“Well, it was more like pretend flashing. She mentioned that there were robes you could wear to the nudey parts of the resort, and Ienvisioned myself showing up and having to take off my robe in front of a lot of people.” Juliette pulls open the lapels of an imaginary robe and loudly says, “Patow! Naked Juli is here.I literally said that, Reno. Out loud. To a perfect stranger.”
By this point in the story, I’m about to bite a hole in my cheek to keep from laughing. “I’m sure Kat has heard much worse,” I say in what I hope is a soothing tone.
“She thankfully cut me off when I started going on about the orifices that sand crabs could wander into.”
I can’t hold it back another second, and a loud laugh escapes from deep in my chest. Juliette plants her hands on her hips and glares at me for a long moment while I guffaw like a hyena, until the hilarity gets the best of her and her lips curve into a reluctant smile. Then we’re both laughing our asses off.
My sides ache when I’m finally able to catch my breath. “I can’t decide if coochie chafing or the whole patow thing was my favorite.”
Juli drops her forehead to my chest and lets out a residual giggle. “Why am I so ridiculous?”
I rest a gentle hand on the back of her head. “You, Juliette, are the most delightful person I’ve ever met.” We stand like that for a long while, both of us content. Every inch of my skin feels warm, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the tropical heat.
She finally steps back and takes my arm again. “I’d better get to work if I’m going to meet my goal for the day.”
When the path forks, we take the one toward her cabin. “So our date tomorrow is contingent on you finishing six chapters?” I ask as we reach her door.Did I just call it a date?
Juliette nods. “Yep, I can do it. I already have one partially written.” She turns toward me with her back against the front door.
I take the opportunity to prop an arm against the doorframe. Gotta show off my porny forearms after all. Grasping her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I tilt her head up and put on mysternest look.
Leaning into her space to put my mouth against her ear, I whisper, “I want you to get inside and finish all your chapters. Do you understand me, Juliette?” I deepen my voice into a growl. “Can you be a good girl for me?”
My words have the desired effect, and her fingers clench against the microfiber of my charcoal-gray shirt at the same time she lets out a sensual whimper.
“Answer me,” I command, loving the slight shudder that runs down her luscious body.
Juliette’s hands flatten against my chest, and she draws back her head to look up at me. Her eyes are slightly glazed for a moment, and I internally high-five myself for my dazzling ability to induce that lust-fueled daze.
But then a sexy smirk plays with the corners of her mouth, and something flutters in my belly and shoots down to my groin. Juliette McNamara has taken charge of the situation, and I’m her rapt audience.
Taking a step closer, she pats my cheek and, with her sweet southern drawl, purrs, “Baby doll, I’m always a good girl.”
Fuck me. Now I’m the one in a daze.
Chapter 7
He’s totally not my type
Ileanbackagainstthe inside of the door and press a hand to my heaving chest. If I were wearing pearls, I’d be clutching them like a motherfucker.
Sweet baby bunnies in a basket. I just had lunch and engaged in the flirting Olympics with Reno Swain.
Yes, I recognized the hockey defenseman for the Denver Raptors the instant he gave that cocky little chin jerk in the dining room. The chin jerk I should have ignored but didn’t.
I’d been drawn to him like a moth to a flame… like bees to honey… like a horny author to a hot hockey player. Choose your simile.
You don’t date hockey players, Juliette McNamara,I remind myself.
But you can use your little flirtation incident to write a steamin’ hot scene for your book,my stupid self reminds my smarter self.
Dashing to the bedroom, I dive onto my bed and flip open my laptop with thoughts of Reno flashing through my head. His cockiness and swagger. His million-watt smile. His forearms.
Dear. God.The forearms. Braced on either side of my head while he’s on top of me. His hips working like pistons. His strong back putting in some damn fine work.
And let’s not forget that very obvious bulge that was barely contained behind those black shorts.
I begin typing, my brain a rabid organ coming up with the words I’d been seeking for what seemed like forever. Any hint of writer’s block went up in smoke—as did my panties—as my fingers flew over the backlit keyboard.
