“You need to teach me that,” Leanna said.
“What?”
“That. Off. Sit. The way you get him to listen to you.” She leaned her head back and dropped her arms to the sides of the chair. “It’s so nice out here. You have the breeze from the ocean, the sunshine, privacy…”
Privacy? Kurt could think of a hundred things to do when a woman was in that position—and he’d never once thought about doing them on his deck. Until now. The thought of Leanna naked in the chair aroused him. He brushed the sand Pepper had so kindly left behind from his chair and sat down before she could notice. Not that she seemed to notice much. She made herself right at home.
He eyed the basket to keep his mind off of the way a bead of sweat was heading south, straight down her cleavage.
“Thanks for the basket, but you didn’t have to bring me anything.” He grabbed a jar of jam and read the label. “Luscious Leanna’s Sweet Treats?” Luscious Leanna? He was in big trouble.
She sat up and leaned toward him. “I wanted to. You were nice enough to go into the ocean in the middle of a rainstorm and save me and Pepper. Now I know you were probably writing some crazy thriller, so that means I really interrupted you.”
As opposed to fake interrupted me? He had to work hard to pull himself from his writer’s mind-set. She’d crinkled her nose as she’d said really, and she was so cute he couldn’t do more than watch as she stood and leaned over the railing. He noticed jam handprints across the back pockets of her shorts. Kurt wished they’d been from his hands. She threw her hands up in the air and exhaled loudly, before turning back to him with that glorious smile again.
“You’re so lucky. I mean, this is what you do. You write with the ocean in your backyard.” She glanced into the French doors and winced. “I hope your floors survived us.”
She touched his shoulder as she flitted past and sat down on another chair. He liked that warm touch, and she’d done it with a sense of familiarity. Weird. He’d never met anyone who was so comfortable in her own skin. Pepper licked the perspiration from Leanna’s legs. Kurt was a little jealous of the pesty little dog. He smiled despite the interruption to his writing—and despite wondering if that jam on her butt was still wet and would ruin his chair.
“They survived just fine.” But I’m not sure I will. She stirred all sorts of desires in Kurt that he usually kept under wraps—and drew upon only when his projects were sufficiently complete or when he was ahead of schedule and could spare a few hours to burn off steam. His stomach was doing something strange and unfamiliar, too. What is that? A flutter? Pang? Ache? He ran through a plethora of words that might or might not be accurate.
“What are you thinking about?” Leanna asked.
“What?”
“Your eyebrows are all pinched together, and you were staring at the table like you were deep in thought.” She looked at his computer. “Oh gosh. I interrupted you. I’m so sorry.” She rose to her feet.
Pepper crawled under Kurt’s chair and whined.
He needed to get back to writing. He should just let her go, thank her for the jams and bid her farewell so she could go flit about on some other guy’s deck. Heck if his hand didn’t reach out and land on top of hers.
“Stay.” The word came without thought, surprising him as much as her.
Her eyes widened. “Stay?”
He nodded. “I’m going to write, but you can relax in the sun if you’d like, or take a walk on the beach.”
She looked around. “You don’t mind?”
He shrugged, knowing he was probably making a huge mistake, but something in his crazy gut wanted her around, and he’d never felt that way before. What was an hour or two? She’d get bored and move on, and he would have enjoyed the view of her.
“Sure.” He pulled the laptop closer to him and opened it. “There’s a beach blanket and towels in the linen closet by the laundry room.”
She crinkled her nose and smiled again. Pepper crept out from under his chair and began pawing at his lap.
Kurt narrowed his eyes at him. “No.”
Pepper lay back down.
“Okay, but if we drive you crazy, just say the word and we’ll leave.” She reached for the door handle. “Are you sure? Actually, I have a towel and blanket in my van. I can get it.”
Kurt shook his head and went inside, where he retrieved a blanket and a towel and filled a thermos with ice water. When he returned, Leanna was standing in the center of the deck in a charcoal-gray string bikini, struggling to put her hair up in a ponytail.
Kurt stopped cold. Every sexy curve was on display, from her rounded hips to her full breasts, which were pushed together by barely there swatches of dark material. Two thin lines of fabric ran from her hips to another tiny triangle of gray covering her promised land. He swallowed hard, trying to regain control of his limbs. She wasn’t a rail-thin model; nor was she overly plump. Beneath the tank tops and cutoffs, Leanna Bray was one hundred percent hot, sexy woman, and she stole any chance Kurt had at rational thought.
After securing her hair, she took the towel from his hands. “Thanks so much. I really appreciate it. I was going to take Pepper to the water later, so this saves us time.” She traced a finger over the tattoo on his chest. “I never would have guessed you to be a tattoo guy.”
It was all he could do to shift his eyes from her bikini top to her finger working its way across his bare chest.
“And the one on your arm?” She touched that one, too, and he could tell by the unchanged inflection of her voice that she wasn’t trying to be sexy or flirtatious. She was just being Leanna—curious, sweet.
And it was affecting him. He cleared his throat and stepped away.
“Thanks. They were a…” Still in shock over everything about Leanna, he was at a loss for words. He was used to being in control, and Leanna was stealing that from him one hot breath at a time.
She cocked her head and looked up at him.
“A whim,” he managed. Whim? He’d never done a thing in his life based on a whim.
She smiled. “Really? You don’t strike me as a whim guy. Hm.” She turned and tossed the blanket and towel over her shoulder. “I guess I’ll hit the beach, then. Come on, Pep.” She headed for the beach with a bounce in her step.
Kurt let out a breath and ran his hand through his hair. He watched her spread out the towel and lie down on her back, her hands tapping to some silent beat, her lips slightly parted, and Pepper running circles around her. She was so not what he needed. What am I doing? How was he supposed to think of killing and darkness with that beautiful, touchy-feely, all-too-comfortable-and-happy woman a few feet away?
He nearly jumped out of his skin when his cell phone rang. He needed the distraction.
“Hi, Jackie,” he answered. Jackie Tolson had been his literary agent for six years. She was five feet tall on a good day, weighed about a hundred pounds soaking wet, with stick-straight black hair cut severely above her shoulders, and she was as aggressive as a trapped cobra.