decline in her performance, because being annoyed with her made it that tiny bit easier not to give in to his impulse to pull her to the rubberized court surface, drag down her formfitting shorts and slip his fingers between her legs until she cried out in ecstasy.
But it wasn’t simply the physical attraction, which he was sure he shared with tens of thousands of teenage boys who used photos of her as their computer desktop backgrounds. Now that he’d met the sensitive, delicate woman beneath the fierce attitude, he was so curious and intrigued that he struggled to focus on anything else.
She was the one thing he shouldn’t think about—yet he couldn’t get her out of his mind. And if he couldn’t pull himself together, it was going to cost him his job.
She glanced at him and he quickly looked away, hoping she couldn’t see the red-hot lust that simmered just below the surface of his flesh whenever they were together.
“How far have we gone?” she panted.
He checked his watch. “About three miles. Ready for a break?”
She looked out over the verdant, beautifully landscaped view, as if taking a snapshot for her mental records. Then she nodded and slowed to a walk.
“It’s getting hot. Let’s sit for a minute.” She fanned herself as she led the way to a palm tree at the golf course’s edge and plunked down with her back against its stump. She pulled up her legs and perched her chin on her knees. “I can’t believe we ran three miles. It felt like one.”
He pulled down the brim of his cap, squinting at a convoy of golf carts as he joined her on the ground. “It’s amazing how much less you notice the distance when you have something to look at. I usually run on the beach, first thing in the morning. Sand is more difficult, but the views are worth it.”
“How often do you go?”
“Three or four times a week. I like running, but I’m not built for it. Too top-heavy.” He raised his arms from his shoulders.
“That is quite a wingspan,” she remarked with an approving tone he enjoyed far too much.
“Orangutan arms, according to my sister. She used to make monkey noises to put me off my serve.”
“So that’s the secret to beating you, huh?” Regan leaned down, plucked some blades of grass and then rolled them between her fingers. “Is she older or younger?”
“Lindsay’s three years younger. She trained as a teacher, and now she works at this educational charity in Bulawayo, our hometown, but she really wants to join me here in the States. I’ve been trying to get her a visa, but immigration lawyers are expensive, and the school is always losing funding so I help Lindsay with her rent, and—”
He stopped himself, remembering in the nick of time that no matter how easily conversation flowed between them, Regan was his employer, not his friend. “Anyway,” he concluded, “It’s complicated. But I’m working on it.”
“Still, that’s nice that you help her out.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a man if I didn’t.”
“Plenty of men aren’t.” She shifted beside him. “And your mom? Is she still in Zimbabwe?”
He shook his head. “She remarried a South African guy and moved there to live with him. She’s quite content, really involved with his kids and grandchildren. I know she misses me, but I don’t think she minds not being constantly reminded of my dad. Lindsay’s the one who suffers. She loves her job, but she’s very isolated out there. It’s a volatile place and you never know which way things will shift from one day to the next. She’s come out here for visits, but flights are expensive, and the Zimbabwean airlines are always having fuel shortages.” He waved his hand dismissively. “The issues mount up, and the next thing you know it’s been five years.”
“That sucks.”
He shrugged, pushing away the old wound of the knowledge that even at the height of his success, he’d never really starred in his parents’ lives. His father was such a huge
But it wasn’t simply the physical attraction, which he was sure he shared with tens of thousands of teenage boys who used photos of her as their computer desktop backgrounds. Now that he’d met the sensitive, delicate woman beneath the fierce attitude, he was so curious and intrigued that he struggled to focus on anything else.
She was the one thing he shouldn’t think about—yet he couldn’t get her out of his mind. And if he couldn’t pull himself together, it was going to cost him his job.
She glanced at him and he quickly looked away, hoping she couldn’t see the red-hot lust that simmered just below the surface of his flesh whenever they were together.
“How far have we gone?” she panted.
He checked his watch. “About three miles. Ready for a break?”
She looked out over the verdant, beautifully landscaped view, as if taking a snapshot for her mental records. Then she nodded and slowed to a walk.
“It’s getting hot. Let’s sit for a minute.” She fanned herself as she led the way to a palm tree at the golf course’s edge and plunked down with her back against its stump. She pulled up her legs and perched her chin on her knees. “I can’t believe we ran three miles. It felt like one.”
He pulled down the brim of his cap, squinting at a convoy of golf carts as he joined her on the ground. “It’s amazing how much less you notice the distance when you have something to look at. I usually run on the beach, first thing in the morning. Sand is more difficult, but the views are worth it.”
“How often do you go?”
“Three or four times a week. I like running, but I’m not built for it. Too top-heavy.” He raised his arms from his shoulders.
“That is quite a wingspan,” she remarked with an approving tone he enjoyed far too much.
“Orangutan arms, according to my sister. She used to make monkey noises to put me off my serve.”
“So that’s the secret to beating you, huh?” Regan leaned down, plucked some blades of grass and then rolled them between her fingers. “Is she older or younger?”
“Lindsay’s three years younger. She trained as a teacher, and now she works at this educational charity in Bulawayo, our hometown, but she really wants to join me here in the States. I’ve been trying to get her a visa, but immigration lawyers are expensive, and the school is always losing funding so I help Lindsay with her rent, and—”
He stopped himself, remembering in the nick of time that no matter how easily conversation flowed between them, Regan was his employer, not his friend. “Anyway,” he concluded, “It’s complicated. But I’m working on it.”
“Still, that’s nice that you help her out.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a man if I didn’t.”
“Plenty of men aren’t.” She shifted beside him. “And your mom? Is she still in Zimbabwe?”
He shook his head. “She remarried a South African guy and moved there to live with him. She’s quite content, really involved with his kids and grandchildren. I know she misses me, but I don’t think she minds not being constantly reminded of my dad. Lindsay’s the one who suffers. She loves her job, but she’s very isolated out there. It’s a volatile place and you never know which way things will shift from one day to the next. She’s come out here for visits, but flights are expensive, and the Zimbabwean airlines are always having fuel shortages.” He waved his hand dismissively. “The issues mount up, and the next thing you know it’s been five years.”
“That sucks.”
He shrugged, pushing away the old wound of the knowledge that even at the height of his success, he’d never really starred in his parents’ lives. His father was such a huge
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