Great legs, come to think, and a nice look in those trim linen slacks. Medium height but she’s got long legs when she wants to. He powers down the window so he can see better. Instead he sits here like a goof, watching in astonishment as Jane Garner flips the bird to at least three honking drivers, then strides up the sidewalk with a purpose. If he wasn’t still groggy from his unplanned nap, no way would his client have managed to slip out of the vehicle before he stopped her. Stuck in rush-hour gridlock, Shane blames it on sleep.
“Did you sleep okay, baby?” she wants to know. She takes his arm, tracing her fingertips over his taut bicep. Either way is okay because it means they’ll be together. Myla isn’t sure if he wants her to prepare the food or if he’s already made it just for her. “Scrambled eggs and toast,” he says, smiling and showing his strong white teeth. Like he’s ready, willing, and able to leap into the air and fly to the ends of the earth, if that’s what it takes to make things right.Īt the moment, making things right means breakfast. His eyes are deep, dark and haunted, but he looks so powerful, her own personal Incredible Hulk. Loose khaki cargo pants cinched with a leather belt at his narrow waist, bare feet with his brown toes splayed. The tight black Calvin Klein muscle shirt she likes, the one that shows off his amazing pecs. The door opens and there’s Ricky, showered and wearing a change of clothes. Last thing she expects is a gentle knock on the cabana’s flimsy door.
Truth is, Myla has no ideas, no options, other than to wait for whatever happens next. The cops? Ricky would kill her, really and truly kill her to death. But who would she call? His family? Not an option.
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