Sun. Sand. Beaches. Girls. Bikinis. Parties. Alcohol. More alcohol, and skin, lots and lots of skin.
As Brandon and most of his friends knew, Miami was the place to be on the weekend if you were a bachelor. But not this time. For the next forty-eight hours, Jordan was his priority. If those things that had once made him weak with desire didn’t include Jordan this time around, his attention wouldn’t be there.
As for the long, cramped flight, it was the finest possible start to the weekend. The object of his desire was fast asleep, with her head pressing on his shoulder, and for this moment of closeness with her, he was glad he’d decided not to take his jet.
Every time she moved, the sweet scent of her perfume feathered his nose, worsening his ache to be closer to her. He’d realized this might be his only chance to woo her, make her see him as the good guy he’d once been, make her want him like he wanted her. It had to work. He needed it to work because ever since he’d walked into her store, something had changed for him.
It wasn’t something he was entirely ready to admit—at least not until he could find the guy he’d once been. Because if he couldn’t, he would fuck everything up, including this girl’s heart.
She awoke and looked up, her neat ponytail now messy but fucking adorable. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” A little smile passed her lips, so riveting that his heart reacted.
“Do you always wake up so . . . contented?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I think. Or I’m just delirious from lack of sleep,” Jordan said, clearing the rasp from her voice. Retrieving her phone, she squinted at the time. “Oh wow, I’ve literally slept all the way through the flight.”
“Yeah,” Brandon responded. “They tried to wake you for food, but I told them you were on a strict Vitamin B diet.”
“Why would I be on a Vitamin B diet?”
He smiled. “Vitamin B is great for the mood, and everyone knows B is for Brandon.”
Jordan laughed. “Wow, seriously?”
“It was no problem at all. You’re welcome,” he said, laughing at his own absurdity.
Dimples formed in her cheeks from the smile she was trying to hide. “So the answer to your question about whether or not I like you? It’s clear now. I don’t like you.”
She definitely likes me, he thought. “So, Artesian?”
Jordan’s smile faded. “Don’t call me by my last name. I don’t like it.”
“But it’s the name of your store,” Brandon said.
She shook her head. “Jordan or Jo, please.”
Sadness flashed in her eyes before she turned her head to the airplane’s oval-shaped window. Something was brewing within her, but it wasn’t his place to question it just yet.
Sticking to his charms, he nudged her shoulder. “Calling you by your first name feels so intimate, Jordan.” He repeated her name, changing the way he voiced it each time. “Jordan, Joooooordan, Jor . . . dan.” He smiled as she turned to him. “Beautiful, you shouldn’t look at me like that.”
She shook her head. “Like what? Like you’re an embarrassment?”
“Can’t we ever just have a serious conversation?”
“No,” she laughed, causing him to smile.
“I love your laugh. It’s contagious,” and breathtakingly beautiful, he silently added. “And to think I put it there.”
“Thanks, you’re not such a bad friend after all.”
Was she trying to friend zone him? A silent standoff passed between them as Brandon examined her, trying to keep from staring at her luscious lips and honey eyes. But it was damn near impossible.
When he was mere seconds away from throwing out his no-touching rule, the final announcement for landing blared in the cabin. His dick twitched, and he nibbled on the back of his thumb. He only had to get through this weekend. Two days. That was it. If he couldn’t push his way past her walls by then, he would move on, end of story.
That was a lie; he had to have her, no matter how long it took. He peeked over at her. He fucking had to.
As they waited for the elevator, Jordan adjusted her large-framed sunglasses atop her head and asked, “Aren’t you going to check in?”
She was dressed in a floor-length skirt, a flowy, off-shoulder, striped blouse, and some tan flip-flops, which had him towering over her.
He smiled down at her curious eyes. “I already did.”
“What? How? We just got here.”
Stepping into the elevator, he held his phone to the sensor and pressed the button to the top floor.
Jordan squinted up at him. “What . . . are you kidding?”
Brandon shook his head. “Surprise.” The penthouse suite at a luxury resort on the beach wasn’t cheap, but with his timeshare in the resort, the benefits outweighed the cost.
It wasn’t until the elevator doors opened into the suite’s foyer that she asked, “Out of curiosity, what do you do for a living?”
She really didn’t know anything about him. She was here for him. Just him. Not for where he ranked on the Forbes list of richest people.
