Page 30 of Parentmoon

Then he takes another step back, still holding my arm until his hand slips down mine and only the tips of his fingers hold the ends of mine.

“Slaying dragons and storming castle walls.” He winks at me. “That was all for you.”

He releases my fingers, and I stare as he slowly retreats backward, leaving me breathless against the edge of the pool. Then he turns and dips underneath the surface, disappearing under a ripple.

I slither against the wall and drop beneath the water myself wondering what I’m doing with this man.

And what he’s doing to me.

Chapter 8

When we finally decide we’ve had enough sunshine, I’m on my second rum punch. Dallas wants to talk to the lead fishing guide since he missed this morning’s boat. He’ll reschedule for tomorrow and suggests I should have an excursion of my own. Go into town and shop or go snorkeling.

“I’m not the strongest swimmer.” Off in the distance, a line of boats bob in the roughness of the ocean where the reef interrupts the sea. “I’m happy to lounge here again another day.”

I’ve never had time off like this and a good book and more sunshine calls my name.

Dallas watches me. I don’t match his adventurous spirit of ocean fishing and mountain climbing, or whatever else he does with Michael. Or perhaps with any other woman.

We are total opposites.

“On second thought, maybe snorkeling isn’t a good idea. I don’t want you swimming away with Artie or Ira.”

I laugh at the suggestion. “I think I’m safe.”

“I don’t know. That Artie looks like a real shark.”

“I think I might prefer a dragon slayer.”

“Might?” Dallas scoffs, tugging me closer to him. He kisses the corner of my mouth. “I need to catch up with Tomas. Go clean up.” Playfully, he swats at my butt.

With that, I’m dismissed and return to the house alone. A small table with a white linen cloth and two chairs stands on the raised porch. A hurricane lamp anchors the space, keeping the tablecloth from blowing away in the wind. Seems Dallas is moving ahead with what he told me last night. He’s planned a private dinner for us.

I pause to take in the setting. A beautiful beach view. A candlelight dinner. Did he really have this set up even before we slept together this morning? The possibility has me chewing my lip to fight an internal giggle and a flirty smile. I don’t think I’ve ever been wined and dined and the possibility of Dallas doing such a thing with me makes me giddy. And skeptical. But more anxiously excited than doubting him. He’s been sweet the entire day.

I shower and change into another summery dress, skipping sandals and slimming undergarments. When Dallas came in, I was still in the loft, and I hear the shower running. Descending to the first floor, a huge bouquet of tropical flowers is set on the countertop.

Dallas startles me by coming out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist. “It was so quiet in here, I thought you were napping.”

Seeing his naked chest and glistening skin forces me to swallow around a swell of desire. “I was in the loft getting dressed.”

His gaze lazily roams my body in that way he does, taking in my legs, lingering at my breasts, noting my attire. “And what a dress it is.” The corner of his mouth lifts, giving me the dimple that draws me like a bee to honey. My dress is a simple yellow one tonight.

“These flowers are beautiful.”

“They’re for you. I wanted to give them to you myself, but I guess I ruined the surprise.” He nods at their placement.

My internal temperature rises, and I flush. “Thank you. This is sweet.” I can’t remember the last time I received such gorgeous flowers or any romantic gesture, for that matter. Dallas is really pulling out all the stops tonight. I could assume he’s working me, buttering me up for sex, but that ship already sailed this morning. What is his intention this evening, then?

For once, I’m determined not to question him. Trust me. Maybe he really just wants to have dinner in this gorgeous atmosphere. And he planned it all yesterday.

Dallas steps up to me, rubbing his hands up and down my bare arms. “I’ll get dressed. Then we’ll have wine.”

He returns to the bathroom. His room is the loft, but his belongings are in the closet in the bathroom because I’ve invaded his space.

Glancing back at the flowers, I smile to myself, making a positive assumption that he doesn’t mind too much.

When he comes out of the bathroom, he’s trimmed the scruff that’s grown thicker in two days of heat. He’s wearing the dark linen pants from the first night and another white T-shirt, hugging him in all the right ways.