Summer Desserts

parlor.
    “Knowing your tastes by now, I thought you’d find this the perfect accompaniment to the champagne.”
    She grinned as the fatigue was replaced with the first real stirrings of hunger. “Absolutely perfect.”
    “Wait here,” he told her as he opened the door. “I had someone call ahead and order it when I saw you were nearly finished.”
    Grateful, and touched, Summer leaned back and closed her eyes again. When was the last time she’d allowed anyone to take care of her? she wondered. If memory served her, the last time she’d been pampered she’d been eight, and cranky with a case of chicken pox. Independence had always been expected of her, by her parents, and by herself. But tonight, this one time, it was a rather sweet feeling to let someone else make the arrangements with her comfort in mind.
    And she had to admit, she hadn’t expected simple consideration from Blake. Style, yes, credit where credit was due, yes—but not consideration. He’d put in a hard day himself, she thought, remembering how tired he’d looked that afternoon.Still, he’d waited long past the time when he could have had his own dinner in comfort, relaxed in his own way. He’d waited until she was finished.
    Surprises, she mused. Blake Cocharan, III definitely had some surprises up his sleeve. She’d always been a sucker for them.
    When Blake opened the car door, the scent of pizza rolled pleasurably inside. Summer took the box from him, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”
    “I should’ve tried pizza before,” he murmured.
    She settled back again, letting her eyes close and her lips curve. “Don’t forget the champagne. Those are two of my biggest weaknesses.”
    “I’ve made a note of it.” Blake pulled out of the parking lot and joined the traffic again. Her simple gratitude shouldn’t have surprised him. It certainly shouldn’t have moved him. He had the feeling she would have had the same low-key, pleased reaction if he’d presented her with a full-length sable or a bracelet of blue-white diamonds. With Summer, it wouldn’t be the gift, but the nature of the giving. He found he liked that idea very much. She wasn’t a woman who was easily impressed, he mused, yet she was a woman who could be easily pleased.
    Summer did something she rarely did unless she was completely alone. She relaxed, fully. Though her eyes were closed, she was no longer sleepy, but aware. She could feel the smooth motion of the car beneath her, hear the rumble of traffic outside the windows. She had only to draw in a breath to smell the tangy scent of sauce and spice. The car was spacious, but she could sense the warmth of Blake’s body across the seat.
    Pleasant. That was the word that drifted through her mind. So pleasant, there seemed to be no need for caution, for defenses. It was a pity, she reflected, that they weren’t driving aimlessly….
    Strange, she’d never chosen to do anything aimlessly. And yet, tonight, to drive…along a long, deserted beach—with the moon full, shining off the water, and the sand white. You’d be able to hear the surf ebb and flow, and see the hundreds of stars you so rarely noticed in the city. You’d smell the salt and feel the spray. The moist, warm air would flow over your skin.
    She felt the car swing off the road, then purr to a stop. For an extra moment, Summer held on to the fantasy.
    “What’re you thinking?”
    “About the beach,” she answered. “Stars.” She caught herself, surprised that she’d indulged in what could only be termed romanticism. “I’ll take the pizza,” she said, straightening. “You can bring the champagne.”
    He put a hand on her arm, lightly but it stopped her. Slowly he ran a finger down it. “You like the beach?”
    “I never really thought about it.” At the moment, she found she’d like nothing better than to rest her head against his shoulder and watch waves surge against the shore. Star counting. Why should she want to indulge in something so foolish now when she never had before? “For some reason, it just seemed like the night for it.” And she wondered if she were answering his question or her own.
    “Since there’s no beach, we’ll just have to come up with something else. How’s your imagination?”
    “Good enough.” Quite good enough, Summer thought, tosee where she’d end up if she didn’t change the mood—hers as well as his. “And at the moment, I imagine the pizza’s getting cold, and the