With an appreciative smile, he said, “I manage people and investments.”
She hesitated before moving forward. “I thought I had my own room.”
“You do.”
She rolled her suitcase past him and into the enormous living area. As the sparkling Atlantic Ocean entranced her through the floor-to-ceiling windows, his eyes followed the swaying of her hips across the room. The pulsating phone in his right hand pulled his attention.
Andrew: Hey, are you doing anything later?
Brandon: Sorry, man. Last minute trip. Out of town till Monday.
As he slipped his phone into his pocket, exhaustion smacked him full force. “Jordan.”
She turned to face him.
“I’m going to take a power nap. I didn’t get to sleep on the plane. My room is right here, and yours is to your left. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll register you for an elevator key in a second.”
She nodded. “Thanks . . . for all of this.”
Brandon walked into his room, dropped his duffel bag to the floor, and fell into the bed. Last night he’d persuaded Jordan to meet him at a lounge so he and his friends could crash her planned “girls’ night out.” By the time they’d left the party, they’d only had enough time to change and grab their luggage. Nonetheless, the lack of sleep had been worth every second with her.
He smiled as he remembered walking up behind her at the bar. It hadn’t taken him long to distinguish the same bouncy gold waves he’d seen her with at the fashion show. And paired with the black halter dress she wore, they did nothing to stop his dick from rising, much less all the other hungry men gawking at her.
She’d been facing the counter with her friends, completely ignorant of his presence.
“How’s it going, beautiful?” he’d asked, resting his palm against the small of her back.
“Hi, Brandon! What a surprise,” Jordan had cooed, eyes smiling into his.
That look alone was everything. She had a few drinks in her system from the previous bar, and it was one of the reasons he wanted her where he could keep an eye on her.
“Adrianna, Sam, look who’s here.”
She had persuaded her friends to show up at the lounge after he’d agreed to play off his presence as a coincidence. So as Sam and Adrianna looked to him, then each other, his gut had tightened, but without further interrogation, the girls had accepted his invitation to the VIP area.
Given the fact that he and Jordan weren’t dating, he’d found it strange that she didn’t flirt with anyone. She even looked away when guys tried to make eye contact with her—so different than what he was used to from other women, who more often than not tried to make him jealous. Damian had even joked he was going to make a move on her. That bastard of a best friend. But Brandon had known he couldn’t claim her just yet. He had to take it slow, or she’d be running for the hills before he’d even kissed her.
A message dinged on his phone from the woman on his mind.
Jordan: Going on the beach to sunbathe in an hour.
Brandon: I’m setting my alarm. Don’t leave without me . . . please.
Something about her. He was almost sure his dick was only responding to her now. At the twitch in his pants, he smiled, reaching down to touch himself. Yeah, he was positive.
Ninety minutes later, after an energizing nap, Brandon exited the hotel with Jordan through the sliding doors leading to the beach.
Palm trees ran along the rear of the hotel and trailed along a concrete pathway to the sand. Some people ran around and played volleyball or football, while others lounged in the sand, drinking in their plastic chairs. A variety of women lay on the beach in tiny bikinis, but none compared to the one next to him. And when he saw her walking a few steps ahead of him, barefoot on the sand in her lace cover-up, the rays from the sun dulled in comparison to the blazing heat in his body. It could have been her long, lean legs, or the thought of what was beneath the skimpy fabric, but either way, he donned his reflective sunglasses to keep out of trouble.
She untied the strings to her cover-up, letting it slide down her shoulders to her wrists, revealing a floral print, two-piece swimsuit in its wake. Of course, her body would be flawless, and his quick masturbation effort before leaving his room was not going to suffice. Controlling his need to touch her, he curled his fingers and lay down on his lounge chair. But he couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at side boob, perfect ass, and long legs. She wasn’t too skinny like the models he’d once dated. Her body was perfect, and probably maintained by yoga or Pilates, which meant she was flexible. What he could do to a body like . . . holy shit. He needed a distraction before his dick surged to attention in his swim shorts. There would be no hiding that from her. Scanning the beach, he spotted some old, hairy, sugar-daddy-looking man with a beer belly and tighty-whities.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Jordan spraying sunscreen over her body.
“Did you put on sunblock?” she asked, pulling his concentration.
“No, don’t need it. I don’t burn,” Brandon said, tucking his hands behind his head.
“Yes, you do. Stop being a punk.”
