She let her hands drift to his chest, that gorgeous chest she’d seen a hundred times because he didn’t like to wear a shirt. Especially when it was hot, and it almost always was hot. She would drive by the house he’d grown up in and he would be mowing the yard wearing nothing but jeans and boots.
He was wearing a button-down now. He’d dressed up for dinner. She hadn’t even known he owned a pair of slacks, but they’d been in the duffel bag he’d brought to her place earlier this afternoon. She felt the soft material under her hands, but it wasn’t a substitute for skin. She could still remember the way his skin felt against hers. She wanted to feel that heat again.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you again?” Zep whispered against her lips. “I’ve been thinking about this for over a year. It’s even better than I remembered.”
He deepened the kiss, his tongue surging into her mouth, and the kiss went from sweet to sinful in a heartbeat.
She forgot where she was. All that mattered was getting more. More kisses. More touches. More of him.
No one in all her life could make her forget the world the way this man could, and for that reason alone she knew she should stop, should run as fast as she could, but denial hadn’t worked.
She could have her cake and eat it, too. Everyone thought they were pretending. No one had to know that at least part of it was real.
“One week,” she said. “We can have a whole week to work this out.”
Work him out of her system. Maybe if she could get over this crazy desire for him, she could move on.
“We will,” he promised. “We will work this out, Rox. You’ll see.”
A little warning bell went off in the back of her head, but he was kissing her again and any doubt flew straight out of her brain. He started to press her against the seat.
Before she could go any further, there was a knock on the window, and it was like the whole world stopped.
Zep sat back with a frown. “We’ve got company.”
She turned and her mother was standing there waving her hand, a wild look in her eyes. “Roxanne! Roxanne! There’s an alligator. It’s in the parking lot. We can’t get Shawna out of the car. Does your boyfriend have a gun? Everyone has a gun down here, right? Your father is calling 911.”
She rolled her eyes even as she opened the window. “It’s just Otis. He suns himself on the big rock. He fell asleep and forgot to go back out into the water. Please don’t call 911.”
She could hear the guys ribbing her over dealing with an Otis sighting. Or they would all be horrified at her family because the minute the police got involved, her father would criticize everything. Nothing would be up to his standards, and he would let them know.
“I’ve got to deal with this,” she said, straightening her shirt.
“It’s okay.” Zep opened the door. “I can handle this one.” He slid out and walked toward her mother. “Now, Mrs. King, don’t you worry about that old gator. That’s Otis and he’s a sweetheart, but I know he can be scary. I’ll go get my brother and we’ll move him so you can have a nice dinner.”
Her mother had visibly calmed the minute Zep stepped out of the truck.
Roxie climbed out, her only halfway feminine shoes hitting the gravel of the parking lot and reminding her why not a lot of people wore heels to go to Guidry’s. “You know I’ve dealt with Otis, too.”
He looked back and winked her way. “Baby, you direct traffic around Otis. I have to actually physically move that sucker. I should probably take off my shirt. Wouldn’t want to get sweaty.”
“You’re such a nice man,” her mother said as she followed Zep. “But aren’t you worried? That is a very large reptile.”
“It’s all part of the service, ma’am.” The charm oozed off him.
Roxie nearly turned an ankle in her heels.
“Call me Pamela,” her mother said, putting a hand on his arm. “I’m not so old, you know. Roxanne, come on. We need to go tell Shawna the men can handle this. I need a drink. Please tell me they have vodka here. It’s not one of those dry places, is it? I’ve heard they have those down here because they’re religious. I don’t understand that. If God didn’t want us to drink, why would Jesus make all that wine?”
Roxie watched as Zep escorted her mother in and she was left to make her way across the lot. This was what Zep did, and it was so good to get a reminder. That charm wasn’t simply for her. It was for every woman he met. He was a flirt, a player of the highest order, and just because he was willing to spend a week with her didn’t mean he would be hers.