“What are you doing?” he asks. “I thought we were going upstairs to discuss strategy for tomorrow.” He leans in close, his breath tickling my neck in a way that makes my cheeks heat and my pulse race.
Those sea-green eyes. I get lost in them every time. They calm me and excite me at once. And he just stands there and stares at me, like he’s reading my thoughts.
Good luck with that. Then for a brief moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. I want him to.
Then I realize he’s waiting for me to answer his question. “Oh, yes. Well, we can walk and talk, right? And hey, you said your family likes to strategize on the beach. It makes it harder to eavesdrop or whatever.”
The smirk and the dimples are back. No fair. “Well, the lounge chairs are gone,” I say. I thought it would make him feel better. Instead, a look of panic creeps across his face.
“What now?”
He points toward the waves. “I can’t go out there.”
“Into the waves? Why not?” I ask. I’m not really in the mood for swimming, just curious.
He makes a face and I know he’s just screwing with me. “I can’t go out there, there could be paparazzi. Or crazy people. Or sharks. Or lawyers.”
I smile and look out across the sand. There are a few small groups of people walking or sitting on blankets. But other than that, it’s pretty sparse out there right now. Just the way I like it.
“I don’t see any sharks.” I hold his hand tighter. “Trust me, without your security and the resort security and your tux, you’re not Chase Covington. You’re just a tourist on the beach with a girl.”
He cocks his head to the side. “I thought you had a big problem with tourists. Fairly sure that’s a rule of yours.”
I pull in even closer to him, until our bodies are nearly touching. “Well, that rule is more like a guideline. In any case, there are exceptions to every rule.” I can feel his body heat in between the gusts of wind whipping my hair. “And I swear to protect you from any lawyers.”
“Promise?” he asks. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. How many lawyers have you had to deal with?”
“I don’t know,” I say as we start walking at a leisurely pace toward the water. “I only met one, but he was pretty nice.”
“Ha, the entire profession has you fooled, then. Give them time. Or are you running a long con on me. Are you about to serve me with papers?”
I laugh out loud. “That’s it, you caught me. I have the papers right here in my bra.” I give him a flirty look, the one that usually gets me free drinks. By the look on his face, the flirty look isn’t wasted on him.
“Then it is my duty to search you,” he says and the hungry look in his eyes is back, “just to be on the safe side.” He tackles me onto the soft beach sand.
I scream with mock fear and glee. We land with a plop into the sand, it’s like falling on a cloud. Then I’m lying on my back in the sand, the cool breeze playing with my hair, and Chase Covington is on top of me. “Now where are those papers, spy? Talk!”
He’s straddling me now. He searches me, but only with his eyes. I know he wants more. So do I. He caresses my chin with his hand, then he lets it slide down to my shoulder. His touch sends a shiver through my body that even the cool breeze can’t compete with.
A couple walking by stops his hand from its downward path. He looks down at me with his own sexy, flirty face.
Like he’s thinking about what to do next. It’s only in this moment, when he doesn’t get a chance to search my bra for legal papers, that I realize I really want him to.
That thought takes my breath away. We stare into each other’s eyes. I keep having to remind myself I can’t fall for him. And that first night was just for fun, but now I know I’m past that. I want him, but I don’t want to get hurt.
He must see the conflict in my eyes. He smiles and wipes a stray hair from my face. Then he gets up and holds out his hand to me. “Come on, Kaylee. You promised me you’d help plot the Chase Covington comeback plan.”
I accept the hand up. “So I did. Plotting is kind of my specialty.”
“Not lying, though,” he teases.
“Definitely not lying.”
We walk closer to the water, our footsteps matching as the sun sets in the background. It’s magical. We make it to the wet sticky sand at the shoreline and I let the last of the retreating waves trickle across my toes.
“So, what do you propose we do,” Chase asks. His voice trails off into the ocean breeze, so I know this is where I’m supposed to jump in.
I glance over at him and I swear that since I’ve known him, which admittedly isn’t very long, I have never seen him so relaxed.
The frown lines on his forehead from that first night are gone. Even his smile looks different. Right now, it’s not all the way to dimple, just somewhere between happy and content.
It’s kind of funny to me that he wants my help at all. I’m almost a complete stranger.
He’s right about lawyers, though. I haven’t dealt with very many.
My family back in Colorado gets pretty rowdy, but we only had two rules: no cops and no lawyers.
The only exception to that rule was when I was electronically robbed in the middle of the night. And nobody can blame me there. Unfortunately, according to the police, if my douche ex had
