“A little restaurant called Le Poisson. It’s a few islands over.” He led her to the waiting sedan and opened the door for her.
“How are we getting there?”
“I hired a private boat to take us. Come on. Our reservations won’t keep if we take too long.”
***
The boat ride was mostly silent, with a few comments on the weather. It was clear to him that Marjorie was nervous. That was fine with him. He’d get a few drinks in her at the restaurant and she’d loosen up. The silence allowed him to study her.
She’d been so happy and carefree on the beach, and even last night. Right now, she seemed like a different person, continually tugging the dress into place as the wind whipped past and the boat flew over the waves. Her profile was gorgeous, though, and he caught himself staring, fascinated. She turned and noticed him staring, and an overbright smile curved her mouth. “How about this weather, huh?”
“That’s the third time you’ve asked that in the last fifteen minutes.”
“Oh, is it?” She looked crestfallen. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He watched a lock of hair escape her ponytail and dance across her cheek. He wanted to touch it, but she’d probably be too skittish. “You don’t have to be nervous around me.”
She looked over at him and laughed, and for a moment, he had the uncomfortable feeling that she was going to say, But you’re Robert Cannon, billionaire and TV mogul and my one-way ticket to sugar-daddy-ville. Of course I’m nervous. But instead, she said, “Do you realize I haven’t been on a date in two years?”
His mouth curled into a reluctant smile. Of course Marjorie was exactly who she seemed. He was just nervous over nothing. “That so?”
Marjorie leaned in, tucking her arms close to her body. “Believe it or not, I don’t get asked out much.”
“Now, I choose not to believe that,” Rob said, but he felt a possessive streak of pleasure at her words.
“I’m afraid it’s true,” she said with an expressive sigh. “You’re the first man with enough courage to ask me out in a long, long time.”
He snorted, enjoying the banter. “There’s no courage involved in asking a pretty girl out.”
“There is if she can beat you in basketball,” Marjorie teased.
“I find that hard to believe,” he scoffed. Why was she putting herself down? So she was tall? He dated models all the time and they were tall. Maybe not as tall as her, but who cared? He didn’t. “I play a mean round of hoops.”
“Do you?” She looked interested. “I played in high school until some of the parents got upset. We weren’t a big enough school for co-ed teams, so I played with the boys. I was pretty good, though, when I did play. At least, I was once I figured out the secret advantage.”
“Secret advantage?”
“Boobs. Seems the boys were afraid to guard me once I grew boobs.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
Her smile was pleased, easy now. “It’s true. They didn’t know where to grab me and so I could make it all the way down the court in no time. Why do you think the parents wrote and complained?”
“Because they were shi— er, not nice people?” Damn. He probably shouldn’t cuss around her. She was a sheltered virgin, right? So his normal foul-mouthed conversation was probably a no-go. He eyed the cleavage she was currently trying to tug her clothing over. The night was a windy one, and her nipples were visible through the thin fabric.
And if he was going to be a gentleman, he wasn’t going to stare at them, goddamn it. Not matter how much he wanted to reach over and touch them.
“Well, that, too.” Marjorie said, drawing his attention back to the conversation. He forced himself to meet her gaze, and couldn’t remember exactly what they were talking about. She glanced around as the boat sped through the dark waters and hunched over a little, crossing her arms over her breasts.
“You cold?” He moved to take his jacket off and offer it to her.
“Not cold.”
He studied her, trying not to look down at those enticing and too-obvious breasts. “You sure? You seem . . . uncomfortable.”
She gave him a shy smile. “I’m not dressed all that nice for a dinner date. Not like you.” She licked her lips nervously as she studied his suit, and he wanted to taste that darting tongue. “I didn’t bring anything dressy to the island.”
“You look fine. Don’t worry about it.” It was he that should be feeling all out of sorts. He was in a goddamn suit. With goddamn cufflinks, for chrissakes. But he’d dressed up for his date with Marjorie, sure that she wouldn’t want to go out with a guy who tended to wear a slobby t-shirt and jeans to four-star restaurants. Right now he felt a bit like a fucking show pony. Which was a bit ironic, considering that Marjorie practically had her tits hanging out of her dress.
Not that he was complaining about that part. It just didn’t seem . . . virginal. That’s all.
Then again, in his line of work, he didn’t exactly fall over a lot of virgins. Maybe this was just how they all dressed nowadays.
She glanced around as if seeking something to talk about, then looked back at him. Her eyes were full of amusement. “This boat must have been expensive to charter just for two people.”
“Maybe it was.” He had no idea. He didn’t really look at price tags anymore.
“You know you didn’t have to get this just to impress me. I would have been just as happy eating dinner at one of the resort restaurants.”