He crumpled to the floor, landing in a heap of arms and legs.
Cam bent down and looked at him. He was out cold so he felt around for a pulse.
Please, God, don’t let him dead.
I hadn’t wanted to kill him. I just wanted him to stop.
“He’s alive,” Cam said, and a sob ripped from my throat.
Police sirens rang out in the distance.
Cam pulled the shirt over his head and pressed it to the cut on my neck. “What the hell did he do to you, baby?”
The gentle tone of his voice was my undoing and the dam broke, bringing forth a tidal wave of tears. He pulled me against his chest, holding me tightly to him and whispering words of love into my hair. “It’s over now, sweetheart. He’s not going to hurt you ever again.”
I pulled back. “It’s my ex-boyfriend from high school. I started a rumor about him years ago and he found out. He was here to—” My voice broke.
“Shhh, it’s all right now. I know why he was here. He’s lucky he’s still alive.”
Police cars screeched to a stop near the sidewalk and shouts rang from below. I could hear the officers pounding up the stairs, and then I heard Roxie and Adam screaming my name from across the parking lot.
I glanced back down at Brody, who was still unconscious on the floor. I felt guilty that he suffered over my lie. I felt guilty that I never thought about how he might feel. But still, breaking into my house, stealing my barrette, attacking Roxie, coming to the club, and then ultimately trying to rape me (and freaking recording it!) was not okay.
I prayed he got the help he needed and that he was locked away while he got it.
Cam looked down at me, his eyes searching my face. “I shouldn’t have left here this morning.”
“You’re a lot earlier than I thought you would be.”
“I cut the lesson short. I had this… bad feeling.” He glanced at Brody. “Now I know why.”
“I was afraid you didn’t get my signal. I thought you left.”
“I understood perfectly. You did good; you did real good.”
The police stormed inside, taking in the damage and my bloodied, ripped clothes. They moved into action, cuffing Brody and studying the scene.
“Thank you for coming back,” I told Cam, looking up to stare into his Hershey-colored eyes.
“I got you,” he whispered, pulling me close once more. “And I’m not ever letting you go.”
Four years later…
I pulled into the little parking lot and grinned at the sight of Cam’s bike parked beside the white building. I rushed inside the surfboard shop only to find the space behind the counter empty, so I hurried through into the tiny office in the back. It was empty too.
“Cam?” I called out.
I pondered all the custom surfboards hanging on the wall as I waited for him to appear. He was so incredibly talented. Every board was unique and every one had a personality of its own.
I spun in a little circle, taking in the freshly painted walls and neatly organized display of wetsuits. He was finally living his dream.
Pura Vida Board Shop
was already a success, and I knew it would just keep on growing.
“Cam!” I called out again, impatient to feel his lips on mine.
When he still didn’t respond, I gazed out the large front window and across the street toward the public access stretch of beach.
I grinned and raced out of the shop and across the pavement, tearing up the wooden steps and onto the walkway that led to the sand. The wind pulled at my shirt and I spotted him out in the water, sitting on his favorite surfboard, with a student beside him.
I rolled up my jeans, kicked off my flip-flops, and pushed my toes into the sun-heated sand. I felt his eyes the minute he saw me, and I lifted my hand and waved. He grinned and leaned into the guy who was with him, and I saw his mouth moving.
I watched as he expertly caught the next wave and rode it all the way in, jumping into the ankle-deep water beside me as his board washed up on shore.
“Hey,” he said, hooking me around the waist and pulling me right up against his soaked chest.
I squealed and pressed myself closer. “You look good out there.”
“You look good in my arms.”
I giggled. “I went in the shop first. You need to hire someone to sit behind the counter.”
He sighed and nuzzled my cheek with his nose. Wet strands of his hair clung to my skin and I wiggled around in his hold. “Replacing the girl who used to do it is impossible.” He sighed.
Up until several days ago, I’d been the girl behind the counter of his shop. I loved working there, being by the beach all day, making out with my boss on my lunch break, and watching him make the most beautiful surfboards I’d ever seen.
Even though I loved it, I had my own dreams to follow.
“I start my new job on Monday,” I said, excitement unfurling inside me.
He pulled back and grinned down at me. “Your office is going to be packed with a bunch of young college guys who just
can’t
decide what to do with their lives,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest and talking all dramatically.
I smacked him in his very toned stomach. “I doubt it.”
He snorted. “You’re the hottest career planner I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah?” I murmured, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Well, I’m taken.”
He reached up and pulled my left hand down to look at the incredibly sparkly diamond gracing my finger. I still pinched myself whenever I looked at it. I was so unbelievably lucky to have someone like him.
“I can’t wait to make you my wife,” he said as he pressed a kiss to the ring he placed there just a few months before.
“Not much longer now.” I sighed. We were going to have a wedding right here on the beach at sunset. I was going to wear white and no shoes, and Cam was going to wear a suit with an ocean-blue tie. In just two short weeks, I would be Mrs. Cameron Malone.
