Better safe, she reminded herself, than stupid.

“Why don’t I take you to dinner tomorrow?” Skillfully, he slid a hand up her spine, back down to her waist. “There’s a nice place right in town. Terrific view of the Bay, best seafood on the Shore. We can have a conversation in normal tones, and you can tell me the story of your life.”

His lips had brushed her ear, sending a shocking ripple of reaction down to her toes. She should have known, she thought, that anyone who looked like he did would be damn good at sexual maneuvers.

“I’ll think about it,” she murmured and, deciding to give as good as she got, skimmed her fingertips over the back of his neck. “And let you know.”

When the song ended, and the next picked up on a blast of sound and speed, she eased away. “I have to go.”

“What?” He leaned down so she could shout in his ear.

“I have to go. Thanks for the dance.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Back at the table, he pulled out some bills while she gathered her things. The first step outside into the cool and quiet air made her laugh. “Well, that was an experience. Thank you for adding to it.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it. It’s not very late,” he added, taking her hand.

“Late enough.” She pulled out the keys to her car.

“Come by the boatyard tomorrow. I’ll show you around.”

“I might just do that. Good night, Phillip.”

“Sybill.” He didn’t bother to resist, simply brought her hand to his lips. Over their joined fingers, his eyes locked with hers. “I’m glad you picked St. Chris.”

“So am I.”

She slipped into her car, relieved that she had to concentrate on the task of switching on the lights, releasing the brake, starting the engine. Driving wasn’t second nature to a woman who had depended on public transportation or private car services most of her life.

She focused on reversing, on putting the car in drive to make the turn onto the road. And she firmly ignored the faint echo of pressure on her knuckles where his lips had touched.

But she didn’t quite resist glancing in the rearview mirror and taking one last look at him before she drove away.

Phillip decided that going back into Shiney’s would be absurdly anticlimactic. He thought about her as he drove home, the way her eyebrows arched when she made a point or enjoyed a comment. That subtle and intimate scent she wore that told a man that if he’d gotten close enough to catch a whiff, maybe, just maybe, he’d have a chance to get closer.

He told himself she was the perfect woman for him to invest some time in getting closer to. She was beautiful; she was smart; she was cultured and sophisticated.

And just sexy enough to make his hormones stand at attention.

He liked women, and missed having time for conversations with them. Not that he didn’t enjoy talking with Anna and Grace. But let’s face it, it wasn’t quite the same as talking with a woman when you could also fantasize about taking her to bed.