“Good evening, sir. The captain would like to know if you are ready to depart?” one of the ship’s stewards asked Ryan.

“Yes, please,” he graciously replied.

The ship’s engines hummed to life and I could see the crew pulling in the ropes that secured us to the docks. I walked over to the window to get a closer look as we departed the slip. The moon was almost full; fluffy clouds dotted the night sky, occasionally obscuring the moon from view. We would have a perfect night to be out on the ocean.

Ryan stood behind me; his hands rested on my waist as he softly kissed my bare shoulder.

“So, what do you think?” he whispered in my ear.

“Very impressive for a first date!” I said enthusiastically.

“It’s not our first date. If I recall correctly, you took me out on a boat for our first date,” Ryan uttered. “Do you have any idea of how much I wanted to kiss you when we were out on the lake?”

“I was thinking about kissing you when we were on the deck, actually,” I quietly confessed.

“I almost kissed you then too,” he admitted.

“Why didn’t you?” I wondered, looking up into his eyes.

“I hesitated and you ran off.” Ryan sighed, appearing regretful.

In a matter of moments, we were out on the open sea. The moon shone in the sky like a beacon illuminating our way.

“I really like your dress,” he murmured. His hand swept my hair to the side so he could softly kiss my neck. I felt his tongue, his teeth, brush and graze on my skin. My desire for him could no longer be contained.

I turned in his arms; our eyes met and our lips found each other. His strong hands pressed me closer to his chest. He kissed me passionately.

My fingers tangled in the back of his hair as the intensity of our kissing consumed me.

Slowly I slid my hands down the front of his shirt, across his waist, until my fingers found the back pockets of his pants. A soft moan escaped his mouth as I tensed my hands in his pockets; his warm hands held my face to his.

His kiss became soft and slower. I could spend an eternity kissing this man. Ryan pulled me into a warm embrace before releasing my lips from his. He had a smug grin on his face.

Our moment was interrupted when the steward came back in the room. “Excuse me, sir. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. Shall I bring you a bottle of champagne or would you prefer wine?”

“Do you want champagne or wine before dinner?” Ryan asked.

“You choose,” I replied. I wanted him to make the decision.

“We’ll have the champagne,” he answered.

Ryan and I toured the yacht before dinner; we wandered down the stairs to take in the sights of the lower deck. Dark, rich woods and designer wallpaper covered the hallways that led to the staterooms. We took turns peeking into the different rooms; each room was decorated in different patterns and colors.

My eyes mischievously glanced at the door to the master suite, hoping to encourage him to steal away with me for a moment. He laughed at me before stating, “tempting, so very tempting, but our dinner will get cold!”

Our fabulous dinner was served in courses, and I was quite full after the prime rib. Everything was delicious; it felt like we ate for two hours.

Dessert would have to wait.

After our plates were cleared, an older man wearing a tuxedo joined us in the salon. He sat at the baby grand piano that graced the portside and proceeded to play.

Ryan stood up and held out his hand. “Dance with me,” he whispered.

He took me in his arms and placed my hand in his as he slowly turned us on the floor. His hand gently caressed the small of my back; he rested our entwined hands on his chest.

I whispered in his ear, “Thank you for the best date of my life.”

He didn’t comment. He just raised his eyebrows a bit and smiled at me.

I closed my eyes as our cheeks touched and rested together. Our bodies swayed to the music. And every so often, his lips would reach mine.

It was almost midnight when the ship approached the docks. As we disembarked the yacht, I noticed that the marina looked totally different.

Anthony was waiting to escort us safely to our limousine.

When we drove out of the marina I noted that the name on the sign was different; this was not the same marina where I boarded the yacht, and we were headed northeast. Ryan gathered my hand in his as we sat in silence.

“Shell game?” I murmured.

Ryan just smiled and raised my hand to his lips.

I placed our hands on my lap and he started to draw random patterns on the inside of my thigh with his fingertips. I was smoldering in my own skin. The limo pulled into the empty parking lot and I could see my car waiting with Richard standing guard. When we were at a complete stop, the driver and Anthony exited. I had anticipated my door to open a moment later, but it didn’t. I glanced back at Ryan; he looked absolutely adorable sitting there smiling at me.

“I hope you had a good time tonight.” He smirked confidently.

My hand was already gripping the door handle to let myself out. I was confused - was this the good night, goodbye time?

“What?” he asked, obviously noting my expression.

“I didn’t realize that this was the end of our evening,” I muttered, adding a hint of playful disappointment to my tone. “I thought…” I looked away. “I

guess I thought wrong.”

“I don’t want it to be the end of our evening, but I don’t want to assume either,” he spoke softly.

“I thought I was the one assuming!” I gently smiled. “Let’s go.” I motioned. “Drive us home.”

As we exited the car, Ryan stopped to remove his bags from the trunk of the sedan. He gave me an impish grin as he shrugged. He was like the little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

I felt a little self-conscious myself, considering there were three witnesses to our indiscretion. Ryan didn’t seem to care. He relieved Richard of my car keys without a second thought and opened the passenger door for me.

“Pull down the alley,” I instructed. “Then you can hop out.”

“Son-of-a…” Ryan growled. The headlights of my car illuminated the alley, shining light on the photographers hovering around my back door. He quickly threw my car into reverse and backed out into the street. He drove down the street in front of my pub; paparazzi were staked out there as well. He sped past them, barely pausing at the stop sign.

My eyes were focused on the anger on his face. “Ryan, just pull over,” I whispered.