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“You’re nervous around me. I don’t bite.” He turned his head and swept a gaze over her that went from head to toe and back again. “Unless you like that sort of thing.”
She gulped. No one had even so much as nibbled on her, her past two boyfriends—her only boyfriends—unimaginative and prudent in the bedroom.
So she settled on all sorts of wild images of Zane.
“That would be a yes.” His voice right then took on a huskier, deeper sound. Oh no. Could he tell where her thoughts had gone?
Wait. “What, uh, would be yes?”
“Your blush, Sophie.” The space between their bodies dwindled, their steps slowed. “The pink that spreads across your cheeks and down your neck is a dead giveaway that you’re nervous and like what I said. Even in the dark, I can see it.”
Darn her fair complexion. She didn’t answer right away. She couldn’t or he’d know he was right. She took in the palm trees, located the hammock hanging between the two tree trunks that meant they were close to her hotel, and concentrated on the cold sand cooling her off from her toes all the way up to her bothersome cheeks.
“We need to set some boundaries,” she finally said.
“Oh?” he said, tease in his voice.
“I don’t think we should talk about anything too personal. We’re only going to know each other for a brief time, and I do have all the other professional surfers and their films to think about, too. While I admit I am curious about surfing, I’m sure there are dozens of other things besides me you’re interested in, so let’s stick to festival topics and respect each other’s privacy.”
Her hotel came into view, bright lights glowing, and the faint sound of voices on the tail end of a whisper of wind.
“You through?” Zane stood a good six inches taller than her, and because they’d drifted closer, she lifted her head to meet his question.
“Yes.”
He leaned down; his mouth was so close to hers that her breath caught in her throat and quivers flooded her body. “Boundaries don’t work for me,” he whispered.
Butterflies in her head. Flutters in her stomach. Tingles in her toes. His soft voice didn’t leave any part of her untouched.
She needed a fan—a big huge fan that would blow her back to Montana. Because she was so out of her league she might never recover from it.
Chapter Three
“You can’t wear that. You’re Zane Hollander’s date.” Honor pointed at the ordinary short black dress on Sophie’s hotel room bed like she hoped flames would shoot out of her finger and burn the thing up. “And did you bring anything with you that isn’t black or navy?”
Sophie glanced down at her black pants and blue blouse. Pushing her glasses back up her nose, she let out a sigh. Honor had known her all of twenty-four hours and she already had her figured out. Blue and black were safe colors. Business colors.
Boring colors.
“Come on,” Honor said, picking up her bright yellow-and-orange-striped bag. It matched her flirty orange sundress. “We’ve got a few hours before the opening and I’m taking you shopping.”
“Honor, I—”
“I’m not taking no for an answer. You said you finished all the work you needed to do for today, and you don’t have to be at the cultural center and gardens until an hour or two before start time so…” She looked at the silver starfish watch on her wrist. “That gives us plenty of time to brighten you up.”
“Okay. But let me just put in my contacts.” Luckily, she’d brought extra with her.
Honor plopped down on the bed. “Hurry it up, girl. We need to skedaddle.”
Sophie contemplated arguing, but her curiosity got the best of her. She’d never been shopping with someone like Honor before, and if she really wanted to leave her research image behind, then this was a great way to do it. For months, she’d been striving to shed the old Sophie. The one everyone called a homebody and brainiac and saw as plain and boring. She’d imagined herself more girly countless times, and she was ready to dress the part.
Plus, plus, plus, shopping would get her mind off Zane. She hadn’t been able to get him out of her head since he’d almost kissed her last night on the beach.
She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her cheeks stained the color of a ripe cherry tomato. She traced her finger along the seam of her mouth.
Okay, so he hadn’t really tried to kiss her, but she liked to imagine he had. Fantasies of him using that gorgeous mouth of his on her had troubled her all night. The good kind of trouble, the kind that led her to take matters into her own hands while she lay in bed, unable to sleep.
She was under no delusion that Zane had given her a second thought after they’d said good-night. Despite his concerns about his reputation, some gorgeous woman probably found him on the walk back to wherever he was going.
