by Diana Downey
That beautiful and provocative innocence of youth sparkles in those dark eyes and crinkles her lips in disappointment. “I know she’s prettier.”
I draw in a long breath while eyeing this very sexy girl, the fire kindling in her eyes and melting me. “Cyn, you got away and that makes you a survivor. It’s a trait everyone admires but some fear. Use it to your advantage.”
She sniffles. “You don’t want me.”
I draw her into me and hold her, the scent of her hair and sunbaked skin practically unraveling me. “Have faith in yourself, Cyn. You are a strong, capable young lady.” And someday soon you’ll be one sexy as hell woman. “It’s not that I don’t want you. It’s because I cannot have you.”
Two years. In that time, I won’t forget the taste of her forbidden fruit. It still lingers on my tongue as I drive her home and out of my life.
Chapter Four
Shane
It’s been two years since I’ve seen Cyn’s infectious smile lighting up her face. It’s the first thing I noticed at the award ceremony, and on this leggy, olive-skinned girl with silky hair the color of black gold, it looks incredibly sexy and inviting.
I last saw her at her mom’s funeral, so she’s legal now, and it’s impossible for a man to forget the taste of a sassy, young girl. Girls that young should never look so frustratingly hot, and my attraction to Cyn has caused many sleepless nights ending in me gratifying my own sexual needs.
The first time I met her, she handled herself like an adult while I acted like an idiot, though I did make up for it by finding her mother. I wish it had turned out differently though. Grace Diaz was a good-hearted woman, so I was deeply saddened by her murder, and her killers were never caught.
Seeing Cyn now, I imagine my hand running through her soft hair then gliding onto her back and all the way down to her toned calves while nibbling and licking on everything in between.
Arm-and-arm with Gina and Christine and a bombshell blonde I have never met, Cyn seductively sways her sweet Sofia Vergara ass down the aisle of booths at Stews career fair. They must attend the university here now. I met Gina, the pasta loving, wine guzzling, flirtatious Italian, and Christine, the cabernet haired, temperamental fireball at the funeral. They’re Cyn’s closest friends and allies.
All are dressed in heels, tight skirts that hug at least one fabulous ass, and short jackets. The blonde’s shirt is unbuttoned low enough to show voluminous cleavage and a lacy bra while Cyn modestly wears a satiny tank, resurfacing my brief encounter with those soft, perky mounds, just the right size for my hands. The memory awakens my cock.
I let out a breath and look away before I get myself in trouble. I’m here to hire software programmers, not ogle the chicks coming through, especially my thorn, Cyn. But after my latest girlfriend dumped me, hunger stirs in my loins, and my weakness for Cyn could destroy me. She’s definitely a distraction from my business goals.
Keeping a woman has always presented a challenge, even though sexually satisfying women has never been a problem for me. Along with most of my girlfriends, my recent ex doesn’t like the fact I go fishing in the Gulf with the boys every weekend, but Cyn likes to fish.
I invited my ex to come with us, but the thought of being on a boat with dead fish and guys drinking beer doesn’t appeal to her. I don’t understand why, and what else could I do? I certainly don’t want to wine and dine and dance at bars on my days off, like she does. I want to enjoy myself, and that’s why my cock twitches in my jeans while my gaze flicks over Cyn, this spicy salsa woman.
Tang, my best programmer, hands out brochures about my company and chats to potential candidates. Jeremy, who provides security for my firm, eyes the young women making their way toward us. If his mouth opens any larger, some girl will step into it, and that’ll be his lucky day.
“Any of those girls could work under my desk,” Jeremy says, waggling his brows, “especially the blonde.”
I shove him, though my thoughts weigh heavily on Cyn, the girl with the perpetual smile and the hot ass my hand has groped. “Don’t talk like that. It’ll get me sued.”
When the women approach our booth, I do my damnedest not to think about sizzling, sweaty sex, and it’s not working. And unfortunately, the blonde’s perfume overpowers whatever light, enticing fragrance Cyn is wearing, the girl I’d like to lap up with my tongue…again.
