No Tan Lines Read Online Free Page B

Agile and athletic, she’d grown up a tomboy. She remained slim but was no longer a toothpick. She definitely had a shape now. He’d heard that she dated but never long-term. She was dedicated to her family. Business always came first. No man wanted to come in second.
    Trace liked women who dressed for him. A low-cut baby-doll in the bedroom, a skimpy bikini on the beach, and a black dress cut thigh-high for cocktails.
    That profile didn’t fit Shaye. She’d had an ulterior motive when she’d put on this miniskirt. She was dressing to seal the volleyball deal. She was out to distract him. For some reason, that irritated him, a whole hell of a lot.
    It was high noon, and their gazes now locked. He caught the faint yet manipulative flicker in her dark brown eyes. Earthy eyes, he’d always thought. One of her eyebrows was raised at an aggravating angle; the tilt of her chin was aggressive. She stood beside the booth while he sat. She purposely looked down on him, the position of power.
    The lady was out to control their meeting.
    Trace couldn’t allow that to happen. He needed to shake her confidence. He chose the unexpected and disarmed her. He met her man to woman and undressed her with his eyes.
    His once-over was slow and thorough, even though he’d never taken an interest in her prior to that moment. His sudden attention brought color to her cheeks. Surprise parted her lips. Confusion lifted her chest, and her stomach sucked in. Goose bumps rose on her forearms.
    Her mood ring turned red.
    He’d hit a sexual nerve.
    Satisfaction set his smile—until her scent rolled back on him. Dove soap, along with a steamy image of her naked in the shower, suddenly tempted and aroused. His dick shot up hard against his stomach. He shifted on the seat. He hadn’t expected that.
    The booth closed in. He felt trapped.
    It was bad news all around. His plan had backfired. He’d toyed with her, and she’d turned him on. She made him feel like a high school jock, horny and with no girl to score.
    Could it get any worse? She was a Cates.
    Her last name should have rendered him impotent.
    Shaye quickly recovered from his scrutiny, now a woman fully composed. The color of her mood ring softened to a clover green. The lady was calm while he sat on edge. He needed to make an adjustment.
    She didn’t give him time to do so. She slid into the booth across from him, accidentally kicking him in the shin. The sole on her flip-flop left dust on the leg of his black slacks. His pain shifted from his groin to his calf. She dipped her head. He swore her hooded eyes smiled.
    The back of her bare legs stuck to the leather seat as she scooted to the middle of the table. She tugged down her short skirt and retrieved an orange flip-flop that had slipped off as she settled in.
    Over the years he’d seen her relax with relatives, friends, and close business associates. She had deep dimples and sexy lips. Her frowns were reserved for him. The lady could scowl.
    Her features were once again set, her shoulders squared. Her intensity poked him in the chest like a finger. She was all business.
    Trace willed his erection away. He concentrated on Shaye’s proposition instead. The sports weekend interested him, but he’d been slow to respond. He knew how much she hated depending on anyone but herself, yet today she needed him. His decision would make or break the tournament. For his own purpose, he wanted her to squirm a little longer, though it wasn’t easy on him. It took more discipline than he knew he possessed to keep his mind on business and off his cock.
    The menacing flick of her fingers across the prongs on her metal fork told him she was ready for battle. They hadn’t exchanged a word, yet she looked ready to wound him. She bit her lip. And stared.
    More amused than threatened, he reciprocated. He ran his index finger along the dull blade of his knife, then palmed it. He waited for her reaction. She drew back. Barely. She continued staring at