Free Cape Cod Promises: Love on Rockwell Island by Bella Andre, Melissa Foster Page B

enough to let herself touch him again. Not when she knew where even one more small touch would lead...
    She thrust the sketch pad toward him to give herself space to think. “Here. You can look at my sketch now.”
    He took the pad but didn’t step back and didn’t look down at her drawings, either. “We should go out on a date.”
    “Trent.” She rolled her eyes. Did he really think that would fix everything between them? “That’s the same line you used on me ten years ago.”
    “It worked well then. I figured it might work well now.”
    “I can’t think of one reason we should go out on a date.” Besides how much I’ve always loved you. And maybe those incredible abs. And your arms. I’ve always loved your arms. And the way you move your—
    “I can. We’ve never talked about things, Reese. About what happened. Why don’t we go out on one date and talk? If we both hate it, we’ll agree to put the past behind us and move on. But if we don’t hate it...” He left that thought hanging between them, potent and way too seductive for her peace of mind.
    Reese closed her eyes for a beat, and Trent’s masculine scent wrapped around her.
    “One date, Reese.”
    Someone needed to be rational here, so she opened her eyes and said, “Do you remember what our dates always led to?” She tried to suppress the surge of desire that came with the memories, but some things were pretty much impossible.
    “How could I ever forget?” He stepped in closer again, bringing them thigh to thigh. “I’ll behave myself.”
    I might not .
    “Trent,” she whispered, because if she didn’t push something from her lungs, she’d give in to the craving to climb him like a dune and kiss that sexy smile right off his lips. Which was a very bad idea. No matter how good she knew it would be.
    As if he realized he’d pushed her nearly to her breaking point, he took a step away and finally glanced at the sketch pad. “Reese…you drew this just now?”
    For the first time since she’d started the sketch, she really looked at it and nearly had to reach for him to steady herself. The grassy knoll, bordered with wild, overgrown gardens, were only shades of gray on the sketch, but she could imagine vivid blooms of pink, yellow, blue, and white growing at varying heights, reaching for the sun from beneath the burgeoning greenery that was so plentiful around the island. She’d drawn the aged picket fence that lined a path between neighboring cottages and led down to the beach.
    Reese ran her finger along the reflection of the lighthouse she’d drawn in the ripples of the water and followed it back to the strip of land forming a path to the lighthouse that seemed to sit alone in the middle of the bay.
    When she lifted her eyes to Trent, she could see that he recognized the area as clearly as she did.
    She’d drawn the very spot where they’d exchanged their vows.
    It was far easier than she’d thought it would be to remember the good times with Trent and to be drawn in by him. Now that he’d moved back to the island, she knew she couldn’t avoid him altogether even if she wanted to. And she wasn’t sure she did. In fact, if she relied solely on her body and not her head, she’d definitely say she didn’t want to avoid him.
    The only way she could keep her hormones under any semblance of control around him was to open up the part of her mind she thought she’d sealed shut years ago, withdrawing one hurtful memory after another.
    The way it had felt to wake up in their bed alone every day and going to bed alone too many nights while he was working late.
    The overwhelming feeling every time she’d tried to venture out into the city—and the way Trent had been working too hard on growing his career to ever notice her discomfort.
    How terrifying and heartbreaking the decision had been to walk out the door for good—and the painful, dark months that had followed.
    The divorce papers that had sat on the table by her front door