Page 66 of Naughty Nelle

“Are you sure? You look like you’re walking a little funny.”

“Really, I’m fine. Just a little stiff.”

He smiled wryly. “I’m a little stiff too.”

A breath hitched in my throat. I gulped it down and kept my eyes on his face.

He held my gaze in his. “I always get breakfast at this great place on the beach after doing the steps. Come with me. We’ll make it a business meal.”

I needed to get away from him. ASAP. “Sorry, I can’t. I’m with someone.”

His brows furrowed—that special way they did whenever he heard words he didn’t want to hear. “Oh, your fiancé?”

I nervously shook my head. “No, he’s at work. Saturday is one of his busiest days. A girlfriend.”

His frown morphed quickly into that dazzling, dimpled smile. “Text her and tell her you’ll see her later. I’ll drive you home.”

My eyes met his in a standoff.

“Just. Do. It.”

I pulled out my cell phone from my shorts pocket.

Five minutes later, I was cruising down the Pacific Coast Highway in Blake’s convertible, soaking in the magnificent view of the ocean and one equally magnificent profile. Not once did my eyes look down.

Back on the Beach was the perfect name for the restaurant Blake took me to. Located adjacent to the popular Annenberg Community Beach House pool that was now closed for the winter, the restaurant literally sat on the sand and enjoyed unobstructed views of the white-crested waves. We had a choice of eating indoors or outside, but there was no decision to make. With the perfect summer-like weather, we opted for a table outdoors. The place was crowded, filled with both couples and families. Close to the seating area, was a small playground where children could play. A cheerful, tanned waiter, who looked like he could be a surfer, came by with coffee and then asked for our order.

Ravenous, I ordered a mushroom and cheese omelet while Blake ordered huevos rancheros. It was a hearty breakfast that included three eggs, salsa, and beans—so different from the flaxseed protein shakes that Bradley always ordered. Blake consumed his food with gusto. My eyes trained on the way his mountainous biceps flexed when he lifted his fork to his mouth, and his lush lips sensuously wrapped around his Mexican-styled eggs. God, he was gorgeous!

“Where are you from?” he asked me, after swallowing a biteful.

A safe enough question. “Boise.”

“Ah, a Midwesterner. I should have known. What brought you to California?”

I cut into my omelet. “FYI, Idaho is not the Midwest. And the answer to your question is I needed to get out of my shell. And USC has one of the best film and television schools in the country. I won a merit scholarship.”

“Why did you want to get into television?”

“Because I’ve always loved TV. It was my means of escape. I lived a very sheltered life; my overprotective parents homeschooled me.”

Blake took another bite of his eggs. “I’ve never understood people who homeschool their kids.”

“My parents had me late in life. After believing they could never have kids, I was a miracle baby. They wanted to keep me insulated from the world—out of harm’s way.”

“So, no peril or heartbreak for Calamity Jen.”

With a nervous little smile, I moved my omelet around my plate with my fork. “What about you? Where’d you go to school?”

“UCLA.”

“What did you major in?”

He licked his lips. “Anatomy.”

My eyes rounded. “You wanted to be a doctor?”

“No. I wanted to fuck.”

---