Cyn extends her hand, so I naturally take it, and the cool dryness of it sets me ablaze. “Shane, good to see you again.” The sweet and southern accent with a hint of Spanish influence rolls off her tongue that licks succulent cherry-red lips. If it’s even possible, she’s prettier than the last time I saw her.
“How do you know each other?” the blonde asks, seductively batting her lashes while looping her arm in Cyn’s.
Gina shoves the blonde aside, which earns her a nasty glare, and feels my bicep. “Shane, you’re looking rather buff. I’m old enough now, so feel free to savagely ravage me.”
I grin and laugh. “What would your mother say, Gina?”
She waggles her black brows. “That she has my father heeling at her side.”
“No woman could train me to heel,” I say.
Jeremy raises his hand. “I will.”
Cyn crosses her arms over those tempting mounds of flesh and rolls her eyes at me. “Or teach you table manners.”
She can’t be serious, though my last girlfriend mentioned that? “That’s the way I was raised, and I don’t plan on changing.”
I get into Cyn’s personal space. “Oh Princess, have you not gotten over me calling you a tease?”
“I have, and I’ve also gotten over you fondling my underage junk.”
I lean down to inhale her sweet vanilla scent and say only to her, “I’ll never get over that, and you also led me to believe you were older.”
Her breath hitches and I believe she actually blushes. It also shuts that beautiful, smartass mouth.
“Honestly, Shane,” Christine says, pushing me back. “Cyn isn’t interested, or else she would’ve had you by now.”
Disappointment doesn’t diminish my smirk while Cyn plays with her bag, suddenly avoiding eye contact.
Gina pipes in, waving her hand, “I’m available.”
“Perhaps, we could talk later,” Jeremy says.
She uses one finger to hold him off. “Maybe.”
I introduce the girls to my team. “This is Cyn,” I say, tonguing her provocative nickname and working hard not to think about her sinning all over me, “Gina and Christine, and I don’t know this young lady.”
The blonde puffs out her chest, and the Playboys are hard not to take note of, so Jeremy bug-eyes them.
What is wrong with him? If he weren’t good at his job, I would’ve let him go. Like many geeks working for me, he’s hard up for a woman. I’ll have yet another talk with him.
“This is Nikita,” Cyn says, her smile reaching those chocolate-brown eyes that sparkle with flecks of gold from the sun hitting them. She absent-mindedly chews on her pen, her tongue flicking around the tip. She doesn’t even realize how provocative that is.
The blonde proffers her hand to me. “Niki.”
I shake it, but my gaze never leaves Cyn’s. “Shane O’Flannery, CEO.” I introduce the other guys.
“CEO,” Niki says, breathy and ready to be bedded. I hold back a laugh.
Jeremy trips almost landing face first into Niki’s breasts. He recovers, grinning while Niki steps away from him and moves within inches of me.
She turns toward me, smiling seductively while tonguing her bottom lip. This girl knows exactly what game she’s playing. “Young to be a CEO.”
“He is,” Gina says, winking at me. I do admire her spunk.
Jeremy’s Adam's apple bobs in his throat while his gaze caresses every one of Cyn’s curves, so I push him in front of Niki, so that I can stand next to Cyn and drink her in. “We’re a software company that writes apps to connect you overseas without the high international rates.”<
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It’s probably my imagination or an answer to my silent prayer, but I swear Cyn gives me a seductive smile. Or is there a little competition between the blonde and she, like there is with her sister Fay?
“Sounds like stealing,” Cyn says.
“I’m sure it’s not,” Niki says, squeezing in between Gina and Cyn to stand closer to me.
“It’s not,” I say. “We piggyback off Wi-Fi and signal towers while paying minimum fees to local carriers. Weren’t you listening to my speech at the Chamber of Commerce?”
“Not really,” she says, toying with me, which I love.
“Interesting,” Niki says, now chewing on her lower lip. “That must bring in a lot of money.”
“We’re doing okay,” I say. I only need 3 mil to buy a fishing camp on the Kenai River in Alaska, then I will leave Austin, and I’d like to take Cyn with me.
