Full Surrender

“Sure.” She nodded, hypnotized by the sight of him after so long. With the partial change of clothes, he looked more like she remembered already, except perhaps for his clean-shaven face. When they’d met, he’d worn a dark soul patch trimmed beneath his lower lip and the shadow of short hair at his chin.

She still remembered exactly what that scruff of bristles felt like against her when he kissed her. What would he feel like now?

“Good.” Rising, he pressed the old-fashioned lock on the door. “You should keep the doors locked even though this is a good neighborhood, okay? I’ll be right back.”

She tried not to think about that small protective gesture as he slammed the door shut and jogged up the back steps of a dockside restaurant. The day had started off so well. She didn’t want to lose the pleasantly flirtatious vibe by remembering the time she hadn’t been behind a locked door and a man had grabbed her right off the street, yanking a bag over her head....

Panicking, she rolled down the window for fresh summer air. Claustrophobia was more of a problem right now than the likelihood of getting kidnapped two blocks away from a huge U.S. military installation. She dragged in deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She refused to end up like her mom—perpetually nervous about everything. And, thinking of her mother’s constant worries, Stephanie checked her cell phone to make sure it was off. Phone calls from a nervous parent were not welcome when she was trying to seduce a man.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called from nearby, sooner than she expected. “Are you okay?”

She watched Danny descend the wooden steps, his white trousers in hand now that he wore a pair of faded khakis that conformed to muscular thighs. He also carried a couple of huge take-out bags, one of which was topped with three baguettes that stuck out of the paper sack. Hauling in one more deep drag of the salty sea breeze off the harbor, Stephanie wiped a little sweat from her forehead and gave him a thumbs-up.

“I’m good to go,” she called back, not wanting to ruin this reunion   with stupid stuff from the past that did not rule her life anymore. “And I’m dying for a ride in this baby.”

She patted the side of the Gran Torino through her window. Then, recalling he was still locked out, she leaned over and popped the door on his side.

“Fair enough.” He slid in beside her, tossing the take-out bags and his extra pair of pants in the backseat. Then he dropped a set of dog tags into the console with a bunch of coins. “But will you be disappointed if we eat lunch at my place?” He started the engine and then jerked a thumb toward the bags of food. “I’ve had an order in at this place for six months and I hate to miss out on homemade manicotti.”

By now, the scent of basil-laden tomato sauce wafted her way. She peered back at the huge bags and frowned.

“I don’t know. Are you sure there’s going to be enough food for me in there?”

He laughed and the sound soothed her like a hug. The last of her claustrophobia disappeared, carried away by the warm breeze drifting through the windows as they drove past pawn shops and pizza joints toward the main road.

“Jerry packed enough grub to feed six people, which should be about right for the two of us.”

He cranked the radio and lowered his window. She realized the song playing was one his band used to cover, a ballad with hard-core guitar harmonies and a screechy lead vocal. For a moment, the years rolled away, a weight lifting from her chest. It had been easy to be with him five years ago, too. He could be charming when he wanted, but more often he was quiet. She’d liked that about him because she was the same way with a public personality and a private one. And both sides of her had felt comfortable around Danny.

She lifted her voice to sing along while he drove. On a quiet stretch of access road before they met the highway, he stuck his head all the way out the window, letting the wind whip through his hair. She was tempted to copy him, it looked so fun. When he ducked back into the car, his dark hair stood straight up in the center, as though he’d been through a wind tunnel.

They took turns singing on the way home, maybe because it was easier than talking. Sometimes that public party persona was simpler to deal with than the moodier private one. But she half dreaded asking him to have a fling. Something told her he wasn’t going to jump in with both feet the way he had five years ago. He struck her as more serious now, for one thing. She’d seen it in that powerful stride when he’d walked down the boat ramp, felt it in the way he’d tensed when she’d flirted with him.

Half an hour later, they were on the far side of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, rumbling over coastal roads. They passed a sign welcoming them to Cape Charles.