Page 3 of Tempted To Be Mine

I looked down at my pumps. They were relatively sensible but still three inches of heel that would sink into that sand like it was quicksand.

I could take them off, but then I’d be walking barefoot on hot sand, and I didn’t have time to go back to my room for flip-flops. Sebastian wanted Jeremy in ten minutes. I’d already burned five.

I cursed Jeremy as I descended the stairs to the beach. The first few steps weren’t terrible. The sand near the hotel was packed down from foot traffic. But the farther I got from the building, the softer it became. Soon I was doing an awkward half-walk, half-wobble that made me feel like Bambi testing out his new legs.

I didn’t want to be Jeremy’s babysitter. That wasn’t in my job description. I was his business manager and agent, not his mother. He was twenty-seven years old, for God’s sake. A grown man.

A grown man who should be capable of staying on set during a photoshoot for the family business.

But Jeremy was still in a different phase of life than I was. At thirty-five, I’d gotten most of my wild impulses out of my system. I’d done the partying, the bad decisions, and all that living in the moment bullshit. I knew what it was like to act without thinking about consequences. I’d learned. I’d grown up.

Jeremy was still in the thick of it. Young, hot, rich, and very successful. The world was his oyster and he was shucking it with enthusiasm. I couldn’t really blame him for enjoying himself. If I looked like him and had his life, I’d probably be doing the same thing.

But that didn’t make it any less annoying when I was the one trudging through sand in designer heels trying to find him.

I shaded my eyes against the sun and scanned the beach. Families with kids building sandcastles. Couples on towels. A group of college-aged guys tossing a football. No Jeremy.

Then I spotted the tiki bar. It was just down the beach from the hotel, maybe a hundred yards away. I started toward it, my heels protesting every step.

As I got closer, I could make out the details. Thatched roof. Bamboo bar top. A bartender in a Hawaiian shirt mixing something in a blender. And there, leaning against the bar with the casual confidence of someone who’d never been told no in his life was Jeremy Blackwell.

He wasn’t getting a drink. He wasn’t even facing the bar. He was turned toward a woman perched on one of the stools.

He leaned in, one arm resting on the bar and the other gesturing as he talked. I knew he was telling some charming story. He had plenty of those.

The woman was blonde. Perky. Young. Wearing what could generously be called a bikini but was more accurately described as dental floss. One sneeze and she’d be split in two. She laughed at something he said, tossing her hair over her shoulder in that way women did when they wanted a man to notice them.

I felt my blood pressure spike as I closed the distance between us. My feet were killing me. Sand rubbed my heels, promising blisters.

I’d abandoned my work and my iced coffee and my perfect shady spot to track down a grown man who couldn’t be bothered to answer his phone because he was too busy chatting up a woman in a string bikini.

Oh, hell no.

2

JEREMY

The sexy woman in front of me had my full attention. I knew I should get back to the photoshoot, but beauty like this wasn’t something I could walk away from. If they needed me back on set, they would let me know.

I had gotten bored waiting around at the photoshoot. After watching Lucy work for a while, I had grabbed some egg-white bites instead of the cheeseburger I actually wanted. A photoshoot wasn’t the place to show up looking soft. It was evening wear, but sucking in my gut showed up on camera.

I had eaten the bite and stared out at the ocean, knowing it would be at least thirty minutes before they were ready for me. I could have sat there and listened to Sebastian lose his mind over a lighting stand, or I could have taken a walk.

The ocean had won.

I had grabbed my sunglasses and headed down the few steps to the sand. I had kicked off the slides I wore between shots and sank my toes into the sand. I had curled them and exhaled a sigh of relief. The breeze coming off the water had been exactly what I needed after spending the last hour being directed and positioned until we had the right shot. My muscles had needed a chance to loosen up.

I had walked along the edge of the water, letting my gaze drift over the waves. I should’ve booked the rest of the week off. No cameras. No fake smiles. No Sebastian barking orders.

I loved the job, but months of nonstop work had left me craving a few days where nobody needed me to smile on command.

I had walked closer to the water, foam swallowing my feet as the waves washed up the shore.

Then a blonde had walked past me, her hips dancing to and fro with every step, a couple of gold bracelets chiming on her wrists like a siren’s call. Suddenly, the ocean had lost some of its appeal.

She had the kind of curves that made a man forget where he was going. The barely there bikini didn’t hurt, either. She had glanced over her shoulder and caught me looking. And then she had smiled. That had been all the invitation I needed.

I had followed her to a bamboo stool at the tiki bar and signaled the bartender.