wine clogged his throat and made him choke softly. “No.” He managed to cough out yet another lie. Then he lifted the bottle and drank again, this time to wash it away.
Tessa settled back on her elbows, relaxed as she studied him. “How’d you go so long without getting snagged?”
He hadn’t gone so long. He’d met Kate in college, at a pub. She’d beat him at darts and downed a pint faster than he had.
“Haven’t met the right person,” he mumbled, the wine good and stuck in his esophagus now. He gave her the bottle and busied himself by opening the box of stone crabs, presenting the array of pinkish claws. “Here we go, all pre-cracked and ready to eat with our hands. It’s like I knew we’d have a picnic.”
“Have you been looking?” she asked.
“For stone crabs?”
She gave him a playful kick with her foot. “For the right person.”
He shook his head, grateful to be honest. “I’ve been focused on me,” he admitted. “Learning how to cook, doing my thing, traveling. What about you?”
“I told you, I was married for ten years.”
“I mean since then?”
“Nah, just working.”
He had to keep the conversation off his past. “What about your parents?” he asked.
A reaction flickered over her face, impossible to read in the dim light. “What about them?”
“Tell me about them.” He handed her a stone crab. “Just peel the shell off the outside and dip it in this.” He popped the lid on the tangy mustard sauce he’d prepared.
It was her turn to pretend to be so involved with the stone crab that she didn’t answer his question. She dipped the edge of the crabmeat in the sauce and slowly put the claw in her mouth, sucking the meat and closing her eyes as the taste hit. A soft moan of delight followed, a lot like the ones he’d heard a few minutes ago.
“Mmm. Perfection,” she finally said, dabbing at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t suppose you included a napkin in your bag of fun.”
He got on his knees and leaned close to her face, giving a swift lick to her lips. “We’ll be each other’s napkins.”
She smiled, running her tongue right over the spot where his had been. “You’re determined to take me to places I don’t want to go, aren’t you?”
“Yep. Your parents?”
Looking down, she played with a piece of the shell, breaking it off to reveal more meat on the claw.
“You don’t want to talk about your parents?” he urged.
“I don’t…” She made a face, obviously struggling with something. Then she reached for the wine bottle, which he’d balanced next to his leg. “Lubrication, please.”
He gave it to her and she took a solid swig. Then another.
“Whoa. Must be some story.”
She eyed the bottle as if she was considering a third, but gave it back to him. “I don’t talk about my parents, to anyone. And I mean
He lifted a brow and held his stone crab still without biting. “Even your close friends?”
“Nope.”
“Says the woman who hates secrets.”
She flinched, acknowledging the truth. “It’s not that I want to keep secrets from them, but I don’t like to talk about my mother.” She gave a dry laugh. “The irony is that my mother
He leaned closer, holding the bottle with one hand so it didn’t spill, but using the other to lift her arm and see her face. “Why not?”
“Because it’s letting you…in.”
“I want to be in,” he admitted, a little taken aback by how much truth there was in that statement. Right that moment, looking at her with moonlight on her hair and conflict in her eyes, he wanted to be right inside that whirlwind of emotions.
Where he really had no fucking right to be.
“I don’t tell people this bit of my history. I say my parents were nice and normal but we’re not close at all. End of story.”
“Did you tell your husband?”
“Of course. He met her.”
“Did he meet your father?”
She closed her eyes. “My father is dead.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, stroking her face. “Were you close to him?”
Giving her head a negative shake, she brushed off his touch. “Long story. And, honestly, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to…” She bit her lip, reaching up to touch his cheek as he’d touched hers. “Damn it, yes I do. How did you do that? In this short time? How did you get me here?”
He turned to kiss her palm. “Same way I got you to drink with no glass and eat with no napkin and have an orgasm under the stars.”
“How
Lowering his head, he kissed the answer. “Now that’s my secret.”
She curled a hand around his neck, nestling her fingers into his hair. “You’re a professional apple-cart upsetter,” she said with a smile. “You know that?”
“Mmmm.” He kissed her. “That I am.”
She pushed him before he could deepen the kiss. “You did it again.”
“Did what?”
“That accent. ‘That I am.’ The way you said it was…English.”
Actually, it was British, and troubling. She made him relax and forget and share far too much. “You’re imagining things, pretty Tessa.” He got the kiss accomplished, and kept it long and slow and a little bit dirty. But she pushed him back one more time.
Damn it, he didn’t want to keep making up any more lies. “Tessa, please I—”
“I want to tell you.”
He stopped the plea, looking at her. “About your parents?”
“Yes. I want to tell you,” she repeated. “I don’t want any secrets between us. None at all. I’m going to tell you everything and then…”
He would tell her nothing. “And then?”
“Then I’ll feel better about that fake wedding business.”
And he’d feel worse when he somehow made it real. But he forged on, kissing her again. “You keep letting me in and you know what’s going to happen, don’t you?”
She shook her head.
“It might not be a fake wedding.”
