Free Sea Kissed, A Crane Series Romance: Crane Series by Nancy Warren Page B

quiet chuckle that built until he had to sit up in bed and bend over.
    “My sexual performance renders you helpless with laughter?” she asked tartly, trying to push him away, which was a bit like trying to push a bus over with one hand.
    “No. Stop or I’ll go off again.” She waited in annoyed silence until he’d got hold of himself. “You know where I got that from?”
    “Some Australian woman named Bridget who’s a champion diver and sex goddess and strips on the side?”
    He shook his head, still shaken by silent chuckles. “That bloody stupid magazine I read on the plane. I think it was sex tip number three. Stay in the moment. It seemed so damned silly to me that anyone wouldn’t be in the moment that the notion stuck.”
    Somewhat mollified, she made a mental note to start reading more women’s magazine articles—usually she concentrated on the ads.
    “It’s a pretty good tip,” she admitted. It had certainly worked for her. “Maybe we should write a letter to the magazine.”
    “Does everything in your life have to revolve around the media?”
    She thought about it, then slanted a look up at him through her lashes. “Well, it is my job. I always think in terms of exposure for my clients.”
    There was more than the usual ruddiness about his cheeks. “You may want to expose yourself for a silly women’s magazine, but I’m not going to.”
    It was her turn to laugh. “Don’t worry. This will stay our little secret.”
    Besides, he’d be exposed enough in the ads they’d already booked for a national campaign. But that was work, and work was banished until Monday. She leaned over and kissed him.
    “I think I should practice that again,” she told him.
    The sexy glint was back in his eyes. “Practice what?”
    “Staying in the moment.”
    “You expect me to provide you with another ‘moment’?”
    She reached behind her to the canvas pouch, which she saw was well stocked. She handed him a small square pouch.
    “Yep,” she said.
    He laughed. “I was thinking the same thing myself.”
    She was still smiling when she awoke the next morning and lazily replayed all the events of the night before. Her body felt pliant, satiated, and earthy. It might be a cliché, but she had to admit she’d never known sex could be like that, so intimate and tender and yet raunchy and fun. While she scooped her toiletry case from her sports bag and headed into the bathroom to freshen up, she thought about that amazing night. Steve was the kind of man a woman could wait years for, the kind she’d stopped believing existed, the kind who . . . her fantasy dissolved as she recalled one particular detail from the night before.
    When she came out, he was gone, but she heard him call out, “What do you like in your coffee?”
    “You are bringing me coffee in bed?” He kept getting more perfect. Except for that one thing.
    When he strode in, naked and holding two mugs of coffee, passing her the one with milk, taking his own black she noted, he said, “You’ve got the furrow back.” He climbed back into bed and waited.
    She glanced up at his sleepy, sexy face, the shadow of morning stubble only adding to his appeal. “You don’t want to get married,” she said, voicing the thought that had stopped her foolish fantasies cold.
    Now it was his turn to furrow. “Not at the moment, no.”
    “Just haven’t found the right girl?”
    It was strange, to say the least, to have this conversation while naked and still in the blissful morning-after state, but it seemed important to know. Not that she wanted to marry him or anything, but she felt she ought to understand a little more about the man who’d spent a good part of the night inside her body. He scratched his head using both hands, which made his sun-kissed hair stick out in adorable tufts.
    “In order to answer that, I have to tell you a bit of my life story. Sure you want to hear it?”
    “Yes. I’d love to.”
    She sensed he was uncomfortable talking