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staring at her. "What is it?"
"Nothing." But his mouth was dry again. "I was, ah, remembering that I
once wondered whether you ever got to go to McDonald's. The first time
I met you, 'at the rehearsal? Dad took me for a burger after and I
wondered, with all the guards, if you ever got to go."
"No, not really, but Dad or Johnno or someone would sometimes bring
takeout. Don't feel sorry for me." She groped in the bag again. "Not
today."
"Okay. Hand over the fries."
They ate hungrily, leaving not even a crumb for the gulls. The breeze
was up, carrying a mist of the sea. There were other people, a few
families, young girls showing off tans and slender figures, the
inevitable radios pumping out music, but for Emma it was one of the most
peaceful and secluded interludes of her life.
"I could get used to this." She sighed, stretched her arms up. "Sitting
on the beach, listening to the water." She shook her head so that her
hair rained like gold dust down her back. "I wish I had more time."
"So do I." He had to touch her. He couldn't remember not wanting to.
When he stroked a finger down her cheek, she turned her head and smiled.
What she saw in his eyes had her heart pounding in her throat, had her
lips parting, not so much in surprise as in question.
She didn't resist as he touched his mouth to hers. On a quiet moan she
s.h.i.+fted toward him, inviting something she didn't completely understand.
A gentle nip of his teeth had her lips heating. When he entered her
mouth, she heard the low sound of pleasure in his throat, felt his hands
tense on her arms.
Without hesitation, she pressed her body to his and absorbed the
sensation.
Would he have believed that it was the first time she'd been kissed,
like this? The first time she felt like this? Warm, liquid, achingly
sweet desire swam into her. Had she been waiting for this? Even as she
wondered, her lashes lowered to help her seal the memory.
"You do," he murmured, and kissed her again, gently, because it seemed
the right way.
"Do what?"
"Taste as good as you look. I've wondered for a long time."
She had to swallow, had to draw back. There were feelings growing
inside her she didn't know what to do with. They were too big, and came
too fast. "It's the salt." Confused, she rose and stepped closer to the
sea.
It was easy for a man to mistake confusion for casualness. He sat where
he was, giving himself time. He had no casual feelings for her. Stupid
as it might have sounded, he was in love. She was beautiful, elegant,
and certainly accustomed to being wanted by men. Rich and important
men. And he was a rookie cop from a middle-cla.s.s family. He let out a
long breath, rose, and tried to be as offhand as she.
"It's getting late."
"Yes." Was she crazy? Emma wondered. She wanted to cry and laugh and
dance and mourn all at once. She wanted to turn to him, but tomorrow
she would be three thousand miles away. He was only being kind. She
