The Billionaire’s Forbidden Desire(4)

She stopped walking and leaped vertically in the air, rotated a couple of times and landed on one foot, her arms outstretched and her free leg raised behind her. So long as she landed on her uninjured side it wasn’t so bad…except that wasn’t her landing foot. She dropped her shoes and tried it again. Then again. And again. Sweat beaded on her skin, blood pumping through her body.

She tried a small, single-rotation jump on her bad side, keeping it low. No problem.

Encouraged, she tried for a double, getting some air under her. When she came down, a numbing pain shot from her hip through her entire body. The sand seemed to shift underneath, and she crumpled with a cry.

Until a strong hand caught her.

She gasped, clutching at the hard, muscled arm and trying to get her balance. Then looked up at the owner of the heroic limb. He stared back at her, his eyes hidden behind a pair of reflective sunglasses.

Her skin tingled like she was only a second away from competing, her heart knocking against her ribs. She licked her lips and studied the stranger. A few days’ growth of beard couldn’t hide the clean, bold lines of a face that ought to be on glossy magazine covers. The clothes on him had exceptional stitching and material, although they weren’t fresh. She could tell that the body was lean under the shirt, his shoulders broad and hips narrow. The rolled up sleeves revealed forearms carved with muscle.

“Who are you?” she rasped, her throat dry. “Are you lost?” This was a private beach. The real estate agent had sworn she’d be the only one there.

“Lost…?” He rolled the word on his tongue.

She frowned. Maybe he didn’t speak English. After all, they were in Mexico…

“Um, no español,” she said, suddenly flustered.

“‘No español’ is fine. I’m not lost,” he said in perfect English, his diction precise.

His deep voice washed over her like the summer sun, and she leaned a tiny bit closer. Maybe…just maybe the warmth it generated could thaw the cold knot in her chest.

Suddenly he shook his head and gave a short laugh. There was a hint of harsh derision underneath. “Or maybe I am. I walked for quite a while.”

Embarrassed, she pulled away from him. As he dropped his hand, cold seeped through her despite the tropical sun. She shivered and cleared her throat. “Thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome.”

Then it finally registered in her frazzled brain that he smelled like alcohol. For the first time she noticed a half-full bottle clutched in his other hand.

She tilted her head. Being short, she was used to looking up at people, but for some reason, he seemed taller than most. “Have you been drinking?” she asked almost stupidly. She’d never seen anybody indulge this early. Her parents might’ve had their issues, but substance abuse wasn’t one of them.

He cocked an eyebrow, and she got an impression of arrogance. “What if I have?”

“Just…” She frowned, not sure what to say or why she felt so defensive. Even though they weren’t standing close, the skin around her spine was prickling like tiny needles were being pressed against her. “Isn’t it a little early?”

“It’s never too early to drink when the occasion calls for it.” He flashed her a roguish smile, a dimple popping on his cheek.

She blinked at how unexpected that was. How could a hard and unyielding man like him have something as innocuous as a dimple?

“You should try it some time. In fact, why not now?” He shoved the bottle at her. “Here.”

“Uh…” She stared, unsure what to do with it. People never offered her drinks. They gave her water, tonics and smoothies and various green concoctions—things designed to make her body healthy.

He smirked. “Are you underage? Worried about what your parents might say?”

That stung, especially the crack about her parents. She could shoot heroin and they wouldn’t say anything. They’d just give more money to Chad and ask him to deal with it.

“No and no. I’m twenty-three.” Far too old to care about what her parents would think anymore.

She took the bottle from him. She’d never, ever touched alcohol—¬¬it wasn’t good for performance—but what the heck. It’s just a sip. She would never compete again. Why should she sacrifice anymore? Why should she be this perfect girl who did everything she was supposed to do?

She took a fast swig. Fire exploded in her nose and mouth. She choked, her eyes watering, her throat hot and smoky.

He laughed, and she frowned at him. “Ugh! What is this stuff?”

“Scotch. First time drinking it?”