Page 10 of Beach Bum Billion-Heiress
6
Jax
It was like watching some sort of exotic porno that starts with the woman stepping out of a pool, hair wet and dripping. Clothes clinging to wet skin. Nipples jutting out, just calling your name.
Once the rash guard came off, there wasn't much left of her outfit. I didn't have to imagine what she wore under that hideous business suit any longer. I was getting quite the eyeful. And damn, was it nice. She wasn't built like a porn star, in fact, I'd say her curves were on the small side, but she was tall and athletic looking with legs that went on for days. When she wasn't tripping over her own feet, she walked with a confidence I admired. She wasn't a timid, insecure woman, which was more than okay by me.
While her eyes were closed and her head tossed back in the spray of water, a secret smile curving her lips, I reached for a towel and held it in front of me. It probably wouldn't do much to hide the desire trying to fight its way out of my board shorts, but it was better than nothing. I refused to look away, instead enjoying the show, telling myself it had been so long since I'd been with a girl, it was understandable that I'd want to watch till the bitter end.
And I had no doubt the ending would be bitter.
This girl had proven to be annoying as hell. She'd cut me off, made me late to work, insulted my business, and then ignored my offer of professional assistance in the water like I was the asshole for offering to help.
It was with that reminder that I reached around her and yanked on the spigot, abruptly shutting the water off and ending this little performance, at least for now. I'd be replaying that baby for many nights to come. If my arm happened to glide briefly along her slim waist in the process, that was purely a bonus.
"Hey!" She turned her face to me, eyes blazing with indignation. "I was still using that."
"Don't you know California is in a drought?" I tossed a towel at her and turned around to head into The Shack, not bothering to see if she was following me. Somehow I knew she would.
I'd just reached the counter inside when I heard the bell over the door ring out and her bare feet slapping on the old linoleum floor tiles. Rolling my eyes, I reached behind the counter for a clean Surf Shack logo'd t-shirt, slipping it on and running my hands through my hair to get it out of my face.
"What's the last name, sweetheart?" I asked as I flipped through the day's rental slips.
"Why do you ask?"
I looked up to find her looking down her pert, little nose at me again. Like I was the help and my question overstepped my boundaries. In my own store. Goddamn, she was annoying.
"So I can cyberstalk you and make your life as miserable as you've made mine today," I deadpanned. Her mouth opened and closed, those brown eyes flashing at me again. "Relax. So I can find your rental slip."
Her face morphed into a frown, but she gave me the information anyway. "Vanderman."
I flipped through the receipts and found hers, pulling it out and confirming Jonny had already run her credit card. "Sage?" The name seemed to fit her. As flighty and hippie as the girl I remembered from the VW that first day.
She nodded her head, then continued to look around the shop, eyes taking in all the details.
"Planning on stealing something?"
Her head swung back to me, her nose making an adorable wrinkle. "What? No! Just trying to figure out why you care for this place so much."
I folded my arms across my chest. "Ah, so we're back to that are we?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking me. Except her stance pushed her small breasts up, like an offering of peace. A false offer, I'm sure. "You said this morning that you're the owner, so you must be Jax Stern?"
"Oh, so who's cyber-stalking who now?" I teased her.
She gave me a 'cut-the-shit' look, which was as harmless as her power stance. More cute than intimidating.
We faced each other in a stalemate, neither one willing to back down. This lasted for a full minute which doesn't seem that long unless you were faced with a beautiful, pissed off female in a teeny tiny, wet bikini with nipples pointing right at you. Nipples I wanted to run my thumb across, just to see what they'd do.
Finally, she dropped her arms with a sigh and pointed behind me at the wall. "Who's in those pictures?"
I tilted my head. Guess she decided to go for a new line of attack. "My father. And various citizens of Huntington Beach. A few surfers." Which was all true. Maybe a bit understated, but true nonetheless.
She walked right behind the counter to get a better look, completely ignoring that there wasn't room for two in the tight space. I backed up into the corner of the counter and the wall to avoid touching her, not appreciating being put in that position. I just knew I couldn't touch her. I'd want to keep touching. And then tasting. Which would lead to massive regrets. I was hard up, but not that hard up.
While I was trying to figure out how not to touch her, other than climbing up onto the counter, which would definitely be weird, she was studying the pictures like her life depended on it. If anyone should be getting out from behind the counter, it should be her, the customer. I decided to be the one in control here and man-up. I stood up tall and shuffled forward, crowding her back out, narrowing my eyes at her when she gave me a dirty look over her shoulder.
When she was safely back on the other side of the counter after our awkward shuffling slash pushing match, I was finally able to take a deep breath.
