"You make me want to say yes but the island is a fishbowl. Privacy doesn't exist. Everyone knows my parents and the Babes. No matter where we go, someone will probably recognize me and then call the Babes to get the scoop and—"
"We'll deal with that when it happens."
Her shoulders slumped and he had a feeling he was wearing her down.
"Everett...you know you're handsome. You dress nice, which means you obviously have some cash to spend. You're smart and…you could walk into any bar or restaurant in town and get any woman you want. Why not just get a divorce and be done with it? Why me?"
Why her, indeed.
He leaned toward her and lifted a hand to brush a tendril of hair off her soft cheek. "Why not you?" When it was obvious that question didn't satisfy her, he said, "The fact of the matter is you intrigue me, Isabel. And I like it."
A soft flush formed on her cheeks and he smiled at the sight.
"What if we have nothing in common? What if we really don't like each other and we get a divorce anyway? Doing it now would save time."
"What don't you like about me?" he asked, putting her on the spot.
"What?"
"What don't you like about me?"
She opened her mouth but no words emerged. Finally she closed it and licked her lips before trying again.
"You're very bossy."
"I can be,” he said, lowering his voice. “But I think you like it when I take control in certain areas."
Her face flushed instantly, and he chuckled, lowering his head to kiss her quickly. "What else?"
He heard her swallow.
"Wh-what happens when you see I'm not pregnant? Will it be over then?"
She attempted to set a time limit as a way to protect herself. His admiration rose. "Mmm." He kissed her again, letting his lips linger over the feel of her. "Then we reevaluate. Arranged marriages have started with less than the chemistry we have, Isabel."
"That's not a mark on the pro side," she said wryly, her nose wrinkling as she pulled away and glanced around to see if anyone watched them. "Looks—and sex drive—fade over time. Those don't sustain a marriage. Not…not the kind I'd like to have."
The kind like her parents and the Babes had. The report had listed the years the group had spent together, with Ms. Georgia and her husband married sixty-five years before the man had passed away.
Everett fought the urge to pick Isabel up and throw her over his shoulder like a caveman. Because unbeknownst to her, she’d just told him exactly what he wanted to hear. He felt the same way. It was yet another thing they had in common. But he sensed by agreeing with her words now, she would think it an attempt to love bomb her or get his way, so he remained quiet. "I understand. So for now we date, bide our time, and see what happens. Are we in agreement?"
The stubborn set of her chin revealed that she wasn't going to give an inch. But that was okay. The hardest battles brought the best rewards.
"No sex. I shouldn’t have… If we’re to find out if we’re compatible, that has to be off the table."
"If you say so," he readily agreed, leaving it up to her should she change her mind. “Do we have an agreement?”
“I…I suppose.”
He gave her one last quick kiss and then took her hand in his. "Let's go," he said, tugging her after him.
"Go where? Everett, where are we going?"
An hour later,Everett felt Isabel's hard stare boring into the side of his face. He ignored it and fought off the urge to smile as well.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing toward the structure in the distance.
"It's the Oak Island Lighthouse. Why do you have a driver? Do you not know how to drive? I mean, you are from New York City, so I guess it's understandable if you don't, but I would've thought—"