step.
But that was Ethan, she admitted, and just one of the things she adored
about him.
She sipped coffee, bit her lip. Why did he have to take the step? Why
shouldn't she be the one to move things along? Julie had told her men
liked it when a woman took the initiative. And hadn't Ethan liked it
when she finally worked up the courage to ask him to make love with her?
She could do some courting herself, couldn't she? And she could move it
along at a faster pace. God knew she was an expert at getting things
done on schedule.
It would only take the courage to ask him. She blew out a breath. She'd
have to find that, but she would dig inside herself until she did.
temperatures soared, and the humidity thickened in a syrupy morass that
Cam not so cheerfully dubbed "fumidity." He worked belowdecks, trimming
out the cabin until the heat sent him topside desperate for fluids and
one stingy breeze.
Though he rarely complained about the working conditions, Ethan
was--like Cam--stripped to the waist. Sweat poured as he patiently
varnished.
"That's going to take a week to dry, it's so goddamn damp."
"Decent storm might blow some of it out."
"Then I wish to Christ we'd have one." Cam grabbed up the jug and
glugged water straight from the lip.
"Close weather makes some people edgy."
"I'm not edgy, I'm hot. Where's the kid?"
"Sent him for some ice."
"Good idea. I could take a bath in it. There's no fucking air down
there."
Ethan nodded. Varnishing was a miserable enough job in this weather, but
working below in the little cabin where even the big fans couldn't reach
was probably kin to working in hell. "Want to switch off for a while?"
"I can do my own goddamn job."
Ethan merely lifted a sweaty shoulder. "Suit yourself."
Cam gritted his teeth, then hissed. "Okay, I am edgy. The heat's frying
my brain, and I keep wondering if that alley cat's gotten Anna's letter
yet."
"Ought to. It went out Tuesday as soon as the post office broke the
holiday. It's Friday now."
"I know what day it is, Ethan." Disgusted, Cam swiped sweat off his face
and scowled at his brother. "Aren't you worried a damn bit about it?"
"It won't make any difference if I am or not. She'll do what she's going
to do." His gaze flicked up to Cam's and was hard as a bunched fist.
"Then we'll handle it."
Cam paced the deck, caught a whiff of air from the fans, paced back. "I
never could understand how you can stay so calm when things go to hell."
"Practice," Ethan murmured and kept on varnishing.
Cam rolled his aching shoulders, drummed his fingers on his thigh. He
had to think of something else or he'd go crazy. "How'd the big date go
the other night?"
"Well enough."