“No!” I flip around to find Rayan’s sneaky little grin. “Just go get the drinks.”
“You sure?” She wiggles her brows.
“Yes. Go.”
“Okay, but don’t forget, he’s your mission.”
“Go!”
She laughs before heading to the bar for our beers. I tug on the short skirt Emmie made me squeeze into and then try to straighten out the even tighter rumpled shirt she yanked over my head while getting me ready to go out tonight. I don’t see why I couldn’t wear my striped boatneck top and leggings. I’m comfortable in them.
I peek over my shoulder. Zeke Declan’s front has now turned my way; head nestled in the nook of the woman’s neck with his hand practically groping her ass. How did I let Rayna talk me into this?
Clothes straightened, I twist around and watch the man I’m supposed to break this summer—him and his imprudent rules. Dammit. I look around the bar, wishing I could run into the guy from the park today. There’s no way he’d be here in a bar with an MMA fighting ring. Okay, maybe that’s a bit presumptuous. Still, I pictured him more as a stay-at-home guy, reading or maybe even writing the next best American novel. He was witty, smart, physically fit, and from what I could see beneath that baseball cap, good-looking. He cares about his health. He’s not some guy who recklessly screws around with anything in a tight skirt like Zeke Declan. And those eyes, I can’t get them out of my ... just as the image of those brilliant eyes cross my mind, I flash to Zeke. His head slowly lifts from the woman’s neck and ... Oh! My! God! Those eyes! No! No! No! It can’t be ... I try to look away as those beautiful gold-speckled eyes beam at me from across the room, but that overwhelming sensation engulfs me just as it had earlier on the bench. Shit! There’s no doubt about it, he’s the man from the park minus the hat. His light brown hair, messy in a Brad Pitt kind of way, complements those amber eyes.
Holy shit! It hits me again. Zeke Declan is the guy from the park. Zeke Declan with his repulsive rules is the man who fluttered my heart and made me go all girly-giggle on his perfectly fine ass. This can’t be happening.
Shit. I haven’t taken a breath in a few seconds. I suck in some air and my body shakes with its release. He smiles at me and my insides turn to mush, the Play-Doh kind. God, I’d love to be Play-Doh in his hands. Stop it! Remember his rules. He’s an egotistical, male chauvinist ass.
I gather my most notable smile and maintain it as he starts to walk over in my direction. My muscles draw tight. He continues to saunter toward me in that faded tight muscle-revealing black tee, those perfect fitting jeans, and all those one-colored tattoos. He is gorgeous; even the air around him seems to want to cling closer to his impressive body. He oozes sex−hot, long, hard, unadulterated sex. Christ, it’s no wonder the man gets away with those preposterous rules. Any girl in heat would probably jump at the chance to have sex with this guy. But I’m not in heat. You’d have to know what the ‘heat’ feels like to be in it, and I’m a virgin. So I keep my inner thermostat constantly set on cool.
But damn, the closer he gets, the hotter I am.
His eyes casually move over my body from my naked legs up to my gently thrusting hips and end at my licking lips. I suck my tongue back into my mouth. “Picasso,” he says in that sexy masculine tone, his smiling eyes finally making their way to mine. “How are you enjoying my beautiful town?”
“To be honest,” I lift my chin, “I never thought that I’d find God’s gift here. Yet,” I thrust a hand out, “here he stands.” It came out condescending, but I can’t help myself. I liked him. I enjoyed that guy from the park, and he’s Zeke Declan—how did Rayna put it—the player of all plays. Dammit. Why does this man have to be Zeke Declan? I had a plan when it came to this philandering Declan, how I was going to break him, but that was before I met the man of my dreams today at the park. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
“Babe,” he says, his smile twisting into a crafty grin. “You got it all wrong. I don’t consider myself God’s gift to woman.”
“No.” I scoff, loathing him and that adorable dimple situated perfectly at the height of his crooked grin.
“No. On the contrary,” he calmly glances around the bar, “I believe all women to be the ultimate gift from God.” His eyes land back on me. “But I guess that I could be your gift, and if you did find yourself wanting to play with me, I do make for a very nice toy.”
“Really, and just what do you run on, breaking hearts and making false promises?”