She sniffed as if offended, but the smile on her gloss-covered lips gave her away. “I didn’t say I was conservative, I said I lived a conservative life. Big difference. As for you, you’re so relaxed, I don’t see an ounce of conventionality in you or your upbringing. Am I right?”
“Quite right.” And perhaps if he revealed some of his own past, she’d be more comfortable revealing hers. “I was adopted and neither set of parents were what you’d call conservative.”
“I’d say not, especially if you inherited either of their style of dress.” She reached out and fingered the bottom of his long, Hawaiian-print shorts
before raising her gaze to his clashing but equally tropical button-down, short-sleeve shirt.
“Offensive?” he asked.
“Different,” she said with a grin. She twirled one of her long curls around her finger.
He wondered if the strands were silky smooth to the touch and when he’d be able to find out. “Different how?”
“Where I come from, men wear power suits and ties or polo shirts and slacks.”
Bingo, he thought. Some insight. Small as it may be, he appreciated any inroad. “Well, if anyone in my family does the suit-and-tie thing I’ve never seen it.”
Ted Houston never wore a suit, not even when he’d won an Associated Press award. Good thing his father’s byline hadn’t been in politics. Doug, on the other hand, knew how to dress up with the best of them, but on the island he’d chosen to let his rebel side dominate. To throw Juliette off his proverbial scent. Disgusted with the reminder and unsure why, when his pursuit of a story had never bothered him before, Doug pushed the thought away—easy to do when surrounded by her beauty.
He smiled, then lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “My adoptive father is color-blind. I guess I inherited the gift.”
She laughed at his joke.
He shut his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to enjoy the light, carefree sound. Just being around her helped him relax for the first time, not just since the paper fiasco, but since his father’s heart attack. He hadn’t realized how much he needed the release until she’d provided it.
“Hey, don’t get me wrong, your style is a welcome change.”
At the sound of her soft voice, he opened his eyes.
“You’re a welcome change,” she said.
And damned if he didn’t believe her.
She paused for another sip of her drink. The waiter had forgotten the straws or Doug hadn’t seen them on the tray. Either way, he didn’t care. It gave him a chance to touch her. He reached out and brushed the foam off her upper lip with the pad of his thumb.
She stilled, those wide, green eyes meeting his, shock evident in her gaze. He recognized the emotion since he felt it, too. His mind told him to use the surprising electric connection that sizzled between them to his advantage since, except for her one vague reference, she’d adeptly avoided any personal replies to his light queries. She had even managed to turn the tables and question him instead. But his heart pounded loud in his chest, urging him merely to enjoy.
He drew back and as she watched, he licked the sweet-tasting froth off his finger. She exhaled, a slow, breathy sound that resembled a sigh of pleasure and his body tensed in response.
Just then, dinner was announced over the sound system, directing people to the buffet and jarring him back to his senses. He’d missed a perfect opportunity to push for information under the guise of getting to know her better. Not only didn’t he understand why, but he was completely off balance. “Saved by the bell,” he muttered.
“Excuse me?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. How about we get something to eat?”
She nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
A good one because he needed distance. And how much trouble could he get into over the course of one meal?
Half an hour later he had his answer. Too much damn trouble. With food loaded on their plates, they walked by the long picnic tables set up for guests and, at Juliette’s suggestion, headed farther down the beach. She picked a secluded area and requested he pull two lounge chairs together for their private picnic.
Doug was coming to realize he couldn’t deny her anything when she got that excited gleam in her eye. In one short outing, he’d learned to recognize the sparkle that told him she was experiencing something for the first time—from a simple drink to a picnic dinner. He’d grown up quickly, first on the street experiencing deprivation, then at Ted Houston’s side, learning the journalistic ropes from a pro. He’d discovered how to charm the devil himself for information or to gain access to private files or events. From the streets to formal banquets and affairs, Doug had seen it all.
But he’d never lived Juliette’s existence, never realized living a sheltered life could cause a person to miss out on so much. To his surprise, he was grateful he was giving her good memories to replace the more recent painful ones. Ones he’d inadvertently caused. He just wished watching her wasn’t so difficult.
Arousingly difficult. She licked her fingers delicately before turning to the napkin in her lap and wiping her hands. She set the napkin aside and yawned, then said, “It’s not the company, I swear.”
“It’s the travel. I’m surprised you’ve made it this late. Did you want to watch the pathetic rendition of the Beach Boys or call it a night?” He didn’t know which he hoped she’d choose but a night to rethink his strategy wouldn’t be a bad thing.