Maybe it boiled down to that theory that some girls just loved a bad boy. Especially one as cute as Ian. His hair was a light brown and held shades of red depending on the light. A bit too long, he must’ve used some kind of gel to get his hair into that messy, tousled—and yet somehow totally sexy—style.
Rounding the car, Ian slid his sunglasses over his eyes and onto his head. Her gaze immediately landed on the deep groove of a several-inch-long scar near his eye.
“One cheerleader, when I was promised two.”
Oh, he definitely had that faint lilt of a Scottish accent going on. Her heart whumped in her chest and Sarah shifted her weight, wishing she’d thought to change out of her uniform.
“Your sister had to stay late and study.” She cleared her throat. “I’m her friend, Sarah. I hope you don’t mind if I catch a ride home still?”
“Study, you say? Hmm.” He arched a brow and slowly approached. He was probably close to six feet and he towered over her barely five foot frame.
Flushed, and not even sure why, Sarah swallowed hard and simply nodded.
“Aye, I’ll drive you home.” He suddenly grinned, and it was so unexpected, so dazzling, her breath caught in her throat.
Was her heart pounding faster? Why? He couldn’t hear it, could he? Jeez, this had been a bad idea.
Still, when he opened the passenger door, she slid in as delicately as her uniform allowed to avoid exposing too much skin.
It was one thing about cheerleading she hadn’t been thrilled about. The tacky, somewhat slutty uniforms. But Kenzie had talked her into trying out for the team—especially because she had so many strengths from being in gymnastics for years.
A moment later all time for second thoughts were gone as he slid behind the wheel and hit the gas.
Grabbing the oh shit handle, Sarah couldn’t stop a small gasp as her life flashed before her eyes.
“You really should slow down,” she squeaked out.
“Life is too short to take it slow.”
“Well, if you’re dead does it matter?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Relax.”
When he turned the car onto the highway, she frowned and shot him a quick glance.
“Hey, my parents’ house is up by the navy base, you’re heading south.”
“Taking a different route. Scenic view.”
Scenic view? Her dad had been stationed at NAS Whidbey for the past six years, and she wasn’t sure what Ian meant by scenic view, but she gave him the benefit of the doubt.
Well, until he pulled up beneath a cluster of trees along a cliff that overlooked Puget Sound.
When he turned off the engine she cast him a furtive look. “What’s going on? Is your car okay?”
“Car is great.” He shifted in his seat and before she realized what he was doing, he reached out and cupped the side of her face. “Damn, you are a pretty thing.”
Flustered and more than a little confused, she shook her head.
“Ian—”
He leaned forward and kissed her. Shock made her mind go white. The pressure of his mouth increased and she gasped, which allowed his tongue to slide past her lips. There was outrage inside her, but it was bullied aside by the surprising liquid heat seeping through her blood.
When he lifted his head, she realized she was clutching his shirt.
“Mmm. Very nice.” His hand, which she didn’t see move, suddenly came to rest on her leg. “These uniforms are just so damn hot. But I don’t think you got enough thigh showing beneath that skirt.”
The light touch of his fingers tracing up her thigh beneath her skirt—even while making her tingle and burn—snapped her into reality.
She slapped his hand away and scooted as far to her side of the car as she could.
“What are you doing?”
His grin, lazy and almost patronizing, widened. “Whatever you want me to do, doll.”
“Doll? What, are you channeling Frank Sinatra? I want you to drive me home. I thought we had that covered.”
“Sure you do.” He inched forward, reaching for her again. “My sister doesn’t study. I get it. It was a way to get alone with me. Creative, I admit.”
Sarah sputtered, shaking her head. Dammit, she knew the studying line wouldn’t work, but she hadn’t seen this coming.
“I’m not trying to be alone with you. In fact I had every intention of walking my butt home until your sister insisted I should go with you.”
His smile twitched and he looked suitably skeptical. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. You’re not even my type.” Or she hadn’t thought, but something about that kiss…
His mouth tightened slightly now with derision. “Jocks are?”
“Not really, I like a guy who—wait, you know what? I don’t need to explain my type to you. Take me home, please. Or I’ll walk.”