“We’re doing better than okay,” Jeremy adds, peering down the blonde’s low-cut blouse. “A few of the major carriers have already offered to buy us out.”
Cyn picks up one of the brochures. “Gina, Christine, and I are finance-business majors, and Niki’s in graphic design. Do you need any interns?”
Shoot. We already have an accountant. “Sorry, ladies. We’re currently looking for programmers.”
“See y’all later,” Cyn says, taking Gina’s arm and continuing their way to the other booths. Cyn’s not as interested as I’d hoped, so I’m a little disheartened.
Jeremy scowls. “Why did you do that?”
“Because we don’t need them.”
“What do you mean? I need them.” Jeremy desperately wants a real woman, so he doesn’t spend so much time on porn sites, even against company policy.
Tang glances at them. “Is that the Cynthia Diaz who was kidnapped a couple years ago?”
“Yes. She escaped, but her mother didn’t.” Saying it still cuts into my skin.
“She must be pretty messed up,” Jeremy says, “but the blonde is very fine.”
“The feds suspected Mexican Cartel, but they never could pin anything on Cyn’s father, who they believed was dealing,” Tang adds.
“Who cares?” Jeremy says, still leering at the girls while they talk to other vendors. “They’re like smoking.”
* * *
Close to five, I close and lock up our booth. Though it’s fall here, when I step outside, the heat and humidity suck my breath away. It’s nothing like Alaska—cool, crisp mountain air scented with pine. I miss home.
A patch of rain clouds threaten to break open any time now. A few drops splatter on my head and paint the sidewalk.
Before I make it to my rundown Harley, I spot Cyn starting her Porsche. It gives a pitiful click-click-click.
A guy leans against an apple-red Ferrari with his arms folded across his chest, like he’s bored, while she keeps turning the key.
“Can’t you do something?” she asks the guy.
“Not really. Call triple A. You have a card.”
Her smile strains against her brilliantly red, marshmallow lips. I’d like to roll my tongue over them this minute.
Yawning, he checks his watch. “I have to go. You’ll be fine.”
As Mr. Jerkoff drives away, Cyn stabs at her phone. I grab a few tools from the saddlebag on my bike before walking over to her.
I lean down toward her opened window to get close and catch a whiff of this tantalizing woman. “Hey. Pop your hood.” Not that I own the swivel socket wrenches to work on a Porsche, but for her, I’ll give it a try.
She opens the hood. “I hardly know you, and you want me to show you my junk.” There’s that smile again.
“After the way you kissed me, I think we know each other pretty well.” That kiss still weighs heavily on my mind.
Her grin turns playful. “I was young and impetuous.”
Witty girls always get to me. I smile because she’s flirting with me, and I’m enjoying it.
“You’re still the same girl, just old enough now.”
She scowls. “I was old enough then.”
It’s always pointless arguing with a woman, especially when all I want to do is lean in and indulge in the kiss I never got to finish.
She gets out of the car to watch me while the rain plunks onto us, sticking her silk tank to her plump breasts. I luck out because the problem with her car is something simple. Corrosion cakes one of the terminals. Using a wrench, I loosen the cable, clean it off with an old rag and wire brush, and put it back on while she stands dangerously close.
The hot cinnamon scent lingering between her breasts that she brushes against my arm while watching me ensnares my cock stirring in my thankfully loose jeans. There’s always been something erotically enticing about a Latina. I’d love to tango on my bed with this scrumptious woman.
The closer she draws near, the drier my throat becomes and the faster my heart hammers in my chest. If she doesn’t stop being pure Cyn, she’ll have me licking out of her hand.
“Was that your boyfriend?” I ask.
Her cute little nose scrunches up. “‘Was’ is the key word here.”
I wipe my hands covered with battery acid on my jeans, which is one of the reasons holes tatter them. “Good to hear.”
That’s definitely a bedroom smile curling on those luscious lips of hers. “It is?”
“Yes.” I lean closer to her, closing my eyes while I drink in her scent.
“How are you doing?” I ask. My voice sounds hesitant and unsure because I don’t want to upset her. “I’ve never seen anyone smile that much.” Especially after what she’s been through.
