Barefoot at Sunset (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 1) (14 page)

“S-S-Sway?” Jasper could barely say the word.

“Of course they’ll sway! By then, they’ll be good and toasted. And we will win.”

Jasper’s lip curled. “Dionne Warwick?”

“We’ll
win
,” she insisted.

“But this is a love story,” Jasper fired back. “You can’t end with a song about friends!”

“We’re friends,” she said, indicating Mark, who still hadn’t spoken or taken his eyes off her.

“But you’re
lovers
in the dance. And, I assume, in real life.”

Mark finally stepped forward, putting a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “I think she’s right.”

“Of course you do. You’re going to be her husband. You have to say she’s right.”

“He doesn’t,” she replied. “But I am. Jasper, people are seeing friends for the first time in years at this thing. A reunion isn’t about love, it’s about
friendship
.” She threw up her hands. “Game over, baby.”

Jasper just stared at her, the face of defeat. “Okaaaayyy.” He dragged the word out. “I guess it has more or less the same beat. For
swaying
.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “As long as we win.”

Mark looked down at Emma and pressed a kiss on her hair. “Thanks,” he said.

They didn’t get a chance to say another word, because the music blasted, and Jasper went into full choreographer mode, dragging them through move after move, sighing mostly in disgust, pushing them together, pulling them apart, and finally getting them to remember the simplest of simple steps.

Two hours later, Jasper snapped off the sound, and Emma was surprisingly disappointed that all the contact and laughter ended.

“Download these songs,” Jasper said. “Practice at home, perfect those steps, and I’ll see you back here at least two more times this week. God knows, you’ll need it.”

Emma looked at Mark, expecting an argument, but his eyes glistened and his tanned complexion glowed with exertion when he nodded several times. “We’ll be here.”

Jasper looked up from his notes, eyes flashing. “Someone’s had a change of heart.”

“That was fun,” Mark said with a shrug, pulling Emma into him with no music or reason. “Didn’t you have fun?” he asked her.

Fun? Understatement of the year.

For one thing, she’d forgotten that Kyle Chambers existed. She didn’t think about the fact that she had no job or was spending the week in a crazy pretend engagement with a man who made her laugh and twirl and…forget.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I had a blast.”

They said good-bye, promised to practice, and stepped into the cool, dimly lit hallway. Almost immediately, Mark turned to her and put both hands on her shoulders, holding her in place with a light touch and intense gaze.

“How did you know?”

She swallowed. “You’re kind of transparent with your own fears.”

“I don’t have fears.”

She tipped her head. “Not that you admit to. I like our replacement suggestion. Friends are…good.”

He slid one hand under her jaw, palming her cheek, lifting her face to him. “You wanted to protect me.”

“Just doing my job to help you avoid the things you want to avoid.”

He scanned her face, his blue eyes searing her as they searched every inch as if he couldn’t quite figure her out but didn’t want to stop trying. The intensity was enough to make her almost step backward.

She held her ground and was so insanely aware of how close they were. Of how he smelled like sweat and spice, of how tiny salt-and-pepper whiskers shadowed his hollow cheeks, of how much she wanted to kiss him. The desire was pulling her under like a powerful rip current.

“Doing your job?” He closed the space very slowly, getting closer and closer until his lips were right over hers. “Give the woman a promotion,” he whispered.

And down she went. “Give her a kiss, instead.”

A flicker of surprise flashed in his eyes. “Conquered that fear in a hurry, did you?”

“Maybe. Better test me.”

He did, pressing his mouth against hers, so soft his lips tickled hers, then a rush of pressure and pleasure as he upped the ante and opened his mouth over hers. Emma couldn’t stop herself from lifting her hands and laying them on his shoulders, feeling the strength in his muscles and the warmth of his skin through his thin T-shirt.

She couldn’t help angling her head and offering her tongue while her hands moved up and around the sturdy column of his neck. His flesh was still damp, and she could feel his pulse thumping under her fingers.

His hand spread on her cheek, taking control of her face and the kiss, drawing the softest whimper of surrender from her throat.

“So, how about we take on another fear of yours with something bigger and badder?” he asked. “Something faster and more dangerous?”

She melted. “Okay.” And then she got her wits back. “Wait. How big and bad? How fast and dangerous?”

He just smiled, all slow and sexy and sweet. “You gotta trust me, Em.”

And off she went like a lamb to the slaughter. A very happy lamb.

Chapter Eleven

“This baby is sheer perfection.” Mark sighed happily.

They’d gone back to the resort, showered, changed, had lunch, and instructed the Casa Blanca driver to take them to the exotic car rental in Naples.

After all that, Mark finally had what he wanted in his hands—the wheel of a gleaming silver 2016 Porsche 911 Carrera S, the heady need for speed already heating up his veins.

“It’s pretty nice,” Emma agreed, sitting lightly on the leather as if she didn’t really want to settle into the low seat and see how a car like this would ride.

Smooth and fast and sweet, that’s how.

“Pretty nice?” he choked softly. “If I showed up at the next Porsche Club of America race in this, they’d hand me the trophy without racing. But that wouldn’t be any fun. Look at this jewel, Emma.”

She gave the sleek dashboard a touch. “Fancy.”

“Yeah, but who cares about that? Under that hood? Four hundred and twenty turbocharged horses. The tach hits 6500. You can go zero to sixty in under four seconds.”

“
You
can,” she fired back. “Please do not think for one second that I’m driving this thing at high speeds.”

“Sure you will. I even got the automatic for you.”

“Was that a huge sacrifice?”

