Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series) by Jennifer Saints

oil.
    Sinking into the heat she glared at Jackson’s
glasses peeping at her.
    No one knew she was here, and she’d never tell a
soul that she had come. She had saved years for this. The small
town where life kept passing her by was a thousand miles away. They
all thought she was nursing a sick friend, instead, she was nursing
her starved soul. She lay on a cushioned chair on the beach, nude,
soaking up the sun as the breeze caressed her like a lover. During
the week she’d been here, her skin had tanned to a sensual dark and
her peach nipples had turned golden. Her whole body glistened and
waited, wanting more than the breeze could satisfy.
    She knew he watched. He had every
day. The man whose beach house was next to
the one she rented. She’d seen him come and go in his expensive
cars. Seen him on his deck watching. It made her feel deliciously
naughty.
    Suddenly, something blocked the sun’s heat and she
opened her eyes. He stood there, raven-haired and tanned. He was
nude as well, only his eyes were hidden behind the mirrored
glasses. But she didn’t need to look into his eyes to gauge his
appreciation. He advertised it as only a man could. And my, did he
advertise well.
    She felt a moment of uncertainty,
as if she shouldn’t be here. But all of her life she had waited,
waited for that moment of excitement that
stayed just beyond her staid grasp.
    This wasn’t about love. Love always passed her by.
This was sex--pure and simple. This was about the moment, and she
forced herself to grab it even though her heart thundered at the
thought.
    “You want me, baby. Don’t you?” She ran a finger
from her lips down between her breasts.
    “Depends on what you’re offering, sugar.” He leaned
over and followed her finger with his. She had to force herself to
stay still beneath the heat of his touch.
    Her blood roared in her ears and liquid fire licked
at her desire. What did she say now? Her mind went blank.
    “A seat?” She slid her legs to one side so he could
sit down.
    His answering laugh was deep and full. “That’ll do
for a start.” Instead of sitting where she’d made room for him, he
ran a hand down her leg, caught hold of her ankle and slid her leg
back to rest along the edge of the chair.
    “This suits me better,” he said as he nudged her
legs off each side of the chair and sat facing her, his knees to
her knees.
    She gasped and sat up straight. She was completely
open to him and he took his time lifting his gaze to hers.
    “What’s your name, sugar?”
    She licked her lips, her mouth dry. “Nan. And
yours?”
    “Just call me Jack.” He cupped her breasts in his
hands and thumbed her nipples. She gasped again, automatically
arching to him.
    “Relax, sugar. We aren’t going to do anything you
don’t want to do.” He gently pressed her back against the lounge to
where she was almost lying down in from of him. “Today, I think we
won’t worry about anything else except tasting each other.”
    His hand slid from her breast and moved down the
soft expanse of her stomach until his fingers disappeared into the
curls of her sex. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you sugar? You’d like
me tasting you, making you hot, so hot all you can do is--
    An insistent knock reverberated through her
apartment. Nan sat up from her bath, shocked and her body
throbbing. Someone impatiently knocked on her door again. Her eyes
flew to Jackson’s sunglasses on her dresser. Was he back to get
them?
    Pulling on her fuzzy robe, much as she had done just
the other morning, she glanced through the peephole and opened the
door with a sense of disappointment. “Brad?”
    Brad looked up from his watch and frowned. “Nan?
You’re not ready?
    “Ready?” she said, shaking her head confused. She
was ready but not for Brad. “For what?” She opened the door wider
and Brad stepped inside.
    “Our date. Remember Saturday night at the banquet, I
told you I wanted to show you something. I believe I said I’d pick
you up at