“Not exactly.” She stopped in front of him,
crossed her arms, and bit her lip.
Okay, that body language was loud and clear.
The conversation about Robby and her parents was over, as was his
night, probably. He spread his legs wide enough to accommodate her,
then grabbed the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her to him.
“You have that awkward morning after expression.”
“Do I?” Her gaze darted past him. “I’ve never
had one of those.”
He dropped his mouth to hers and slid his
tongue over her lips before dipping inside for another taste of
her. It was only a kiss, but the way she melted against him made
him feel as if she’d slipped right through his skin and sidled up
next to his soul.
He’d enjoyed his fair share of great sex, but
this thing with Sunny felt different. More intense. Hell, they
hadn’t even had sex, yet he felt like she’d moved into his mind and
body, moved the furniture all around, put up a few pictures, and
claimed the place as hers.
Breathless, and needing to be inside her so
badly he ached from his teeth to his toes, he pressed his forehead
to hers and said, “Since this opportunity was cut short, do I get
another night to prove how good sex can be?”
She shook her head, as if to clear her
thoughts, or get her bearings. “What about the rest of
tonight?”
“Are you worried about Robby worrying about
you?” He leaned back and watched her face so he could judge the
honesty of her answer.
She smiled sheepishly and ducked her
head.
“That’s what I thought. I thrive on
challenges, but I’m not making love to you while your mind is
preoccupied.”
She chewed on her lip and studied the
floor.
He tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet
his gaze head-on. “I can’t tell what you’re thinking if you’re not
looking at me.”
“I want to see you again, but it makes me
nervous.”
“Why?”
“Because… well, then it wouldn’t be a
one-night fling, would it?”
Annoyance flared so strongly within him he
had to consciously force his hand to relax so she wouldn’t pick up
on the tension. Why did being a one-time fuck to her bother him so
badly?
He lived in Myrtle Beach; she lived here. He
had his career to think about and didn’t need the distraction of
figuring out how to split his time between two places. What Sunny
offered was a no strings, no attachment affair. The perfect
situation.
Funny though, standing here looking into her
eyes, the perfect situation no longer sounded perfect.
Maybe it was just an ego
thing, since he hadn’t gotten the chance to prove to her how good
it could be. How good
they
could be.
He dropped a kiss on her nose, then slipped
to her mouth. This time, he was less aggressive and more
persuasive. He stroked her tongue, the roof of her mouth, and
sucked cajolingly on her lip. “Give me a full night. I promise I’ll
make it worthwhile.”
Her lips parted and her eyes turned dreamy.
“You win. When?”
Her sexy, ready-for-bed expression nearly
made him say the hell with Robby and her state of mind. He could
coax her into forgetting about everything except what they were
doing. But now he was greedy. He didn’t want a quick lay in the
bar. He wanted a bed and an entire night.
“When do you work again?”
“I work every night we’re open.”
“What’s the number here at the bar?” As she
recited the number, he plugged it into his cellphone. “I’ll give
you a call tomorrow and see what night works best for you.”
The lusty haze filling her eyes began to
dissipate, and he could tell her brain was reigniting. Anxious to
get away before she changed her mind, he said, “Grab your stuff and
I’ll walk you to your car.”
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
“I’ll see myself out.”
He frowned. “I’m not letting you walk out by
yourself.”
“It’s okay,” she said, her tone forceful, as
it had been when telling Robby to go on home. “I walk out by myself
all the time.”
Protectiveness rushed to the surface and
filled him with concern. “That’s not safe. You should have Robby,
or someone, with you.”
She waved a hand in the air, brushing off the
comment. “This is Anticue, the safest place on earth.” She herded
him toward the door. “I’ll be fine.” As they reached the door, she
shocked the hell out of him by standing on tiptoes to kiss him long
and deep.
When he found his voice again, he said, “I’ll
call you tomorrow.”
