“Hold these plates and give me the camera.”
“I don’t want any trouble, dude.”
“And I don’t want to cause you any. Just give me the camera.”
Hands shaking, the man complied. He watched wide-eyed as Luke deleted the photos he’d taken of Brianna.
“Now say ‘cheese’,” Luke instructed, focusing the lens on him and taking a picture before returning it and reclaiming the claiming the pizza slices. “Bug the lady again, and the next picture someone snaps of you will be a mug shot,” he advised darkly.
The man didn’t argue. As he hurried off in the opposite direction, Luke made his way back to Brianna.
“What was that about?” she asked.
He couldn’t very well tell her that he’d been concerned for her safety, so he brushed the question aside. “Just a tourist traveling alone who was looking for someone to take his photo,” he replied, glossing over the details.
Satisfied with his answer, she turned her attention to the pizza he handed her. Once the steaming slice had cooled a bit, she took a bite. The crust was covered in just the right amount of tangy sauce and cheese, and topped with generous amounts of pepperoni, sausage, and hamburger.
“Yum! This is delicious.” She tilted her head, considering him. “You surprise me. I didn’t have you pegged as the kind of guy who would choose pizza on a sandy beach over a gourmet meal in a five-star restaurant.”
“Despite what you seem inclined to believe, I don’t wear a suit from breakfast until bedtime. I’m not afraid to get a little sand between my toes.”
And he’d kick off his shoes more often if it meant spending time with her, like this. She sparked an appetite that had nothing to do with food, but everything to do with tangled sheets and entangled bodies. Better not to contemplate that, though, since he wasn’t in a position where he could satiate that particular hunger.
“Sorry. It’s unfair of me to make assumptions. But you can’t deny that a lot of things about you scream excess. Your fancy sports car for instance, or those designer shades you’re sporting.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I enjoy a few luxuries, but I don’t need material things to be happy. With the possible exception of whoopie pies, of course.”
“Of what?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of whoopie pies?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Well, you’re in luck.” Grabbing the paper bag, he produced their dessert with a flourish. “Voilà, a whoopie pie in the wild. There are dozens of flavor combinations, but we’ll start with the traditional: chocolate with vanilla frosting. Prepare to be blown away.”
Brianna doubted the decadent dessert he handed her could top the heart-stutteringly amazing sight of the perfectly honed body stretched out on the towel beside her for sheer wow factor. Still, savoring the sweet confection might help distract her from her current fantasy of smearing the dessert’s thick, creamy frosting onto his chest to lick off at her leisure.
She sampled the treat, sighing in pleasure as her taste buds swooned at the first decadent bite.
“I’m guessing that means you like it,” he grinned.
“It’s heavenly,” she enthused.
He gestured to a spot at the corner of her mouth. “You have a little frosting right here.”
He brushed the sugary remnants away, his thumb warm against her lip. A half a heartbeat later, his mouth swooped down on the spot, and his masterful tongue retraced the path his thumb had taken.
Brianna closed her eyes at the sheer magic of his lips on hers. He coaxed her mouth open, and she eagerly granted him access.
He tastes even better than dessert. And he is far more addictive.
Disappointment surged through her when he pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “That shouldn’t have happened. I promised you you’d be safe with me, and that I’d respect the professional boundaries you set. I broke my word. I was way out of line.”
“You have nothing
“I don’t want any trouble, dude.”
“And I don’t want to cause you any. Just give me the camera.”
Hands shaking, the man complied. He watched wide-eyed as Luke deleted the photos he’d taken of Brianna.
“Now say ‘cheese’,” Luke instructed, focusing the lens on him and taking a picture before returning it and reclaiming the claiming the pizza slices. “Bug the lady again, and the next picture someone snaps of you will be a mug shot,” he advised darkly.
The man didn’t argue. As he hurried off in the opposite direction, Luke made his way back to Brianna.
“What was that about?” she asked.
He couldn’t very well tell her that he’d been concerned for her safety, so he brushed the question aside. “Just a tourist traveling alone who was looking for someone to take his photo,” he replied, glossing over the details.
Satisfied with his answer, she turned her attention to the pizza he handed her. Once the steaming slice had cooled a bit, she took a bite. The crust was covered in just the right amount of tangy sauce and cheese, and topped with generous amounts of pepperoni, sausage, and hamburger.
“Yum! This is delicious.” She tilted her head, considering him. “You surprise me. I didn’t have you pegged as the kind of guy who would choose pizza on a sandy beach over a gourmet meal in a five-star restaurant.”
“Despite what you seem inclined to believe, I don’t wear a suit from breakfast until bedtime. I’m not afraid to get a little sand between my toes.”
And he’d kick off his shoes more often if it meant spending time with her, like this. She sparked an appetite that had nothing to do with food, but everything to do with tangled sheets and entangled bodies. Better not to contemplate that, though, since he wasn’t in a position where he could satiate that particular hunger.
“Sorry. It’s unfair of me to make assumptions. But you can’t deny that a lot of things about you scream excess. Your fancy sports car for instance, or those designer shades you’re sporting.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I enjoy a few luxuries, but I don’t need material things to be happy. With the possible exception of whoopie pies, of course.”
“Of what?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of whoopie pies?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Well, you’re in luck.” Grabbing the paper bag, he produced their dessert with a flourish. “Voilà, a whoopie pie in the wild. There are dozens of flavor combinations, but we’ll start with the traditional: chocolate with vanilla frosting. Prepare to be blown away.”
Brianna doubted the decadent dessert he handed her could top the heart-stutteringly amazing sight of the perfectly honed body stretched out on the towel beside her for sheer wow factor. Still, savoring the sweet confection might help distract her from her current fantasy of smearing the dessert’s thick, creamy frosting onto his chest to lick off at her leisure.
She sampled the treat, sighing in pleasure as her taste buds swooned at the first decadent bite.
“I’m guessing that means you like it,” he grinned.
“It’s heavenly,” she enthused.
He gestured to a spot at the corner of her mouth. “You have a little frosting right here.”
He brushed the sugary remnants away, his thumb warm against her lip. A half a heartbeat later, his mouth swooped down on the spot, and his masterful tongue retraced the path his thumb had taken.
Brianna closed her eyes at the sheer magic of his lips on hers. He coaxed her mouth open, and she eagerly granted him access.
He tastes even better than dessert. And he is far more addictive.
Disappointment surged through her when he pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “That shouldn’t have happened. I promised you you’d be safe with me, and that I’d respect the professional boundaries you set. I broke my word. I was way out of line.”
“You have nothing
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