Page 12 of Sultry Bodyguard Summer

I didn't bother engaging him in conversation on the car ride over. I’m saving my conversation-starter questions for dinner when we have to converse like a couple.

He opens my door with a charming smile that seems to have come out of nowhere. “You’re a fantastic actor,” I say, getting out of the car. “You dive right into the boyfriend role.”

“Just part of the job.”

Why does he feel the need to remind me he doesn’t have genuine feelings for me and that kiss we had last week wasn’t personal?

Oliver has the host take us to a table with a view of the bar and orders us a bottle of California Chardonnay. While the server prepares it, we look at each other and chat about menu items like we're so enraptured that we can't tear our eyes away to watch an uncorking.

The wine is scrumptious. Oliver curls his fingers through mine and leans toward me. “Why are you so beautiful?” he asks in a playfully bashful way.

“If I was as beautiful as you think, you wouldn’t be the first person to ask me that question,” I tease back.

“There’s no way I’m the first guy who’s called you beautiful.”

“Ah, but it didn't mean a thing to me until you said it.” I raise my brows the same way I’m raising the stakes of our silly, lovey-dovey conversation.

He thumbs my cheek, tilting my head to the side, and brings his lips to my ear. “You win. I don’t think I can beat that one.”

I gasp at the carnal tingling that descends through my body. His voice is like honey. Very spicy honey.

He eases away far enough for me to look him straight in the eyes. “Pretend I’m saying something outrageously dirty to you about how I’d like to spread my legs for you so you can get a good look at what I have to offer.”

His pupils dilate. “Don’t say that.”

I’m fairly certain that roughness in his voice is something less wholesome than plain old anger. “What if I mean it?”

“Sienna, this is a game. Play the game.” He spits out the words with such agitation that I think he’s trying to convince himself it's the truth.

"I am playing."

The server brings us Caprese salads. The dressing is garlicky and sweet. I ask Oliver questions about the Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu he does each afternoon in the den. I walk by while he practices and fantasize about what it’d be like to have his body wrapped around mine in one of those leg-clenching, controlling moves.

We get main courses of potato-crusted grouper and crab cakes. Like a good couple, we exchange large helpings of each other’s dishes.

In the middle of talking about how he wants to visit Rio de Janeiro, Oliver goes suddenly quiet. “Over at the bar. It looks like him.”

Adrenaline spikes in my veins. I move to glance behind me.

“Face forward,” Oliver orders in a low voice. “Come closer and whisper something into my ear.”

Ignoring the fact that Blake is in the same room as us, I lean across the table. “I want to fly to Rio de Janeiro with you. We’ll explore the city and find you the best Açaí smoothie you’ve ever had. Then we’ll go back to the hotel and make love so hard and for so long that neither of us can move.”

“That’s….” He sounds roundly pissed at what I thought was a girlfriendy thing to say. “It’s too much, Sienna. I can’t take that much.”

“Then kiss me. Let’s show him how we kiss.”

Oliver's gaze is dark and desirous. “Sienna,” he says, coming toward my mouth, “I've been dying to kiss you.”

The way he says it has me fooled. I believe he wants me, and that turns me into a wet, desperate creature. A reedy sound escapes my throat.

Oliver growls like he’s having a hard time reining himself in. We come together in kisses that are too hard, too open, and too punishingly delicious to be marina restaurant appropriate. It makes my body weep in relief. “God, how I’ve wanted this.”

Oliver weaves his fingers through my hair to the base of my skull. Somehow, our kisses deepen.

“He's gone,” Oliver says against my mouth. “He got up and left.”

“Oh,” I say, pulling away. The disappointment in my voice is unmistakable.