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The second photo of McKenna was obviously taken without her knowledge. She was standing on the beach with her hands on her hips and her head thrown back in laughter. It was a profile shot, so I didn’t have a clear view of her face. But my breath caught in my throat when I ran my gaze over her full body in a bright orange bikini. It covered more than most women chose to on the beach these days, and while I wasn’t happy that anyone else was seeing so much of my girl’s body—

What in the ever-loving fuck, Bardot?I silently shouted at myself. I was looking at a fucking picture…and I had no desire to claim a woman.

Feeling doubt creeping in, I shook it off and went back to studying the picture. McKenna’s body was toned and athletic, but her tits and tight, round ass would fit perfectly in my hands. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, showing off the elegant slope of her neck, and her legs looked miles long. I had to admit…whether I was interested in a relationship or not, I would love to feel those legs wrapped around me while I fucked her fast and hard. I briefly wondered if she’d be open to a fling, but the thought caused such a vile reaction inside me that I immediately dismissed the idea. I was quite baffled by this woman’s effect on me.

I put that photo on the bottom of the stack, and when my gaze landed on the next one, I could no longer deny the truth.

McKenna sat in the sand with her body turned away from the camera, looking back at the photographer with a giant smile. She looked radiant with happiness sparkling in her brown orbs, her long, blond hair floating around her, and deep, sexy as fuck dimples. The setting sun created a glow all around her. She was drop-dead gorgeous, and I could see how genuine she was even through a picture.

She’d made me laugh, had a sexy voice, and was obviously intelligent, talented and caring.

I set the stack of papers beside me and picked up my beer, taking a swig as I stared out at the ocean.

Everything had become very clear, and I was stunned at how fast I accepted it.

McKenna Sage is mine.

I didn’t give a fuck about the property anymore. I only wanted her.

3

MCKENNA

Iwas more than a little irritated when I arrived at the coffee shop for my meeting with the mysterious Mr. Bardot. I’d been making good progress on my current project, and I hadn’t wanted to step away for a meeting when I didn’t even know what we were going to discuss. But my grandfather wouldn’t have given him my phone number without a good reason…and something about his voice had stuck with me all night. So I had washed off the paint and changed into something presentable before heading out the door.

The latte I ordered when I arrived helped put me in a slightly better mood, but when the hottest guy I’d ever seen in real life walked through the door, I wished that I’d picked something nicer to wear. His bespoke suit did incredible things for his tall, muscular body, and I bit my bottom lip as I got the perfect view of his backside when he turned to sweep his gaze over the other side of the coffee shop.

With his brown hair, closely cropped beard, and tan skin, he fit the tall, dark, and handsome description to a tee. But when his head swiveled toward me, I realized his eyes were a gorgeous hazel shade instead of the brown I had expected.

My breath caught in my throat as our gazes met and held. I had never had such a visceral reaction to a man before, and I just about fell out of my chair when he headed straight for me, never looking away.

Reaching my table, he flashed me a sexy grin. “Hello, McKenna. Sorry for making you wait.”

Having the full power of his smile aimed at me scattered my wits, so I was slow to respond. “Jeremy Bardot?”

“I probably should have introduced myself, but yes, I’m Jeremy.” He chuckled and shook his head, holding his hand out to me.

When my palm slid against his, it felt as though a spark leaped between us. A shiver of awareness slid down my spine, and I found myself disappointed that my grandfather hadn’t been trying to play matchmaker by giving him my phone number.

Gently pulling my hand away before I did something embarrassing—like tugging him toward me so I could kiss him even though it would be my first—I mumbled, “Would you like a coffee? They have the best lattes in town.”

“I’m more of a black coffee kind of guy, but I could definitely use a cup.” His head tilted toward my mug. “Can I get you anything?”

I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

Using his time at the counter to pull myself together, I was less frazzled when he sat across from me.

He took a sip of his coffee and hummed. “Mmm, you were right. This is excellent. I’ll have to come here more often.”

I liked the sound of that since I was a regular. Bumping into him again wouldn’t be a hardship, that was for sure. “Just be warned, it’s addictive.”

“I can see how it would be.” His gaze moved from his cup to my face, his eyes warming. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

“I’ve been quite curious as to why you needed to speak with me,” I admitted.

“My brothers and I have put an offer in on your grandfather’s house on Palm Court, but when he finally met with me yesterday to discuss it, he told me that you were the person I needed to talk to instead.”

His explanation wasn’t very long, but it brought up a lot of questions for me. And caused my cheeks to fill with heat as I remembered my conversation with Grandpa about how he’d sign it over to me when I got engaged.

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