Morning sunlight danced on the hood of
Gavin's SUV as he made his way through the iron gate and under the
towering sego palms leading to Max Holden's estate. Gavin had
pulled into this driveway every weekday morning for nearly twelve
years, but he'd never grown comfortable with the massive show of
wealth or air of pretentiousness surrounding the home.
Why did two people need twelve thousand
square feet of extravagance? Even when Callie came home from
college, or from one of her European vacations, it left four
thousand square feet per person. It made sense if you didn’t like
the people you lived with and never wanted to see them, but that
wasn’t what Gavin wanted for himself.
Unfortunately, as the one on deck to take
Max's place as CEO of Holden Enterprises, ostentation on his part
was expected. Max believed living in an enormous show house,
belonging to the top social clubs and country clubs, and being seen
with the “right people” encouraged trust in investors and reassured
them they'd made a wise investment.
Gavin had been carefully selected and groomed
for the CEO office, but he didn’t know if he was cut out to be
Max’s successor. Gavin possessed the intellectual ability to run
Holden Enterprises, but he couldn’t change who he was at the core:
a country boy, more comfortable in jeans and work boots than the
thousand dollar Armani suits he wore to work every day.
He parked in the circular driveway, climbed
from his SUV, and found himself whistling as he buttoned his suit
coat and circled the side of the house. This was the same routine
he followed every morning, but today felt different.
He felt different.
He should be exhausted, considering he didn't
get to bed until after two a.m. and then spent the next four hours
tossing and turning, assaulted by erotic images of a certain, sexy
bartender. However, rather than being tired, he felt more alive
than he had in years. Sunny sparked something inside him—something
far more substantial than the fire in his pants.
He let himself in through the home’s side
door that led into the kitchen. Morning didn’t officially start for
him until his first cup of coffee, and Angelina, the Holdens’s
housekeeper, made the best coffee in the world. “Good morning,
Angie.”
“Good morning, Mr. Gavin.” Her thick Spanish
accent made the greeting sound like a song, and her ever-present
smile was radiant as she turned and handed him a steaming mug.
Gavin laughed and hugged the small woman,
careful not to spill a drop of the cherished coffee. “Bless you.”
He took a sip, then nodded in the general direction of Max's home
office. “Is he in his office?”
“He is.” She spun around and flipped off a
burner on the industrial-sized stove, then checked the oven. “Would
you please tell him breakfast will be on the patio in ten
minutes?”
“Sure will.” Gavin left the
kitchen—the only room in this mausoleum in which he felt
comfortable—and made his way to Max's office. His shoes
clip, clip, clipped
on
the marble floor as he crossed the expansive foyer and traveled the
long hallway leading to Max's office.
The humongous room housed Max’s cherry desk
and chair, two guest chairs, a leather sofa, two leather chairs,
and a coffee table. The leather sofa, chairs, and table created a
seating area in front of the left wall that served as a small
library. On the opposite wall, floor-to-ceiling windows flanked a
set of french doors that opened to the patio and pool.
Gavin shook Max’s outstretched hand before
sinking into one of the guest chairs facing Max’s desk. “Morning,
Max. Breakfast will be ready in ten.”
“Good.” Max relaxed into his chair and gave
Gavin a warm, fatherly smile. “I presume you and Callie had an
enjoyable evening.”
Thanks to Sunny, Gavin’s evening had been
incredible. It remained to be seen how Callie viewed things.
She hadn’t minded the abrupt departure from
the Blackout. If anything, she was relieved to leave the
“disgusting place” behind. But she was plenty pissed-off when she
realized Gavin’s intentions were to drop her off, then get the hell
out. Over the next several hours, he received a dozen texts and
voicemails, all letting him know the fun he was missing out on.
The last slurred message came in around four
a.m., so he assumed she passed out shortly after. He figured if she
saw the light of day any time soon, she’d seriously regret it.
However, those weren’t details a father
needed to hear. And the details of his return trip to Anticue
weren’t relevant, so he settled on a vague response. “I had a great
time. I can’t answer for Callie and her friends.”
Max glanced at Gavin with obvious confusion.
