a contemporary romance by Eve Summers
Amy doesn't know what it feels like to be in love. Which is pretty sad, when you stop to think about it, and Amy stops to think about it - oh, just about every day. Her fantasies are populated by men who look like movie stars and act like heroes from romance books, while her life is full of men who only think about their careers and who wear stress like a medal for bravery.
Or was, until now. Dan is Amy’s scuba diving buddy and the best-looking bloke in the office. Zorro, their Tahitian diving instructor is every woman’s secret fantasy, the kind you blush about in the darkness of your bedroom and never ever discuss with your girlfriends.
Amy doesn't know what it feels like to be in love. Will she choose the right man?
Amy felt her cheeks roast under his gaze. It was one thing to flirt with him back at the village to the rhythm of the wild drums, quite another to flirt when she’d already accepted his invitation to a night of hot sex.
“You look lovely in pink, Goldilocks.”
He gestured towards her salmon–rose cocktail dress, but she knew he meant the blush that had now spread all the way to her throat.
She needed a diversion.
“Tell me about the boat’s engine.” Men could always be distracted with machine talk.
“Are you asking about the size?”
Damn! The cursed blush was back. Don’t think about it.
“Why don’t you show me the bridge? Or the steering room, whatever it’s called.”
His face was deadpan. “It’s called a cockpit.”
It would be.
Zorro kissed her as soon as they reached the cockpit, a perfect mix of urgency and deliberately slow relishing. His tongue tasted of seawater and fire.
Amy felt her nipples strain against the thin material of her dress. She didn’t care whether it was love or lust she was feeling, she didn’t need labels or perfect definitions of what love was. All she needed was Zorro’s body pressed against hers, like this, and his hands in her hair, like they were now, and–
He broke the kiss and Amy opened her eyes.
There, on a side table, in a silver ice bucket, was a bottle of champagne. Zorro’s words came back to her: Now that I’m no longer your instructor, how about a bottle of champagne on my boat, followed by a sunset dinner and a night of hot lovemaking?
A bottle of champagne? Check.
With a bit of luck, they would skip the sunset dinner and…
“Would you like to drive?” she heard Zorro’s whisper, she felt his tickling breath in her ear.
“Huh? Oh, your boat, you mean. Yeah, sure.”
All her senses ablaze, she watched as Zorro awakened the purring machine.
“Here, take the wheel. Gentle movements.”
She looked at the controls for the first time, expecting something the magnitude of an average car’s steering wheel. “Zorro,” she exclaimed, “this is enormous.”
“Yeah,” came the smooth reply. “I get that all the time.”