Inhaling a deep breath, I got lost in the story while internally huffing, puffing, and scoffing. I was heating up and it had nothing to do with the morning’s rising temperatures.
I considered myself a logical, rational woman on most days. Sex? Great. I enjoyed it as much as anyone. But these books proposed positions that defied physics and romantic obsessions so intense they probably required a prescription. I mean, these men had such excessive feelings they could power a damn city.
The sound of waves murmured in the background while the breeze brushed its invisible fingers across my arms, raising goose bumps.
Or maybe it was my sixth sense again, warning that someone was watching me.
I looked up and my stomach dropped straight through the sand.
Him.
The man I’d hoped to never see again.
I groaned inwardly. Why couldn’t I catch a break?
He moved across the beach with the unhurried confidence of someone who always knew he’d be noticed. He wore a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to tease sun-browned skin. His sleeves were rolled, an expensive watch winking in the sunlight and sophisticated shorts that, despite everything, didn’t look out of place here.
The man looked downright illegal on the sand, and I couldn’t dispute the fact that this suave silver fox had charisma.
Wait, definitely not. My loneliness and this smexy book were talking. I didn’t need a summer fling with a man I’d already embarrassed myself in front of.
Behind him, his bodyguard stalked silently—his gaze behind those dark sunglasses probably glaring at me—while beside my snake savior, a slim woman in a black one-piece and gauzy white wrap strutted confidently, a cool and territorial expression on her face.
I snapped my book shut, ready to bolt, but by the time I was on my feet, it was already too late. The trio was already casting a shadow over me. Damn that woman, she was a knockout.
“You’re on a private beach,” my savior said in a smooth voice, the twinkle in his eyes doing something to my insides.
I squinted up at him.
“Really?” He nodded. “There aren’t any signs around here.”
And I was fairly positive I would remember if someone had mentioned it.
His mouth quirked as he gestured behind him. “You passed it.”
I followed his gesture to a half-hidden sign at the far end of the cove which was decidedly not in English.
“Well,” I said lightly, “forgive me for not mastering Albanian in the few weeks I’ve been a tourist here. I was busy escaping questionable life choices.”
His dark, magnetic eyes flickered with amusement, skipping over my bag, my sunscreen, and down to the dog-eared book.
“We’re in Albania,” he said dryly. “Hence, signs in the local language.”
“Noted,” I replied. “Next time I’ll bring my phrasebook.”
He tilted his head. “Still running from snakes?”
My heart gave a small, traitorous stutter that he remembered me. “Ahh. I haven’t seen any recently. None here, I hope?”
That coaxed a brief but beautiful smile from the stranger. The woman beside him said something sharp in Albanian and walked off, but he didn’t look away. His gaze stayed on me, steady as the tide of the sea in front of us.
“I’ll be gone in a minute,” I said quickly, fumbling for my bag. “You won’t even know I was here.”
He hesitated before he said slowly, “You can stay.”
I arched my brow. “You’ll make an exception for a stranger?”
“A perfect stranger, yes,” he said, turning to his bodyguard. “But if you give me your name, you’ll no longer be that.”
