“You’re relentless,”
“You have no idea.” He made a point of letting his gaze drag slowly up her body until he could see a small sheen of perspiration on her brow. Mission accomplished.
*
Leaving an ass print on the beach carried less intimidation when Jackson Knight seemed unattainable—celibate. Sex or marriage. Who says that? Definitely not a thirty-year-old guy with the most unique eyes Ryn had ever seen, a body sculpted for the front cover of a fitness magazine, and tattoos that were clearly on display for the sole purpose of her enjoyment. And a guy like that definitely did not say that to a nearly forty-year-old woman losing her battle with gravity.
Perhaps she’d hallucinated the whole conversation. It was hard to say for sure. There had been heart palpitations, sweating, and foggy-brained confusion. Had she also imagined the inappropriate way he looked at her? Ryn hoped not. She rather liked how he looked at her. He made her feel a hundred times sexier than she imagined possible.
Clothes were strewn all over her room. It was a walk, not dinner with the president. She didn’t need to try on ten different outfits, but she did anyway. After settling on the most boring choice ever—gray yoga capris and a white tank top—she waited on her porch swing with Gunner at her feet.
“You’re smiling at no one in particular.”
She turned. “Hey, Drew.”
“Good day?”
She snorted out a laugh when a wood-paneled PT Cruiser pulled into her driveway, the perfect visual to temper her attraction to Jackson. Then he got out and the PT Cruiser might as well have been a Ferrari. Jackson exuded sexiness. He made ugly beautiful. Could he make her feel half as desirable as he looked?
Drew chuckled. “He’s young.”
“Yup.” Ryn couldn’t take her eyes off Jackson as he navigated up her driveway like a catwalk, wearing faded ripped jeans and a fitted black tank top that showed more of his tattoos than she had ever seen.
“Hi.” Jackson first acknowledged Drew.
“Hey there. Well, you two have fun at the beach.” Drew’s steps faded into the distance.
Warmth surged along her skin, overheating her whole body. Someone needed to throw some ice water on her.
“The beach?” Jackson questioned.
“Inside joke.” Her eyes took their first blink since he’d pulled into her driveway.
“Hot car.” She grinned.
Sex in the flesh shoved his hands deep into his pockets, flexing the muscles along his arms, but her eyes latched onto the wide black waist band of his underwear exposed in the front from his hands pushing down.
“Thank you.”
Ryn shook her head with an embarrassingly huge smile plastered to her face. “Are you conducting some sort of experiment?”
“On?”
“What makes a man sexy.” She snapped her finger and pointed to the ground beside her. Gunner took his position on command. “Because before you pulled up I would have said no man could look sexy driving a PT Cruiser. I stand corrected.”
Jackson cocked his head to the side, watching Gunner. “I’m not part of any experiment.” He continued looking at Gunner as if he were talking to him. “But I do know the answer to that question.”
“I have no doubt that you do. I’m sure you see it in the mirror every day. Walk.” She started toward the sidewalk with Gunner right at her side.
“Nope. But don’t stress over it. I’ll tell you someday. By the way … I think I’m in love with your dog.”
“You’ve only just met.”
“Well he’s beautiful and well behaved. No leash?”
“He doesn’t need one.”
“What if a rabbit or squirrel runs out in front of him?”
“He doesn’t do anything without my command.”
“I once knew a Marley reincarnation.”
“Yours?” Ryn looked up at Jackson, squinting against the setting sun.
“No. This doctor I knew got it for his girlfriend. He tried to get her to take it to obedience school, but I think they dropped out after the first day. The mutt was a nightmare.”
“Gunner was trained to be a guard dog. I don’t think I’d be able to sleep at night if I didn’t have him.”
“Because you’re single?”
“Because I’m divorced.” Ryn kept her eyes focused ahead. “I left an abusive relationship. He didn’t want to accept it even after I filed the restraining order. I don’t like guns, but I needed a way to feel safe.”
“Gun-ner.” Jackson smirked. “Nice.”
“So … I noticed you have some crash-type pads and different equipment in your basement. Are you a boxer?”
“I’m not a boxer, but I can box. Jillian and I like to spar for a good workout.”
“Do you know any self-defense moves?”
His lips twisted to the side. “A few.”
“Would you be willing to teach me sometime?”
Jackson didn’t say anything.
“It’s just that Gunner’s not always with me and I wonder what would happen if the mace on my keychain didn’t work or if I dropped it and was left defenseless. I know I sound paranoid, it’s just—”