In minutes they were at a tiny table, both with an iced tea and a plate of tacos in front of them. The lightly breaded white fish smelled delicious and tasted even better cocooned in a small warm corn tortilla and garnished with cabbage, grated cheddar cheese, a spoonful of tart white sauce and a squeeze of lime.
He held one taco high. “The young goose is a good swimmer,” he said, like a blessing, then ate it in three big bites. An appreciative moan followed.
Smiling, Skye tilted her head at him. “Better now?”
“Almost.” Round two went down as quickly as round one.
Her eyes widened as she lifted her first to her mouth. “Until now, I don’t think I had an accurate understanding of the depths of your appetite.”
He glanced up. “You didn’t get a hint last night?”
Skye stilled, remembering the hot look in his eye when he’d fed her ice cream. But surely that had been her imagination—if not projection. Still, her hand twitched, and her taco dropped back to her plate, its contents scattering. Glad for the distraction, she bent her head and busied herself scooping the ingredients back inside the tortilla.
“Maybe we should talk about it,” Gage said, his voice low.
Embarrassment burned up her neck toward her face. Did he mean... Did he suspect... Her brain stumbled over uncomfortable thoughts. When he’d left her house the night before, she’d hoped he’d not noticed the effect he had on her.
The way he was still affecting her.
“Skye?”
She still didn’t want to look at him. But she did, faking a puzzled expression. “Discuss? There’s nothing to discuss.”
And to her relief, he let it go. She didn’t want to squirm through any conversation he’d want to have about her misplaced interest. In her sloppy clothes and scrubbed face, they both knew she wasn’t Gage Gorge material. No need to make them both uncomfortable by spelling it out.
After lunch, they returned to Crescent Cove. Skye pulled into the driveway behind her beach house. The ride back had been silent and, on her side, filled with awkwardness. Gage, however, remained an enigma. For all she knew, he stayed quiet because he was tired, or bored or thinking of that woman whose number he had in his pocket.
“We have to talk about the attraction,” he suddenly said.
Startled, Skye whipped her head toward him. “Huh?”
“Don’t think I didn’t realize.” He pinned her with those bright turquoise eyes.
Damn. She supposed the notion of fooling him had been a pipe dream. An experienced man like Gage would know when a woman was...was drawn to him.
“It was there in the room with us last night, big as life, and I’d like to get past it, Skye. It’s not—”
“Don’t say anything more!” Clearly it was not a feeling he reciprocated. Who could blame him? She knew what she looked like—colorless and camouflaged in baggy clothes. That’s the way she wanted to be, needed to be. Still, the whole situation stung her pride.
Gage cleared his throat. “I’m only trying to say that I—”
“Have really been out of touch for too long. Or your head has been turned by the attention you’ve received since you got back.”
“What?”
She gathered her self-respect around her like a cloak. “Not every woman in the world falls for you, you know.”
“Skye—”
“Your ego is overinflated, Gage. I wouldn’t be so foolish as to...to want you. There’s no way that a woman who looks like this—” she indicated her sweatshirt and wrinkled pants “—would imagine herself with a man like you.”
And on that undignified note, she dashed from the car.
* * *
GAGE TRIED LIGHTENING his expression as he turned toward his sister-in-law-to-be. The scowl he erased was more commonly found on his twin, who had always been the deeper, moodier of the two—at least until Griff had found his Jane. “Wedding stuff going okay?” he asked politely, wrapping his fingers around his beer.
Griffin laughed at him from across the table on Captain Crow’s deck. “Yeah, you’re so interested in the details.”
The couple had arrived at Beach House No. 9 an hour ago to take measurements for...something. Okay, Gage had tuned out the particulars, and only tuned back in when they’d suggested a happy-hour visit to the bar up the beach. His mind had been occupied by other things.
Reaching over, Jane squeezed his hand. “Don’t mind him. Wedding stuff’s going fine. Tell us about your day. What did you do?”
Gage shrugged. “Went shopping with Skye.”
“Oh,” Jane said, her forehead creasing. “You’re spending time with her, then?”
“Some.” Though today’s excursion might be the last occasion. Damn woman made him and his ego both feel like asses for his attempt at discussing that little tug running between them. Had he been wrong about the reciprocal sizzle? He thought not, and if so, then he hadn’t been wrong to address it.
Skye was his lodestar and his talisman, and he didn’t want to compromise those by infusing sex into their friendly, caring relationship.
Except, he reminded himself, feeling another scowl coming on, she didn’t seem to care for him all that much. Tipping back his head, he took another sip of beer. His gaze landed on a pretty girl sitting alone at a table not far away. Their gazes met, and a small smile curled the corners of her lips.
He liked her light brown hair, lifted from her neck in one of those messy updos.
He liked her V-necked blouse that was low enough to reveal a hint of cleavage.
He liked the fact that she seemed to like him back, so different from the prickly woman who’d practically stormed from her car after making clear she considered him an arrogant so-and-so.
Why was she his lodestar again?
What he needed, much more than that, was a sex star. Okay, it didn’t have to be nearly that stellar. He just needed someone with whom to blunt this horny edge. He acknowledged the pretty lady with a dip of his beer, grinning as her long eyelashes fluttered in a half bashful, half teasing manner.
Griffin groaned. “Get a room, bro.”
“Got a room,” Gage said, letting his gaze drift back to his brother. “Gotta get a woman now.”
“Well, have the decency to wait until Jane and I leave, okay?”
His brother’s fiancée had that little pucker between her brows again. “I thought you were, uh, spending time with Skye.”
“That was then.” Now he wanted to forget the annoying, infuriating, insulting female. Your ego is overinflated, Gage.
Jane’s frown deepened. “But, Skye—”
“Look, can we not talk about her?” If he had a chance of getting laid, he had to pretend she didn’t exist. The memory of her naked earlobes, her flower-water scent, the way her nose wrinkled when she used that god-awful phrase, the Gage Gorge, was attempting to interfere with the satiation of his very normal, natural, nothing-to-feel-ashamed-about needs. “I’m declaring this table, this whole night as a matter of fact, a Skye-free zone.”
Griffin and his woman exchanged glances Gage didn’t even try to interpret. Instead, he signaled the waitress for another beer and sent over a whatever-she’s-having to Updo. When his twin and Jane finished their drinks and made their goodbyes, he was