Loving Hearts by Gail Gaymer Martin

breath, waiting in expectation until her cool hands rested on his skin, glided along his hairline, then down his neck. When she worked her way to the front, she gave his throat a playful squeeze.
    “Strangle me, and you’ll have to sail this boatback to shore by yourself.” He sent her a teasing grin.
    “I think I could,” she said, covering her palm with lotion and rubbing it along his arms.
    He loved the feel of her gentle touch on his skin. The intimacy. Most of all, he loved having Esther at his side, bantering like a real friend.
    “How are you doing out here on the lake?” he asked, hoping he didn’t create an unwanted reaction.
    “I’m trying not to think about it,” she said. “You were right, though. It feels wonderful being on the water. It’s been so long.”
    When they’d reached the lake, he’d set his course closer to the shoreline than he normally would, knowing Esther would realize he was keeping his promise. “Should I tie the wheel, or can you help me while I raise the sails?”
    She motioned toward the bow. “Steer into the wind, right?”
    “Right. Think you can do it?”
    She agreed and slipped into position at the wheel while he headed toward the winch to raise the sails. He moved from the mainsail to the staysail, then the jib. He tied off the last halyard and adjusted the sheets to trim the sails.
    Returning to the cockpit, Ian stood a moment, admiring Esther at the wheel. She’d handled the vessel like a true sailor. He rested his hands on her shoulders “Hungry?”
    “Starving,” she said. “Want me to carry up the goodies?”
    “If you can hang on a minute, I’ll do it.”
    She nodded, and he hurried down the ladder into the galley and brought up the picnic box. On deck he slid the container onto a bench. “I’ll take over, and you dish it up. How’s that?”
    “Sounds good.” At the moment she stood, a roller hit the hull, and the boat yawed, sending a new look onto her face—uncertainty heading toward distress.
    “Getting nervous?” he asked.
    She shrugged. “I’m pretending I’m fine.” She sat on the bench, opened the lid and peeked inside.
    He watched as she pulled out the plates, bucket of chicken, dinner rolls, raw vegetables, potato chips and a bag of cookies—not homemade, but touted to be as close as one could get. She loaded his plate, and he rested it on the settee beside him, eating with one hand while guiding the boat with the other.
    When Ian realized she was staring at him, he faltered. “Something wrong?”
    “No. I’m thinking about you…and your contacts.”
    Her comment puzzled him. “Is this going somewhere?”
    She gave him an uneasy look. “I’ve been thinking. You’re handsome to me with or without glasses. I can just see your eyes better without those thick lenses though.”
    Handsome? He’d never thought of himself as handsome. Words stuck in his throat until he dragged them out. “Thanks…but what brought that on?”
    She shrugged. “Sometimes we let little things become so important. I remember your complaining about the glasses, and I realized—this is a lesson formyself, too—those little things on the outside don’t mean anything. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.”
    He nodded while her words settled in his thoughts, giving him a warm feeling. How many times had he looked at himself in the mirror and compared himself to more handsome men…like Jeff or Jim Mason? She’d given him food for thought. Food. He looked at his plate and, concealing his emotion, grabbed a carrot stick and gave it a firm crunch.
    Esther grinned, but only nibbled on a dinner roll, and after time passed she slid onto the bench beside him. “This is lovely, Ian, but do you think we could head back? I’m getting—”
    “You’ve done fine. Really.” He concentrated on tacking in a wide arc and aiming for the marina.
    “Thanks,” she said, looking more relieved as the boat came about and headed back. “I’m sorry.”
    “No