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“Then what is it?”
I lift my hands to Ben’s face, cradling his cheeks as I press a quick kiss to his lips. Then I stand up and move off his lap because if I’m going to be honest, I need to be honest from across the room where he won’t be able to distract me with his strong arms and soft lips and tantalizing scent. He leans forward, his elbows propped on his knees, his gaze never wavering.
“I’m not good at being vulnerable, Ben,” I say. “I’m not good at this.”
Ben just listens, not trying to downplay my feelings or give false assurances. Which is sonotlike Justin. I don’t want to keep comparing the two in my head—that’s not exactly fair.
And yet, in some ways, it’s exactly what I need to do in order to reassure myself that maybe this could work.
I take a few more steadying breaths, appreciating that he isn’t pushing me. That he somehow knows that with me, timeand patience will go a lot further than pressure. And suddenly, I don’t want to be across the room. Space is the last thing I need or want.
Without giving myself time to rethink, I plant myself back in Ben’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck.
I lean up and kiss the side of his jaw. “Just be patient with me,” I say, my lips close to his skin. “And if I freak out, try not to let it freakyouout.”
He chuckles, the vibration rumbling through his chest. “Duly noted.” He lifts a hand, sliding it over my back, rubbing circles across my shoulder blades. “But just to clarify. Does being patient mean there will be or there willnotbe kissing?”
I meet his gaze head-on. His eyes are bright blue and full of mischief and there is nothing I’ve ever wanted more than hours of kissing this man.
There is only one way to answer his question. It will be much easier toshowBen what the answer is rather thantellhim.
Well, that’s notentirelytrue. Telling him would only require a couple of words. A few seconds, tops.
Butshowinghim will be much more fun, so I lean down, lifting my hands to his face, and show himexactlyhow I feel about whether kissing should remain on the agenda.
FOURTEEN
Ben
“Wouldyou believe I’ve never been to Charleston?” Sadie says as we walk down the wide planks of the Charleston Harbor Marina.
“Not ever?” Charleston is only a few hours up the coast from Savannah, but then, if Sadie’s family only went to Oakley to see Genevieve, that’s maybe not so hard to believe.
“Nope. But I’ve always wanted to, so this is quite an impressive first date, Mr. King.” Sadie loops her arm through mine, not even trying to hide the flattery, the excitement in her words. It’s so different from the way we used to spar, tossing insults back and forth. Now, she’s openly admitting she wants to spend time with me. That she’simpressed.
“But don’t get cocky,” she adds. “The night is young, and I’m not promising you a second date until the very end.”
And … there she is.
I grin, not minding this new mix of genuine and sass. “Good to know.”
After we (finally!) said goodbye to our guests when we docked late this afternoon, it took my strongest powers of persuasion to convince German that it would be safe to take Sadie into Charleston for the night. My reasoning was sound—why would anyone tracking Sadie suspect she’s in downtown Charleston? She has no ties here the way she does to Oakley, and we’ve had no outside communication since we left the island.
Even Daniels agreed—silently with just a nod, of course—but German looked uneasy. It makes me wonder if there’s something he knows—or at least suspects—that he’s not sharing with the rest of us. Or if he’s just that much of a stick in the mud. Maybe both.
Once again, I find myself really wishing someone would share more about the situation Sadie’s in. It was easy to be lulled into simply enjoying time on the water, forgetting why the two agents were there, why we left in Oakley in the first place.
In the end, after I promised we’d keep a low profile, and had German approve all my plans, made by using his cell phone once we had reception in the harbor, he finally relented. The fact that he’ll be shadowing us all night makes me feel like a teenager on a date chaperoned by a parent, but I’ll take what I can get.
It’s worth it. To be on arealdate with Sadie. To eat dinner in a real restaurant and feel, even just for one night, like we’ve outrun all the madness that’s been chasing her the past few days and feel some sense of normalcy.
Almost normalcy, anyway. If we could only remove the grumpy, tiny-necked agent standing a few feet away.
When we reach the parking lot, a sleek Mercedes SUV is waiting for us. The driver hops out as soon as he sees us and opens the back door.
“Seriously?” Sadie says as I help her inside. “Is this what it means to be rich? You just have cars and drivers sitting around in every city in case you decide to show up?”
“It’s just a car service,” I say, sliding in next to her as German gets in the front. “John called and made the arrangements while we were getting ready.”
