The aroma of lilacs drifted about the small confines of the bathroom as she stood at the sink, blow drying her hair. Sandra pulled the brush through her long red-brown strands, making certain the wave and curl was flat and obeying. Her hair lay softly down the middle of her back as she looked in the mirror at her reflection, smiling at the woman who stared back at her. She loved the tanned color of her face, neck and shoulders above the towel wrapped snugly around her bust, and how it made her bright green eyes seem to shine like emeralds. She may have to keep going to the tanning booth once she returned home. Regardless of the “C” word warnings.

The sweet sounds of Jackie Evancho played on her iPod while she finished getting ready. The gentle voice and soft music made it much easier to concentrate on her task. She retrieved the small bag of cosmetics from the chest of drawers and applied a little mascara to her unusually long lashes, batting her eyes playfully at the green-eyed image looking back at her, thinking of how much her sister hated her for them. She hummed along with the tunes while she added just a touch of blush to her cheekbones, a soft dusting of pink to her eyelids, and a simple coat of ChapStick to her full lips. Nearly ready, she told herself, turning the volume up on her iPod.

Stepping back into the main part of the hotel room, she examined the few outfits she had brought with her. She was glad that Cathy insisted she buy some dinner clothes, even though Sandra assured her she wouldn’t be having supper with anyone she would need to dress up for. She appreciated having something other than shorts, jeans, and tee shirts to wear, though she was not sure if she would ever admit this to Cathy.

Not knowing exactly where Creighton had chosen to take them, she decided on the black dress with thin spaghetti straps, certain it would go with any style of dining. The bottom hem fell a few inches above her knee in a straight-line cut, and the scoop top showed off just a hint of cleavage between the swell of firm breasts. All the exercising she had done over the past two years had added to her bust line, rather than shrinking it. While she had dropped three dress sizes in her hips, stomach, and thighs, she had gained one in her bra size. Cathy argued that she had all the right equipment but didn’t know how to use it.

Sandra slipped on a pair of thigh-high nude stockings and the new pair of four-inch black mule pumps. She fastened her mother’s diamond stud earrings she had inherited into her lobes and slipped on the silver chain and cross her grandmother gave her, before boarding the plane to France. Stepping back into the bathroom, she checked out the image of the woman in the mirror one last time. She looked almost unrecognizable from the librarian who had arrived here two days ago. The heels made her legs look longer and slimmer than when she first bought the dress, but not in a scrawny, chicken-leg sort of way. Her mother always told her to take pride in herself, to show the world that she had brains as well as beauty, but she had opted for the brains part. Cathy was the attractive one, and Sandra could never see herself measuring up to her older sister’s looks.

Shaking her head, Sandra pushed the sad thoughts aside and concentrated on finishing up before she met Creighton. She was not the type of person who was late for anything, and she was not about to start now. As she finished tucking the comb, credit card, passport, and I.D. into the small black handbag, her cellphone began to ring. She jumped at the sound of it, recognizing her sister’s assigned ring then glanced at the clock. It was only twenty after seven, she thought as she picked up the phone and pressed the answer button. She still had time before joining Creighton for supper.

“Sandy, how was your day?” Cathy asked enthusiastically. “Did you do anything fun, or just hang out at the beach like yesterday? You know you’re in France, the greatest country of lovers in the world…well, next to Italy of course. You should go out and have some fun.”

“Hello Cathy,” Sandra said, at last, getting a word into the stream of questions when her sister stopped to take a breath. “How is everything back home?”

“The same as always, the same as every day since time began. Now answer me, what did you do today? I really hope you’re having a little fun.”

“I had a wonderful day, Cathy, thank you. I did go to the beach, but not all day. You’d have been proud of me. I went scuba diving.”

Her tone was filled with genuine excitement that radiated down to her toes as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

“No way! That’s amazing. How was it?”

“It was wonderful, and I have a ton of pictures to download and send to you. I’ll send them to you as soon as I can get to a computer. I was really scared at first, but I got over it with Creighton’s help.”

She paused suddenly. Did she just say that? She braced herself, knowing her sister had not missed the slip and sighed deeply, preparing herself for the inevitable inquisition.

