Page 41 of Dare To Tempt (Dare Nation 2)
She pursed her lips, and it was all he could do not to lean forward and kiss that sweet pucker.
“Damon, I think you’re forgetting some important facts.”
“Tell me so I can dispute them.” He grinned but she didn’t smile back, ignoring his attempt to charm her.
“One, you hired me to do a job. And I need to be in Miami to accomplish it. Two,” she said before he could open his mouth to dispute her words, “I had a few phone messages that are about upcoming jobs.” She folded her arms across her chest, her expression smug and cute, sure she’d made her point. “And three …” She trailed off.
“Out of arguments, huh? Okay, look. I heard you and I respect all your points. But I have a reply for all of your objections. One”—he held up a finger—“I hired you and I can create the parameters of the job. I know you need to find the connection between Emerson’s parents and Doc, and you can do that from your laptop in the Bahamas.”
She frowned at him but remained silent.
“Two, return the job calls and set up appointments three days from now. And since there is no three, we’re going to the Bahamas.”
She narrowed her gaze, and he could almost see the steam building inside there. He needed to cut off her anger at his highhandedness. “Don’t you want a few days on the beach? Away from our problems?”
She paused at his question. “Well, if you put it that way… But—”
He leaned in and covered her lips with his, kissing her long, deep, and extremely thoroughly. Enough to give her a taste of what their island getaway could be like before raising his head. “So, we’re good?”
She cupped his face in her hands. “Do you always get your way?”
He shrugged. “Most of the time. But in this case, it’s only because you really want the same thing. You just think you need to argue.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re crazy.”
“About you.” Yeah, he said it, but before she could question him, he yelled to the next room. “We’re in! Book the plane.”
“Book the plane? What does that even mean?” Evie asked, grasping on to the counter as if she needed to hold on.
“Harrison travels on his private jet. Do we need to go back to your place for bathing suits?” he asked.
She stared at him with those big brown eyes. “What world have I landed in?” she muttered more to herself than to him. “Yes, I need bathing suits.”
Shaking her head, she pushed herself off the counter and headed back into the other room.
He knew he’d been fast and her head must be spinning, but he also understood that was the only way he’d get her to go along. Was he still pissed about his career? Yes. Did he still want answers? Of course. But nothing was going to change in a couple of days.
And he could use that time to cement his relationship with Evie.
Chapter Eight
Evie stretched out, relaxed and utterly content. She couldn’t remember being anywhere and hearing nothing but crashing waves and blissful silence broken only by occasional masculine laughter or rumbling voices. The beauty of this island defied description. From the blue waters and white sand to the glorious pale-colored mansions, she’d entered heaven on earth.
Although she’d had to be coerced into going, she was happy to be here now, along with the man lying beside her on a double recliner that was as luxurious as any inside bed.
She’d let her family know she was going away for a few days and not to worry if they didn’t hear from her. And when she arrived, Damon had encouraged her to shut down her phone and disconnect completely except for the times she chose to work on her laptop.
The guys had sat around most of the day, alternately drinking beer, not their vodka, and lazily tossing a football, Damon watching out for his injury.
She’d dozed off and on to the sound of their laughter and stories, and she was glad Damon had such solid friendships in his life outside of football. Evie had Quinn, a few acquaintance friends she could go out with on a girls’ night, and her four overprotective brothers. All in all, she’d take it and admit to having a good life as well. If not for the return of the jackass she’d been engaged to, that is.
She must have fallen into a deep sleep, because she woke up to the feel of Damon’s lips on hers, a low groan reverberating through his big body.
“I thought they’d never leave,” he said into her mouth before sliding his tongue between her lips.
“Where’d they go?” she managed to ask.
“Into town for happy hour,” he said, delving back in.
“Mmm. Malty. Like beer.” And she was a beer drinker. No frou-frou wine for her, and she tangled her tongue with his, tasting her favorite taste.
