then transferred to her waist to cop a feel along the denim covering her hips.
“Hey!” she snapped, stepping back.
“Just checking for injuries,” he said, giving her an unrepentant smile.
She scowled, because every inch he’d touched was tingling, even through 100 percent cotton fibers. “You should be checking the dog,” she said, glaring at Blackie, who, miracle of miracles, was still down on his haunches. “Because there’s a rolled-up newspaper with his name on it.”
“Jesus.” The stranger frowned. “Don’t hit the dog.”
A flush shot over Marlys’s face. She wasn’t perfect by any means, she knew that, but she’d never actually strike Blackie. It mortified her that the man would think it. It mortified her that she cared what the man would think.
“He’s my dog,” she mumbled, looking down at her feet. Good Lord, she was wearing her Keds from seventh grade. “I’ll do what I want.”
“He needs some discipline,” the man advised. “Enroll him in obedience school.”
“We’re kind of free spirits, Blackie and I,” she said, reaching out to stroke the dog’s head. Blackie whined.
“I get it now.” The Hells Angel crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re both spoiled.”
“That’s not what I said.”
The silvery eyes of his had warmed up. Apparently she amused him. “The principles are easy. Let him know what to expect. Reward the behavior you want, and when he crosses the line, withdraw your attention. A little time locked outside and he’ll come around.”
“I’m not sure Blackie gives a flying fig about my attention.”
“Beautiful fairy like yourself? Any male would be ready to knock himself out for you.”
Marlys cast him a look through her eyelashes. All right, she was human, wasn’t she? And when a man this good looking called her beautiful—even when wearing her junior high Keds—it wasn’t a crime to be flattered. Or tempted.
Didn’t he imply he was going to be around for a while? With the foul mood she’d been in lately, she could use a distraction, so maybe a flirtation—or more—wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
Then she remembered. This particular temptation was here at Juliet’s house, a place she’d been looking forward to avoiding.
“Where is my evil stepmother anyway?”
Motorcycle man shrugged. “I told you I arrived early. Noah’s out, she’s out, I don’t know where either is.”
She guessed she should be grateful he hadn’t broken into the place.
“I’m Dean Long, by the way.” He stretched his hand toward her.
Without thinking, Marlys put her palm against his.
Zap.
Electricity shot to her elbow as her bare flesh met his. Her gaze jumped upward to clash with his surprised silver eyes.
“Wow,” he said.
She yanked her hand away. “It’s the crisp October air.”
His smile dawned slowly. “Yeah, must be about seventy-five, seventy-eight degrees out here.”
Oh, what the hell. She found herself smiling back and enjoying the exhilarating feel of her blood zipping through her body. “Like I said, crisp.”
“Mmm-hmm. Snap, crackle, pop.” The flirtation in his eyes heated to seduction. “I don’t know your name.”
“Marlys.” She took a step back, and bumped into Blackie. He whined, and her fingers stroked the fur on the top of his head. “Marlys Weston.”
Dean watched her retreat a few feet more, Blackie pressed to her thigh. “Are you going to come back and see me again while I’m here, Marlys Weston?”
“I think I’m going to have to,” she heard herself murmur, then she turned like a coward and hightailed it to her car.
Once there, though, she realized she’d only been telling the truth. She still had Juliet’s package.
Noah ran across Juliet at Zuma, the two-mile stretch of sand situated at Malibu’s northern end. It was the kind of beach that symbolized California. The hundred yards from parking lot to waves were strung with dozens of volleyball courts and along the horizontal
“Hey!” she snapped, stepping back.
“Just checking for injuries,” he said, giving her an unrepentant smile.
She scowled, because every inch he’d touched was tingling, even through 100 percent cotton fibers. “You should be checking the dog,” she said, glaring at Blackie, who, miracle of miracles, was still down on his haunches. “Because there’s a rolled-up newspaper with his name on it.”
“Jesus.” The stranger frowned. “Don’t hit the dog.”
A flush shot over Marlys’s face. She wasn’t perfect by any means, she knew that, but she’d never actually strike Blackie. It mortified her that the man would think it. It mortified her that she cared what the man would think.
“He’s my dog,” she mumbled, looking down at her feet. Good Lord, she was wearing her Keds from seventh grade. “I’ll do what I want.”
“He needs some discipline,” the man advised. “Enroll him in obedience school.”
“We’re kind of free spirits, Blackie and I,” she said, reaching out to stroke the dog’s head. Blackie whined.
“I get it now.” The Hells Angel crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re both spoiled.”
“That’s not what I said.”
The silvery eyes of his had warmed up. Apparently she amused him. “The principles are easy. Let him know what to expect. Reward the behavior you want, and when he crosses the line, withdraw your attention. A little time locked outside and he’ll come around.”
“I’m not sure Blackie gives a flying fig about my attention.”
“Beautiful fairy like yourself? Any male would be ready to knock himself out for you.”
Marlys cast him a look through her eyelashes. All right, she was human, wasn’t she? And when a man this good looking called her beautiful—even when wearing her junior high Keds—it wasn’t a crime to be flattered. Or tempted.
Didn’t he imply he was going to be around for a while? With the foul mood she’d been in lately, she could use a distraction, so maybe a flirtation—or more—wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
Then she remembered. This particular temptation was here at Juliet’s house, a place she’d been looking forward to avoiding.
“Where is my evil stepmother anyway?”
Motorcycle man shrugged. “I told you I arrived early. Noah’s out, she’s out, I don’t know where either is.”
She guessed she should be grateful he hadn’t broken into the place.
“I’m Dean Long, by the way.” He stretched his hand toward her.
Without thinking, Marlys put her palm against his.
Zap.
Electricity shot to her elbow as her bare flesh met his. Her gaze jumped upward to clash with his surprised silver eyes.
“Wow,” he said.
She yanked her hand away. “It’s the crisp October air.”
His smile dawned slowly. “Yeah, must be about seventy-five, seventy-eight degrees out here.”
Oh, what the hell. She found herself smiling back and enjoying the exhilarating feel of her blood zipping through her body. “Like I said, crisp.”
“Mmm-hmm. Snap, crackle, pop.” The flirtation in his eyes heated to seduction. “I don’t know your name.”
“Marlys.” She took a step back, and bumped into Blackie. He whined, and her fingers stroked the fur on the top of his head. “Marlys Weston.”
Dean watched her retreat a few feet more, Blackie pressed to her thigh. “Are you going to come back and see me again while I’m here, Marlys Weston?”
“I think I’m going to have to,” she heard herself murmur, then she turned like a coward and hightailed it to her car.
Once there, though, she realized she’d only been telling the truth. She still had Juliet’s package.
Noah ran across Juliet at Zuma, the two-mile stretch of sand situated at Malibu’s northern end. It was the kind of beach that symbolized California. The hundred yards from parking lot to waves were strung with dozens of volleyball courts and along the horizontal
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