“Creighton?” Cathy asked in an excited tone. Here it comes, Sandra assured herself. “Who is Creighton? What does he look like? Is he young? Was he your guide? Come on, talk to me, tell me all about him.”

“There isn’t much to say,” she began, realizing she really didn’t know anything about him, other than he was drop-dead gorgeous and had the most incredible sapphire blue eyes, and warmest smile she had ever seen. “I met him today at the beach and he showed up on the boat when we went out to go diving. He’s a good friend with the boat owner, so he has a lot of diving experience, and since I was alone, he volunteered to be my partner. It’s because of him I have such great pictures.”

“He sounds very nice and very chivalrous, but what’s he like? You haven’t told me anything to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Well, he’s young, late twenties or early thirties maybe, but I’m not sure. He’s got dark hair and deep-blue eyes. He’s British I think, from his accent, so he must be a tourist like me, and he’s very friendly and has an incredible smile. Other than that, I don’t know much else about him. I mean, it’s hard to talk while you’re at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea.”

She blushed, knowing that the lie was a secret one between her conscious and herself. After all, until today, she didn’t even know you could speak underwater.

“He sounds absolutely dreamy, and just the right age for you. Did he have a wedding ring or an imprint of one?”

She frowned at her sister’s question. She had no idea. She didn't look.

“I didn’t see any,” she said, hoping to avoid the ‘oh Sandy, you need to be careful about European men. They like to shag American girls on vacation and then go back to their wives and kids.’

It was an argument Cathy had been echoing the past two years. One, unfortunately, she experienced first handed while on vacation in Italy five years ago.

“That’s good then. So, are you seeing him again?” She drew a deep breath, steadying herself for the next round of questions.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am having dinner with him in a few minutes. We’re meeting down in the lobby at eight.”

“No way!” Cathy shouted through the phone. “That’s awesome. Where are you going? What are you wearing? You’re not in jeans are you. Please tell me you’re in a dress. What about the maroon dress you bought, you know, the strapless one? That looks amazing on you. No wait, that’s more of a second date dress. Wear your black one, the one with the spaghetti straps. That one is really sexy and gives just a hint of cleavage without going overboard, and wear a pair of hose, they make your legs look silky and men love that, and the mule pumps. Oh, that will make you look amazing.”

Sandra smiled. Nice to know she picked up a few hints of how to dress to attract a man’s attention over the years, watching her sister flaunt herself around town.

“And how exactly should I wear my hair?” she asked in an amused tone as she picked off an imaginary piece of lint from her dress. Cathy would flip if she saw her now, she thought.

“Up, of course, but not in your librarian bun. No, wait, down, straight. Did you take a flat iron with you? Straight is far sexier than the bun-thing. Men love to run their hands through a woman’s hair. It helps keep the head still when you’re kissing or doing other things that I know you’d never do, and don’t go crazy with the jewelry or make-up…not that you would of course. Keep it simple, that will be very alluring, plus it’s much easier to clean up in the morning, should you happen to spend the night away from your room.”

“Thank you, Cathy, I’ll take your advice,” she smiled again as she caught a glance of herself in the mirror above the chest of drawers.

Sandra knew if it were Cathy going out with Creighton, she’d be on her back, offering him a different type of dessert than what the restaurant supplied. Somehow, that thought was extremely uncomfortable for her.

“I’d better go if I’m going to implement your suggestions into my wardrobe. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know how things go. I love you, Sis. Tell Nana and Papa I love them, and I’ll talk to them soon.”

“Sounds good, oh, and don’t forget to forward those pictures to us. Did you get any of this Creighton? I’d love to see him.”

“No, sorry, just fish and a couple of sharks.”

“Sharks? No way!”

Sandra smiled into the phone. She loved her sister and she enjoyed shocking her.

“I’ve got to go or I’m going to be late. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay, but listen to me Sandy,” Cathy said, her tone suddenly very serious. “I know I’ve warned you about European men, but please be careful. I don’t want you to have a summer romance that breaks your heart and leaves you crying for someone who’s not around. By the way, did you get on birth control before you left home?” Sandra blushed profusely.

