CHAPTER 12
Blake
After breakfast, I asked Jennifer if she wanted to take a walk on the beach with me. I enjoyed being with her. It was rare for me to have a real conversation with a girl and couldn’t remember the last time I did. But after I told her she had kissable lips, she clammed up and told me she needed to get home.
Fuck. She didn’t even thank me for the compliment, I thought as we cruised along the Santa Monica Freeway in silence. Maybe she didn’t take it that way though the rest of our morning had gone so well. The top of my Porsche was down, and the radio was blasting. From time to time, I stole a glance at her. Her ponytail was whipping against her face, her eyes squinting, as if deep in thought. She kept her gaze straight ahead and occasionally looked out her side of the car. My cock was still twitching from the boner I had under the table. I was inexplicably attracted to her. It had taken all I had not to kiss those kissable lips and let her know I was the man she’d kissed in that game of Truth or Dare. I was now playing my own version of that game. The truth if I was asked: I had a burning urge to pull off the road and ask her to blow me. And if someone dared me, I’d do it.
With no traffic on the freeway, it took a short twenty minutes to get Jennifer’s house. I pulled up to the curb outside a small Spanish cottage. There were two cars parked in the drive away—a Mini Cooper and a Kia. Obviously, she shared it with someone. Her fucking fiancé? My skin bristled, but then I remembered he was at work. So, someone else.
“Thanks again for breakfast,” she said as she unfastened her seat belt. Her nonchalant tone irked me.
“My pleasure. We should do it again.” And let me savor every part of you.
The corners of those kissable lips curled up. “Maybe.”
Man, I hated that word. I was a man used to hearing yes and who never took no as an answer.
Before I could jump out of my car to help her out, she opened the passenger door and let herself out.
“See you on Monday.” Her voice sounded cheerful but businesslike. She pivoted toward her house. Unbeknownst to her, I kept my eyes on her tight little heart-shaped ass and her thin, toned legs. She had a sexy little bounce to her stride. My dick hardened.
I lowered the volume of the radio. “Hey, what are you doing tonight?”
She looked over her shoulder. “What I always do on Saturday nights. I’m seeing my fiancé.”
The f-word. I clenched my fists into hard balls while my dick softened.
By the time she disappeared into the house, I’d totally lost my erection. But the ache in my balls was palpable.
With the Lumineers singing “Ho Hey,” I peeled off the curb with a screech.
Whatever stupid game I was playing, I was losing. Jennifer McCoy did not belong to me.
Five minutes later, I made a sharp U-turn. Blake Burns did not lose at games. It was time to check out the competition. I pulled up to her house, jumped out of my car, and then knocked at her door.
She came to the door quickly. Opening it, she was already freshly showered and sporting a short terry cloth robe. Her damp, shampooed hair hung loose, spilling over her shoulders. Fuck. She smelled delicious—all cherry vanilla—and beneath that robe, I knew she was pure silky flesh. Man, how I wanted to tear that robe right off her and take her in my arms.
“Blake!” She seemed shocked to see me.
I cupped my jaw with my hand and feigned pain.
“Is something wrong?” She sounded concerned.
I nodded with a grimace. Man, I was good. I deserved an Emmy. My modeling/acting days were good for something besides supermodel hook-ups.
“I have a fucking toothache,” I moaned, rubbing my cheek.
“Oh my goodness. Come in. I’ll get you some Advil.”
“Thanks,” I said, stepping inside. “It started at breakfast but just suddenly flared up.”
“You poor thing. Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
Poor me settled into an armchair while she darted off. Before I could study her house, she was back with a couple of those red pain pills and a tall glass of water.
“Thanks,” I said, taking them from her. I downed the Advil with a couple sips of the water.
“You should see your dentist right away.”
“I can’t. He doesn’t work on Saturdays.”
“Then you should see my fiancé. He’s a great dentist.”
Bingo.
I moaned again. “Do you think he could squeeze me in?”
“I’ll call him right now and make sure he does.”
Reaching for her cell phone on the coffee table, she speed-dialed a number.
I continued to feign pain while I listened to her conversation. She was obviously talking to the receptionist. She told whoever it was that a friend of hers from work had an emergency. Her brows furrowed while she waited for a response and then she broke into a smile.
“Great. He’ll be there soon. Can I say hi to Bradley?”
Pause.
“Oh, all right. Just give him my love and tell him I’ll see him tonight.”
I inwardly cringed as I watched her end the call. Placing the phone back on the coffee table, she found a pen and a cocktail napkin. She jotted something down on the paper napkin.
Smiling, she handed it to me. “My fiancé can squeeze you in. His name is Dr. Bradley Wick and this is where his office is.”
I eyed the address. Fuck. I had to go all the way to The Valley.
“Thanks.”
“Good luck. You’re going to love Bradley.”
There was only one thing I was going to love about Bradley Wick, DDS. And that was making him disappear.
My bud Jaime was right. Eliminate the competition.
I mentally gave myself a high five. Operation Dickwick was about to begin.