This time when she straightened, she had to hold a hand to the stitch in her side. “What is it with you and food?” she wheezed. “‘Cereal’ instead of ‘stir it up.’ ‘Bean enchiladas’ instead of ‘piña coladas.’ And, my all-time favorite, ‘sausage rolls’ instead of ‘rock ’n’ roll.’”
Saying it aloud sent her into another round of uncontrollable giggling.
He waited until she was finished before screwing up his mouth and conceding, “I never realized it, but you’re right. I do hear food references in songs.”
“A city built on sausage rolls,” Chrissy gasped. “Sounds delicious.”
“Don’t it just?”
She was fascinated by the humor dancing in his eyes. Then a voice in her head whispered Be careful, and she immediately sobered.
Turning back to her fishing line, she frowned because she still didn’t have the answers to why it’d been him she sought out the night before, and what that meant for how she wanted to handle things with him in the future.
“So,” he said at length, having clued in to the change in her mood. “How’re you feelin’ today?”
“Better,” she told him, filling her lungs with the salty air. “Much better.” She slid him a long look. “You?”
He hitched one shoulder as he stared out at the waves. “Killin’s never easy. But I’ve never taken a life without cause. There’s peace in that.”
She nodded solemnly. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a soldier.”
“Sailor, in my case. But semantics aside, most military men and women can’t imagine life as a civilian. It gets in their blood. In their brains.”
“Is it in yours?”
For a long while he didn’t answer. Eventually he said, “I’d be lyin’ if I said it wasn’t. But that don’t mean I’d choose to go back to it. I always knew I wanted out someday. That I wanted a normal life.”
She snorted. “I don’t think you’ll find anyone who considers treasure hunting a ‘normal life.’” She made air quotes.
“True.” A small grin twitched at his lips, and just that easily the gravity of the moment lightened. His tone was a bit too innocent when he added, “So back to the sleepin’ situation. I’ve been thinkin’ you shouldn’t sleep with me in my bed in a totally platonic fashion with a pillow fort built between us.”
“No?” She frowned.
“I’ve decided you should sleep with me in my bed in a totally nonplatonic fashion with nothin’ between us.”
She dropped her fishing pole and had to bend to retrieve it. All the blood rushed to her head. She blamed that for the squeaky sound of her voice. “Excuse me?”
“We should have sex.” He enunciated each word.
Oh my god!
Okay, so she could play this one of two ways. She could get all discombobulated and flabbergasted, which was surely what he expected. But she hated being predictable. So she quickly settled on option number two.
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “Let me think about that. Okay, I’ve thought about it, and while I concede it’s an interesting concept, I don’t think you could handle this.” She indicated the length of her body. “Do you think you could handle it?” She cocked an eyebrow suggestively, hoping he was the one to get discombobulated and flabbergasted.
He swallowed convulsively before admitting, “Not sure, to be honest.” Then his expression turned lecherous. “But I’d love to give it a try.”
She laughed, remembering this was how it’d been between them before That Night.
Easy. Uncomplicated. Fun.
They’d been friends. Was it possible they could be friends again?
Is that the answer to how I should deal with him?
The idea had merit. If they were friends, she wouldn’t have to worry about losing her heart to him. If they were friends, she could look at all his teasing and flirting as amusing and entertaining without being scared it might turn into something more.
The longer she thought about it, the more she liked the notion.
Friends. Yeah. It could work.
“Haven’t you heard?” She slid him a sly smile. “All a man needs is a place to have sex, but a woman needs a reason. So, what reason could I possibly have for sleeping with you?”
“Billy Crystal’s character in City Slickers was the one who said that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course you’d know where the quote came from.”
“And the reason we should have sex,” he continued, “is simple. Because it would be fun.”
“Possibly,” she allowed.
“Definitely,” he countered, waggling his eyebrows.
“But it would also be complicated. And I detest complicated.” When her lure popped out of the water, she didn’t bother casting it back in. Instead, she propped the handle of the rod into the sand beside her feet. “So I propose an alternative. I propose we let bygones be bygones and agree to be friends.”
“Ow!” He grabbed his chest. “Did you get a splinter from driving a wooden stake into my heart?”
She laughed, and it was easy. Nice.
Yes, she thought again. This could work. As long as she kept things in perspective. Kept him in perspective.
“Come on,” she cajoled. “What do you say? Want to be my pal?”
His face looked comically forlorn. “Apparently, agreeing to be friends is somewhat of an epidemic on this island. But I suppose if that’s all you’re offerin’…” He let the sentence dangle and glanced at her hopefully.
“It is.” She nodded decisively.
“Well, I guess I accept.” He offered her a hand. She shook it. But when she went to pull back, he held on, the look in his eye having turned from teasing to intense. “On one condition,” he added.
Misgiving had her narrowing her eyes.
“At some point, I’m going to ask a favor of you.” His voice was low, and it seemed to have an edge. “And when I do, you have to agree to it.”
“What kind of favor?” Why was she suddenly breathless?
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
“Mmm-mmm.” She shook her head. “Way too broad. I can’t agree to something like that. What if you ask me to jump off a bridge or run out and kill a bunch of kittens?”