Page 6 of Going, Going, Gone
“Absolutely. My folks were big history lovers, and while growing up, a lot of our vacations were to places like Williamsburg, D.C., Philadelphia, and the Alamo. My brothers and I enjoyed those trips more than just sitting on a beach somewhere. Well, at least until we started noticing how hot girls looked in bikinis.”
He felt rather than heard her chuckle. “Yeah, my brother was the same way. My sister, however, was the complete opposite. History bored her to tears—still does.”
Dylan found himself wanting to hear all about Vanessa, her family, and whatever else she wanted to talk about. “What does she do?”
“Nicki had gotten the looks in our family and is a fashion model living in New York City. She’s super skinny, and has long legs that go on forever, gorgeous blonde hair and blue eyes, and a face that could stop traffic. Men drool over her all-day long.”
He didn’t care for her tone of voice. It didn’t sound like Nessa hated her sister, but, instead, that she didn’t think she could compare to the other woman. He wouldn’t classify it as jealousy, but more like disappointment. And that just wouldn't do. “Well, I happen to think you could be a model yourself. You have beautiful hazel eyes and curves that would give me whiplash if I passed you on the street.”
This time, when she turned to look at him over her shoulder, her eyes were narrowed. “Whiplash?”
“Um-hm.” He winked at her as he told her the truth. “I’d want to see if you were as hot walking away as you were walking toward me.”
Her mouth flattened, and she let out an unladylike snort. “I don’t believe you.”
Tightening his hold on her waist, he spun her around until she was facing him. No longer able to hold onto the side of the basket, she gasped and latched onto his upper arms, her nails digging into his skin. He ignored the discomfort as he glared at her. The desire to spank her ass for putting herself down was strong, but he pushed it down. “You better believe it, Nessa. What Hollywood and fashion magazines portray as the ultimate fantasy woman isn’t what most men want. A lot of my guy friends won’t even look twice at a woman under a size 10.” He dropped his hands a bit until they firmly cradled her hips. “These curves right here give a guy something to hold onto. I’d rather my woman have soft, cushiony flesh, instead of being skin and bones. Those bones can be very uncomfortable during intimate moments. I found that out in my teenage years, and I’ve been attracted to curvier women ever since. I can guarantee if you and your super-skinny sister were standing next to each other, you’re the one I’d be drooling over."
