Page 52 of Sucker For You

He’d asked to kiss her.

Then she’d kissed him back.

Likethat.

To avoid reaching for her again, seeking that rough heat and fierce sweetness (not immediately anyhow, not without justification,this isn’t real), he grabbed at his camera a second time. Passing the Nikon back to her, he told them both, “This go-around, with a flash.”

Her fingers falling from her mouth were uncertain on the equipment. After a swallow and a slow exhale, however, she nodded and positioned the lens. “Y-yes, right.”

“Ready?”

He bent to kiss her. Briefly. He wouldn’t focus on the angle of her lips and the feathering of her breath. He’d concentrateinstead on the angle of his camera in her hands, on the feathering of sunlight across the lens.

And:yes.

The glancing pressure of their mouths lasted no more than a moment.

Then her thumb depressed and captured their image; he retreated. He occupied himself with snapping the lens cap back into place, with adjusting the hang of his rash guard over his trunks and. . .otherequipment.

Enough, it was; it had to be.

“Hey, want me to take your photo?”

They turned together, elbows knocking, somehow still breathless despite the brevity of this completely—strictly—painfully—functional kiss. A woman in a baseball cap and a familiar otter sweatshirt waved her phone, smiling at them. Clearly, she thought she was helping. But Isabel tensed. She stepped back onto their bag of sea snails, retreating into the shelter of Wes’s arm. Which was good. Except that she declined assistance from the tourist.

“N-no. No, thank you.”

“You sure? You’re real cute, cuddled up like this.”

Isabel scooted away from him.

“No, but thanks anyway,” he said, swearing to himself.

The woman ambled off to aim her phone at a lump of sea lions hauled out and barking under the wharf near Rockfish Harbor Grill.

As if walking away from Isabel were that easy.

Isabel, who was staring at the guano-flecked planks, her lower lip snagged in her teeth.

“Hey.” He crouched to retrieve their squashed market bags. He cleared his throat of silent curses and forced a laugh. “Wefinally got our photo. Was that so bad, being in charge?”

“Bad?” Maybe unconsciously, her thumb brushed her mouth. “Um. No. No, not bad, but. . .”

But.

Why the hell did he need to clear his throat again? “Good.”

“Yes—and I. . . I’ve been thinking.” Now her words came fast, her earlier hesitation gone. Her hand fell and made a fist. Her shy chin lifted. “I’ve decided what to do. About the—guest. I’ll sign up to volunteer at the Monterey Oceanic Research Institute. I’ll investigate what’s happening to the lab’s cephalopods.Whois—and then I’ll see if I can—”

Quick, rambling sentences.

At least he hoped she was rambling. Could she maybe be just alittleillogical, a little thoughtless right now? Despite the sucker marks darkening on his wrist under the sunshine, he hadn’t been thinking about their octopus. He hadn’t been thinking about anything except how much he wanted to kiss Isabel again. How he should have been quicker to accept the tourist’s offer.

Damn it.

Even if she was completely in control of her faculties, though, it was fine.

Right?