house (our house, too) is a sprawling mansion with a private drive, and a stone fountain in the courtyard. I think it looks like a Mediterranean villa, with the red tiled rooftops and the big gleaming windows. Inside is just as gorgeous. I love the vaulted ceilings and the elegant curving staircase. Also, the house has seven bedrooms and eight bathrooms!
I can't even picture me and Mom living there. What would we do with all that space?
But those are happy thoughts for another day.
I pull around back to where the pool house is located, next to the Olympic sized pool, of course.
Slowly, I get out of my car, more and more unsure about my plan. Should I bring a suitcase to look more pathetic? No, that's dumb. If he says no, I'll feel ridiculous. Maybe I should just go.
No, I can't. I don't have anywhere to go. If he says no, I'm screwed.
The pool house is a cute little home matching the style of the main house. It looks smaller than I remember, and I just pray it has more than one room.
The lights are on. He's home. Taking a deep breath, I knock briskly on the door. And I wait.
Wow, he's taking a really long time to answer. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and prepare to knock again.
The door opens and , I just barely stop myself from rapping my fist on his chest.
His bare chest.
Oh. My. God.
Shirtless Zane is a revelation. He is all smooth honey colored skin and sleek muscles. His shoulders are broad and dense, and his chest and ab muscles are so clearly defined, they could have been carved from granite.
My eyes continue their journey down to his slim waist, and...oh, my. The top button of his jeans is undone.
For some reason, that undone button strikes me as the sexiest thing ever. Pure lust explodes in my body at the sight of it.
So hot!
"Violet."
Zane's raspy voice snaps me out of my sex-crazed coma. He runs a hand through his tousled, seriously cute, just-woke-up hair. "What are you doing here?"
"Um." I clear my throat nervously. "I kind of need a place to stay."
In a rush of words, I explain my situation. He listens silently, his expression neutral, leaning an arm against the door jamb. I am totally distracted by his bulging biceps.
"I promise I'll stay out of your way," I conclude. "You won't even know I'm here.
A slow smile tugs the corner s of his mouth upwards. "Somehow I doubt that."
He opens t he door wider, and I take that as an invitation to carefully slip past him. Um, yum , he smells like warm sexy male, just out of bed.
I glance around at my new surroundings. It's a little bigger than the old apartment, with a simple floor plan. The rectangle-shaped living room is sparsely decorated, with an L-shaped couch and a recliner angled toward a huge impressive-looking flat screen TV. I note with amusement that the entertainment center holds what appears to be every kind of gaming machine known to man. There's not much else: a glass coffee table in front of the couch, a couple of floor lamps, and a fancy bookcase crammed full of leather bound classics.
The small open kitchen is to the left , and I'm g lad to find it neat and clean—n o dirty dishes piled in the sink, or empty pizza boxes on the counter.
There's a short hallway directly across from the front door which I assume leads to the bedrooms and bathrooms.
I'm about to go check it out when a tall stunningly beautiful girl suddenly appears from an open room.
My eyes widen in shock and dismay. Ms. Supermodel is wearing an itsy bitsy thong and nothing else.
Without a hint of self consciousness, she sashays up to Zane, tossing back her long glossy hair. "Zane," she says in a husky accented voice. "Come back to bed."
He smiles down at her as she wounds her slender arms around his neck. "Natassia, we have company."
"Natassia" gives me a lazy once-over with dark exotic eyes. "Who is this? She come to party with us?"
What? Ew!
Zane sees my horrified reaction
I can't even picture me and Mom living there. What would we do with all that space?
But those are happy thoughts for another day.
I pull around back to where the pool house is located, next to the Olympic sized pool, of course.
Slowly, I get out of my car, more and more unsure about my plan. Should I bring a suitcase to look more pathetic? No, that's dumb. If he says no, I'll feel ridiculous. Maybe I should just go.
No, I can't. I don't have anywhere to go. If he says no, I'm screwed.
The pool house is a cute little home matching the style of the main house. It looks smaller than I remember, and I just pray it has more than one room.
The lights are on. He's home. Taking a deep breath, I knock briskly on the door. And I wait.
Wow, he's taking a really long time to answer. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and prepare to knock again.
The door opens and , I just barely stop myself from rapping my fist on his chest.
His bare chest.
Oh. My. God.
Shirtless Zane is a revelation. He is all smooth honey colored skin and sleek muscles. His shoulders are broad and dense, and his chest and ab muscles are so clearly defined, they could have been carved from granite.
My eyes continue their journey down to his slim waist, and...oh, my. The top button of his jeans is undone.
For some reason, that undone button strikes me as the sexiest thing ever. Pure lust explodes in my body at the sight of it.
So hot!
"Violet."
Zane's raspy voice snaps me out of my sex-crazed coma. He runs a hand through his tousled, seriously cute, just-woke-up hair. "What are you doing here?"
"Um." I clear my throat nervously. "I kind of need a place to stay."
In a rush of words, I explain my situation. He listens silently, his expression neutral, leaning an arm against the door jamb. I am totally distracted by his bulging biceps.
"I promise I'll stay out of your way," I conclude. "You won't even know I'm here.
A slow smile tugs the corner s of his mouth upwards. "Somehow I doubt that."
He opens t he door wider, and I take that as an invitation to carefully slip past him. Um, yum , he smells like warm sexy male, just out of bed.
I glance around at my new surroundings. It's a little bigger than the old apartment, with a simple floor plan. The rectangle-shaped living room is sparsely decorated, with an L-shaped couch and a recliner angled toward a huge impressive-looking flat screen TV. I note with amusement that the entertainment center holds what appears to be every kind of gaming machine known to man. There's not much else: a glass coffee table in front of the couch, a couple of floor lamps, and a fancy bookcase crammed full of leather bound classics.
The small open kitchen is to the left , and I'm g lad to find it neat and clean—n o dirty dishes piled in the sink, or empty pizza boxes on the counter.
There's a short hallway directly across from the front door which I assume leads to the bedrooms and bathrooms.
I'm about to go check it out when a tall stunningly beautiful girl suddenly appears from an open room.
My eyes widen in shock and dismay. Ms. Supermodel is wearing an itsy bitsy thong and nothing else.
Without a hint of self consciousness, she sashays up to Zane, tossing back her long glossy hair. "Zane," she says in a husky accented voice. "Come back to bed."
He smiles down at her as she wounds her slender arms around his neck. "Natassia, we have company."
"Natassia" gives me a lazy once-over with dark exotic eyes. "Who is this? She come to party with us?"
What? Ew!
Zane sees my horrified reaction
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