“Will you stop worrying so much about me, please? I’m a big girl and I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. Now I really have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye.”

Sandra didn't wait to hear her sister hang up but took the initiative and pushed the end button on her phone.

Did she remember birth control? What an obscene question, however, after the few hours she spent with Creighton, she realized that she probably should have thought a little more serious about it. With a deep blush, Sandra chose to ignore the X-rated thoughts that began to filter through her mind and finished up to leave.

One last look at herself in the mirror of the bathroom and she was ready to go. The clock on the bedside table read seven fifty-five. Maybe she should wait until she was sure he was really in the lobby. She could call the front desk and ask them if he was there, then she would know if she should order dinner. She checked her clutch bag again for her credit card, just in case she got stood up and added her phone so she could call Cathy and cry on her shoulder about how stupid she acted.

Maybe she should just wait for him in the bar. That way, if he didn’t show up, she would not be sitting alone in the lobby all night like a pathetic fool. Thoughts that Creighton would perhaps change his mind never occurred to her until now. Why didn’t she think about this earlier?

Maybe he was in the arms of that very attractive waitress from the beach. Damn it! She wouldn’t have taken so much time getting ready if she had known he wasn’t serious. It would be less embarrassing if she were in jeans rather than a dress. At least she would be able to hold her head up high and feel comfortable doing it. She felt like a stupid country hick, debating on whether to go down to the lobby or not. She looked back at the clock and realized with a start that she was late. It was three minutes after eight.

With a deep sigh, Sandra rechecked her clutch purse, slipped her room key card into it, and smoothed her hand over her dress and hair. She was ready, for whatever the night should bring. As she stepped out of the door, she heard her mother’s sweet voice echoing through her memory.

Be proud of who you are, sweetheart, and what you are. It doesn’t matter where a person comes from that makes them worthy of your affection. It’s what’s inside that matters.

Sandra ignored the lift again. She needed to walk off the crazy racing of her heart, so she decided to use the stairs. Drawing in a deep breath, she slowly descended the steps one at a time, keeping her hand on the rail for support. With her mother’s words embracing her, she squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and continued on her path. If Creighton Ashford wasn’t waiting, then it was his loss, she assured herself with a stronger determination.

Her foot took the last step, touching on the marble tile of the lobby, and she looked up, her heart pounding between her ears. Standing next to the row of luxurious red velvet wingback chairs, was the very distinguished Creighton Ashford. He looked extraordinarily handsome in a dark navy-blue suit, white shirt, and dark-gray tie. His hair was combed back, though it seemed to have a mind of its own with a few strands hanging over his forehead, his chin dusted with a soft shadow of a beard. He was talking on his cellphone and looked rather intense, and she didn’t know if she should approach him or stand back until he had finished his conversation, but as she tentatively took a step toward him, he turned, locking his gaze with hers. His mouth dropped open slightly and he stopped talking into his phone. His hand lowered away from his ear just a little. The realization that he was on the phone returned and he lifted it back up, still staring at her with those deep-blue eyes. She walked slowly toward him, so not to disturb his conversation, and watched as his full lips twitched into a soft smile.

“I have to go now,” he said into the small black box. “I have plans tonight, but I’ll call tomorrow morning. Don’t do anything stupid until you hear back from me.” He paused in his conversation, still smiling at her, his dark-blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll take care of everything, just stop worrying.”

He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket, his smile widening as he drew a deep breath.

“You look stunning,” he told her, reaching out and taking her hand gently in his, lifting it to his lips and tenderly placing a kiss across her knuckles.

Her eyes locked with his, her breath caught in her throat and she felt warm in places she never knew had feelings. She saw his eyes darken to ebony and she gasped softly. How could anyone be so damned sexy just kissing a hand?

“I’m glad now I made the plans I did,” he said gently. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded, unable to speak. He kept hold of her hand and squeezed it gently, leading her toward the hotel exit. Outside, a chauffeur stood next to a late model black Mercedes Benz limousine. He opened the back door as they approached him, his light-blue eyes briefly scanning over Sandra before turning back to stare straight ahead of him, trying to hide a smile. Sandra looked up to Creighton with a curious frown.

