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“I love the way you think,” Dane agreed as he whacked his ball and overshot the hole by a wide margin. His mind wasn’t on this game, but on that long-ago golf game. Twelve years ago, to be exact.
He’d gone out that day to hit a few balls and ease the tension out of his muscles. He’d needed to get away from his office mess. Where better to go than the golf course he owned, especially since he had a condo there where he could shower after the game? He hadn’t known who she was when he’d spotted her. He’d been playing alone. She’d played alone too. Then they’d been playing together. He’d been about to introduce himself when she’d held up her hand. “No names,” she’d said in the sexiest damn voice that seemed to curl around his insides. “That way, I’ll feel more comfortable playing cutthroat.”
No names. A mystery woman.
And cutthroat she’d been. So had he, even as he drove himself crazy every time he got near her. He remembered the way she smelled, some citrusy scent that mesmerized him. Just the way her fruity scent mesmerized him now, like the fresh mangoes they’d had for breakfast.
With his very first sight of her, his heart had tried to beat itself right out of his chest.
“And we’ll offer all the necessary facilities, a physical therapy room with all the equipment, as well as providing therapists,” she was saying.
But he was thinking how physical that game had become. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way her body moved. He’d damn near salivated. That little wiggle when she stood in front of the ball lining up her shot. The graceful movements of every muscle as she swung. How badly he wanted to put his hands on her and feel her body’s moves with each swing.
“Do you think we should have a big hall with family-style dining—long tables where everyone sits together?” She stopped for a moment to look at him, flushing as if his thoughts were written all over his face. Just like they had been that day. She rushed on, “Or maybe we should have more intimate dining. Tables for two and four or six, where people can talk more easily than in a big group.”
That word. Intimate. He thought of how intimate they’d gotten after that golf game. Even as he knew he shouldn’t think about it at all. Even as it did things to his body in this moment.
“We should have both,” he said. He wanted both, business and pleasure. With her.
“Yeah.” She nodded, turning back to the ball. “We need both.”
He never should have hugged her at Sebastian’s house. Now his body remembered the feel of her against him. While she was grieving for her uncle, he’d been having lustful thoughts, making him a complete ass. Even as he admitted that, he couldn’t stop looking at her in that too sexy sundress, couldn’t stop thinking about touching her, kissing her.
Just the way he’d been thinking that day during their first sexy, mind-blowing golf game.
* * *
She couldn’t concentrate. Her thoughts were scattered all over the place. She was throwing out ideas that were already on their list, for Pete’s sake. They were supposed to be talking logistics—geology reports, engineering drawings, how to start building. But her mind wouldn’t work properly. It was how close he stood, how good he smelled, how hard his muscles were as he swung.
Just like that other golf game.
She tried to sound coherent. “We need a full gym and workout area. And a massage therapy room.” Her nerves were jumping. Every time they’d played golf since that day, her body had tingled with the memory of that night. Her body tingled now with the memory of his touch, his kiss, his scent.
“We need a pickleball court too,” he said.
She laughed, the sound a little strangled. “Of course we need a pickleball court.”
She remembered how he’d stood there that day, setting up for a shot, the sun making his hair gleam blue-black, his body so tempting she’d wanted to lick him like an ice cream cone. She’d been at the golf course only because Clyde had said her jitters were making him edgy. He’d told her to get some exercise to burn off all that nervous energy. She’d had that interview the next day with one of Clyde’s associates, whom she’d never met. And Clyde had made her swear she wouldn’t research the man beforehand. That had been a big mistake.
But Clyde had insisted, “I don’t want you to have any preconceptions.” Despite Clyde having told her the job was in the bag—he’d obviously been singing her praises—she couldn’t count on anything. And she’d gone out to the golf course to play and relax.
Then he had come along, a man so handsome, so sexy that she’d forgotten all her nerves about the job interview. In fact, she’d forgotten the interview completely. There’d only been him.