“Friends? I thought the two of you were going to the beach for a
nice, quiet evening alone.”
Gavin shrugged. No one had been more
surprised by the change of plans than him. Yesterday, while Max
gave Gavin details about the Blackout, Callie conveniently strolled
in. Call him paranoid, but he was convinced she lurked outside the
door, waiting for just the right moment to breeze into Max's office
and insinuate herself into Gavin's life.
He learned long ago that Callie got what
Callie wanted, at least if her father had anything to say about it.
And unfortunately for Gavin, she had her sights set on him. He
didn’t share her enthusiasm and had zero interest in a spoiled
daddy’s girl whose biggest concern was making sure her shoes and
handbag matched.
He wanted someone who could carry on
intelligent conversation. Someone with depth of character, who
cared about things of importance. Someone who knew how to have fun
and with whom he shared a strong physical attraction.
Silver eyes and a brilliant
smile flashed in his mind’s eye and the corner of his mouth inched
into a smile. His attraction to Sunny skipped the sparks of
attraction and rocketed to near-detonation. Hell, he couldn’t
remember anyone
ever
affecting him as strongly as Sunny.
Reeling his wayward libido under control, he
redirected his attention to Max. “Jen and Tiffany were here when I
arrived to pick Callie up.”
He'd been both relieved and irritated.
Relieved he wouldn't have to be alone with Callie, irritated
because those three would make a saint swear.
He glanced out the window overlooking the
pool and guesthouse. “I imagine they'll sleep late this
morning.”
Max’s gaze followed Gavin’s, and his
shoulders slumped. “I thought after spending the past six months in
Europe, she’d be more serious. I hoped she’d have the partying
behind her and be more settled.” He shook his head. “I don’t know
what to do with her.”
Start by cutting up her credit cards and
making her find a job.
As if remembering he wasn’t simply talking to
an employee and confidant, but also his daughter’s pick as a
potential husband, Max brightened and straightened his shoulders.
“I'm sure she'll come around soon. Besides, we want her to have
this wild streak out of her system before she settles down.” He
winked conspiratorially. “Right?”
Gavin propped the ankle of one leg onto the
knee of the other and chuckled at Max’s attempt to paint Callie in
a positive light. Callie made her intentions toward Gavin clear,
and Max wholeheartedly supported her chase. Despite Gavin’s
attempts to politely and tactfully let both of them know he wasn’t
interested, Max continued to believe Gavin would someday come
around.
Wanting to, once again, reiterate his
position, Gavin said, “I know what you're trying to do, but I've
told you. I don't have any romantic feelings toward Callie.”
Thinking about her attempted seductions the
night before started a shudder he had to fight to suppress. When
he'd walked the girls to the guesthouse, Jen and Tiffany
disappeared like smoke. Before he could get out the door, Callie
had her body pressed against his, one hand wrapped around his neck,
and the inch-long fingernails of the other scraping down his
chest.
The effect had been the same as nails on a
chalkboard.
Not only did he not think of Callie the way a
man would a lover, but when he looked into her dark brown eyes,
sparkling silver eyes had shimmered in their place.
“You say that now,”—Max's words snapped Gavin
back to the present—“but someday you might feel differently. You're
a good man, Gavin. Stable and solid, with a good future ahead of
you. I want my daughter with someone who'll treat her well and give
her a good life.”
He appreciated Max’s confidence and the
compliment, but he wouldn’t ever change his mind. He’d been treated
like a member of the family for most of his adult life, and the
only feelings he had for Callie were brotherly. But he couldn’t
seem to make anyone else understand that. “She’s only twenty-four,
Max. Give her time and let her find someone who’ll not only treat
her well, but will love her.”
While Max nodded thoughtfully and watched the
guesthouse, Gavin switched gears to a more important matter. “That
bar in Anticue is quite a place.”
The frown lines in Max’s forehead lifted in
direct proportion to the corners of his mouth. “I thought you might
find it interesting.”
“I liked the eclectic flair.” Damn, he’d
forgotten to get the names of the artists from Sunny.