“I thought we would go in style,” he said with a shrug.

She felt anxious and her nerves began to mount again, forcing her to bite her bottom lip. She slid into the back of the black vehicle, scanning the sights that greeted her with interest.

The interior was illuminated in a soft bluish-white light. Two white leather bucket seats sat by the back door, one of which she sat down in. A small wooden table with a purple and grey granite top and built-in cup holders sat between the seats. Against the one side was a long L-shaped sofa-style seat in the same luxurious leather, and on the opposite side was a dark wet bar with a matching granite top complete with an in-counter refrigerator, wine glasses, blender, and lighted mirrored shelves. The floor was covered in the same dark wood as the table and bar, while a large flat-screen television hung across the wall behind the bucket seats. A row of built-in devices was on the wall next to it, with a DVD player, a stereo with surround sound speakers in each corner of the car, and a game console, though she wasn’t sure which one. The walls were dark grey colored leather with little lights along the ceiling in the wood paneling. The entire vehicle was luxurious and elegant and reeked of money.

“It comes complete with internet, satellite, snacks, and even…” he paused as the door closed, reaching for a dark brown bottle in a small silver bucket of ice on a stand next to the bar. “Champagne?” he asked with a smile, taking two very elegant crystal glasses from the bar and setting them on the table between the seats, pouring the liquor in them.

Sandra smiled. If she had any thoughts of retreating, now would be the time, but as the car pulled away from the curb, she realized she didn’t want to leave. In for a penny, in for a pound as her grandfather was so fond of saying. Sandra wasn’t sure what the night would bring, but she was up for the challenge. She just hoped she wouldn’t wake up tomorrow morning with the tears of regret to carry her home.

“Where are we going?” she asked with as much calm as she could muster.

“Someplace very special,” he told her. “I thought we could spend some time getting to know each other, and since this is your first trip to France, I would show it to you by night.”

She felt a sudden jolt to her nerves as she accepted the glass of sweet-smelling liquor he offered. He raised his glass toward hers and touched the rims together.

“Here’s to getting to know each other much, much better,” he said, gently placing the glass to his lips, his eyes remained focused on her face, the cool liquid slowly slipping across his tongue.

She took a quick sip of her drink and wrinkled her nose at the tiny bubbles that tickled her upper lip. It was very good, sweet, and cool and she was certain, especially after looking at this vehicle, it cost much more than anything she had ever had. She cleared her throat softly, trying to refocus her attention on their surroundings rather than the man next to her.

“You said you loved pasta but didn’t eat it often. I hope you don’t mind that we’re having Italian for supper,” he said, looking at her speculatively as he reached for a remote in a hidden drawer under the table, then turned on the stereo and tuned into the soft sounds of a jazz saxophone. “I figure we can work it off tomorrow, that is if you’re interested in seeing me again after tonight.”

“That would depend on how the evening ends, don’t you think?”

Why did she say that she thought, and why did she say it in such a seductive tone? She heard the words coming out of her mouth, but her ears refused to believe they were hers. Creighton stared at her with a surprised expression and then chuckled, taking another drink from his glass.

“Tell me, Miss Dennis, what do you do for a living?”

Changing the subject, he tactfully and successfully moved on to safer ground and she instantly relaxed again.

“I’m the head librarian for a very tiny public library in Kansas.”

She admitted, it didn’t sound very glamorous, but it was the truth and that always had a ring of elegance.

“I would have thought you far less intellectual,” he said with a smile. “You’re really quite beautiful, and your comment about not eating pasta made me think you were something much less exotic. Perhaps an actress or a model, especially the way you look tonight. You definitely have the legs for one.”

The way his eyes roamed briefly down her slender body made her shift uncomfortably in the seat, and she unconsciously smoothed her hand over the skirt of her dress, wishing the hem was a few inches longer.

“I’m not sure how to respond to that,” she said sternly, yet very quietly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” he said reading her actions. “You are breathtaking and it’s very refreshing, and unexpected, to meet someone who isn’t superficial and false.”

“Is that why you asked me out tonight? You thought I was easy?”

Creighton smiled at her suspicious tone, sipping more of his drink.

