She hesitated for a moment, and then something sparked in her eyes. ‘Actually, I’d like a beer,’ she said firmly. ‘From the bottle. Don’t bother with a glass.’

Hiding his surprise, Ryan took a bottle of ice-cold beer from the cooler and handed it to her. Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought. She certainly didn’t strike him as a woman who drank beer from a bottle.

‘Thanks. Cheers.’ Her grin was that of a defiant child, and she took a large mouthful and proceeded to spill half of it down her front. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’

Struggling to keep a straight face, Ryan rescued her beer before she spilt the rest of it. ‘You haven’t done that before, have you?’

Pulling a face, she tugged her wet tee shirt away from her chest. ‘What a mess! Everyone is going to think I’m an alcoholic.’

‘Alcoholics generally manage to get the alcohol into their mouths, Jenna. I gather your husband was more of a wine in a glass sort of guy?’ Ryan put their drinks down on the table and grabbed a handful of paper napkins.

‘How do you know what my husband drank?’

‘It’s a wild guess, based on the fact you seem to be doing the opposite of everything you ever did with him.’ He pressed the napkins against the damp patch, feeling the swell of her breasts under his fingers.

‘Am I?’

‘You got yourself a dog, you’re drinking beer from the bottle for the first time in your life, you eat fish three times a week and you never used to eat fish—’ He could have added that she’d kissed a man who wasn’t her husband, but he decided it was better to leave that alone for now.

‘How do you know how often I eat fish?’

‘Hamish mentioned it.’

Her gasp was an astonished squeak. ‘The islanders discuss my diet?’

‘The islanders discuss everything. You should know that by now.’

‘In that case you should probably let me mop up my own wet tee shirt.’ She snatched the napkins from his hands, their fingers brushing. ‘If we’re trying to kill the gossip, I don’t think you should be doing that.’

‘Do you care about the gossip?’

‘I care about Lexi hearing the gossip.’

‘Ah—’ He noticed the pulse beating in her throat and knew she felt the attraction as strongly as he did. He retrieved his bottle from the table. ‘Can I get you something different to drink?’

‘Absolutely not.’ There was humour in her eyes. And determination. ‘I’m not a quitter. If you can drink from the bottle without dribbling, then so can I.’ She lifted the bottle carefully to her lips and this time didn’t spill a drop.

His body throbbing, Ryan stood close to her. ‘You were late. I thought you weren’t coming.’