Tires screeched, and a horn sounded. I looked up from the phone and leaped backward. A white McLaren stopped in the street just inches away from me, less than a half second or so from colliding with my left knee. A breath caught in my throat, then I scrambled onto the uneven sidewalk.
The man behind the wheel stopped the car then stepped out of it. “I’m so sorry. Jesus, I—”
Our eyes met…then broke contact and we studied one another. He wore a pair of tan pants, sandals, a gray polo shirt, and aviator sunglasses. Even before he took off the shades, I knew this would be one of the most gorgeous men I had ever seen. And in the last few years, I’d seen a lot of good-looking men float in and out of South Florida.
“Are you okay?” He walked a few steps toward me.
“I-I don’t know—” The words caught in my throat, so I took a few gulps of air.
My miniscule bank balance had distracted me so much that I’d wandered off the sidewalk and into the street—against traffic. I put another half foot between the white sports car and me. Between him and me.
“I just—oh, my god. I’m so sorry!” the man said with a tone of alarm. “But I didn’t hit you, did I?”
I thumped my chest with the heel of my hand. “No, no, I-I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” I tried once again to slow down my ragged breaths. I could have hurt myself, or died. “Luckily. You stopped just in time.”
“I’m glad you didn’t get injured.” He took off the designer eyewear and moved closer, giving me a full view of his flawless tan, hooded eyes, and wavy black hair. “That wouldn’t have been good. Wouldn’t want that.”
“You wouldn’t?”
I glanced down at the car. A personalized license plate adorned the front, and the glossy vehicle headlights reminded me of cat eyes. How much did these types of cars cost? A hundred thousand? Two? A half million? A minor scratch probably cost ten grand. Yikes.
“I wouldn’t want to damage your car,” I said. “I can’t imagine the bills—”
“You mean you don’t have universal damage insurance? I thought everyone did.”
I frowned. “Damage insurance?”
“Yes, of course. You don’t have a policy? It’s the law in the state of Florida.”
“Is it?” I recoiled. Universal damage insurance? What was he talking about? Was this something else to add to my long list of expenses? “Is that a new thing?”
“Brand new.”
My face fell. “Oh, I hadn’t heard about it—”
His deep chuckle interrupted me. “Don’t worry. I’m joking. It’s a joke. I promise.”
“A joke?” A pulse of relief pushed through me. “Oh, right. A joke. You’re kidding.”
“What? You don’t get it?” He shoved a hand in his pants pocket and his gaze met mine. “My apologies. Sometimes I forget that others don’t share my sense of humor.”
“No… I’m glad…” I couldn’t help but smile at him. “You just caught me on a bad day. I’m not thinking straight.”
“Really? This is Palm Beach in February. It’s seventy-five degrees and sunny. Every other place in the US is a popsicle compared to here, so how could you be having a bad day?”
“Real life doesn’t stop because of the weather. I just… I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”
“Don’t we all?” He paused. “Were you at the march earlier?”
“Yes. How’d you know?”
He pointed at the top of my head. “You’re still wearing your hat.”
“Oh, god, I forgot to take this off.” I ripped the pink, pussycat-shaped cap off my head. A knitting club from Jupiter had given them out to marchers as they arrived at the amphitheater that morning. I hadn’t even noticed how hot it made my head. Embarrassed, I shoved it into the Publix plastic shopping bag.
The man’s gaze hadn’t strayed, and the way he looked at me sent a delicious shiver up my spine. Whoever this guy was, he had a knack for commanding attention.
“Anyway,” he said after a beat, “if you’re fine, I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”
I gestured in the direction of Clematis Street. “I absolutely can’t keep the margaritas waiting any longer.”
“Margaritas?”
“At Rocco’s Tacos. Saturday Funday. Gotta pregame for… Sunday Funday.” I silently cursed myself. Leave it to me to sound like an idiot in front of Mr. I’m-Too-Sexy-With-My-Aviators.
“Saturday and Sunday Fundays, huh? Wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of weekend fun like that.” A wry smile crossed his face, and he took a few steps backward. “You know, that restaurant is not far from here. Why don’t I drive you?”
My mouth dropped open before I could stop myself, and he laughed again. “I’m not a serial killer or anything like that. I’m a nice guy.” He leaned a little closer to me. “Some of the time.”
My stomach twisted, but I liked the way it felt. I also loved the way he smelled, which reminded me of cedar and cherries. If I let it, the scent would intoxicate me. “I’m sure you are.”
“You can trust me.” He opened the passenger door of the car. “So? Why don’t you get in?”
Hitching a ride with a guy I’d just met wasn’t something I normally did, but what could I say? I’d never seen anyone this hot in West Palm Beach. Ever. I couldn’t have turned down this offer if I’d tried.
“Thank you.”
I slipped into the seat and ignored the faint warning signs going off in my head, the ones any woman should heed when getting in a car with a stranger. But the soft, red leather beckoned to me. It kissed my legs and enveloped me in instant luxury when I slid across the cool, smooth surface. I’d only seen cars like this from a distance. As the man made his way to the driver side, I took in the small details on the car console, and noticed his gold iPhone resting in the cup holder between the two front seats.
“I’m Luke,” he informed me as he climbed in the car and shut the door. “Luke Rothschild.” He revved up the engine and held out his right hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise.” I shook his strong hand, and by then, any misgivings I might have had were pacified by his warm grip. “And I’m Natalie. Natalie Johnson.”
Luke grinned at me one more time before he accelerated the car.
Anyone driving a McLaren with the last name Rothschild had to be at least a millionaire. Everything about this guy screamed “rich,” but that wasn’t what kept me stealing glances at him as he drove the few blocks to the restaurant. I kept thinking about the slight hint of a New Yorker’s accent in his voice and the way his eyes seemed to see right into my soul when he looked at me.
Sexy. Damn sexy.
So, when he steered the car onto Clematis Street, my heart sank a little. Not much time left with this hunk of a man.
“This is it,” I announced as the Rocco’s Tacos sign came into view. “Where I get out.”
“Make sure you get the guacamole.” He signaled and parked the car in an open on-street spot. “It’s out of this world.”
“Agreed. It’s my favorite. It’s not the typical diet of a yoga instructor, but maybe I’ll make this my cheat meal.”
“You’re a yoga instructor?”
I nodded.
“So, you’re an expert at downward dog?” His gaze captured mine for another moment, and my stomach flipped again.
“Yes,” I managed. “An expert.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t want to leave the car. I didn’t want to leave this man’s sight.
“I’m also great at toppling tree. I have a lot of balance.”
“That’s always been a hard position for me.” Luke’s gaze roamed my body. “Well, Natalie, the yoga instructor, have a good afternoon.”
“You, too.”
I couldn’t delay any longer. Time to get out of the most expensive sports car I’d ever been in and leave behind its intoxicatingly handsome owner. I hooked two fingers into the latch and opened the door.
“Goodbye,” I murmured.
“Goodbye.”
Once I stepped out of the car and shut the door behind me, Luke put his sunglasses on again and drove away in the direction of Palm Beach. I was alone, standing there, a normal twenty-five-year-old woman once more.