Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(60)

Donovan’s mouth came down hard on hers. She caught his angled jaw with her hands and accepted his tongue, her worries dissipating with each sensual slide. By the time she was clawing his back for more, she had to pull back to take a breath.

“That help you forget your problems?” His voice was low and rumbly, his firm lips damp.

Her hand had come to rest on his chest. His heart thumped against her palm. “Yeah.”

He kissed her again. “Rain check on doing me,” he said against her lips.

How was he this sexy? So consistently? Losing the battle of worry and shame, she smiled. “Thought that’s what I just did.”

“Appreciate it, Scampi, but I want all of you next time.”

Next time. She liked the sound of that.

Too much.





“Incoming,” Faith said at the same time the bell dinged over Make It an Event’s front door.

Sofie turned, coffee cup in hand, to see Donovan stride in on those long legs of his. Every inch of him looked good enough to eat, and she would know since she went to bed last night starving for him.

Sad, but true. She had so jumped from frying pan to fire.

Standing, she allowed her eyes to graze his charcoal gray T-shirt, cut in a V over the smattering of chest hair she’d admired yesterday. His long, black hair brushed his cheekbones and tickled his collar, matching thick lashes dipping over a pair of ghostly eyes that didn’t miss a thing.

He was a beautiful, beautiful man.

“Gets better-looking every day,” Faith said between her teeth.

No kidding.

“Hey, Scampi. Faith.” He came deeper into the room until he got to Sofie’s desk. “Busy?”

She looked down at the piles of paperwork, then glanced at her computer at fifty unread e-mails. A ding sounded. Fifty-one. Before she could say a word, Faith stood from her chair.

“She’s not busy at all. I was about to take over for her so she can have the rest of the day off.”

Her friend, the liar. “Faith.”

Donovan’s eyebrows rose slightly, and his gaze tracked from Sofie to her friend.

Faith grinned to beat all. “Go, go. Don’t worry about a thing.” She waved her hands frantically, then physically pushed Sofie closer to him.

As if Sofie needed help in that endeavor.

Nervously, Sofie straightened her skirt and her shirt. “I can take a break for a… a while, I guess. What did you have in mind?”

His smile nearly floored her. She wanted to kiss that smile so badly, and if she had less self-respect, she might throw her arms around his neck and lay one on him right here, right now.

“You’ll see,” was all he said. He took her hand and pulled her to the door.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN




When Donovan came back to Evergreen Cove, the mansion didn’t feel like home at all. But the quarry, with the tall rock face he used to scale, and the piles of quartz, limestone, and other rocks he picked through, was as familiar and comfortable to him as any home could be.

The day was overcast, unlike yesterday when the sun blazed hot and the air was almost too humid to breathe. The wind cut the humidity in half, and the cloudy skies were gray and forlorn, but didn’t look like rain.

Dog was loving life, poking around the rocks and sticking her nose into every crevice and crack. Donovan took Sofie home to change before he brought her here, and instructed her to wear sturdy shoes. She’d need them for wandering through all this rock. She looked cute, too, in her double tank tops, cotton shorts, and tennis shoes with short socks. He shook his head. Those legs and that round ass—he couldn’t get enough.

“This place is so cool. I can’t believe I didn’t know this was here.” She looked left, then right, her long ponytail brushing her shoulders.

Before he could think about why he was doing it, he reached for her hand, pulled her close, and dropped a kiss on her lips.

They parted and she smiled up at him. “What was that for?”

“Glad you’re playing hooky with me.” Glad, about anything, was a new feeling, but he was in his element so it sort of made sense.

“What are you searching for?”

“Rocks.”

“Ha-ha. I mean what kind of rocks. Can I help?”

“Probably not. I’m picky. I have a design in mind for the fireplace in the great room.” He slid her a glance. “You remember the great room.”

Her smile was pretty, almost modest. He knew better. She wasn’t as innocent as she liked to pretend. With him, anyway, which made his chest puff with pride.

“Know the right pieces when I see them,” he said, dropping her hand. “It’s like a puzzle.”

“Like you,” she said.

He bent to pick up a piece of limestone, rough, but flat. “No, Scampi. I’m not the kind of puzzle you want to figure out.” In an odd way, it flattered him she’d thought to try.

They continued picking, Donovan dropping rocks into a box he’d brought along for that purpose. Sofie hadn’t contributed any, proving pickier than him.

“Hey.” She knelt about three feet away from him and lifted a stone. “This one kind of looks like a heart.”

It did. A jagged, imperfect heart. Like his? Poetic.

“It’s not very smooth though.” She wrinkled her nose and started to put it back down.