All Over You by Sarah Mayberry Page B

look she’d had on her face, as though she was the puppet master and he her malleable toy. Just because certain parts of his body craved certain parts of hers did not make him her patsy. And first chance he got he was going to show her, too.
    Leaning against the sun-warmed trunk of the Corvette in the parking lot of the Malibu West Beach Club, he crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. Now she was keeping him waiting, too. No doubt more of her power games.
    His frown deepened as he spotted a faded onyx-black ’57 Corvette on the freeway. There weren’t many around, so naturally it drew his attention. Seconds later, it turned into the parking lot and he recognized Grace behind the wheel.
    Didn’t that just beat all.
    Somehow he didn’t think she’d rushed out and bought the exact same car as his in the time since their last outing together.
    For some reason, the discovery that she’d chosen not to tell him that they drove the same car pissed him off even more. What was with this woman?
    She had the roof down and her eyes were hidden behind the retro sunglasses she’d worn at the vineyard. An aquamarine scarf protected her hair. She looked like she’d driven straight out of a 1950s soda ad and he grudgingly admitted to himself that she suited the car perfectly.
    She swung her Corvette into the space beside his. While he was formulating a suitably chill remark about their twin rides, he allowed himself one brief head-to-toe perusal as she locked up. Big mistake. She was wearing a halter-neck sundress in shades of hazelnut and chocolate. The bodice crossed over her breasts, accentuating their round fullness before diving into her waistline. The skirt flared out over her hips, ending at knee height to reveal two shapely, sensuous calves, showcased to perfection in a pair of chocolate-leather pumps.
    He tore his gaze away and shoved his suddenly fisted hands into his jean pockets. What was it about her that made him want to touch her? Her skin was so creamy and smooth, and he knew now precisely how sensitive it was, could vividly recall the delicate flush of desire that had colored her breasts as he lavished attention on them. His hands literally itched with the urge to cinch themselves around that tiny waist. There was something about those breasts, and that waist and those hips…
    Just like that, he was hard for her. He gave a grunt of self-disgust as he pushed himself away from the trunk of his car. The whole show-her-he-was-no-puppet thing was going really well, what with his boner and the fact that his eyes were practically hanging out of his head. Without looking back, he started toward the entrance to the beach club. Let her keep up with him if she wanted to.
    The coolness of the air-conditioned members’ lounge went some way toward taking the edge off his frustration. He stopped in the doorway to allow for her to catch up. Her perfume wrapped itself around him as she joined him. Neither of them said a word for a long, drawn-out beat. Mac pretended it was because he was surveying the room, thinking of camera angles and lighting rigs. He wondered what lie she was telling herself, because he knew she was aware of him, too. No matter what bull she told herself, she wanted him. He could feel it.
    “We should check the exteriors first,” he said brusquely.
    “Sure.”
    Her voice was subdued. He spared a glance for her as they followed the signs to the beach doors. She was pale and she was biting her full bottom lip.
    The sight of her white teeth on that soft, crimson arc was highly erotic. Mac resigned himself to a day of illicit hard-ons and frustration. It seemed that it didn’t matter that his head had written this woman off as too much trouble — his gonads were hot to trot.
    Pushing through double glass doors, they found themselves in a paved courtyard that opened out to the beach on one side. Pristine sand swept down to the ocean and colorful recliners and umbrellas dotted the area. A tropical-themed bar