There’s a little mirror in the top drawer of my desk. I pull it out and walk across the hall to a tiny staff bathroom, and I turn on the light. When I meet my expression, even I can see how nervous and on edge I am.

No wonder Paul was so quick to agree to hold down the fort while I leave early.

I pull a small makeup bag out of my purse and make reparations. I can’t go on my first date reeking of fish with hair tangled enough to be the net it got caught in. I dab some light eyeshadow on and trace a line of eyeliner over it before I comb mascara over my already thick, dark eyelashes. A little accentuation never hurt anyone, did it?

I pull my hair out of its bun, and the tresses fall down to the middle of my back. I tug here and there as I try to create volume without any sort of product. The end result looks a bit flattering, nothing to write home about.

The man didn’t give me any time to prepare. This is what he gets.

I step back and get a look at the whole picture. I’m still in my blue dress and boots, and I wonder if our date will be outside. Even in cold weather, I never dress in warm clothing because the kitchen is always hot as hell. It’s not like I have to walk far to get to work, either, and I like to dress for summer all year round. Life is much more fun that way.

“Naomi! He’s here!”

My heart jumps at Katie’s voice, and I tuck my makeup bag and mirror into my purse, take one last look at myself, and then turn off the light. My boots clunk against the scuffed wooden floor as I reach the kitchen. Paul is hard at work searing some fish, but he looks up at me as I enter. His eyes widen almost imperceptivity, but I notice.

“You look nice,” he says. He’s never seen me outside of chef gear, much less with makeup on. I imagine it must come as a bit of a shock.

“Thanks,” I reply with a smile. That smile falters as another round of orders come in. “You sure you’re OK? I’m sure Ben will understand if I cancel. This is terrible timing.”

Paul shakes his head as he plates the food and moves on to another pan. “You need to enjoy yourself, Naomi. Trust me. I can handle this.”

I hesitate, unsure.

Katie rushes back, and when she sees me she lets out an exasperated breath. “Don’t tell me you’re going to hide in the kitchen all night! He looks great, and so do you. Go!”

She walks up and presses my back, pushing me toward the dining room. Before we can get there, she stops and tugs on my dress.

“Hold on,” she says, pulling me toward a large silver basin sink.

“Wash your hands, woman. You smell like the sea, and not in a good way.”

I laugh and turn on scalding hot water, pumping a dollop of lilac-scented soap on my hands and scrubbing them clean.

“Good catch, thanks,” I tell her.

She nods. “I got your back. Now here, dry off and get your ass out of here. The dining room is perfectly manageable, we promise.”

“What if Skippy and his crew come back?” I ask.

It’s the question that’s been at the back of my mind since Ben walked out this afternoon. Jordan is back in town, and Skippy is clearly one of his lackeys. He’s been watching me. He knows that I’ve got something going on with Ben. Is going out with him the best decision right now? I tried to tell myself he was bad news, that being with him could get us both into trouble. He proved me wrong in an instant. He saw right through my defenses and gently broke right in. Still, I know what Jordan is capable of.

I don’t want to live my life out of fear.

I like Ben a lot. I want to see where things can go with us. It means risking Jordan’s interference, whatever that may be, but I’m not cowering to their bullying. I do worry about my restaurant without me there, though. What if they try and pull something while I’m away?

“Then Paul will shank them while they’re not looking. Isn’t that right, Paul?”

Paul blushes and nods without looking at us. This gives me another pause, but Katie grips my shoulders and pushes me out of the kitchen. Before I can protest, she pushes me straight into Ben.

“Whoa,” he says, and his arms wrap around me. I’m blushing when I look up at him, and I glare as Katie prances by.

“Have a nice night, guys!”

“Thanks,” I grumble at her, and then I look back up at Ben. He’s staring at me with wide eyes, and he searches my face before he realizes that he’s still holding my arms and steps back.

“You look…”

“Like a fishwife, I know. Shall we?”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

I laugh and lace my fingers with his. He’s here now. The place is taken care of. Might as well lean into it and have some fun. His hand squeezes mine, and he takes the lead, pushing the door open for me to walk through. A motorcycle is parked out front with a large pack tied to the back.

I look up at him and lift an eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

Ben shrugs. “Thought you might enjoy a moonlit picnic on my uncle’s boat. It’s not too far from here, down one of the other docks. You interested?”

