Recipe for Satisfacton(3)

He reached for the glass and she dropped beside him, grabbing his hands. “You don’t have to—”

“Shit!” He dropped the piece of glass. A thick, red stain slashed brightly across the surface.

“Oh, God. You’re cut. I’m such a klutz tonight. Let me…” She reached into her purse, thankful she had decided to go against Penn’s advice and brought her oversized bag. He sucked on his palm as she withdrew a purple makeup case. She rummaged inside, finding a Band-Aid and an antiseptic wipe. She went above and beyond the motto of always being prepared. Sterling Andrews: perpetual Girl Guide. More like wannabe Girl Guide. She’d never had the opportunity to be a real one but if she had, she’d be the one with the most badges.

He chuckled. “You’re either a mom or a nurse.”

“Neither. I’m a professional organizer.” Sterling grabbed his hand, calloused and coarse. A man’s hand. She held the wipe between her teeth, ripped open the wrapper, and cleaned his cut. “It’s not too deep.”

She rearranged her balance, making sure her legs remained tightly together. She may be on the hunt, but she wasn’t tacky. In this position, her stomach had settled some.

When she was done, she glanced up. Her eyes caught in deep pools of chocolate brown sparkling back at her.

George returned and quickly got to work, sweeping around them. “Chef, I’ll take care of this now.”

Jack smiled and gestured with his chin to the kid. “George is a master baker.”

“A master baker?” She looked up at the young boy and he smiled, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen. “At such a young age?”

“He has a future in pastry arts,” Jack said. “A very bright future.”

Jack stood and offered his uninjured hand. Impressed by the gentlemanly gesture, she slid her hand in his and let him draw her up.

“Thank you, George.” Jack nodded before leading her toward the railing, so they could look out into the night. The moon glistened, reflecting off the walls of the boat around them with every ripple of water.

A shiver zinged through her when he slid his hand down her spine, letting it settle at the small of her back. “Do you always carry a first aid kit in your purse, Sterling?”

God, the way he said her name. It was like he was pouring warm honey across her belly…which she sincerely hoped he’d be licking up later.

“Actually, yes.” She laughed. “You never know when you’re going to need antiseptic wipes or a Band-Aid or—” she fiddled inside the makeup case “—a sewing kit.”

“Well, next time I bust a button on my shirt while simultaneously cutting my finger on a dirty knife, I know who to call.”

His sexy smile set the butterflies in her stomach aflutter. Exactly the reaction she was looking for. It was time to put a little fun in her life. Experience things she’d never had the chance to because she was too busy taking care of everyone else, including a two-timing fiancé.

The boat dipped. At least it felt like it dipped. The nausea she had forgotten came back with a vengeance.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You just turned green.”

“Oh, God…” She latched her hand over her mouth and bent over the railing.

“Sterling?” he called.

But she didn’t have time to acknowledge him.

She braced both hands on the railing and lurched forward. What had been designated as the most hideous night of her life had just been upgraded to the most humiliating. She heaved—and heaved again—fully aware of the man who stalked closer to where she stood puking her guts out into the glistening water.

So much for luring a sexy man. Served her right for thinking she could have fun. She just proved that even her attempt at spontaneity had to be well thought out.

Rough hands caressed her shoulders, then gripped her hair, gathering it at the nape of her neck. Jack held her hair with one hand while the other circled her back. His fingers, soothing against her exposed skin, rubbed tenderly. A wave of warmth surged through her body. She was unsure of its origin—the sickness that now eased inside her stomach or the simple touch of this stranger.

“Feel better?” He was so close, the heat of his body turning up her temperature from hot to stifling. “Take this.”

He offered her a Kleenex, one he must have found in the travel package inside her purse. What was a little fishing expedition inside her purse when he’d seen the inner contents of her stomach fly over the metal railing of a boat? She wiped the tissue across her mouth.

“You’re good at this,” she whispered, then swallowed hard around the soreness in her throat.