Merging onto Pacific Coast Highway Saturday night challenged less assertive drivers than Shane McNeal. Mercifully the Jag parted traffic like Moses with the Red Sea, so that Emily soon watched pricey beachside boutiques slide by as they gained speed on the road.
Glancing over at her companion, Emily caught Shane’s infectious grin as he leaned toward her slightly, asking, “Want the top down?”
Blinking momentarily, Emily replied hesitantly, “Fine, but, uh, my hair...”
Nodding toward the glove box Shane said, “There’s a scarf in there.”
While she tied the garishly purple scarf he’d indicated, Shane pushed a button on the dash to activate the roof and Emily glanced up in admiration as the top collapsed automatically, allowing the sea breeze into the cabin. Shane grinned widely, hair blowing about his face, eyes hidden behind designer sunglasses, white teeth flashing.
Emily reminded herself once again that even though he was her boss and possibly the most attractive man she’d ever known, he was also her date for the evening. Hers alone. Butterflies from earlier once more erupted in her stomach. To calm herself Emily looked to her right, catching glimpses of ocean between buildings. And then, suddenly, there were no more obstructions of view; the glorious Pacific Ocean beckoned, orange sun hanging low over the horizon, a trail of gold sparkling along wave tops inviting you to park and admire.
With a gasp of pleasure Emily turned toward Shane, saying, “It’s breathtaking!”
She had to shout over the wind with the open roof, but Emily wouldn’t have changed a thing. Watching Shane shift with the paddles and smiling at the surge of speed, Emily couldn’t help but grin; her boss was a hotdog when it came to driving. They moved with the flow of traffic; a.k.a., sixty miles an hour along the Crystal Cove beach area, the Jag piloted expertly between Beemers and Mercedes Benzes, until Shane smoothly downshifted, turned left, and drove into a ritzy shopping area. The purr of the engine lowered, as did the wind noise, signaling they had arrived at their destination. The lot was large and flat, so Shane found an out-of-the-way parking stall and pulled in, cutting the engine.
Turning to Emily with another smile he pulled off his sunglasses and asked, “Ready to eat? I hope you like Mexican. I notice you make it fairly frequently at home, so I took a wild guess you’d like it out.”
Untying the ugly scarf and folding it carefully, Emily grinned some more. “Mexican is perfect. I could eat it every day.”
While she spoke, Shane got out, coming around and opening her door. Swinging her legs out, Emily stood, finding herself extremely close to Shane. Taking advantage of her close proximity, Shane leaned in, trapping her between his body and the Jag, flattening her breasts against his body intimately. With lowered head he took her lips possessively, feeding on them where before he’d always nibbled, hands skimming her arms up and down. Chest to chest, her back to the Jag, Emily whimpered and sagged at the power behind his kiss, the tantalizing touch of his fingertips on her already sensitized skin.
This was a different Shane than any of the others she’d glimpsed; he desired her and was letting her know just how much. He didn’t scare her; never that. The opposite, if truth be told. He made her want to melt into his body, become his. But it wasn’t to be now. Eyes shut, Emily felt the kiss turn gentle, becoming little nips until her lids rose. His hands stilled.
YOU ARE READING
Six and Counting
RomanceBecoming a housekeeper for a famous novelist seemed like a dream come true to widow and mother Emily Wakeland. Trouble is, she lied to get the position! When the lonely author returns home, will he throw Emily and her young family out on the street...