I look down at my summery dress and boots. A shiver tickles my spine. “I’m not exactly dressed for an evening outside.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.”

He takes off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. I’m cocooned in his warmth, his scent that I’ve grown to love. He sits astride the motorcycle and waves me over. Funny how a motorcycle can look so daunting when belonging to the wrong person and so inviting when belonging to the right one.

“Come on then. Night’s not getting any younger.”

I slide in behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. I can feel his ab muscles beneath his shirt, and I want to play them like an instrument. I want to stroke each individual one with my tongue, and then sink lower. Ben kicks the bike awake, and the vibration beneath my ass doesn’t help my instant lust. I think about what it would be like to fuck Ben on this bike, with the motor running, and I wonder if he’d be up for it.

He seems pretty adventurous to me.

All thoughts melt away as he pulls onto the main road and the wind whips my long hair around us both. He’s right—it’s not far off. It’s not docked in the same area as the stolen yacht, and instead he drives out along a dock a few rows away, closer to the rocky shore. He turns off the engine, and I have to pry my arms off of him. Nothing in me wants to let go.

He steps off and unstraps the pack. He nods to the left and my gaze follows the direction indicated. A rickety old boat bobs in the water, almost unnoticeable between the yachts and brand-new boats all around it.

“This is the Lady McLane,” Ben says, his voice proud. “My uncle’s boat.”

“It’s lovely,” I say, out of politeness.

Ben chuckles. “It’s not, but it’s practical, and it’s filled with some great memories. Come aboard.”

He steps onto the boat and sets his supplies down. He holds out a hand to help me board. I don’t need it, but I’m glad for it anyway. Any excuse to touch Ben is a good one. I step inside and wobble a moment, gaining my sea legs. He holds me steady, our bodies facing one another, so close. I don’t feel cold at all.

Quite the opposite.

Ben spreads a soft blanket along the scuffed-up deck, and then he pulls out a pair of lanterns and turns them on. He sets them on either side of us and unwraps the bag, revealing a picnic basket filled with fresh fruits, cheeses, cold cuts, and a few canisters.

“Some hot soup to warm you up?” he asks, opening one of the canisters. The scent is delectable… and familiar.

“That’s my chowder,” I say, surprised.

He laughs. “While you were taking twenty years getting ready, I had Katie fill this up for me. Figured we should have the best available.”

His compliment sends a blush across my cheeks, and I accept the tin cup he gives me, filled with steaming hot soup. When I take a sip, I have to admit that it is pretty darn tasty. I glance up. The stars are twinkling silently above us. The sound of the water lapping against the boat is soothing and romantic all at once, and I find myself feeling relaxed.

There was nothing to worry about, was there?

“Thanks for this,” I say.

“For what?”

“For making me get out. It doesn’t happen that often.”

“Believe it or not, it doesn’t happen for me, either.”

I gesture to the food around us, taking a succulent grape and plopping it into my mouth. Sweet juice explodes in my mouth before I swallow and take another.

“You look like a pro to me.”

“I’m an expert at packing food in a hurry.”

“And how’d you acquire such a skill?”

He hesitates on his answer, and I lean in.

“I was in the Special Forces for several years. We had to learn to pack up and move out within seconds. This was a cinch, by comparison.”

“Wow, what was that like?”

“I think you can imagine, if you’ve seen a war film.”

“Yeah, but those films are about soldiers. Special Forces is a league of its own, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. It was a job I was good at, and a friend of mine convinced me to join up with him. It’s a job I probably would have kept for life.”

“Probably?” I ask.

His eyes are heavy with sorrow. He’s not looking at me. His eyes are steady on the blanket. “I lost a good friend out there last year. It was enough to make me realize that I needed to give civilian life a try, so I came back here.”

A million questions rush into my head, and I wonder how much daring I have to ask them. I’m about to when we hear a bang from a nearby boat. Ben tenses. He stands and looks all around us, and I join him. Two boats down, the silhouette of a lanky man fiddling with something waxes from the darkness.

I know that outline.

“Skippy,” I breathe. “There’s no way that boat belongs to him.”

Ben leaps out of the boat in that instant, and Skippy sees him. The shadow darts off the yacht and bolts toward the shore.

“Stop!” Ben yells, and he takes off after him.

Just like that, our date is over.