Superb and Sexy
The man pulled up in a rumbling, bad boy Camaro like he owned his world, and Maddie had good reason to know he did.
Brody West owned his world all right, and completely rocked hers.
What the hell was he doing here?
It’d been a long time since she’d seen him. Six weeks, two and half days, and waaaaay too many minutes. Not that she was counting.
But to be honest, that she hadn’t seen him was all her own doing. She’d left town to recover.
To make a Plan with a capitol P.
Hence staying in the mountains where no one could bother her — including Brody.
With him, no contact was good contact since they clashed at every turn, bickered when they weren’t clashing, and in general, brought out the worst in each other. She hadn’t even thought about him while she’d been gone, sitting on the porch of the log-style cabin that she’d rented for its rustic, isolated beauty, emphasis on isolated.
Okay, so she’d thought about him. She just hadn’t wanted to think about him. Probably she was just overreacting. Honestly, maybe it wasn’t even him in the car.
And yet she knew better. Her body knew better. The simple act of hearing the engine rev had made the hair on the nape of her neck rise in sudden, unexpected awareness.
Yeah, it was him because she felt . . .
God, she felt so much, but thunderstruck led the pack, though an undeniable excitement came in close second.
He was here, forty five miles off the beaten path from his home in the Burbank Hills to the Angeles Crest.
But why? Why wasn’t he holed up in his office, or on one of his planes he loved more than anything, working himself in to an early grave as he liked to do?
She knew that he, along with his partners Shayne and Noah, wanted her back at work, seemed desperate for her to be back. Shayne had told her yesterday on the phone that Sky High had gone through four temp concerieges in the time she’d been gone on leave, all of whom Brody had chased off with his sunny nature.
Translation: he’d been brooding and edgy and terrifying.
Yeah. Sounded like him.
But the brooding and edgy thing had never bothered her much. Maybe because she’d always been drawn to the bad boys. The reason for that was simple. Bad boys wanted the same things she did no strings attached.
She didn’t do strings.
Outside, Brody turned off the Camaro and silence filled the air.
A heavy, weighted, questioning silence.
And suddenly Maddie’s chest felt too tight. Damn it. She let out a long, calming breath, which of course didn’t work. It never worked. Neither did just sitting at the window staring down at him, but God, she was tired, and still recovering. Yeah, that’s what this asinine weakness in her knees was — recovery. Because it sure as hell wasn’t for him.
They didn’t even like each other . . .
And yet she leaned over so she could see out the window again, past the twin tall pines trying to claim her view, at the nearly six feet four inches of rough and tumble, sexy-as-hell male as he unfolded his long legs from the muscle car.
Her pulse took another unfortunate leap. The last time she’d seen him he’d been in his pilot’s uniform, and even though it was ridiculous and juvenile and wrong, it had turned her on. The thought of seeing him out of it?