“No, I asked you out because I wanted to get to know you. There’s something very genuine about you and it radiates. The fact that you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid eyes on, is merely a bonus.”

“Oh,” she said, unable to think of a response to this comment as well.

They fell into a momentary silence before she looked back up into his dark eyes shining through the dim light.

“Do you know many superficial people?” she asked softly.

“I know my fair share, unfortunately. However, I try to surround myself with those few people I know to be trustworthy and honest. It’s an occupational hazard I suppose.”

“And what occupation would that be, Mr. Ashford?” she asked with curiosity.

He raised his eyebrows at her in surprise, but then frowned slightly as if contemplating his response.

“Call me Creighton, please, or Crey. I am part of a company that owns many divisions, everything from telecommunications to textiles, but mainly environmental technologies. I have always been fascinated with trying to find alternative solutions to the energy crises and global warming while providing comfort and convenience. I am interested in learning all I can about ways to reverse the greenhouse effect on our planet before it’s too late.”

“Very noble,” she muttered softly. “But that goes against your desire to pick up your date in an expensive limousine. Don’t these things use a lot of gas?”

“Yes usually, but not this time. This is a unique vehicle. It is very environmentally friendly and developed by my company. It’s a hybrid. It runs off natural gas and electricity, therefore, saving emissions on the ozone layer. A lot of petrol is used during the film festival here in the summer, so we have been testing out several different types of automobiles that run on natural gas, or electricity, or both. The type movie stars and billionaires would want to be seen in.” She smiled, taking another sip from her glass.

“So, you’re picking up your date at the company’s expense?” she asked, hoping her tone didn’t sound as insulted as she felt…again.

“No, this car is mine. It is the first one we have transformed, a prototype you might say. Since I own it, I use it as I wish. Besides, it’s excellent publicity for the rental agencies to see what a natural alternative can really do, and how decent it looks doing it. We’re hoping to have a full line of natural-gas vehicles by next year’s film festival.”

She bit her bottom lip, a little embarrassed at having just accused the man of misusing corporate resources.

The conversation was cut short when the sleek black car pulled to a halt and the driver shut off the engine. Creighton took her glass and set both on the bar as the back door opened. He stepped out and readjusted his jacket before reaching forward and offering Sandra his hand as support. She climbed out of the back seat and glanced around, expecting to find an Italian restaurant, but instead, all she saw were large recreational yachts. Many of them were alive with activity and lights. The sounds of laughter, music and voices echoed from the two nearest the front of the walkway, obvious parties were active and alive on both.

“I thought we were going to dinner?” she asked suspiciously, wondering if they were to join one of the parties. Creighton chuckled, lifting her hand to brush his lips across her knuckles again.

“Ah, Mademoiselle Dennis, I said we were having supper, I didn’t say we were going to a restaurant. The more you get to know me, the more you’ll realize I’m a control freak who just happens to love surprises.”

He kept hold of her hand as he addressed the driver, assuring him they would call when they were ready to go back to the hotel. He turned and led her down the wooden walkway to where a large three-story white and blue yacht was moored to the pier. It was the largest of all the yachts anchored. Lights emanated from the many windows and the soft sound of a piano filtered out from the interior of the ship.

He stepped aside and allowed her to walk ahead of him and onto the yacht, through a canopy-covered walkway. The first thought that came to her mind was not of her safety, for there was nothing in Creighton’s words or mannerism that made her worry about him or his plans for the evening, but rather her concerns were of her shoes. If they were going to walk the decks of a yacht, she really shouldn’t be doing it in four-inch heels.

Creighton stepped up behind her, and as if reading her mind, slipped a large warm arm around her slender waist to steady her, then led her across the exterior deck and into what appeared to be a parlor. A middle-aged man in a black and white Steward’s uniform stood before the wet bar, nodding at them as they entered. The sounds of the piano she had heard were coming from small round speakers in the walls of the room, while several candles burned in the windowsills and on the tables, illuminating the room in a romantic glow. The floor was covered in a soft short pile carpet of dark brown and black, and the walls were decorated in a cherry wood paneling. She looked at him curiously. If this was a man interested in the environment, he was doing little to reduce his own carbon footprint with this yacht.

