“Kurt. How’s life at the Cape?”
He pictured her leaning back in her pristine Manhattan office furnished top to bottom in leather, mahogany, and white, wearing her Manolo Blahnik strappy heels and designer suit, a pen sticking out between her perfect teeth and her perfectly applied makeup softening her sharp features. The thought brought a smile to his lips. He liked Jackie, and he loved her meticulous nature and her bulldog determination. Professionally, they were a great match.
“The Cape is…” He glanced down at the beach, where Leanna was on her hands and knees, rolling around with Pepper in the sand. “Interesting.”
“Interesting as in inspiring, or interesting as in we’re going to be late with our submission?”
He watched Leanna chase Pepper into the water. “Have I ever missed a deadline?”
“No, and I’m just waiting for the day you do. I’m not sure if I’ll celebrate that you finally have a life or I’ll hate you for making us look bad.”
“If I ever miss a deadline I think you’ll be second in line to shoot me.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’ll shoot yourself first. I’ve heard it from the best of them. Everyone misses a deadline at some point. Did you hear from Layton?”
Layton was Kurt’s editor at his publishing house, Partner Press. “Yes. He’s ready and waiting, and we’ll have revisions back sixty days after he receives the manuscript.”
“Good. And I know timely revisions are a piece of cake for you. I wish you could teach your dedication and work habits to the rest of my clients.”
Leanna turned and waved.
“Mm-hmm.” You are so sexy. He lifted his hand in a semi wave.
“Kurt?”
He wanted to run his hands over every inch of Leanna’s glistening skin and hear her soft voice calling out his name. “Hm?”
“You sound distracted. Is something going on with your family?”
“Family? Uh, yeah. Jack’s getting married at the end of the month, but everyone’s good. Why?”
“I can’t think of anything else that would distract you. What are you doing right this second?”
She knew him too well. “Going inside to grab some grapes.” Which he did. “Now I’m sitting back down at my computer to nail this scene.”
“Fair enough. What were you doing?”
“Watching a hot chick run through the ocean.”
“Yeah, right.” She laughed. “Okay. Let me know if you run into any issues.”
He ended the call, bothered by her disbelief of him watching Leanna. Was he that boring? It had been weeks since he’d been out on a real date. Before he came to the Cape, his sister, Siena, had set him up with an attractive friend of hers. He’d spent the whole night revising a chapter in his head. Kurt wasn’t a dater. He didn’t enjoy small talk, and he had yet to find a woman he preferred over writing. He had yet to find anything he preferred over being in front of his keyboard and creating heart-pumping literature. Sure, there were women in his life who were available when he had the urge to spend a few hours in the arms of a soft, willing woman, but those nights were on his terms and his schedule. Like everything in Kurt’s life, he believed to do it well, he had to be determined and focused and give it his all. He’d much rather focus on writing.
He sat down at his computer and spent the next two hours trying to concentrate on something other than thoughts of Leanna. He’d just gotten himself centered when Pepper bounded onto the deck, barking.
He slid him a stare. “Hush.”
Pepper whined, then flopped on Kurt’s feet. Kurt kicked him off and Pepper crept right back. Great.
Leanna came up the deck with her hair a tangled mess, sandy from hip to toe, and dragging the sandy blanket and towel behind her.
“That was so much fun. You should have come. How can you sit there and not want to go in the water?” She ran her fingers through her tangles.
How can you not realize how incredibly sexy you are? “Salt water makes my skin sticky.”
She laughed and flopped into the chair beside him, leaving a sandy path in her wake. When she leaned forward and touched his thigh, he felt a sear of heat blaze a path through his body. Again. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the droplets of water slipping down her cleavage if his life depended on it.
“It’s supposed to. It’s salt water,” she said as if he were being silly. She leaned back and put one foot on his lap.
He stared at the tan, pretty appendage.
“How’d the writing go? Did you kill someone off?”
“Not yet.” He picked up her foot and held it away from his lap; then he snagged the towel from her lap and gently wiped the sand from her foot, and her ankle, and her knee. Sand piled up beneath her.
She popped a grape into her mouth and lifted her brows. “You planning on removing all the sand from me? Because I think I have some in my butt crack, too.”
He froze.
She laughed. “I’m kidding. Thank you for wiping me off. I guess you don’t like dirt too much, huh?”
He handed her the towel and became hyperfocused on her foot resting too close to his crotch. “I like things to be neat, I guess. But I’m not a neat freak.”
“Uh-huh.” She laughed.
“Why is that funny?” He grabbed a handful of grapes and popped one in his mouth to distract himself from her inviting, sandy thigh.
“Because you are a total neat freak. I think it’s cute.” She brushed the sand from her thighs.
He pressed his lips together. “Cute? I’m anything but cute. And I’m not a neat freak.”
She lowered her foot from his lap and leaned in close again. “Let’s see how long you can go without sweeping the sand from the deck.”
She smelled sweet and salty, and Kurt couldn’t help but wonder if she might taste that way, too.
“You, luscious—” Shoot. How did I let that slip? “Leanna, you don’t even know me.” But for some strange reason, I want you to.
They rose at the same time and bumped chests. She grabbed his arm to keep from falling over. Her warm, sun-kissed skin felt so good against him that he didn’t back away. Couldn’t back away. His hands found her hips, the ridge of her bikini bottom barely noticeable beneath his palms. The way she looked up at him, eyes full of wonder—and surprise—caught him off guard.
“Sorry.” He dropped his hands and stepped back.
She closed the gap between them and dropped her eyes to his chest, which was rising and falling with each embarrassingly heavy breath.
“So, big thriller writer, you’re not used to having a mouthy girl around, are you?”
“I have a mouthy sister.” Sister? At a time like this? She had him too befuddled to think straight.
“Does she make you breathe like this?” She pressed her hands to his chest again.
The little voices in his head told him to walk away. Get writing. Run like the wind. But his hands didn’t listen as they found her hips again and pulled her against him. The glint in her eyes, the way she slowly and sensually licked her lips, and the way her fingers slid down his chest told him that she had to know.