“What! How am I being a punk for not wanting sunblock?” he asked.
“Because you’re being a typical macho male,” Jordan said, spraying him. “And your mom is in a hospital.”
He crossed his arms over his chest to block the spritz. “Really? You’re going to spray me without my permission?”
“Yes. I’m not going to let you sit out here in the sun without sunblock. Now move your hands.”
Amused, Brandon smiled and moved his hands. “So demanding. Please don’t stop.”
She rolled her eyes and handed him a tube. “You can use this for your face.”
“Since I’m letting you have it your way here.” He slid his sunglasses to the tip of his nose and caught her eye as he took the tube. “How about I have it my way tonight?”
“You’re not funny,” Jordan deadpanned. “You should really stop trying.”
“And here I was going to offer to bring you something to drink, but since your unpleasantness has returned, I may have to reconsider.” Brandon rose from his chair.
A few minutes later, he returned with two tropical cocktails and set them down on the side of his chair farthest from Jordan. “In case you’re wondering why I got two, I just happen to be very thirsty.”
“Are you serious? I was joking with you. Maybe you are . . . a little funny? Just a little.” She stretched her hand out to him. “Now can I have one? It’s so hot here.”
He took a revitalizing drink. “Hmm . . . Let’s start with an apology for hurting my feelings.”
“Seriously! If I really wanted that drink, I could take it from you, but since you’re being such a baby, I’m sorry.”
“Wow, missy, that is not an apology. Try again, and this time don’t leave out, you handsome man.”
Jordan got up and walked around him to pick up the drink, and he moved it to the other side of the chair. Catching him by surprise, she stepped over the chair and sat, straddling his lap. Picking up the drink, she took a sip.
Now this side of Jordan he hadn’t seen before now, but it was more than fucking welcomed.
“Refreshing. I’m going to let you know, Brandon, you can’t bullshit me.”
“Yeah, okay, so here’s the thing, beautiful, and no bullshit. Unless you want to be embarrassed by the rising of a certain body part, you might want to reconsider what you’re doing and where you are sitting. I’m about two-point-five seconds away from getting hard as fuck right now.” Brandon pulled his shades down. “Did you miss a spot with the sunblock? Your cheeks are a bit red. Wait—aw, are you blushing?” He took her free hand in his.
Shrugging it away, she hurried off his lap. “Fine. You win,” Jordan said, looking away.
“Don’t ignore me now.”
“Well, you didn’t have to say it like that. You could have been a gentleman. Instead, you reminded me how everything is about sex with you.”
“Excuse me? I didn’t tell you to sit on my lap, but that’s beside the point. I happen to have saved you and myself from girls walking by and staring at my . . . crotch. But from what I know about you so far, you would have liked it better had I said, ‘Don’t sit in my lap, Jordan. Your bony ass is digging a hole in my thigh.’” He could see she was holding back a smile. “You seriously would have liked that better?” He hoped not because her not-bony-at-all ass against his crotch would be fresh in his mind for days to come.
She bit her lip. “Yes. Maybe.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Just so you know, I don’t agree with you. Letting a woman know something good about her physical appearance, or the effect she has on you, builds confidence.”
Brandon called out to a woman walking by. “Excuse me, my friend and I were just saying what gorgeous legs you have. You must work out a lot.”
The lady gave them a wide smile. “I do. Thank you. I appreciate that.”
When she was out of sight, Jordan hit him on the arm. “Brandon!”
“What? I’m only proving a point.” He smiled. “Besides, I think she winked at you.”
“Those days are over for me. I will not stoop to your level.”
Moving his sunglasses up over his eyes, he rotated to a seated position with his feet on the sand, facing Jordan’s deliciously outstretched body. “What days are over for you? Do tell. Is Jordan not as innocent as she proclaims?”
“No. It was a just-for-fun thing I used to do with my friend Richie. So I know your devious tricks about compliments. It’s why every time you say something sweet to me, all that comes to my mind is that you’re a bullshitter. It’s a part of the game—one that’s written all over you, Brandon. You couldn’t hide it if you tried.”
Feeling a slight stab at her words, he relaxed back into the lounge chair. Even though he’d been that way with other girls, he didn’t want her to see him like that. He wasn’t that way with her. “I didn’t realize we were playing a game,” he mumbled, lying back down.
“We’re not,” she clarified. “You are.”