Joe liked her. She knew it. The giddy rush swept through her, making her body tingle. When she’d arrived, she was sure he found her as annoying as ever, but as they laughed and ate and talked in the Beachside kitchen his focus shifted like sand on the dunes at Rendezvous Bay.
He had as much reason to be wary of her intentions as she had of his, but everything seemed to dissolve by the second bottle of the Ramseys’ delicious champagne. Saskia tipped back her glass and let the bubbles dance down her throat.
“This place belongs in heaven.”
Della smiled wide, as if life had remained simple, charmed even. “Anguilla is heaven, honey. Why do you think we live here?”
“I’m not even going to argue with you.” She slipped off the bar stool, finding her legs a little looser than she expected as she carried her plate to the giant sinks. She knew Joe followed right behind her, though she didn’t see him until she turned around.
“Then maybe you should move back home.” Della snapped a towel her way. “Your dad would love it. And he could use—”
“Dutch would love for you to visit more often,” Joe’s rich baritone rolled through her like music. He stood so close heat arced between them.
“I think I will.” She looked up at his pale-blue eyes, so light against his tanned face they seemed impossibly bright. And beautiful. Did he want more of her as well?
Della snapped her fingers, breaking the spell. “Where is Doug? We need another bottle of champagne for a toast.”
She wasn’t sure more champagne was a good idea, but it wasn’t as if she had to drive anywhere, or be up early tomorrow. And she felt like celebrating. She’d never felt as at home as she did here, surrounded by people who’d known her forever and wanted nothing more than to be with her.
Joe’s warm hand on the small of her back set off her libido like a string of firecrackers. Having a few days on the island with him watching her every move sounded better all the time.