“Do you like it?” His smile was wide and innocent, like an excited child with a new toy to show off. “The walls are refurbished wood from the hulls of two separate yachts set for demolition,” he explained. “The carpeting is made of old recycled denim jeans and the candles are drip-less, odorless, and made of soy. The only thing that isn’t recycled, reused or refurbished is the dinner.”

He waved a hand toward the cream-colored leather sofa in a gesture for her to sit down as he accepted the two glasses of wine from the Steward, turning and handing one to her. She took a sip as she sat on the sofa, wondering if this man had a drinking problem. First champagne and now wine, or did he intend on getting her drunk?

“I assume you aren’t opposed to drinking,” he surmised as if reading her mind again.

She smiled and blushed softly while the Steward left the room, closing the entry door behind him, encasing them alone in the romantic, recycled room. It seemed difficult to keep her lips from twitching with mounting nerves and anticipation.

“I have a glass of wine in the evenings, other than that I don’t drink much. I am not opposed to it, unless it affects my equilibrium,” she told him.

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on getting you drunk and having my way with you,” he assured her with a warm smile as he joined her on the sofa. He watched as she took a drink from her glass, her eyes locking with his.

“And what are your plans for me, Monsieur Ashford?”

His eyebrows shot up at this question, and she literally bit her tongue, realizing how seductive it sounded. Coming from her, those words were alien, so how was it she spoke them so easily to a man she had known less than a day?

“First, I plan on feeding you, and then I thought we could get to know each other better, but not in a biblical fashion. I don’t care much for one-night stands. After that, I wanted to take a cruise and show you the sights. The Riviera is quite beautiful at night.”

She felt herself relax under his sincere gaze. Her smile showed her relief as she watched him take a drink from his glass. At least, she wouldn’t have to explain her loss of virtue to her sister tomorrow.

“Are the sights different from a boat than they are onshore?” she asked him.

“Indeed. Not only are the hotel lights and those from the city delightful and romantic from the water, but the lights from the ships have an effect on the fish, and they begin to jump, thinking they’re fireflies.”

“So Italian for supper and fish for dessert?” she teased as his arm slid along the back of the sofa behind her head, and he leaned back against the plush folds of leather.

“There are many things I can suggest for dessert,” his eyes suddenly grew darker as he smiled at her. “But fish is not one of them.”

“I thought you were staying at the hotel?”

She glanced around the room as she spoke, trying to distract the racing of her heart as his stare intensified, her eyes looking anywhere except at him.

“I was, but my yacht was brought up this evening, so I checked out and came back here.”

Sandra sipped her wine wondering what sort of person stayed in hotels, and drove around in luxurious limousines, until their private yacht was brought to them.

“Are you hungry, or would you like a tour?”

“I’m not really hungry yet,” she admitted, unable to relax her racing nerves enough to eat.

Creighton took their glasses and set them on the coffee table before standing and reaching down, holding his hand out for her again.

“Then a tour it is. We can eat at sea if you’d rather. It’s very romantic and the salt air increases one’s appetite.”

She placed her hand in his and was gently pulled to her feet, finding herself standing so close to him she could smell his soap, musky cologne and an aroma she was certain was all him. He was even more handsome up close as she stood in front of him. His eyes dark in the dim light, his breath even, the breadth and strength of his arms and chest were intimidating and intoxicating at the same time. She couldn’t help staring at his full soft lips, wondering what they would feel like against hers.

Sandra’s pulse began to race, and she felt very lightheaded as his free hand reached up and smoothed a strand of hair back behind her ear before gently coming to rest on her shoulder, lingering slightly longer than socially acceptable. His long finger moved up and traced her jawline, tipping her chin upward so their eyes locked. The intensity of his gaze seemed to steal her breath away and replace it in the next moment, bringing with it a tingle of desire.

“Do you have any idea how breathtaking you are?” he asked her in a tone barely above a whisper, his lips within a breath’s distance of hers.

Sandra’s heart skipped a beat and then began a steady race as his mouth brushed hers in a soft gentle touch, like that of a feather caressing her skin. She had to blink to make certain she really felt it, her breath catching in her throat when she saw the look in his dark eyes, so wanting, and so seductive, and without a second thought, he leaned into her, his mouth pressed against hers, making her heart begin to thrum within her ears.

