She blinked, the hairs on her forearms standing on end.
How in the world—
“Why would you think that?” she asked numbly.
He leaned forward. The flesh of her right ear and neck prickled with heightened awareness at his nearness.
“Even if you weren’t writing poetry, specifically, in your secret place, I’m not far off. Am I? You’ve got the eyes of a poet. You’re an artist, not a businesswoman, Laila,” he said very quietly.
She just stared up at him, struck dumb by the accuracy of a stranger.
• • •
Asher felt a little guilty for setting her off balance. But mostly, all he could think about as he leaned down close to her was the fresh peachy scent from her long, unbound hair. He inhaled deeply, his entire body going on full alert. Her neck looked too slender and delicate to hold up such a thick, glorious mass of hair. The brown, gleaming waves fell all the way to the small of her back. All of her looked slender and delicate, except her huge, expressive, light green eyes. And those high, firm breasts, of course, which he knew firsthand were far from small. While the curves of her hips were compact, she was so feminine. She looked like she’d fit perfectly in the palms of his hands . . .
She made a soft, sexy, gasping sound and his trance fractured slightly. He realized he was leaning down over her, his mouth only inches away from her neck, staring down the length of her at the tight, curving hips he’d been imagining—vividly—cupping in his hands. He noticed her startled expression but thought she seemed a little entranced, as well.
She’s way too young, and I’m only going to be in Crescent Bay for a few weeks.
But she’s so blessed beautiful.
He’d never seen anything like her. He wasn’t sure how to operate in her presence. All the rules he’d learned about the sexual dance somehow didn’t seem to apply anymore.
Swallowing thickly, he stepped back.
“Hey, Laila,” one of the girls behind him shouted. Asher looked over his shoulder. He saw it was the knockout Eric had been hovering over like a vulture that had called out. “We’re all going over to Chauncy’s Place to dance.”
Asher knew the local bar and dance club. He hoped Laila would go. He wasn’t finished talking to her.
Not by a long shot.
Laila pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket and tapped the screen. “We can’t,” she called. “We have to be home by . . .” She halted herself, giving Asher a nervous, apologetic glance. “We have to get home,” she amended, pointing significantly at her cell phone.
The cousin’s laugh sounded snide. “No, you have to be home. We don’t have a ten o’clock curfew.”
A flash of dislike went through Asher toward this particular cousin. Maybe she and Eric deserved each other.
“We can drop you off on our way over to Chauncy’s,” Laila’s other cousin said, her tone kinder.
Laila ducked her head. His heart went out to her. He knew she was embarrassed. Still . . . he was a little concerned at the conversation.
“You are nineteen, aren’t you?” he asked her quietly. Her cousins did look older than her, but that might have just been the trick of their sexier clothes and makeup. In contrast, Laila looked fresh.
Untouched.
“Yes,” she hissed, giving him a sideways glare. She bit her full lower lip. “It’s just . . .
my parents . . . It’s a long story. I really should be going.” She started to walk away, but he caught her arm at the elbow. She turned back, her long hair brushing softly against his hand. The streetlights made her green eyes shine as she looked up at him.
“Meet me. Tomorrow at the secret lake. One o’clock?” For a moment, she didn’t respond. “Please,” he added, growing desperate at the idea of not knowing when he’d see her face again.
“I’ll try, but I can’t guarantee it. I might have to help my mom—”
“Then the next day at one. Or the next.” His hand tightened slightly on her bare arm, absorbing her heat . . . the incredible softness of her skin. Her eyes widened. “I’ll be there, every day at one. Okay?”
She just nodded. He let go—very reluctantly—and watched her walk away.
Chapter Five