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“Is it sweetened?”
“Is there any other kind?”
He grinned. “Perfect.” She poured a glass, then handed it to him. “I’m a private investigator,” he said.
She poured herself a glass, then leaned against the counter and took a sip. Even watching her swallow the tea was sexy.
“A PI, huh? That sounds pretty exciting.”
He pried his gaze away from the elegant line of her neck, but was snared by the sight of her damp lips. An image of her sucking his cock sprang to mind. Christ, what was wrong with him?
“Uh, not as exciting as you might think,” he said. “I track down cheating spouses most of the time.”
“I’ll bet it’s more exciting than changing sheets and cleaning all day.”
He chuckled. “You do have a point there.” Then, after a beat of silence, he asked, “So, Summer, what do you do when you aren’t taking care of this place?”
“That pretty much fills my time. Not much room for recreation.”
“Ever?”
She shrugged. “I try to get out every once in awhile.”
Gage had the crazy urge to lick her, to taste every silky inch of her. From her rosy-cheeked face to her dainty coral-painted toes. He cleared his throat and asked, “Any place in particular?”
She pointed to the window behind her. “Just to the beach. I’ve lived near the ocean my entire life, but it never gets old for me.”
“I can see how it’d be addicting. Since I’m in the middle of farm country, I don’t get to see the ocean. I’m hoping to fix that.”
“Relaxing in the sun with a cold beer will definitely give you the relaxation you need.”
“And maybe a pretty lady to keep me company?”
Her cheeks turned a captivating shade of pink. “I could show you the hot spots around here if you like.”
“It’s a deal, Summer.”
He liked her name. It was evocative of warm, sultry nights and intoxicating fragrances wafting through Spanish moss. He stared out the window and imagined taking her on the beach, under the morning sun. It would be fiery, tumultuous. The kind of sex that left a man’s muscles sore. Let him slip between Summer’s supple thighs and he’d make sure they both walked away smiling. Then the thought disappeared, replaced by a hefty dose of shame. The woman’s a widow, you ass! Get your head out of your pants.
“So, do you run this place by yourself?”
She’d just taken a sip of her tea, but his question had her frowning. “No, my friend Tory helps me out. Mostly on weekends because I’m at my busiest then.” In a quieter voice she admitted, “I really don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“No boyfriend around to give you a hand?” Gage asked, his curiosity winning out.
The shy beauty shook her head. “No, I’m not with anyone. Not since my husband passed away.”
Summer’s low, sexy voice seemed strained. Gage felt like an even bigger jerk now for dredging up distressing memories. He left the doorway and moved beside her. He could smell her scent. Sweet, with just a hint of coconut oil. “I’m sorry, Summer, I didn’t mean to pry.”
She turned around and stared up at him. Her hazel eyes nearly matched the shade of her hair. If he leaned in an inch, her breasts would brush against his chest. So close.
Damn, he really wanted to lean in.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “It’s been two years. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore.” Her face turned tender and a small smile appeared. “It’s just a touch sore from time to time.”
Gage reached up, aching to touch her cheek, to see if her skin was as smooth and warm as it appeared. Then someone else walked into the room. Shit, story of his life. He forced his hand back to his side.
“Hey there. I’m not interrupting, am I?”
