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into her knees through the black pants that were still baking her alive. God, she envied Dylan’s loose, cool shorts. Or nudity. Although the sight of his naked body was doing alarming things to her pulse and respiration. And other parts of her.
    Holy guacamole, he was gorgeous. His tanned, athletic body was honed to perfection, lean enough to show off every single one of those perfectly cut muscles. Ripped didn’t even begin to describe him. His chest was smooth and hairless, his abs mouth-wateringly defined, his arms strong. He walked around the small bungalow on long legs, his thick thighs and strong calf muscles flexing as he moved, his butt muscular and his back as defined as his abs. And geez Lord his package…she’d gulped at the sight of his thick, half-hard penis resting on his testicles, surrounded by a thatch of black hair.
    There was something to be said for the athlete’s body. What would he be like in bed? The sex would no doubt be athletic too, and her mind started heading off down an inappropriate path. She had to give herself a mental slap to bring herself back to reality.
    “What do you mean you can’t go back to San Amaro now?” she demanded. “Why not?”
    His beautiful lips pressed together and he dropped his gaze. “I just can’t.”
    He looked like a sullen little boy, which should have annoyed her but instead made her heart flutter. “Either you tell me a good reason why you can’t—and it better be a good business reason—or we’re on that plane tomorrow.”
    “I can’t tell you.” He lifted his head and the pleading look in his silvery-gray eyes had her going soft inside. “Could you just take my word for it? It’s not a business reason, it’s personal.”
    Oh for the love of cheese…she could only imagine the “personal” reasons that would make him not want to go back to San Amaro. A woman. Or women, no doubt. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “Somehow I knew this wasn’t going to be easy,” she muttered.
    “I’m sorry, Brooke. It’s nothing personal against you.”
    She met his eyes, softened even more by his apology. “I know. But I have a job to do.”
    His mouth tightened and he nodded. “Sure. But I’m still not going.”
    “You sound like a two-year-old. And you’ve been acting like one too.”
    “I have not.” Their eyes met and he burst out laughing, then shook his head ruefully. She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “I guess that didn’t convince you I’m not acting like a two-year-old. But seriously. Two? I don’t think so.” She caught the carnal gleam in his eye. “Sixteen, maybe,” he added, and she rolled her eyes and repressed another smile.
    “Let me lay this out for you,” she said, leaning forward. “Do you know how much Jackson Cole is paying you? Or does your agent deal with all that for you?”
    “I know,” he muttered.
    “Good. Then you know what exactly is at stake here.”
    He sighed.
    “I know you have other sponsors,” she said. “But I’m still thinking that losing this one would be a hard hit. Am I right?”
    He pursed his lips and gave her a baleful look.
    “You know, you should be nicer to me,” she said. “I could turn around and go home alone and tell them I couldn’t convince you.”
    He tipped his head to one side and regarded her thoughtfully. “Go right ahead.”
    Shit! He’d called her bluff. She couldn’t do that because her own effing job was on the line. “I’m booking our flights,” she snapped, reaching for her purse. She dug her BlackBerry out of her purse as he glared at her, found the airline information and made the call. “We leave tomorrow night at eleven forty-five,” she told him when she hung up. She sat back in the chair. Okay. What were they going to do for the next…uh…twenty-nine hours? She rubbed her index finger over the ragged cuticle of her thumb.
    “Great.” He slumped lower in the armchair. “I need another beer.”
    “How many have you