Chapter 12
RAFE
M ind blown.
It was amazing how one adult conversation—minus some inane squabbling—could reveal so much.
Now the picture of George Bernard was getting clearer in my mind’s eye, and I very much liked what I saw. I wanted to know more.
The man was earnest in a way that made my even-tempered heart flutter like mad. And for a moment, as we stood by the railing, I saw him move towards me. Like he was going to reach out. Was he going to touch me?
I didn’t have a chance to find out. I blinked and he turned away.
“The rest of our dinner is getting cold. We should finish up, or risk Chef’s wrath that all her hard work was for naught,” George commented.
We ambled back over to the table, and yes, George pulled the chair out for me again. Christ, he was going to spoil me for other men…
It’s not a date, Rafe.
It wasn’t, but it was one of the most enjoyable evenings I’d had in years. There was no pressure to schmooze, like I did with fashion patrons, or look a certain way, or have to act the life of the party with non-stop jokes. I was free of expectations.
And I liked the way George looked at me when we talked. He stared into my eyes like he really saw me . Unlike others who spent more time scanning my body and assumed being a pretty bloke was all I had to offer.
And learning more about him clarified a lot. His ex and his struggles with his sexuality. Amazing what one conversation could yield.
George and I finished up our entrées at a leisurely pace, chatting about our favorite diving sites and our travels, books, and art.
Like me, he’d visited every continent except Antarctica.
I suggested we go there after this trip but unfortunately Now, Voyager wasn’t made for ?50-degree weather.
He also shared stories of his life in the navy—some hilarious, some harrowing—and my respect for him grew.
Our conversation never waned as the hours went by. I hadn’t felt so relaxed in ages. And curiously buzzed. I didn’t want the evening to end.
After finishing our second course, Jana returned with a pot of my favorite Earl Grey and a stunning raspberry-lemon trifle. The last course was displayed in a beautiful glass bowl presented in the middle of the table with two spoons.
“There’s only one dessert,” George murmured after Jana had left. “I’ll go down to the kitchen.”
“No need.” I reached out my hand and placed it on his arm to stop him. His skin was always so warm that I let my hand linger. “There are two spoons. It appears Lisette would like us to share.”
She was probably having a good laugh as we spoke.
The crew had witnessed the tense relationship between George and I over the past two years, so I’m sure they were finding this entire evening highly entertaining.
Then again, with all the glasses and plates still intact and no shouting, maybe they’d be disappointed.
I hadn’t spotted anyone below deck, so I imagined they were all huddled up in the kitchen right now, gossiping about our dinner date.
Dinner. No date.
George nodded and I quickly pulled my hand back.
“But I’ll warn you, I’m not very good with sharing. Especially not anything sweet.” I picked up one of the spoons.
“I don’t share either,” George replied sharply, and I looked up at him. His eyes lit with a verdant intensity that made my breath catch. “But I’ll make one exception for this dessert, and only because I can share it with you.”
Had I stepped onto the pages of one of my Aunt Cara’s romance novels? Because for some reason, I swooned at his statement and then chided myself for my ridiculous reaction.
Food was a great distraction, so I dipped my spoon into the luscious looking trifle.
Layers of sponge cake, cream, custard, and fruit beckoned as I took my first mouthful and let it melt on my tongue.
It was perfectly balanced—creamy, soft, sweet, and tart.
My moan was loud and proud. “God, that is so fucking good. It’s almost better than sex. ”
George shook his head after he took his first bite.
“Hardly. But I imagine after a long night of intense lovemaking, sitting in bed and sharing this with your lover, that would be right up there,” he replied, taking another spoonful and gazing out at the ocean.
There he goes again, sounding so bloody romantic.
I didn’t know any bloke who used the word ‘lovemaking.’ In fact, if any other man had said that to me, I’d probably laugh my arse off.
In my sex life, I’d only ever heard ‘let’s fuck,’ ‘blow me,’ or ‘hurry up, I’ve got to get back to the missus.
