Sitting at the table while she organized her groceries, Gary stole a glance at her shapely calves and couldn’t help asking, “Do you work out?” Having already seen the definition in her arms, he knew what her answer must be.
“Three days a week,” she said, scrunching her shoulders. “I read one time you should get cardio exercise three days a week to keep your heart healthy.”
“That’s good,” he answered, sincerely.
“Should I be exercising every day?”
She stashed her refrigerator items away, but left the yogurt and raspberries on the counter. As she searched the cupboards and retrieved a bowl, he took a more leisurely appraisal of her exposed muscles.
“From the look of things, I’d say you’re doing just fine.”
He caught a glimpse of flushed cheeks when she turned to open a drawer and grab a spoon.
Her eyes darted his direction. “That was a sincere question about my health, not an invitation to ogle.”
“I’m a professional—I don’t ogle,” he said, careful to make eye contact as she took a seat on the opposite side of the table. “I make assessments, based on visual changes in the outer body.”
One doubtful eyebrow arched. “Is that so?”
With a grin battling at the corners of his mouth, he cleared his throat. “So… how do you like your cottage?”
“It’s cute, what I’ve seen of it so far.” She dipped her spoon in the bowl of yogurt, carefully including a raspberry in her bite.
“Steven and I are in the yellow cottage down the beach. It only has two bedrooms, or you could’ve stayed with us. This pink one is supposed to be the honeymoon cottage.”
“I can see where this would be a romantic place to spend a honeymoon. It’s private, and the view of the beach is gorgeous.”
“And there’s so much to do here,” he added. “Not that you’d need a lot of outdoor activities if you were here on your honeymoon.”
Her face pinked up again, an entertaining event which was fast becoming his goal. With her eyes fixed on her bowl, she said, “What are you and Steven planning for the rest of the day?”
“We’re planning to hit the beach after lunch. We’ll spend the afternoon surfing.” He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a cluster of grapes from the fruit drawer. “We rented a board for you, too.”
She choked, eyes tearing up as she coughed. He hurried to grab her water glass from the counter and hand it to her. After a few swallows, she set the glass down with enough force to make some of the water splash out.
“I’m not getting on a surfboard,” she said, “so you can just return that thing and get your money back.”
He grinned, sitting back down to rest his elbows on the table, while congratulating himself for keeping her face flushed. “Tell Steven. He’s the one who insisted you needed your own surfboard.”
“You can tell Mr. Gherring he’ll never get me in the ocean.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Under any circumstances.” She pursed her lips, studying his face, as if she was trying to figure out his angle.
“Under any circumstances,” he repeated.
“Not to swim, not to sail, not to surf.”
“Not for any reason.” He punctuated with a sharp nod.
“Because there are sharks in the ocean and other things that bite.”
“Ravenous ocean creatures.”
He winked at Katie, and she stood up, leaning forward with both hands on the table. If she weren’t so cute, he would’ve called it looming.
“I mean it.”