Jake (California Dreamy) - By Rian Kelley Page 0,7

that his eyelashes were gold, that he had a small scar shaped like a starburst over his eyebrow, and that beneath his solid build he had a soft heart.

“So why, exactly, were you ordered to Las Vegas?” Ivy returned to their roadside conversation because she found it fascinating—that someone would resent a little time off. Her life was so hectic now, and had been for so long, that travel, exotic places and long hours of nothing to do, had become her favorite daydream.

“R and R,” he returned.

“Because. . .?”

“I haven’t been on vacation in two-plus years,” he revealed.

Ivy nodded. “Me, either.” There was a wistfulness in her voice. She was happy with her life. She loved where she lived, the job she went to everyday. She loved every moment she could spend outdoors with the sun and the sea on her face. She had it good. But she’d also taken on a lot of responsibility after the crash. For the first year, Holly hadn’t been able to work. She’d gone through her savings and Ivy had taken on extra hours to help out. Other than her time in Vegas, she hadn’t had even two days off back-to-back. A vacation sounded nice. It sounded sinful.

She tipped her head back and sank into the moment—hot sun, warm sand, pale green water. The Caribbean, definitely. She’d been only once. A week in the Grand Caymans. She’d learned how to scuba dive and had parasailed. Exhilarating. She collected five pounds of shells she’d taken home with her and kept in a glass vase on a table in her tiny apartment. There were moments, when she inhaled deeply, that she believed she could still smell the soft scents of the Caribbean. It reminded her of the easy days and sultry nights, and though she had spent them alone, there had been something carnal in the stroke of the water against her flesh and the caress of the ocean breezes.

She lifted her hand and smoothed it over her arm, up to her shoulder and cupped her neck. She’d meant to ease her body’s response to the remembered experience, but felt her nipples bead and the satin material of her bra became too rough to her sensitive flesh.

“What are you doing?”

His voice was harsh and as powerful as an undertow. It crashed over her and pulled her out of her sweet memories.

She opened her eyes and speared him with a glance.

“Damn, you really ruined that,” she complained. She didn’t bother softening the sharp edges of accusation in her voice, either. She’d been enjoying the moment.

“Sorry, but you should never look like that,” he warned. “Not unless you’re planning on

sharing it.”

“What?”

“Wherever you were,” he demanded. “My guess would be heaven.”

Yes, it had been heaven. And she’d promised herself she would return, multiple times. She had hoped for once a year. But life was full of rude intrusions.

“OK, I owe you that much,” she allowed. “But then I want to hear about your last vacation.” She reached back for the memory of her long ago travels. “The Grand Caymans, almost three years ago. Have you ever been?”

She moved her gaze from his profile and over his broad shoulders, barely contained in the thin cotton t-shirt. She could see the outline of his pectoral muscles beneath the NIKE lettering stamped across his chest. She wondered if he had any tattoos. There were none visible on his arms. No scrolls working their way up his neckline. Still, she’d bet he had one somewhere. . .Her eyes drifted down his flat stomach to where his shirt fell over his jeans. Faded denim encased his hips and thighs. Her body was responding to his closeness, to her perusal of his body, by growing tight. Her breath hitched in her throat. She followed the lines of his legs, back up to the juncture of his thighs.

“No,” he said.

It sounded like she’d strangled the word out of him and she reluctantly let her eyes lift to his face. His skin was flushed. He’d caught her looking. Well, undressing him really. And she didn’t know what had gotten into her, except that she was imagining him in a swimsuit, beside her on the white sand, and she had just let herself go. She wasn’t at all repentant about it, and she wondered about this, too. Where was the control she’d learned to harness? And from where did this new boldness come? It didn’t bother her so much as she found it exciting. Powerful, even. And she’d

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