“I have a confession.” She licked her lip to get every last drop, also an old habit, though it hadn’t used to make him hard.

“A confession?” he asked, his gaze locked on her wet tongue as it darted back into her mouth.

“Uh huh. And I’ll tell you what it is if you give me a secret back.”

“You first,” he said warily.

Her eyes held his prisoner. She spoke very solemnly. “I missed the beach.”

He stared at her. “That’s it? Your big confession? You missed the beach?”

“Yes.” Another torturous lick of her cone. “Now you.”

“Oh, no. That’s not good enough.”

She took yet another slow noisy lick of her yogurt, which made his eyes cross. “Okay, I’ll give you another,” she said. “Ready?”

Expecting another statement like “I missed the beach,” he relaxed. Even smiled. “Hit me.”

“I missed you. More than I missed the beach.”

He went still, then forced a smile. “Yeah, I noticed how much you missed me. All those letters cluttering up my mailbox.”

She dug her bare toes into the sand. Her crystal toe ring sparkled. “I wanted to write you. I must have started a hundred letters. Last year when I came home for Christmas, I even looked you up. I drove by your place. I didn’t expect it to be a sailboat in Mission Bay. It’s lovely.”

“I take care of it for the owner, who’s a fire chief in Los Angeles. Why didn’t you stop and see me?”

“Nope, that’s enough of me. Your turn now. A secret, Joe.”

He stared out at the five-footers and gave her his deepest, darkest one. “I lied when I said I never thought about you.”

She smiled, warm and bright, as if he’d just given her a gift.

“Want to know the truth about why I never came to see you?” she asked. “I was afraid.”

“Of me?”

“Afraid we’d never find our way back to the way things were.” She lifted her head and pierced him with those jade eyes he’d never been able to resist. “Can we?” she whispered.

“I never look back.” He took another sip of his shake, then handed it to her. “Trade.”

She did but held on to his wrist before he turned away. “Joe.”

She wanted a better answer, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to share it. But he’d never been able to hold back with her. “I never look back because there’s not much for me there.” Except you. “I live for the here and now, Red. It’s good. It works for me.”

“Like last night. Last night worked for you.”

“Last night was…”

“Good,” she said softly.

More than, he thought, and since she’d wanted a confession, he offered a doozy. “One night wasn’t enough for me.”

Her smile slowly faded. “No?”