The sun was almost too bright when I stepped from my apartment complex. Blinking rapidly, I fumbled through my bag for my sunglasses, feeling like I was part vampire or some other creature that preferred the darkness of night. The black asphalt parking lot radiated heat like an oven. I ignored the small beads of sweat already trickling down my back and into the waistband of my yoga pants.
By the time I made it to my jeep that was parked under the only tree in the lot large enough to provide any kind of shade, I had given the gods of heat or sun or anything else that caused me to sweat an earful. The rest of the lot was filled with palm trees. I figured parking under the larger tree would keep my jeep cooler, but it still felt like one degree cooler than hell inside.
Swiping a hand across my damp forehead, I climbed into my vehicle and immediately cranked the AC to high, ignoring the initial blast of hot air that hit me in the face as my jeep idled to life. It was less than a five-minute drive to the beach where Olivia was taking pictures. During any other time of the year it made for a pleasant walk, but even with a mild breeze off the ocean, the summer temperatures were too harsh. Besides, I was spoiled by air conditioning.
The beach looked relatively dead as I pulled into the parking lot. It was the middle of the week and this particular stretch of sand was populated mostly by moms with their toddlers and other small children. Endless beach toys, towels and coolers filled with juice boxes were strewn about under brightly colored umbrellas. Most of the kids were busy playing in the shallow incoming waves or building sandcastles. Their mothers, on the other hand, looked noticeably curious about Olivia and her models set up not far down the beach.
My feet sank into the warm, dry sand that within a few hours would be too hot to walk on without shoes or sandals to protect your feet. I trudged toward the water, shielding my eyes with my hand as I tried to make out Olivia in the distance. Even wearing sunglasses, the bright sun made it hard to see her without squinting. Finally, I spotted her standing ankle deep in water barking instructions to two models who had waded into the water up to their waists.
I could tell Olivia was not satisfied by the way she gnawed at her lip. She was never one to hide her emotions. Wondering what had gotten her thong in a bundle, I looked toward the models, wondering if maybe they were having an off day. I recognized Natasha. She was always a pro. The guy was unfamiliar to me, but as my eyes widened, I'm fairly certain I may have gasped. No wonder all the moms I had walked past were staring so intently. Whoever he was, the model Olivia had hired was possibly the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. Scratch that. He was beyond handsome. This guy was downright gorgeous. I found myself hypnotized by his perfectly sculpted pecs and broad shoulders. He looked like a freaking damn Adonis, standing in the gentle waves that lapped at his taut stomach. His chiseled abs begged to be licked.
I shook my head to regain my senses. Errant thoughts like this were not normal for me. Don't get me wrong. I could appreciate a good-looking, sexy man as much as the next girl, but I'd never openly gawked at any guy before. Clearly my mind was still stuck in the sexy scene I had been writing when Olivia called earlier. How else could I explain the fact that I wanted to launch myself at him and beg him to make me his sex slave? Honestly, it should be against the law to have a body that perfect.
I stopped for a moment, realizing I was in no condition to meet someone like that. Freaking Olivia. I was going to kill her for dragging me out here looking like a wreck when she knew she was photographing someone who gave Ryan fucking Gosling a run for his money. I would have turned around and hightailed it back to my jeep if Olivia hadn't already seen me and waved me over.
Mr. Adonis watched me as I approached. In a total cliché move, I pushed my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose and peeked over the tops of the lenses to get a better look at him. Olivia appeared at my side, yanking my arm to get my attention. Turning my head, I faintly heard her say hello, but barely acknowledged it as my eyes focused instead on the demigod in the water. Olivia regained my attention when she waved at the two models who threw her a return wave before walking toward the shore. I tried to look away, but my traitorous eyes told me to eff off, refusing to move from the pair of models who appeared regal as they strolled out of the water.
Olivia looked torn between amusement and frustration. "Jesus, Nicole. Did you have a fight with a bag of Cheetos or something?" she asked, tugging on my shirt and shaking her head at the large chocolate stain. "And what's with the hair? That's quite the bold statement you're making there."
"Whatever, skank. I tried to tell you I couldn't come, but you freaking said you needed me, like right now," I said, mocking her desperate tone from our phone conversation earlier.
"I didn't mean you couldn't take two minutes to change your clothes."
I held up my hand, stopping her before she could say another word. "Just remember, paybacks are an uberbitch." I tried to dust off and smooth out my clothes, but the attempt was futile. The only thing that would improve my appearance at the moment would be a genie popping out of a magic lamp.
Looking around, I noticed every female eye on the beach was still glued to the man candy show. For good reason. He was pure sex on a damn lollipop stick. Water glistened and rolled down his lean, muscular body in a way that I would have believed had been Photoshopped if I wasn't seeing it with my own eyes.
Unfortunately, Mr. Sex on a Stick took full notice of my appearance, but not for the reasons I would have preferred. Messy clothes or windblown hair would have been better than why his eyes had momentarily fixated on my chest. A slight gust of wind had blown across the beach at just the right angle, cluing me in that I had forgotten to put on a bra before leaving my apartment.
Yep, I was going to bury Olivia in a shallow grave. I wished I hadn't left my phone in the jeep because I would have asked Siri where the best place was to dump Olivia's body. Siri would help. Siri would have never led me blind into an embarrassing situation like this.
USA Today Bestselling author Tiffany King is a lifelong reading fanatic who is now living her dream as a writer, weaving intriguing and engaging tales for others to enjoy. You can always find her somewhere on social media where she loves interacting with her readers and fellow appreciators of the written word. Her addictions include: Her three spoiled cats, Diet Coke, iced frappuccinos and the occasional chocolate. Okay, maybe more than occasionally, but who's judging. Look her up anytime.
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Tiffany King, A Shattered Heart
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