’ Sex was hot, sweaty, and fast. No lingering, no overnights, and no ‘lovemaking.’
But bloody hell, did I like hearing that word from George’s mouth.
He made it sound sexy as fuck, and now it was all I could think of.
Everything in my body tingled with an awareness of him .
Except all night wouldn’t be enough, and I’d drop a spoonful of cream on George’s body and lick it off.
He’d laugh at first, and do the same to me and then…
Stop it. You’ve finally established a friendship with him. Don’t screw it up with wayward thoughts about sex.
Where were my flippant retorts when I needed them? I didn’t know what to say, so I stuffed in more of the sumptuous dessert.
“You mentioned earlier that you were tired of hookups. If you’re open to dating, what kind of man are you looking for?” George asked as he took another spoonful.
Suddenly all my attention was on his mouth.
I’d never thought of eating as erotic. But I noticed how he savored the dessert, the deep rumble of his moan as he swallowed, and fuck me, I was turned on.
Then he looked at me and pursed his lips in that way of his when he was irritated or about to ask a question.
One dark eyebrow raised, and I longed to run my finger over it, to smooth out his tension.
“Rafe? Are you all right?” George asked as he reached for his teacup. “You don’t have to answer my question. I’m sorry if I was presumptuous.”
“Not at all. I’m fine, fine.” I reached for my glass of ice water.
A cooldown was much needed. “And to answer your question, I’ve no idea.
I suppose I’d want someone who was ambitious and hard-working, someone with a good sense of humor who understands mine, a man that’s kind, and attentive.
But honestly, would anyone really want a relationship with me? I’ve always got one foot out the door.”
“I would,” George replied, then his green eyes widened. “I mean, I’d be looking for the same thing. That is, a man like you. A man that is not you, but like you. Someone who understands my work.”
George shook his head, and his shoulders began to shake, a baritone laugh bubbling up out of him. He reached for his cup. “Can we just forget the nonsense that poured out of my mouth? I guess one glass of prosecco is one too many.”
I chuckled, utterly charmed by his fumble.
“No way, handsome. And when you think about it, it’s the perfect solution. Only, given how much you and I travel, this would probably be our one and only date. The beginning and the end. Was it good for you?”
George choked on his tea and shook his head. “You really should wear a shirt with a warning label.”
“Feel free to buy me one to commemorate our date,” I joked. “It would also be my first since I’ve never had gifts from lovers. Not that you and I are lovers. Sorry. No more prosecco for me either.”
Thankfully, George ignored my idiotic rambling.
“Never? No fancy dinners? Reams of flowers? Private jets?” George asked.
“A private jet, once or twice. But the others? No. Most guys want to sleep with me, not date me. But to be fair, I give off the vibe that I’m not into the dating thing.
Even though I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about relationships lately.
I mean, a lot. I’m normally not so introspective, but it’s always on my mind.
I really want to know that kind of love.
A true partnership. I’m just not sure if I’m capable of it, or if someone would love me that way. ”
George was silent but his eyes were sparkling. How had I only just noticed how expressive they were?
“Am I oversharing?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.
George shook his head. “Not at all. It’s good that you feel comfortable enough to talk about it. And if you really want a partner, I’ve no doubt you’ll find one. The right relationship will happen when you’re ready for it.”
“I’m not sure. God knows I’ve met enough men in my life, but not one of them inspired anything more than lust. And I don’t know that they’d look beyond my outer surface.”
George gazed at me. “Love doesn’t always happen at first sight but develops over time.
Maybe you just haven’t met a man who would make the effort to get to know you and appreciate every part of you.
One that would shower you, not with things, but with affection and an attentiveness that you so wholly deserve. ”
His heartfelt words made that weird fluttery feeling come to life in my chest again, and my cheeks heated.
“Thank you,” I managed to whisper. “I wish the same for you.”
George nodded.
My love life was a mystery that I’d yet to solve.
But one thing I knew to be true: if I ever did go on an actual date, whoever he was, he would have a very difficult time outdoing Captain George Bernard.