The beautiful lips, I’d like to suck on, quiver slightly. “I have my sad days, but I can’t change what happened. Lord knows I tried. I miss her, Shane.”
“She was a wonderful lady.” A glimpse of the woman Cyn is shines through the painted lips and eyes, and I find it incredibly provocative.
As my hand reaches around her back to lock onto her, Jeremy calls, “Hey, we can’t be late for the fundraiser.”
I glance down at this woman on fire. “See you around?” I should ask for her number, but it’s more fun to keep her guessing, and I can find anyone’s number.
As I swagger away, feeling confident and excited, I climb onto my vintage Harley. It’s old and beat up, but I know how to get it fired up, just like a woman on a frigid night in Alaska.
With one last glance, I turn toward her. Her face falls while studying my ride before she can recover with that painted on smile. I feel the rug yanked out from underneath my feet. I was wrong. Table manners and money are important to her. I could never convince a woman who needs those things to move to Alaska and live in a fishing camp, and I won’t give up my dream.
The old Harley is definitely no Ferrari, and now I know what kind of girl she is and what kind of guy she wants. Universities are full of girls like her working on their MRS degree. I’d like to think her sudden lack of interest doesn’t crush my ego, but I’ll get over it, and I’ll move onto the next. I’m not the kind of guy to waste my time on a woman interested in a suit and tie.
I should’ve known from the expensive clothing, the Porsche, the decorated toes and fingers, that Cyn is high class, high maintenance, and not for me, but the blonde is interested. That’ll get to the princess.
“See you around, Princess.”
Before I spin back around to walk away, her jaw clenches over her nickname. I’ll use princess quite often in the future.
Chapter Five
Three years later
Cyn
Every girl fantasizes about her Prince Charming, her knight in shining armor. Scarlett O’Hara had Rhett Butler, wealthy, passionate bad boy. Elizabeth Bennet had Mr. Darcy, aloof, filthy rich. Rose DeWitt Bukater had Jack Dawson, empty-pocket poor but devilishly cute and so much fun but also not a keeper. I’m no different from the rest of the female population—Mr. Right, here I am. Where are you?
I haven’t met The One…yet. Boys, not men, have invaded my
love life since high school, one disappointment after another, and that stupid Shane never delivered. He is the only man who has ever turned me down—the nerve of him. So what if I was only sixteen? Three years ago, I gave Shane a second chance to ask me out, and he didn’t take the bait. Twit. Yet he takes me out to dinner all the time, like we’re best buddies, and we’re not.
Not to mention…I can’t think about that. I cannot think about my sexual dissatisfaction with the male population. Mr. Right will make it happen for me…soon. He has to because this is my last year of college and all the good ones are scooped up by graduation.
Mom’s last words about Prince Charming mess with my mind, and it doesn’t help that she liked Shane. But Scarlett O’Hara lost her parents and then Rhett kissed all her troubles away. I need that. Shane had helped me find my mom, and then he abandoned and humiliated me, but I cannot give up on finding my prince. I will achieve my happily ever after if it kills me.
With my head in the clouds dreaming of Mr. Right, I step out of the elevator and into the lobby of the Frost Tower in downtown Austin, Texas. Since it’s sunny outside, I’ll take my lunch in the park, so a few of my sorority sisters who work nearby can admire my new Manolo Blahniks. The satin pumps make a satisfying click on the marble floor. One more year of college then I’m done, unless Prince Charming sweeps me off my feet, and then I’ll become Mrs. Charming.
Another intern, like me, not watching where she’s going, slams into me. My attaché springs open, scattering my financial reports all over the floor polished to perfection.
Shoot. I stoop to gather them up with as much dignity and modesty I can manage wearing a black knee-length pencil skirt.
As I pick up part of a report, my eyes land onto the decadently soft leather of an oxford recently shined and adorned by tailored slacks. My gaze crawls up the luxuriant silk-wool blend three-piece suit. The tall athletic-build fills it extraordinarily well. When I reach his face, the air is vacuumed out of the lobby and I’m left breathless and panting. From head to toe, this man projects virility.