“Your job going to give you time off for our honeymoon?” he asked, his eyes straying to his student in the water.
“Of course. I didn’t accept until they agreed.”
His eyes came back to mine and he smiled. “Good. Now go sit your cute little ass over in the sand and quit distracting me from my job.”
“Want me to go sit in the shop?”
He shook his head. “I want you right here with me.”
Even after four years, his words still caused me to melt. I turned to go sit when he caught my hand and towed me back.
“Not so fast,” he murmured, giving me a soft kiss. “I love you.” He spoke right against my lips.
“I love you, too.”
He kissed me again and then made a growling sound. “You. Me. Tonight.” Then he wagged his eyebrows suggestively. His eyes softened and he kissed the tip of my nose. “Forever.”
I couldn’t think of anything better.
You lucky dog, you. Not only did you just read
TEASE
, but now you get a super exclusive sneak peak of
TEMPT
, the next
Take It Off
novel by Cambria Hebert!
Turn the page and enjoy!
TEMPT
Sneak Peak
1
Scientists, philosophers, or whoever the group of people who sat around a desk and made up the list of the Seven Wonders of the World were wrong. There aren’t seven. There are eight.
Number eight being men.
The reason men weren’t added as a wonder of the world? Because men probably made up the list to begin with.
Even knowing trying to figure out a man, trying to have one in my life was a fruitless effort didn’t stop me from having a relationship. It also didn’t stop me from getting hurt.
Just when I was getting over that, my grandmother died.
So basically, I felt like I’d boxed about ten rounds, the entire time holding my own, and then I was knocked out. Cold.
And now here I was, wandering through the insanely large, insanely busy Miami International Airport so I could get on some plane and fly off to Puerto Rico because my grandmother’s dying wish was for her ashes to be scattered over the ocean there—the place where she met my grandfather over fifty years ago.
How did I get elected for the job?
I was Grandmother’s favorite. I was between jobs. I was down on my luck. I needed a free vacation to a beautiful place.
Right. Because flying to some foreign country (though, I guess technically, it’s not a foreign country since it’s considered a US territory) with a special suitcase just for the remains of my beloved grandmother and then parting with them to an ocean is considered some nice vacation.
Clearly, my family is a bunch of whackos.
Even still, I love my family and my heart still ached over my grandmother’s passing, so here I was. The suitcase rolling along behind me tipped, and my bags toppled to the floor. With a great sigh, I stopped and turned, righting the one on wheels and then bending over to pick up the one I had balanced on top.
I slid it over and unzipped it, peering inside at the bubble-wrapped urn. Nothing appeared to be broken. “Sorry, Kiki,” I murmured, using the name I called her since I could speak, and then zipped it closed. Deciding not to take any more chances with the smaller bag, I carried on, rolling the bigger one behind and carrying the other in my free hand. I also had a messenger-style purse strapped across my shoulder and it banged against my thigh with every step.
I made my way through the rapidly moving crowds, toward the gate I was told would have my ticket. Why I couldn’t get an electronic one like everyone else in the modern age I would never understand.
As I approached the gate, I couldn’t help but be distracted by a man leaning against one of the nearby walls. He was reading a newspaper, holding it up in front of his face so all I could see were the two long-fingered hands holding the paper and his body from the waist down.
He wore a pair of beat-up jeans, really beat up. Like, with holes and hanging strings. The denim was faded in some spots and the fabric seemed thin and likely soft to the touch. His T-shirt looked as well-worn as his jeans, except it didn’t have any holes in it. All I could see of it was gray and just the front hem was tucked into his waistband, exposing a tan leather belt.
The way he leaned against the wall, kind of slouching with one foot out farther than the other, drew attention to his shoes. The boots were the same color as his belt and they appeared sturdy and not nearly as used as his clothes.
I couldn’t tell you why I was so drawn to him. That was all I could see. He just looked like some regular (albeit lazy) guy waiting around for his plane to arrive. Although, he was reading the
New York Times,
which made me snort. He didn’t really look like the kind of guy that would stand around reading that paper.
I snorted to myself again. He probably had a
Penthouse
just inside the paper and was really reading that.
My gate was off to my right and I turned, eyeing the counter and noting that there weren’t as many people in this section of the airport as the other parts I’d just walked through. The woman behind the counter had perfectly combed hair slicked up into a bun on the back of her head. She was dressed in a navy blazer with the airline’s name on the breast, and she sported a polite look on her face. When I stopped at the counter, I parked my bags next to me and flipped the top of my messenger bag open to reach inside for my wallet and ID.
“My name is Ava Malone. I was told my ticket to Puerto Rico would be here waiting for me.”
The woman took my ID and looked at it and then handed it back to me. Her manicured fingers flew over the keyboard behind the counter and then she paused and looked up. “You’re plane is already here.”
