I Love How You Love Me(The Sullivans)(31)

She took another deep breath, and then one more for good measure. Business. She needed to stay on track with her story.

But, as she let the last slightly ragged breath go, she knew she was going to have to ride out a few more seconds of being a very attracted woman first.

Grace had read several books on boat building to make sure that she understood the basics, but watching Dylan painstakingly sand a section by hand, then run his other hand over the smooth wood before he moved on to the next plank, almost felt like watching a man with his lover. Every boat he made, she sensed, meant a great deal to him. Who was this one for? What man or woman would be lucky enough to sail away on a boat that had been so painstakingly created?

As a writer, Grace saw the world through words first. But as she watched him work, she could see what a fascinating documentary someone could make here with Dylan. Both the visual story of the creation of a boat from start to finish and an in-depth look into the mind of the man who could turn planks of wood into magic.

Of course, she could easily guess that he would never allow anyone to film him. Not because he was hiding anything. It was simply that for all that he’d opened his work and his family to her, Dylan was a naturally private man.

It was why sailing suited him so well. He didn’t need accolades. Didn’t need to be seen by anyone as the best. He simply wanted to be free to build boats. Free to race them. Free to sail off in one to explore whatever corner of the world interested him. And she didn’t blame him for wanting to live his life according to his own rules when she wanted that very same thing—to live the life of her dreams without always looking in the shadows, without always worrying about being hurt.

“Good morning, Grace.”

Dylan put the sandpaper down and turned to her with a smile. A very male smile that was just smug enough to tell her he knew she’d been there all along and had been happy to let her watch him work shirtless.

Both of them had been happy about it, she thought as she returned his smile. “Is now still a good time for our interview?”

“Sure, but where’s Mason?”

“I booked a babysitter for him so that I could focus.”

“I thought you were going to bring him. I’ve seen how my cousins set up safe areas so their kids can play at parties. I was planning on it.”

He was sweet, so amazingly sweet to always think of including Mason. But even if her son could have played happily in a cordoned-off area of the boathouse while they did the interview, Grace had wanted to make sure that they couldn’t just fall so easily into pretend-family time again. It would be too easy, she could already see, to slip into the fantasy that the three of them really were a unit.

This isn’t forever, she reminded herself. One day Dylan would sail away while she and Mason stayed right here. But until then, they would appreciate every second with him.

“He seemed quite happy with the young, pretty babysitter, actually.” Grace had repeatedly reminded herself in the past half hour that she couldn’t watch over her son every single second. A couple of hours with a babysitter would be okay, even if leaving him this morning was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

Grace moved farther into the boathouse. “Who is this boat for?”

“Promise you won’t tell?”

She was the one frowning now. “If you don’t want me to talk about something in my interview, of course I won’t.”


“No, that’s not the reason.” He reached out a hand and it felt so natural to take it. “It’s for my family.”

Surprised—and touched—she asked, “They don’t know about it?”

“If they knew, they might think they needed to feel bad about me ignoring the waiting list for them.”

“How long is your customer waiting list?”

He shrugged. “I’ll take a look at it again next week.”

“Why do I have the sense that you pay as much attention to your waiting list as you do to your ringing phone?”

“Because you already know me so well.” He drew her closer. “I know you’re here to interview me today, not to make out with me, but I’ve spent every second since Saturday night thinking about kissing you again. Just one and then we’ll get down to business. I promise.”

“Well,” she said softly, “since you proved to me on Saturday night that you are good at keeping your promises, just one…since we really do need to get to the interview.”

“Then I’ll have to make it count, won’t I?”

Before she could even take her next breath, his mouth was on hers. Arousing. Seducing. Ravaging. And challenging her to pour just as much passion back into him. Instinctively, she answered that challenge with so much heat and passion that before she knew it her arms were around his neck, her legs were wrapped around his waist, and his hands were on her hips to hold her steady against him while they tried to get as close to each other as they possibly could in the middle of his sun-drenched boathouse.

“Wow,” she said slowly when he finally set her back on her feet and she tried to get her brain to fire on all cylinders again, “you really know how to make a kiss count, don’t you?”

“I was going to say the same about you,” he said in a hungry voice that sent another wave of desire shuddering through her.

“I think I’m going to need a minute for my head to clear.” She shook her head and took a couple of deep breaths, but it didn’t help clear the lust-filled fog from her brain. “Maybe two minutes.”