The closer we get to the cove, the more self-conscious I’m becoming.

Maybe the spot is only magical to me.

Maybe this star athlete will take one look at my little crescent of sand with a view of the ocean and shrug. But he’s holding my left hand as he drives, kissing my wrist, my knuckles, my palm, his eyelids heavy with lust—and somehow I know it’s going to be all right. That he’ll enjoy it as much as I do…especially because we’ll be together.

I wet my lips. “Turn here,” I ...