Alarm spiked through me. “Am I late? I thought I was an hour early. As soon as I get my ticket, I’ll go board. Will they hold the plane for me?”
She gave me an odd sort of look. “I’m sure it will wait, seeing as how you are the only passenger.”
Confusion made me speechless. I felt my face scrunch up in an odd sort of way as her words replayed through my head. “I don’t understand,” I said slowly. “I can’t be the only person flying to Puerto Rico today.”
She shook her head. “Definitely not. But you are the only one who had a private plane come and fetch her.”
A private plane? To fetch me?
“You must have the wrong person,” I said, holding up my ID again. “You should check again. I should just have a ticket here. For one of the commercial flights.”
“You’re Ava Malone, correct?”
I glanced at my ID just to be sure. That’s what it said, right there beside my horribly embarrassing photo. “Appears that’s me,” I muttered.
She smiled. “Your pilot is around here somewhere,” she said, craning her neck to look around. Her eyes settled on someone across the room and she smiled. “He’s right over there.”
I turned, following her gaze. There next to the guy with ratty jeans was an older gentleman in a suit, holding a briefcase. I lifted my hand to wave at him. He got this puzzled look on his face and then waved uncertainly.
“Are you sure?” I said, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment as I glanced back at the woman.
I turned back around to glance again. The gentleman with the suit was gone. My eyes darted around, looking for him, but once again were drawn to the guy with the newspaper. He must have felt my stare because his head shot up and I saw his eyes peek over the top.
Slowly, the newspaper came down and something else was lifted. A giant white index card.
It had my name on it.
My stomach did a summersault and my heart started thumping erratically.
Why would that ratty jean wearing,
Penthouse
reading guy have a sign with my name on it?
“See,” the woman said from behind. “That’s him. He has a sign with your name on it.”
“
That’s
my pilot?”
The woman at the counter giggled. She actually giggled like a schoolgirl.
Shoot. Me. Now.
I gathered up my bags and took a few steps forward, intent on finding out just what the hell was going on, when he lowered the oversized card.
My steps faltered.
The suitcase trailing along behind me kept going and rammed into my calves, making me stumble, and I pitched forward with a startled cry, knowing I was going to go down and praying to the heavens that I didn’t crush Kiki when I fell.
The last thing I saw was the stupid
New York Times
paper fluttering to the floor as Kiki and I plunged disastrously toward the floor. But then he was there, grabbing up the suitcase, saving it from my clumsiness.
I, however, was not so lucky.
I fell.
Hard. In fact, if my arms hadn’t been free, I would have fallen directly on my face. Thankfully, my hands slapped against the hard floor, saving my nose from being rearranged. When I hit, I fell over, rolling onto my back, and lifted my hands, staring at them in front of my face. My palms stung from the fall and I cringed imaging how many germs were now crawling all over them from touching the nasty airport floor.
“Are you okay?” said a voice above me.
I jerked my arms down, propping myself up on my elbows, and lifted my eyes.
I remembered why I fell all over again.
Light-green eyes speared me from within a face that, even if he left right now and I never ever saw him again, I would not forget. His face was so striking that it would be etched into my mind forever.
His eyes were the color of green sea glass. A bright green but light because it had spent time tumbling around the ocean floor. They were a striking contrast against the rest of him. He was all dark and bronze with a head full of thick dark hair that curled around on his head. It was messy like he never combed it—though I would think that combing curls would only give him an Afro.
His skin was olive toned, bronzed like he never left the sun, and he had sharp features—a straight nose, full lips, and cheekbones that sat high just beneath those eyes, which were lined in impossibly thick, impossibly dark lashes.
He was tall (or maybe he just looked that way because I was sprawled on the floor) and had a lean build, but he looked strong—the kind of strength that came naturally, not the kind of bulk that came from the gym.
As I stared at him like a complete idiot, he set down the suitcase carefully and squatted beside me. My breath caught (or maybe I just forgot I needed to breathe) when he got closer. He was freaking beautiful. Yeah, I know, guys aren’t supposed to be beautiful, but he was. There was no other word that I could think of that would describe him better.
I was still staring as he reached out and grasped me by the shoulders. The heat of his hands radiated through my T-shirt and practically zapped me back to reality. “Did you hurt yourself?”
Oh my God, he had an accent.
As if perfection just upped its game and got even better.
It wasn’t a full-on accent. It was a barely there—a slight roll of the tongue that caused chills to rise up across my scalp and race over my head and down my spine.
I nodded because speaking was still not an option.
“You’re Ava Malone?”
Say it again.
Something inside me begged.
Please just say my name one more time.
The desperation going on inside my own head was what fully shocked me out of my trance. There was no way I was about to succumb to some beautiful disaster of a man. And yes, I did know that he was a complete disaster because there was no way on this planet that a man who looked like him could be anything but trouble.