“Because you were in the bed.”
Given that they’d spent half the night locked together it seemed like flawed logic to him.
“The bed was big enough for both of us. I didn’t intend to kick you out. You’ve made me feel guilty.”
“Why would you feel guilty over something that was my decision?” She walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge and poured herself a long glass of ice water.
Sean wondered whether pouring it over himself would solve his problem.
The tension in the atmosphere was enough to give a person heatstroke.
His pulse was thrumming. He was hard as rock. He wanted to power her back against the kitchen counter and remove those shorts. He wanted to spread her legs, taste her, bury himself in her. He wanted to feel her bite down on his lip, feel her tongue in his mouth and her hands on his skin. He wanted to feel the fire again, be burned up by it. But he also wanted to see her laugh, see that dimple, listen to her spill secrets and feel the rush that came from knowing she’d begun to trust him at least a little bit. That he was the one who had broken through those barriers. He wanted to protect her and reassure her that not all men were like Pascal. He wanted to tell her that they were good together.
But how could he do that?
When had he ever been anything but bad news for any woman?
His history was littered with relationships that had ended. When the hospital called, when his patients needed him, he dropped everything and he wasn’t prepared to change that. He wasn’t prepared to make the sacrifice that needed to be made for a relationship to work.
So why was he still standing here?
Apparently unaware of his turmoil, Élise drank deeply, rinsed the glass and put it down. Cool. Calm. “I have to shower and then get over to the restaurant. Thanks for a lovely evening, Sean. It was fun.”
Fun? That was it? That was all she was going to say?
It was like trying to open a door with a key you’d used and suddenly that same key didn’t fit.
And what had the evening been to him? He’d invited her on impulse but not once in the hours they’d spent together had that impulse felt like a mistake. They were friends, that was all. What was wrong with friends spending time together?
“I know you’re scared—”
“I’m not scared. Why would I be scared? We’re not in a relationship. We both know this was just sex. Admittedly sex in a bed for a change—” she smiled “—but still just sex. You’re worrying for no reason. Have a good week, Sean. Perhaps I’ll see you at family night.”
* * *
“THE TOMATOES ARE wonderful this year.” Élise picked one from the vine, sniffed, and put it in the basket on her arm. “We’ll put them on the menu at the Inn tonight. It’s a shame the season is so short.”
“Thank goodness for Tom Anderson and his greenhouses.”
“Oui.” Élise glanced at Elizabeth, wondering how much she dare ask. “He is a very nice man, I think, Tom. And it was kind of him to find the time to help out in our garden this summer. You have known him a long time?”
“He and his wife used to come here for dinner on their anniversary. She died about eight years ago. It’s been a lonely time for him. Of course, the local community here is wonderful, but it isn’t the same as having that one special someone. I’m sure that’s why he has been spendin
g so much time growing his vegetables.”
“We must support him.” Élise picked another tomato, hoping her instinct hadn’t been wrong. “If the Boathouse stays as busy as this, we should be able to double our order for salad and vegetables.”
Elizabeth looked pleased. “I’ll mention it next time he’s here. Oh, look—the flat leaf parsley is looking good, and the mint. Shall we put tabouleh on the menu this week?” She picked a sprig and sniffed. “Michael always preferred the winter because of the snow, but I love summer in Vermont.”
“I love summer, too. And yes to tabouleh. Good idea.”
“So how was dinner with Sean?”
“The surroundings were lovely. The food was good. The wine, delicious.”
“And the company?”
Her heart skipped in her chest. “The company was good, too, of course. Sean is always entertaining.”