Read Online [Invitation to Eden 20.0] The Island of Eden by Lauren Hawkeye - Free Book Online Page B

too much. Damn cool ranch Doritos.
    So I sit up straight, and force my shoulders back. Yes. This makes my boobs look perkier than they are. I run a hand through my hair, forgetting that it is still a wet tangled mess.
    “Oh for fuck’s sake.” Growling to myself, I slump back, giving up. It doesn’t matter what I look like. The man had me brought here so that he could keep an eye on me while he waits for me to be escorted off the island. There’s nothing between us, not that I want there to be. Not really.
    Eyes on the prize, Davis. I’m here for the story that could make my career. Not to get laid.
    As I sigh, I hear a soft chuckle. Opening my eyes, to find him sitting on the other end of the bench, and despite my best efforts, I’m startled.
    He’s watching me with those eyes, eyes that his coloring indicates should be obsidian dark and instead are the color of the ocean that almost drowned me.
    He’s wearing a mask now, which fits with the report I got from the woman at the club, though I wonder why he does it. He doesn’t look much like the decade old pictures I’d found of him anymore, true, but to my mind he looks better.
    His face is handsome and interesting now. And... well, sexy. I can’t quite put my finger on one specific reason why, but this man just does it for me in every conceivable way.
    “You move quietly for such a big guy.” I force myself to smile, even though my heart is fluttering, both from the surprise and from the proximity.
    “It’s all the boxing I did when I was a teenager.” He gets into a boxer’s stance and shuffles his feet back and forth. I blink, a wry smile curving my lips.
    I don’t know what, exactly, I expected from the man. Someone more formal, maybe. More dignified.
    He charms me despite myself. “You look a bit like a wrestler instead of a boxer with that mask on.”
    He lowers his arms, and I bite my tongue, knowing I’ve said the wrong thing. He’s back on guard.
    “Why do you wear it?” I’m not being nosy. At least, not to me. I’ve always asked a lot of questions—but I ask them because I genuinely want to know the answers.
    “If you follow me, Ms. Davis, I will get you set up in a room, so you can change. You look like a drowned cat.”
    “You sweet talker, you.” Gone is the charming host. In his place is the Master of the Island.
    Standing, I grab my bag, which he takes from me before I can protest. Scowling, I follow him up more stone steps. I fully admit to watching his ass as he mounts each step. I can’t help it—it’s stellar. And those large arms—strong enough to lift even a woman of my size against the wall for a good hard...
    I clench my hand into a fist, angry at myself for fantasizing about this man while in his presence. I am usually strictly a fantasize-at-night-alone-in-my-bed kind of girl. But there is something about the man that makes me a bit giddy. If I was alone I’d slap my cheek and tell myself to pull it together. Instead I continue to watch his butt all the way to the top of the cliff where the coolest looking estate is perched.
    It’s all glass, stonework and dark wood. A mixture of old world and new. It has sharp angles, but I can see some soft round shapes in the window treatments.  I’ve never seen another house like it. Not even in the most affluent areas of Miami.
    “This is my home.” There’s a keypad alongside the door and he punches in a code.  There’s a click, then the door automatically opens.
    “Sweet.”  I follow him inside. I think he chuckles, but his voice is so deep that I’m not quite sure.
    The manor is even more spectacular on the inside. A marble foyer leads to a winding staircase. The rest of the house has cherry wood floors. Black and white leather furniture fills each room, and each floor to ceiling window fully opens to the air. I take it all in while trying to keep my mouth shut. I want to squeal at how unique and full of character everything is, but I don’t want him to know how