Guarding His Heart

“Because they’re pictures of me,” he said. “I never like my pictures.”

She laughed as if that were ludicrous and he grinned, drawn in by the music of her voice. It was true, though. He didn’t like pictures of himself. He knew women found him attractive, but he wasn’t classically handsome. He’d filled in his tall lanky frame with muscles and covered his upper body in art, but that didn’t make up for his prominent brow and not-perfectly symmetrical features. He hadn’t been popular with the ladies until he’d excelled at basketball and ultimately gone professional.

“What I saw though my camera says you have nothing to be ashamed of.” She reached for the bottle of red wine and poured herself a drink.

“Oh, so you did like what you saw?”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, the hint of a smile on her lips. “That’s just my professional opinion, you understand. Purely an academic observation.”

His answering chuckle eased him deeper into her spell. She was cool. Funny and lively in a way that immediately made him want to relax and get to know her better. “Okay, academic.” He took her free hand in his, pretended he didn’t feel the spark that came from her skin against his and turned her hand over. “Then why can I still see my number on your wrist?”

She sucked in a breath as if the spark had hit her, too, but shrugged easily. “I have no idea. You must have used some super permanent ink when you wrote it down.”

He’d used a regular pen. She hadn’t washed it away. Which meant she’d at least considered calling him. Which meant he had a chance. “You know, I think I did.” He rubbed his thumb over the soft skin where his number still resided.

Her body shivered and her eyes darkened. With hunger? Awareness? Maybe desire? He wasn’t sure which but hoped for all three. She slipped her arm back. “I’ll scrub it off later.”

“After you write my number down so you can call me.” He eased closer.

She smelled delicious. Sweet and decadent like fruit and chocolate. Was that perfume or just her? One way to find out was to hold her naked. Learn all her curves and cravings. Follow the trail across her neck and breasts to discover each and every hidden secret she had.

His heart beat an intoxicating rhythm in his chest. The anticipation coursing through him slowly rose as if he were about to go on an expedition, and Jasmine was the ultimate experience.

“Who says I’m going to call you?” There was no heat in her voice, just a trace of flirtation.

Kevin’s grin widened. Oh hell yes. He definitely had a shot. “Who says you aren’t?”

She sipped her wine, licking her lips after pulling the glass away, and hit him with a look that was both flirty and don’t-get-ahead-of-yourself. She was interested but maybe still weighing her options. Cool, he didn’t have a problem with a woman who took her time to make a decision. If she had standards he needed to meet, then he would do whatever he needed in order to meet them.

Rafael clapped and got everyone’s attention before Jasmine could reply. Reluctantly, Kevin gave him his attention, too.

“Okay, folks, you know what time it is?” Rafael asked.

A collective, half-hearted groan combined with muffled laughter in the room. Kevin looked at Jasmine, who rolled her eyes and chuckled. She said at the same time as him and everyone else in the room: “Game time.”

Rafael loved playing games when he got people together. “You got that right,” he said cheerfully. “We’ll start with Cards Against Humanity.”

Jasmine raised her wineglass in a salute. “I love that game.”

Kevin tapped his chest. “Me, too.”

“We’re such horrible people.” She bit her lower lip and they both laughed.

Damn, he really liked her. The game’s tagline did say it was the card game for terrible people. Mostly because some of the questions and answers in the cards were so outrageous he wouldn’t dare play it around his mother or grandmother.

They joined the rest of Rafael’s guests who agreed to play. Jasmine had a sense of humor that matched his own.

After the card game, Rafael decided they’d all play Two Truths and a Lie. Each person told three stories and the rest of the room had to guess which story was the lie. Learning that Jasmine had skinny-dipped in her gym back in high school only added to the wild mystery of her.

After the games concluded, the crowd was even more relaxed and talkative. He and Jasmine stuck together as they mingled with Rafael’s mixture of artistic friends. They eventually broke away into their own conversations about art, music and movies before ending up in a corner on the balcony.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen The Princess Bride,” Jasmine said, shaking her head as if he were an enigma.

“Why would I ever see that movie?” he asked, unable to control his humor at her audacity.

“Because it’s a freaking classic, that’s why.” She slapped his chest. The low light of the balcony played on the muscles in her arms as she moved. He had discovered a tattoo. A small heart on the front of her shoulder that occasionally peaked out from the strap of her tank top in her enthusiasm.

He slid closer to her and ran his hand over the smooth stone of the balcony railing until his fingertips brushed hers. “The Blues Brothers is a classic. A princess movie is not.”

“You’re such a guy,” she said with mock disgust. She brushed her bangs away. “You could learn a lot about romance by watching a princess movie.” She took a sip from a bottle of water. His gaze dropped to her neck. So sleek and sexy. Even her shoulders were hot. Everything about her had his body on edge.

He slipped his hand over hers. The air thickened with the heat vibrating between them. “I know plenty about romance.”

She sucked in a breath and licked her lips. “What did The Blues Brothers teach you about romance?”

He tilted his head to the side and leaned in close to her. “Right now, the only thing I can think of is having a mission from God.”

She rolled her eyes but continued smiling. “What mission is that?”

He didn’t know if she recognized the quote from the movie or not, but right now, he felt like heaven was telling him to kiss this woman. “To do this.”

He covered her mouth with his.

Chapter 3 (#uaaee1d1d-9f66-529d-a955-ac55901217d5)

His kiss was soft and gentle. But the power of his body was a constant vibration of energy beneath his skin. The promise of a passionate explosion simmered in the easy touch.

It was a player’s kiss. Sexy and teasing enough to make her want to lean in for more. The kind of kiss that brought fantasies of his lips caressing other parts of her body. He didn’t grope her or jerk her up against his body. Only his lips touched hers, and that made her yearn more than she had when she’d tried giving up coffee and potato chips cold turkey two years ago.

Then, as if he knew she was a second away from latching onto him the way she had the coffee and the bag of kettle-cooked salt and vinegar chips her sister brought to convince her to give up the madness, he eased back. Her eyelids were like weights as she slowly lifted them to meet his eyes.

The corner of his mouth was lifted cockily. His eyes held the intense focus of a hunter closing in on prey. Excitement and possession swirled in their depths. If she let herself, she’d agree to the affair he offered with just a look.

Except she had goals. Professional and personal ones. Her own exhibit. No relationship drama. No more getting caught up in the lies of a promised forever.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice was silky and mellow. Her thighs clenched with need.

Your exhibit. Remember your exhibit.

“Cabins,” she said.

He blinked several times. “Cabins?” He ran a hand over his lower lip. “Why are you thinking about cabins?”

Probably not the best lead-in after a fantastic kiss, but he needed to be brought down a notch or two. Kevin had thrown out the bait with that sexy-as-hell-but-not-quite-enough kiss, and she’d bitten. She could tell he was ready to lure her in, and oh, she wanted to be lured. Really, really wanted to be, but her life was about goals, not getting off.

“My next project. I want to document cabins.”

Kevin’s brow cocked. He still smiled but there was a definite dimming of the spark in his eye.