“Thanks.” She held her arms out to the side. “I splurged.”

“In all the right places. Let me cart that for you.” He slipped the shopping bag out of her hand.

“I need to take it home, and see to some things.”

“I can walk in that direction for a bit. I was hoping to see you around today. I heard you’ve been busy, delivering potato salad all over the island.”

“I must’ve made twenty gallons of it, and enough fried chicken to deplete the poultry population for the next three months.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve got any left.”

Her dimples winked. “I might.”

“It’s been hard to find time to eat—traffic control, beach patrol. I had to sit on a couple of kids who thought it’d be fun to toss firecrackers in trash cans and watch them blow up. I’ve confiscated enough firecrackers, roman candles, and bottle rockets to start my own insurrection. And all that on two hot dogs.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“No, it doesn’t. I spotted a couple of your box lunches. Looked to me like there was apple pie in there.”

“You have good vision. I could probably hunt up a few drumsticks, scrape together a pint of potato salad. I might even be able to manage a slab of apple pie and donate it to a hardworking public servant.”

“Might even be tax deductible. I’ve got to supervise the fireworks display.” He stopped at the end of the street. “We usually get it started right around nine.” He set her shopping bag down to run his hands up her bare arms. “Things start thinning out around nine-thirty, nine-forty-five. I lost the toss with Ripley, so I’ve got to take the last patrol, cruise around the island to make sure nobody’s set their house on fire. Maybe you’d like to take a drive.”

“I might.”

His fingers danced up and down her back. “Do me a favor? Put your hands on my shoulders. I’d like you to have a grip on me when I kiss you this time.”

“Zack—” She took two careful breaths. “I’d like you to have a grip on me this time, too.”

He wrapped his arms around her. She circled his neck. For a moment they stood, lips a breath apart while her system shivered with anticipation.

Mouths brushed, retreated, brushed again. It was she who moaned, she who crushed her lips to his on a hot spurt of hunger.

She hadn’t let herself want. Even when he’d stirred those dormant needs to life, she’d been careful not to want. Until now.

She wanted the strength of him, the press of that hard, male body. She wanted the ripe flavor of him and the heat.