Secret Fantasy. Carly Phillips

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.

      She sighed. “Much as I hate to say this, I think turning in would be best.”

      Disappointment warred with relief. “I understand.”

      After they collected and deposited their paper goods and garbage, she turned toward him. “I really enjoyed tonight.”

      “Me too. But until I walk you to your door, it’s not over.” He wasn’t ready to let her go yet and hoping for a glimmer of information wasn’t the only reason.

      “You don’t need to do that. But I’d like it if you would.”

      And he’d like to take a jump into the cool ocean water. Walking her to her secluded cottage door, he felt more like a kid on his first date than an experienced reporter out to get a story. But Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither would he get what he needed tonight.

      “Well, we’re here.” She turned around, her back against the door, palms braced behind her.

      From the gleam in her eye he wouldn’t get a fast escape and a quick good-night. From his body’s response to this woman, he didn’t want one.