“Hi. I’m Jim Rothschild,” he said politely.
“I’m Laila,” she replied, shaking his hand. “And these are my cousins, Zara and Tahira.”
“You can call me Tahi,” Tahi told Rudy with a smile.
“Lucky me. Oh, and that’s Eric, but you can just call him Pretty Boy,” Rudy said with a dismissive wave at the tall guy. Eric was too involved in a quiet conversation with Zara to notice. “And this is—” Rudy turned around in a complete circle and gave Jim a dubious look. “Where’d Asher go?”
“Still listening to the music, I think. He didn’t want ice cream. Oh . . . here he comes.”
Laila glanced in the direction where Jim looked at the same time she licked her ice cream cone. She froze with the ice cream on her tongue. The guy who had seen her naked today strode across the empty street toward them.
He looked beachy casual in a pair of khaki shorts and an untucked blue-checked button-down that skimmed his lean, muscular torso appealingly. He moved with the kind of bone-deep, easy, athletic confidence that Laila always noticed and admired, probably because she knew she didn’t possess it herself.
I can’t believe this. He’s walking over here.
She suddenly didn’t know what to do with her arms or legs . . . or how to breathe. All she could do was stare stupidly. His expression was preoccupied and serious, seemingly in direct contrast to his informal dress and lazy saunter as he approached his friends. Garnering her will, she forced muscle movement, moving the ice cream cone away from her mouth and rapidly licking her lips clean. It felt like she swallowed gravel instead of cream.
His face wasn’t just handsome, it was strong. The nose was a little large, but well-shaped, the eyebrows dark and thick, the granite jaw slightly square and whiskered. Laila had found it an interesting face even when panicked there on the beach . . . full of character. So male.
She couldn’t unglue her gaze from it now.
Those electric blue eyes that she recalled so vividly from this afternoon suddenly zoomed in directly on her. His confident stride faltered a few feet from the curb. So did her heart.
“Ash, my man. Come and meet these beautiful fellow vacationers,” Rudy called smoothly.
Ash, of course. Short for Asher. That was what one of the guys had called him earlier in the woods. He recovered his composure and approached them. Laila’s heart started an escalating drumroll in her ears.
“This is Tahi and Zara,” Rudy began. Zara glanced distractedly around Eric’s broad shoulders and grinned appreciatively at the newcomer. But Asher wasn’t looking at Zara. “And this is—I’m sorry, it was Lisa, right?”
“Laila,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn’t squeeze anything else out of her throat, because his stare hadn’t left hers since it first landed on her.
“Laila,” Asher repeated, as if he’d heard her perfectly, even though she’d been mumbling. He stepped toward her and took her hand in his. She swallowed thickly, unable to think of anything logical to say, but unable to look away from his stare either. His bronzed skin and dark hair emphasized his light eyes. He stood so close, she could see the black pinpoints in the blue and green of his irises. She had the impression he could see straight down to the heart of her. Oh God. He’d probably tell them all any minute now that this was the naked girl he’d caught at the inland lake.
Please don’t give away my secret. No one’s ever seen me like that.
It was a crazy, stupid, silent plea. He squeezed her hand warmly. Had her panic shown on her face?
“Asher Gaites-Granville,” he said, but it was like he was trying to tell her something other than merely stating his name. His gaze flickered downward. “Uh . . . your ice cream. It’s melting.” She watched in rising confusion as he walked toward the counter of the ice cream parlor. He returned with several napkins. He nodded at the sticky liquid on her wrist and thumb and handed her the napkins.
“Do you think I could talk to you for a minute?”
She looked up in the process of dabbing the ice cream off her skin, her mouth hanging open in surprise.
Asher pointed behind her. “Just over there, under that tree would work.”
She glanced uneasily behind him, but Tahi, Jim and Rudy were all talking casually. Eric was leaning over Zara’s upturned face. Her cousin’s expression looked hungry. Sultry. Laila recalled her mother saying dramatically for the hundredth time that Zara would be the death of her mother. In that moment, it seemed like a definite possibility.
“Yeah, sure,” she told Asher, walking into the cooler air under a leafy oak tree thirty or so feet away from the others. She halted and turned, her heart in her throat, and looked up at Asher Gaites-Granville. He started to speak, then exhaled uneasily.
“You looked like you were going to be sick when you saw me back there,” he said.
“Which time?”
He blinked. He had the most amazing eyes. They looked darker and bluer in the dimmer lighting. “Both times, to be honest. It’s not the most complimentary thing for a guy to see.”
Laughter bubbled out of her throat unexpectedly. He smiled at the sound. God, he’s gorgeous. Her laughter faded. So did his.
“I’m sorry, for . . . for interrupting you like that this afternoon,” he said rapidly. “I wasn’t spying on you. I mean . . . I was for a little bit—to be honest—but it was only because you took me by surprise. And because . . . you know.”