Touching Paradise by Cleo Peitsche Page A

were feeling better. Maybe they were all at the pool now, or shopping. They were going to be so jealous when they saw the photos. Especially of Koenraad. She peeked at him through her lashes and saw that his eyes were also closed, and he was breathing evenly. Asleep.  
    The bronze of his skin begged to be licked. He’d probably taste salty, like the ocean. Her gaze slid down his perfect chest and torso, the rigid lines of his abs. There was a perfect whorl of golden hair running from his navel into his skimpy swimsuit. And the bulge… She could see the outline of his cock and balls.  
    The urge to mouth that bulge was surprisingly strong. She didn’t even like giving oral sex, so why was she thinking about it now…?
    She glanced back at Koenraad and was relieved that his eyes were still closed.
    With a sigh, she relaxed again, enjoying the sounds of the water lapping the boat, the wind stirring her hair, and an occasional, almost imperceptible splash.  
    “You like your job?” Koenraad asked, his voice a low, lazy rumble that thrilled her. He was so masculine . He made the guys she’d dated seem like women in expensive suits.  
    “It’s ok,” she said. “No one fantasizes about being middle management.”
    His laugh rolled over her body, making her tingle, and she remembered again the steady warmth of his skin under her palms. “I guess not,” he said. “You have plans to change careers?”
    “This is already my third career. The first two didn’t end well.”  
    “I’m listening.”
    She hadn’t intended to pique his curiosity. Her employment history wasn’t very flattering. “As an undergraduate, I worked part-time filing papers in a real estate office. They offered to bring me on full-time after graduation. It was supposed to be a semi-internship, the idea being that I’d make less but learn the ropes. But after a year, it was clear they had no intention of paying me a real salary.” She stopped, remembering the day Tara had sent her an advertisement for more “interns” at the company. Tara had insisted she confront her boss, which Monroe had done. “I asked for a raise and they fired me.”  
    “Is that legal?”
    “Probably not. I’m glad, now, but it took me six months to find another job. It wasn’t easy.” And in that time, she’d maxed out her already strained credit cards, and had gone into debt to Tara and Nya, who were the most understanding roommates in the history of the world.  
    “So first career was real estate. Second?”
    “Waitress. By the time I got the job at Pet Palace, I was working at three places. A pizza franchise four nights a week, another pizza franchise three nights a week, and a local brunch place Friday, Saturday and Sunday mornings.” She opened her eyes and blinked, the bright sun pricking her eyes. “I’m going to grab my sunglasses,” she said.
    “Take mine.” Koenraad sat up and handed over his. “Why did you have to work so much?”
    She shrugged and put on his glasses. The tint made the blues of the sky and ocean more vivid. “These are nice!”
    “Then they’re yours,” he said, leaning back onto his elbows.
    “No, I couldn’t—”  
    “It’s the only brand I like, and I tend to break things, so I’ve got plenty more.” He studied her. “They’re a lot sexier on you,” he said.  
    It didn’t feel like a knee-jerk compliment, designed to flatter, and she felt herself blushing even warmer in the noon sun. “Thanks,” she murmured, embarrassed. What had he asked her? Oh, right. Her jobs. “I had a lot of student loans, and my mother had taken out a second mortgage to help with my tuition, and I’m paying that, too. Unfortunately, not really an unusual story.”
    “Have you always been so responsible?”
    “Boring, you mean,” she said quietly, remembering what Thomas had said.
    “I wasn’t aware that responsible equals boring,” he said. “Is that a New York thing?”
    She blinked. “No. My boyfriend. My ex, I