She closed her eyes as the soft caress of his lips continued, the hand holding her chin moved slowly to the back of her head, his fingers twisting gently within her hair. The hand still holding hers wrapped around her back, pulling her hand behind her, easing her closer to him. As he pulled her against his chest, his lips became more urgent, more demanding. Sandra wasn’t sure how or when it happened, but she briefly registered her free hand move around the back of his neck, her fingers twining in his dark hair. He moaned against her lips and she gasped, but the sound was lost under his gentle assault.

Sandra couldn’t think, but then she really didn’t want to as his tongue slowly began to trace the outline of her bottom lip before he gently tugged it between his teeth, sucking on the tender flesh. She moaned into his kiss, her back arched toward him while his very skillful tongue slipped effortlessly into her wine sweetened mouth, caressing, teasing and tasting her at once. She could feel the result their kiss had on him, when his hand holding hers pulled her tightly against his hips, holding her securely in his embrace. His tongue played and teased with hers until she found the courage to imitate his actions, her heart pounding wildly within her chest. A warmth she had never experienced before began to spread through her lower regions, making her feel dizzy and wanton. Creighton increased the pressure against her lips, deepening his assault on her mouth, his tongue eagerly battling with hers. Her head was swimming, the smoldering fire of need began to turn her blood into lava, warming her in ways she had never known possible.

When at last he removed his mouth from hers, she felt slightly chilled, the disappointment of losing the close contact filtered through her libido, but before she could utter a word, his mouth moved down her neck, his tongue tracing a path of warmth along the base of her collarbone. She was certain she was going to combust, her head fell backward in his hand, giving him full access to her throat, her ears and her shoulders. A soft, primal growl echoed around the room and she realized with a sudden shock, it came from her. Her eyes opened wide, suddenly aware of what was happening, and she stiffened slightly, the feel of him pressing against her, his hot mouth branding her tender flesh caused a twinge of resistance to filter through her mind.

He must have registered the change in her attitude, and slowly pulled away from her shoulder where he had been licking a searing trail down from her ear. He looked into her eyes and frowned. She wanted to apologize, she wanted to run and hide and yet she wanted to beg for more. The tingling of her nerves, the awareness of sensations she had never known, began to burn into her conscious and she was suddenly embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized in a very husky tone. “I wanted our first kiss to be under the stars, something romantic and perfect. I didn’t intend for this to happen, not yet, or to go as far as it did, but looking into those beautiful green eyes, I just lost control.”

What could she say to something like that? All she could do was smile…and blush.

“Let me show you around,” he said after clearing his throat and easing her out of his embrace.

Taking her by the hand, he led her slowly out of the glass door they had entered through a short time before and back out into the warm evening air. She tried to focus on where they were walking, but she could barely breathe. She could still feel his lips on hers, his arms around her and sadly she felt cold and empty. No man ever made her feel like that with just his lips.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a soft tone, his brows pulling into a deep frown over his dark-blue eyes.

She had to blink several times to bring herself back to the present, then blushed again and nodded.

“I’m sorry, I was distracted,” she whispered.

Creighton sighed deeply and ran a hand through his dark hair before leading them to a bench seat near the back of the ship. They sat down under the stars, his hands folding over hers.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he said softly. “I really should have had more control. I don’t know what came over me. I usually don’t act without thinking. My only excuse is that I am completely blown away by you. There’s just something about you that calls out to me. I can’t explain it more than that.” Oh, she thought, was this a good thing?

“What do you say, we start our date over? Let’s try to get past my deplorable behavior and focus on the rest of the evening?”

She couldn’t help but smile at the childish grin he offered her and nodded.

“Then show me your boat, Monsieur Ashford.”

Creighton’s smile widened, and the comfortable feeling was back between them.

