“Hold that thought,” she said, inching her face even closer to him, her lips aimed at his. He watched her with those dark, intriguing eyes that appeared to shimmer with invitation. He leaned in and met her the rest of the way.

Then they kissed.

It was neither anxious nor cautious but somewhere in between. Curiosity. Expectation. Adventure. Excitement. Like a jump off a dizzying ledge into a sparkling blue sea. They came up for air, then went under again.

And again.

Rose couldn’t remember his question. Only the answer, and it was the right one.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

The harbor front was a longish bus ride away because Rose’s mom lived outside the city. A short distance by map, but the route incorporated several bizarre detours that made the journey a bit of trek. Luckily, Bellamy was quite the conversationalist. After their passionate embrace in the streets, he seemed to open up and brighten like a newly formed flower. His attitude was infectious.

He told her fascinating stories about some of the people he'd met in his line of work. They always seemed to be elderly people, mostly, which fit her assumption that he was some kind of high-end financial adviser for wills and estates. But he'd clearly gotten to know his clients very well, even intimately, which struck her as unusual for someone in that profession. He was also way too young to have seen so much, met so many people, and to have been married “a long time ago”.

Rose warmed to his enthusiasm, though. The closer they got to the water, the more animated he became, swiveling this way and that to snatch glimpses of the harbor through the gaps between buildings and trees, or telling her repeatedly how much he'd missed the sounds of sailing.

This was his element. It was obvious before they got to the farmer’s market by the pier, and it was written all over him as he cast their rowboat's rope off the wooden dock (refusing the rental guy's offer to help) and hopped aboard, instantly finding his sea legs as he settled the little boat's violent rocking caused by Rose's oh so graceful slide off her seat and onto her butt, damn near tearing an oar out of its fixture. Even after her relentless cursing, which would out-salt any sailor's, didn't dampen the moment for him. Bellamy gently lifted Rose to her feet and made her comfortable. Then he grinned like a little kid as he took the oars and steered the boat out with strokes as natural as any she'd ever seen. His muscles pulling tightly underneath his blue polo shirt. She couldn’t help but stare.