Actually, it wasn’t. In fact, without hills and curves in the road, the Sport Chrono version was better, and a stick was a waste. “What would have been a huge sacrifice was that Ford Taurus you suggested on the way over.”

She laughed. “Well, it seemed sensible if all I need to do is beat the fear of left turns.”

“Sensible is stupid.” He threw her a smile. “And you look damn good in this car.”

A slight flush deepened her cheeks, and she gave him a playful tap. “And you look like you were born to drive it.”

“I was.” He pulled on a seat belt, a low-grade heat of anticipation rolling through him. “Sadly, we’re not autocross racing today, although I’d love to. But we can take a joy ride along the beach, maybe find some back roads near the Everglades and some challenging left turns for you.”

He fired up the engine and took a minute to listen to the music of German engineering.

“Did you race when you lived here?” she asked.

“Oh, no, I didn’t start taking driving seriously until a few years ago. I met a guy who was in the PCA, went to a weekend race, and I was hooked. Bought a 911, though not this nice, and when I can, I race. Ready?”

She checked her seat belt with a tug. “I guess so.”

“Come on, Em. You’re going to love it. I’ve never had a racing partner.”

She gave him a quick, questioning look. “Never?”

“I’ve always flown solo,” he said, getting a warm, surprised smile. “Until today.”

“Then let’s do this.”

He rolled out of the exotic-car rental lot in the heart of high-end Naples, revving the engine enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck dance. “Oh yeah,” he murmured, reaching for her hand. “And holding your hand is another good thing about the automatic.”

She curled her fingers around his, and he lifted their joined hands to his lips. Why
hadn’t
he ever had a racing partner, he wondered fleetingly. This was way more fun with a beautiful woman at his side.

But his passion for racing had developed in the last few years, so he’d never shared it with Julia. Or any woman…until today.

Why would he want to start now? Because he met someone who wasn’t just a distraction…but a real attraction? That was a first. That was…

Not supposed to happen. He’d never wanted to share life or time or anything meaningful with someone who wasn’t Julia.

But today, he felt differently.

Brushing off an unexpected twinge of guilt, he drove into Naples traffic, already seeking traffic breaks and the chance to change lanes to warm this puppy up for some real driving.

The Carrera drove like a dream, screaming to get wide open, and he found a few straightaway roads that gave him a chance to test the speed, but mostly they cruised up and down the tony store-lined avenues, enjoying the salt air whipping through the car and testing its handling.

Emma asked a lot of questions and, without even thinking about it, he talked a lot about the car, the racing club, and his love of the sport.

Until he realized she was just trying to make him forget the real mission today.

“Hey, I’m on to you,” he teased, easing through traffic to a side street. “Don’t think I’m not.”

“What?” She feigned innocence.

“All these questions. Like you really care about torque peak and active suspension management.”

She laughed, busted. “I do. That’s how I write ad copy, you know. I pick someone’s brain who’s extremely knowledgeable, and then I turn that into words that make other people want to buy whatever product is being sold.”

“So what would you say about this car?”

She thought about that for a second. “Well, a picture of you driving it might sell it to anybody who can afford it.”

“I thought you were all about words, not pictures.”

She studied him as he pulled off the main road onto a side street. “A simple headline, I think. Your hand…” She reached down and brushed a light fingertip over his knuckles, the whisper of a touch kicking him in the gut. Lower. “Just like that on the gearshift.”

“This is an automatic and that’s just for show.” He tapped the stick that rose up from the console, its purpose little more than to put the car in park and drive and have a place to rest your hand…so a beautiful woman would touch it.

“My ad would definitely be for a manual transmission, then,” she said. “Your hand, a close-up, the Porsche logo. Headline…” She spread her hands through the air to highlight her next words. “Sex on a Stick.”

He wanted to laugh at the innuendo, and marvel at her quick thinking, but all he could do was react to the blast of heat that had very little to do with the engine or handling.

He cleared his throat. “And the rest of the ad?”

“The copy? Not much. Just something that would tap into the fact that men want to take the ride behind the wheel. And women want to take a different kind of ride.”

He slid the Porsche into a parking spot in front of a café. “A different kind of ride?”

“With the driver. It’s probably not news to you, but sex sells. The sooner you bring it into the copy, the better.”

He turned to meet her gaze, captured by the teasing spark and that little bit of seriousness he saw there. “How about you?”

She swallowed visibly. “Me?”

She was only a few inches away, her eyes bright, her lips parted…the word
sex
hanging in the air like it was part of the breeze.

She put her hand on his arm. “I’m ready.”

Really? “Emma…”

“Can we do it with the light first?”

With the lights on? Is that what she meant?

“At least that way I can get the feel of the car before I attempt a left turn without a light.”

Oh, of course. Left turns. “Sure.” He reached for the clasp of his seat belt. “Time to make left turns,” he said, his voice surprisingly gruff as he climbed out.

And cool the hell down.

* * *

What just happened? Emma sat in the car for a few seconds, her cheeks warm. There was an awful lot of dancing around kisses and sex talk and things that…she couldn’t stop thinking about. Had no business thinking about.

Her door opened, and she turned to see the lower half of Mark Solomon standing there, khaki pants on a half that was every bit as divine as the upper half. Narrow hips and waist, strong thighs, and…if she didn’t know better, a little rise in the crotch.

Her mouth actually watered.

Great. She’d turned him on with ad copy about a gearshift. Which Kyle would have…

Kyle? What was she thinking about Kyle for while staring at a much nicer lower half?

Mark dipped down. “You scared?”