He was very proud of his vessel and it showed in every step he took. The main deck led into a salon, a dining room, a large galley-style kitchen and the parlor they had just left. The master suite was forward, including a separate office and a private master bathroom with a marble shower, double sink, toilet and bidet. Down the hall were three bedrooms, each with their own bathrooms, smaller than the master but comfortably sized, an entertainment room with a pool table, a fifty-inch flat-screen television, game table and wet bar. The upper deck had an outdoor dining area, a large swimming pool, a glass-enclosed lounge, the captain’s private suite and stairs that led to the bridge. The uppermost deck had a Jacuzzi and a glass-enclosed weight room with a locker type bathroom.

The lower deck had a swimming platform at the stern, three guest cabins with en-suite bathrooms, the engine room, laundry facilities, and crew’s quarters. There were two storage rooms that opened out onto a platform in the back of the ship with jet skis, water toys and lifeboats.

The ship was fully staffed with a captain, three deckhands, a chef, a maid and a Steward, which Creighton said was very much like a butler. It was a beautiful vessel, much larger than it looked from the pier, and he was extremely proud of it as he explained the reason why.

“When I bought this yacht about five years ago, she was extremely misused,” he explained with a smile when they walked back toward the parlor. “She had belonged to a group of drug smugglers. The coast guard took control of her and used it for several years before putting her up for auction, that’s when I found her. I spent over three years restoring her from the hull up, with as much refurbished items as I could find. The things I couldn’t find, I had specially made, like the railings and the upper deck planks. The bathrooms are eco-friendly, and the kitchen uses natural gas rather than electricity. If you’ll notice those panels,” he said pointing up to the black sheets of what appeared to be large plastic windows hanging over the upper deck, the main deck, and the outdoor dining area. “Those are solar panels, so the ship actually runs off the energy of the sun. The power is stored in cells below deck, and she can easily run for ten hours during good weather, with nearly every device and appliance operating at once.”

“What if the sun isn’t out, say it’s raining or cloudy? How do you get back to port then?” she asked, transfixed by the excitement in his eyes.

“She has a normal backup battery, though I’ve never had to use it. There is always some sunshine to warm up the cells. However, if it means anchoring somewhere off port until a storm blows over, then I just hope I have a very beautiful green-eyed girl, with incredible legs, to keep me company until it does.”

She blushed again and watched the expression change from the excited little boy, to a charming man with perfect white teeth.

“Maybe we should eat now?” she asked, and he looked at his watch.

“Why don’t we pull anchor and head out? We can eat on deck while we’re sightseeing.”

It was her turn to smile like an excited child, and she followed him back into the parlor where he picked up a phone and called the captain, instructing him to head out of port. They sat on the L-shaped sofa and sipped on their wine from earlier as the ship’s engines roared to life and began to pull slowly out of dock.

“Why do you call your boat a 'she'?” Sandra asked to break the silence. Creighton looked at her over the rim of his glass as he took a sip.

“It’s a yacht, not a boat, and all machines are referred to as female.”

“But why?”

“Because they are beautiful, strong, and hardworking, and when they decide they need attention, they are very temperamental, just like a woman.”

“Not all women are temperamental,” she argued with another blush while he laughed openly at her comment.

“Yes, they are. Just now, you proved it. You were offended that I call my yacht a female, and earlier you were irritated and thought I had insulted you when I assumed you were a model. All I need to do to make you purr is pay extra attention to you, and make you realize I don’t intend to deliberately drive you the wrong way, just like a machine.”

“I don’t know how to take that.”

She frowned while she considered his explanation, causing him to laugh again as he leaned over and kissed her cheek, lingering slightly longer than she assumed he would.

“Don’t overthink it, just accept it as a compliment. I appreciate women and their incredible strength and intelligence, far more than their beauty. I just consider myself lucky that you are both brilliant and gorgeous.”

Sandra blushed again but said nothing as the ship continued to hum through the dark Mediterranean Sea. She had never imagined a day quite like this in all her life, in all her fantasies or daydreams. In less than twenty-four hours, she had met the most handsome man she could have ever dreamed of, she had been shown a wonderful afternoon of diving in the Mediterranean Sea, and now having a romantic dinner under the stars onboard a private yacht off the shores of the French Riviera.

Somebody had better pinch her awfully damned quick, she thought, or she may just want to stay in this dream for the rest of her life.