Her Forbidden Cowboy

“Thirty-five is a far shot from forty, and that’s all I’m saying.”

“You’re wise to stop there,” Mariah said playfully, yet with a note of warning. Jessica could tell that Mariah Jacobellis wasn’t a woman who put up with age jokes. Although Mariah was physically lovely, she seemed to take no prisoners when it came to business or her personal life. Jessica admired that about her. Maybe she could take a lesson from her rule book.

Zane leaned way back in his seat. “You got that right.”

Mariah stacked the papers on the table and rose, hugging them to her chest. “Well, I’m off to make some phone calls. Zane, think about when you want to resume your tour. I’ve got to let the event coordinators know. They’re on my back about it. Oh, and be sure to read through that contract that Bernie sent over the other day.”

Zane’s lips pursed. “I’ll do my best.”

“Jessica, have a nice morning. And if you’re around Zane today, please give him a hand. He may look like a superhero, but he’s really not Superman.”

Could’ve fooled her. Last night, he’d been super heroic.

Mariah pivoted on her heels and strode out the door.

Zane chuckled.

“What?”

“The look on your face.”

“I’m mortified about last night. Where on earth did you sleep, and does Mariah know what happened?”

“First off, don’t be upset. It’s our little secret. Mariah doesn’t know that you’re a margarita lightweight.” He smiled. “That woman’s been babying me for weeks. Doesn’t do a man a bit of good being so dang useless. For the first time in a month of Sundays, I was able to help out and do something useful with this banged-up body.”

“I took your bed.”

“Glad to give it up.”

“Where did you sleep?”

“The office sofa is the most comfortable place in the whole house.”

“Oh, boy. I’m sorry. The first night I’m here, I give you trouble.”

He smiled again, a stunning heart-melter. “If livening up my life some is trouble, then bring it on. Fact is, I’m glad you’re here. You bring a bit of home with you. I miss that.”

She needed to believe him. She’d been afraid coming here would remind him of Janie and all that he’d lost. To have him say he was glad she’d come made a big difference. “Okay.”

He put his palms on her cheeks and leaned forward. Her heart stopped. Was he going to kiss her? His touch sent tingles parading up and down her chest. Oh, wow. It wasn’t alcohol this time. Probably wasn’t the alcohol last night, either. She’d been dumped by a scoundrel, and now a man she had no right responding to made her feel giddy inside. How screwed up was that?

She gazed into his eyes. He was looking somewhere above her eyeglasses. Then he lowered his mouth—she stilled—and he brushed a brotherly kiss across her forehead. Breath eased from her chest, and her foolish heart tumbled. Of course, Zane wasn’t going to kiss her that way.

“And thanks for the input about the restaurant,” he said. “I respect your honesty and what you have to offer.”

She swallowed hard. Tamping down her silly emotions, she offered a quick smile. “Anytime.”

* * *

Beaming sunshine simmered over Jessica’s body, the invading heat soaking into her bones. Salty air, a cushion of sand beneath her and the soothing sounds of waves crashing upon the shore gave her good reason to forget her disastrous relationship with Steven Monahan. He didn’t deserve any more of her time. But the sting of his rejection stayed with her, leaving her hollowed out inside, afraid to trust, questioning her intuition. She feared she’d never fully recover the innocence of her first love. Good thing she didn’t have to make any decisions here on Moonlight Beach. She could just be.

Drenched in sunscreen, she lay on a beach blanket in a modest one-piece bathing suit, a folded towel under her head. Slight breezes just outside Zane’s beachfront home deposited flecks of sand onto her arms and legs. Children’s giggles and adult conversations drifted to her ears. For the first time in days, her nerves were completely calm.

She promised herself to keep out of Zane’s hair, and she had for the most part these past three days. He spent hours inside his office working with Mariah, and occasionally they would ask for her input on the restaurant. She figured it was just a way for him to keep her entertained and make her feel welcome. Each morning, under an overcast sky that would burn off before noon, she walked a three-mile stretch of beach, loosening up her limbs and clearing her head. At night, she’d dine with Zane on the patio facing the ocean, and except for having an occasional glass of white wine or a cold beer, she kept her alcohol consumption to a bare minimum. The Pacific Ocean and fresh air were her balm. She didn’t need to rely on anything else.

She wiggled her tush into the sand, carving out a more comfy spot on her blanket, and closed her eyes. The flapping of wings and piercing squawk of a seagull overhead made her smile.

“Glad to see you’ve taken to Moonlight Beach.”

Blocking rays of sunlight with a hand salute, she opened her eyes. The handsome face of Dylan McKay came into view.

“Hi, Jessica.” He stared at her with his million-dollar smile. “Don’t let me disturb you.”

Gosh, he remembered her name.

Wearing plaid board shorts and a muscle-hugging white T-shirt, and fitting into beach society with the casualness of a megastar, he sort of did disturb her. Yet he did so in such a friendly way, she didn’t mind the intrusion. As she sat up on her elbows, his gaze dipped to her chest. To his credit, his eyes didn’t linger on her breasts, and that was more than she could say about most men.

“Hello, and I am enjoying the beach. When in Rome, as they say.” She chuckled at the cliché. It was Mama’s favorite saying, and she’d used it a zillion times over the years. The most recent was last night when they’d talked on the phone. Did others in her generation get that phrase?

Her eyes fell on a black portfolio tucked under his arm. It looked odd there, as if he should be wearing a three-piece suit while carrying that austere leather case. Instead of moving on, he squatted down beside her, his tanned knees nearly in her face. Obviously, he wanted to chat.

“I see you sometimes in the morning, walking along the beach.”

“You’ve inspired me,” she said. “Of course, I only do three miles. How are your runs going?”

“Killing me, but I’m getting in the ten miles.”

His legs were taut, like those of a natural runner, and the rest of his body, well...it would be hard not to notice his muscles and the way his T-shirt nearly split at the seams around his shoulders and upper arms. “Good for you.”

“So, how’s it going?” he asked. “Other than sunbathing and taking long walks, are you having a good time?”

“Yes. It’s nice here. I’m working on some new lesson plans for my class. I teach first grade back home.”

“Ah...a teacher. Such an honorable profession.”

She waggled her brows. Was he poking fun at her? Or was he being genuine?

“My mother taught school for thirty-five years,” he added, his smile wistful, pride filling his voice. “She was loved by her students, but she wasn’t a pushover. It wasn’t easy pulling my antics on her. She was too savvy. She knew when kids were up to no good.”

“I bet you gave her a run for her money.”

He laughed, the gleam of his lake-blue eyes touching her. “I did.”

“What grade did she teach?”

“All grades, but she preferred fourth and fifth. Then, later on, she became dean of a middle school, and eventually, the principal of the high school.”

She nodded. She didn’t have much else to add to the conversation. Not that Dylan McKay wasn’t easy to talk to. He was. And she loved talking about education to anyone who would listen. It was just that he was fabulous, famous Dylan McKay. And he kept smiling at her.