handled, he stepped out onto his balcony to breathe in the fresh scent of the water and enjoy the remaining rays of the sun before it set.
The ship had left port over an hour ago and was headed for St. Tropez, followed by Monte Carlo a day later. Nathan tried to envision spending an evening in the Casino de Monte Carlo, home of many a James Bond film. Shaking his head at how far he’d come, he grabbed a chair from the bistro table and propped his feet on the ship’s railing.
From the mean streets of inner-city Atlanta to the mountains of rural North Georgia. From the Southern hospitality of Atlanta to the hustle and bustle of New York City. And now, the glamour and beauty of the Mediterranean. What would his grandmother think of him now?
And then there was the gorgeous, intelligent, and worldly Laura Danforth. He’d dated some beautiful women. Smart, capable women. But Laura shined like the Hope Diamond among a display of third-rate fakes. Their afternoon together had been entertaining for many reasons, chief among them, the chemistry between them.
He’d been pretty good at chemistry in school, and not just the sexual kind. Tonight, he’d mix the perfect blend to produce a chemical reaction, preferably a highly combustible one. One part atmosphere, one part romance, and one part heat. The result should be a chemical reaction of epic proportions.
For the atmosphere, he’d reserved a table at the intimate onboard restaurant, La Presse du Vin, which featured wine flights from around the region. For the romance, he’d give her roses, and for the heat, well, from what he’d gleaned so far, a touch was enough to ignite the heat. Mother Nature could take it from there.
The waiter placed the white linen napkin onLaura’s lap. She gazed across the candlelit table at Nathan, his white dress shirt open at the neck revealing a tanned throat. A single red rose lay on the table at her elbow.
He’d arrived at her door promptly at seven-fifteen bearing an armload of red long-stemmed roses, and wearing a charming grin. She’d rarely received roses, or flowers of any kind for that matter, from a man. Romance had nothing to do with what she wanted from men. She’d been shocked by her reaction to his thoughtfulness. A flutter in her chest, and a pleasant warmth in her belly.
The restaurant’s understated décor provided a welcome respite from the high glamour of the rest of the ship. Vintage winepresses stood around the room beneath down-lighting like works of art. Wine corks in a herringbone pattern covered an accent wall, while the other walls were a rich Merlot color. A large glassed-in wine room with rotating racks provided ample storage for the diverse collection of wines available. Small pub tables topped with old wine cask lids stood near a mahogany bar accented with wrought iron.
An eight-glass wine flight waited at their table when they’d arrived. She’d glanced over at Nathan, confused, thinking that the maître d had escorted them to the wrong table.
“I thought you’d like to sample some of the region’s other wines. Some rosés as well as the reds you love.”
Another thoughtful gesture that left her off balance. “Ah. I thought you just wanted to get me drunk.”
“A gentleman never gets a lady drunk.” He indicated the glasses. “But it is all part of the seduction.”
“Seduction?” She drew back in surprise, then leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Let me make it easy for you. I don’t need seducing. I’m a sure thing.”
“Maybe I’m not.”
“Well, then. Maybe I should be seducing you instead.”
“That sounds intriguing. We’ll try that tomorrow.”
“It’s just meaningless sex.” Dammit! Did she just say that out loud? It was meant to be a reminder to herself.
He frowned, his brows drawing together, as he gave a shake of his head. “Nothing you do in life should be without meaning, least of all sex. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
“All right.