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Damon watches goose bumps spread over my arms.
“Here,” he says, reaching for my bag and grabbing the shirt haphazardly hanging out of it.
“No, it’s okay,” I start.
He pauses.
“Wearing my clothes again, Kate?”
How does he manage to paint sex into every non-sexual word he speaks?
I snatch it from his grasp and tug it over my head. I happen to like the way his scent blends with mine, and there’s no way I’m admitting to having several cover-ups to choose from but went with this instead.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you might like me wearing your shirts.”
Something dangerous flickers in his gaze before tamping out completely.
Damon takes a small step backward. “Are you doing anything with the rest of your day?”
I scan the beach before pointing at my chest. “Me?”
Those smiles are a gift from God himself.
“Yes, you. I was thinking maybe we could… do something fun.”
Whatever buzz I accumulated from my drink has slowed to a dull pulse. “I figured you’d have some sort of work to do.”
“I decided to take the evening off.” He shrugs, and the curl of his full lips makes his smile downright mischievous. “You’ll like it, I swear.”
For a man with a reputation for being dull, he sure does nothing but surprise me. But I don’t argue as I prop my bag over my shoulder and trail after him toward the sidewalk.
Tauntuma is nearly as busy as some of the bigger US cities. At its heart lies skyscrapers, small and medium businesses, and museums. Murals are painted through alleyways and along the buildings lining the bustling city blocks. Then just outside that concrete jungle lies miles of beaches, condos, and resorts.
It’s the perfect balance of city life meets paradise.
“Here.” Instead of taking us through downtown, Damon stops next to a bike stand.
“Bikes?” I ask.
The man running the stand smiles at Damon before taking his money. When he turns back to me, he says, “Don’t sound so surprised.”
There’s an uptilt to his brow, but Iamsurprised. Damon doesn’t strike me as the type to shirk work responsibility after being gone all morning, golfing. Yet here he is. Not working.
“No, no. This is great.” I unlock my bike from the mount. “For a second I thought we were diving with sharks or paragliding.”
Straddling the bike, I reach for the helmet hanging from the handlebars.
Damon grabs hold of it before I can. “Would you do those things?”
I lean forward for him to fasten the helmet over my hair. “Sharks may be a stretch, but paragliding? Absolutely. Truth be told, I’m a bit of an adrenaline junky.”
A dimple marks the center of his cheek. “Is that so?”
Click. He snaps my helmet in place but doesn’t move his fingers from the straps just yet.
“Yeah, basically, if it gets my heart racing, I’m all over it.”
I grip the bars when our gazes collide. He lingers far longer than appropriate before tugging on the straps of my helmet and moving to straddle his bike.
