Read Online Nacho Figueras Presents by Jessica Whitman - Free Book Online Page A

trailing her finger over it self-consciously), the way that her glossy black curls sprang out around her head like an unruly corona in the Florida humidity, the faint laugh lines that appeared around her pretty eyes every time she smiled…
    And she was smart, and funny, and she told him scandalous, gossipy, hilarious stories about Hollywood, and made him laugh so hard his belly ached. And when he flattered or flirted, her cheeks would flush pink and her eyes sparkled, but at the same time, if he went over the top, he knew that she did not buy his bullshit. Not even one little bit. Because nothing got past this woman. Nada.
    She had argued with him playfully when the check arrived, demanding that he return her fifteen dollars so she could pay at least some of her share. He had grinned and handed the waiter his credit card, and told her that she was never getting that money back, he had earned it fair and square.
    And now she walked alongside him, laughing and chattering about this and that in her husky, honey-sweet voice. Her legs were long enough that he barely had to adjust his stride, and her swinging hand kept grazing his arm and sending little shocks of pleasure through his body. All he could think about was the fact that he wanted to grab hold of her shoulders, lay her down in the sand, and kiss her until they both lost their breath.
    “Wait,” he said, suddenly catching the last bit of her sentence, “did you just say that you’ve never ridden a horse?”
    She bent to examine something shiny on the ground, poking at it with her toe, her long, black curls swinging perilously close to the wet sand. “Nope. Never have.”
    “But you grew up in Wellington. How is that possible?”
    She shot him a look over her shoulder. “We’re not all in the horsey set around here, Sebastian. There are other parts of Wellington, you know.”
    He frowned. “Well, of course, but—”
    “I asked my parents for lessons once, when I was eight,” she said.
    “And?”
    “And they told me that they could afford to buy me one lesson, if that’s what I really wanted, but that it would just be that one time and then not again.”
    “So why didn’t you do it?”
    She straightened up. “I was afraid I’d like it too much,” she said lightly. “I thought it would better not to have tried it at all than to try it and miss it after.”
    “Ah, is that why you were looking at the pictures in the barn instead of the ponies?”
    She wrinkled her nose, surprised. “What do you mean? I looked at the ponies.”
    “No, you passed right by them. You went straight for the photographs. I’ve never seen anyone do that. It’s very hard not to look at those ponies.”
    She shrugged. “Well, I’m a director. I’m visual. I like photographs.”
    “I think you were still afraid you would like the ponies too much. Still holding back.”
    She laughed. “Maybe so. Though I always thought the ability to hold back was the sign of high intelligence in a child.”
    “Well, that reflects rather poorly on me, then, because I was the opposite as a boy. No impulse control whatsoever. I wanted what I wanted, and I did not like to wait.”
    She raised an eyebrow. “Why do I have a feeling that you never quite grew out of that?”
    He put his hand on his heart. “You wound me, linda .”
    She laughed. “I’m fairly certain you’ll recover.”
    Her laughter, the way she teased him, it just made him want her even more. He caught her hand and pulled her toward him. “ Besame ,” he said softly.
    She blinked. “Forgive my rusty Spanish, but doesn’t that mean—”
    He cut her off by gently placing his mouth upon hers.
    Her lips were soft and warm, and he searched them slowly, first with his own lips and then with his tongue, just barely touching the outline of her mouth until she exhaled and stepped closer to him.
    She settled her body against his and twined her hands into his hair, and he could feel her lush curves melting against him, her soft