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Seriousness fills her features as she tenses. “Okay. I’m listening.”

I scrub my hands over my face, not believing I’m about to say this. When I open my eyes, I say, “I’m not going to have sex with you, Natalie. I’m not using reverse psychology or asking anything of you. There are no ulterior motives. I’m simply enjoying your company enough to want to take sex off the table so we can continue this good time.”

“And here I thought sex on a tablewasa good time.” She’s going to kill me one sexual comment at a time. Her laughter dissipates, and she looks toward the window, trying to straighten the line of her mouth. She can’t and starts laughing again. When her eyes land back on me, she adds, “I appreciate what you’re saying. I suddenly sound like a nymphomaniac. Believe it or not, I don’t sleep with every date. I haven’t slept with a lot of men, in general, but there was just something meeting you the way I did, well . . . I hate getting emotional. That’s the tequila again.”

“Rum.”

“Yes, rum.” She sits back on the bed and crawls up toward the headboard. Resting back, she asks, “Is it wrong I want to kick your ass in backgammon?”

Although she’s distracting from one topic—an important one at that—her honesty is as refreshing as her personality. “Nothing like a bit of healthy competition.” I chuckle and start pouring drinks. I know I need a stiff one after that discussion.

“By the way, if you’re trying to woo me, you’re doing a stellar job. I’m wooed.”

Laughter bounces between us, and I wonder if Iamwooing her. I don’t normally woo any woman. I don’t have to, but Natalie deserves it. From the things she’s said, it’s clear that she’s been hurt in the past. But she’s strong, trying to hide any vulnerability, and I’m inclined to show her that a good time with a man doesn’t have to be tied to how the night ends.

Whether this turns into more than a game of backgammon, though, remains to be seen. Either way, I get to spend my night with a beautiful woman, away from the noise of a crowded boat.It doesn’t really get any better than this.

7

Natalie

How doesNick make a pip sound sexy?

He opens his mouth and speaks. That’s how. Everything he says, from cocked dice to the lover’s leap, has me on the verge of spontaneously combusting. Don’t even get me started on the beavers. I agreed to that before we started the first game and still have no idea what it means. But I sure do love hearing him say it.

Beavers.

Beavers.

Beavers.

“Two out of three,” he says, bearing his last checker and politely not throwing his victory in my face. My brother totally would.

I fall back on the bed, arms draped above my head, and give him the credit he deserves. “Congrats on the win.” I’m not a sore loser. This was only about the second or third time I’ve played in my life. I don’t even know where the suggestion to play backgammon came from, but I’m glad it appeared. I haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, especially over what my grandmother would call old-fashioned fun.

I catch his eyes skimming my body just before he clears his throat and gets up from the bed. “I should check my phone.”

Secretly, I wish he wouldn’t.

In the past two hours, I’ve decided that as much as I thought this had all the makings of a memorable one-night stand, I’m glad we didn’t come back here and fall into bed. Well, we did fall into bed, but I’m glad we didn’t have sex. We’ve kept it light with superficial stuff, not wanting to bog our night down with details that won’t matter come morning. Hanging out and just getting to know him has been fun.

As for making out, that’s a whole other story. Surely, it’s not normal to want to kiss someone and have them return it, I might add, so badly. When I’m not caught up in the game and how to play, I’m caught up in the memory of those plush lips, the scratch of his scruff against my skin, and the undeniable rise in temperature between us when I unsuccessfully kissed him in the lobby.

The rejection stung worse than a wasp, but there was no ill intent found in his expression. I believe him. As for that foreplay? Theoretically, it’s not breaking any laws—or embargos—if we make out before we know each other’s last names.

Attempting my best Lois Lane, I stretch, flirting with the Clark Kent version of Nick as he stares at his phone. All night, I thought he’d make a move, but he’s got the willpower of Superman.Damn it.

Becoming a limp lump on the mattress when my flirtations don’t get his attention, I briefly give in to my heavy lids and close them. No, I cannot fall asleep here even though my body has decided otherwise. It’s been a long day, what can I say? Well, I can say a lot to Tatum for blowing me off and leaving me stranded, but since I’m a good friend and don’t mind the current view, I let it go . . . until later, of course, when she’ll hear all about it.

In an effort to stay awake, I ask, “Anything interesting?”

“No,” he replies, grinning to himself and sounding relieved if I’m reading him correctly. When he catches me staring, he adds, “Is it wrong to want more time with you?”

Now I’m the one with the foolish grin. “You’re such a charmer.”

“Like in backgammon, sometimes I win, and sometimes I lose.” It’s good to hear he might be having similar struggles.

Wanting to tease, I straighten my mouth for the sake of the play. “I have to be honest, Nick.” I prop myself up, leaning back on my hands nonchalantly. “I might not be your best idea. You might have had a chance two hours ago, but now, I’m fading. I won’t stop you from the pursuit, but you’ve been warned.”