High Risk Love

by Shannon Mayer

  I jogged onto the set, checked in with Rodney, nodded at the pimple-faced teenager who held up his camera. “Catch me later, kid. I’ve got a date with a pretty lady.”

  He frowned as I snatched a pair of swim trunks from the costume gals who tittered over my choice.

  “Don’t you want to take the Speedo?”

  Laughing, feeling the weight of the mask I had to wear even for them, I wagged a finger. “Nah, if I want to show that much skin I might as well just go in the buff. If I do, I’ll send someone to fetch you all, so you can watch.”

  Leaving the giggling women behind, assured that my charm did work on some portion of the female population at least, I made my way to the beach. Standing on the edge where the brilliant white sand met the concrete path, I searched for my Spitfire. The thought rolled around in my head and it took me a moment to clue in to the words.

  My Spitfire. Damn, I had to stop thinking about her. Period, end of story. No Jasmin for Jet.

  Shit, maybe I was sick or something. Maybe I’d picked up a bug, eaten something off. The water, maybe that was it, I had been drinking the water, didn’t everyone say not to drink the water in Mexico? Yeah, that had to be it.

  The wind blew straight off the ocean, bringing me a wash of salty air, hot sand and coconut sunscreen. But I couldn’t see Jasmin anywhere. Stepping off the path, I headed straight for the water, then stood with my head leaned back and considered shouting for her. A pale flash of yellow caught my eye at the far end of the beach.

  There she was, squatting low, camera up as she took pictures of the local kids playing in the surf. They dodged and darted in front of her and she followed them, the camera a part of her.

  Walking slowly, the sand pulling at my feet, I wove between the few blankets and towels on the beach until I stood a few feet behind her. She was laughing, her voice pairing with the kids squeals and swiftly chattered Spanish. Like music, it mesmerized me, and I stood there for a long time, just watching her, feeling like I was privy to something special.

  To someone special.

  I closed my eyes. Good God, I must have picked up something for me to be waxing poetic about a girl I barely knew, had only just met.

  “Jet?”

  My eyes flew open and I smiled without thinking. “Waiting on you, Spitfire. You done playing?”

  A soft smile curved one side of her full lips and my mind wandered once more into dangerous territory.

  There was only one thing to do. With a rush, I scooped her up onto my shoulder and gave her a spin, much to the delighted kids who were now screaming encouragement.

  “What are you doing, are you crazy?” She said, grasping my shoulders.

  “That’s what the doctor says.”

  She punched my arm, not hard, but I fell to the ground, pulling her on top of me, then I held up my hands. “Oh, God, I think you bruised me.” I looked up at her with one eye. “Kiss it better?”

  Her response was to pull the camera out and start taking pictures, effectively blocking my attempt at charming her. Which was for the best anyway. She was right to push me away; something about her was too much, too intense. Not right for me. Though the flicker of desire in those green depths teased at me, and the feeling of her body quivering against mine in that split second before she scrambled away was almost enough to change my mind.

  She was most definitely too good for me, without a doubt. I could acknowledge that, but with every moment I spent with her I became more and more convinced she wasn’t as immune to my charms as I’d thought. But that’s all it was, flirting, my usual, nothing more. This was fun, light.

  Harmless.

  I smiled, giving her a wink and the color rose up on her cheeks. Nope, there was no turning back, no way I’d quit flirting with her now, if nothing more than to see her squirm.

  I wasn’t going to ease up.

  Not for one second.

  5

  Jasmin

  Once I had my camera up, I was safe, the lens blocking me from the way Jet’s eyes made me feel. The way his everything made me feel. Like I was losing a battle I didn’t even know I was fighting, a battle I didn’t even want to be in. His body had curved around mine in that moment he’d pulled me down on top of him, our skin touching here and there, his muscles moving against me; I shivered again. That wasn’t the worst of it though.

  Jazzy. He’d used my nickname that in the past only Ryan had ever really used. It stung, a sharp barb of remembering what I’d lost. Yet at the same time it seemed to fit, a soft warmth over a deep hurt. How could I be so split, so divided over one man? This was surreal. It had to be Jet’s constant charm and flirting, I just wasn’t used to it. He would ‘break me in’ so to speak, get me used to the kind of men I would be dealing with from now on.

  Gorgeous, sexy, dangerous men.

  Maybe Kevin was right; maybe this was going to be too much for me. I squashed the traitorous, wimpy thoughts. No, that wasn’t me. I could do this with one hand tied behind my back.

  Or your hands tied to a bed post?

  I grit my teeth and directed Jet while continuing to take pictures. I had him lay down on his back, shirt off, arms behind his head. Sculpted pecs, abs and arms beckoned me to slide my fingers along their edges, to see if they were truly as defined as they looked. There were several scars across his ribs, faint, but they had obviously been deep when they’d happened judging from the thick white scar tissue. The edge of a tattoo peered at me from just under his belt, running along his pelvic bone by the angle of it. I couldn’t tell what it was, and damned if I didn’t suddenly, desperately want to know. His right nipple was pierced, a silver ring through it that caught the light here and there, winking at me, taunting me it seemed.

  “That hurt?” I asked, motioning toward it.

  Grinning, he nodded. “Only for a second; was worth it, especially seeing as the prettiest girls always notice it first.”

  Caught in his gaze, my face heated as I thought about all the ways to explore his last words. The breeze tickled along my skin, whispering up my thighs under my sundress and suddenly the desire for Jet’s hands to replace the breeze gripped me.

  I had to stop this, like now.

  “Close your eyes,” I said and he did as he was told. I got several very good shots of him before he couldn’t seem to stand it any longer, opened one eye and smiled up at me. That smile was deadly, the pull of it seemed to start in my very core, dragging me toward him. He was far too dangerous. It would be so easy to let him touch me, help me ignore my life for a while. But that wasn’t fair, not to him or me. I wouldn’t use him as a balm to my grief and loneliness. I couldn’t seem to stop taking him in though, and not just because I was taking pictures of him. Every part of him was like a wicked bundle of temptation from the angle of his jaw, to his broad sun-kissed shoulders, lean hips and those eyes . . . those eyes would be the death of me. I just knew it.

  Once we got the pictures done I could go, back home, back to my life, and forget about this stuntman with the teasing devil in his golden eyes. I had to, there was no other option.

  It didn’t take long before we got into a steady rhythm of me directing and him listening. Jet was photogenic, but even with that we weren’t getting the pictures I wanted. There was no feeling to them, no emotion. Gorgeous as he was, something was missing. It was like he was hiding behind the smiles and the laughter; who he was really wasn’t coming through.

  Sweat dripped down off my cheeks and chin in an extremely unladylike manner, the sun beating down on me. I’d brought sunscreen with me but it was confiscated at the airport and now I was suffering the consequence. Damn security processes, what did they think I was going to do with sunscreen? With my last $20 gone to bribe the security guard, I didn’t have the money to replace it.

  “Why are you frowning?” Jet asked, lifting his eyebrows at me.

  “Forgot my sunscreen,” I answered, pointing at the water, an idea and picture already formed in my head. “Time to get your jeans wet.”
<
br />   Oh, maybe that wasn’t something the men would want to see, but I had a feeling I was going to bring scores of women to the magazine with Jet’s pictures. This should keep Kevin happy too. New subscribers had to be a good thing, right?

  He sauntered down to the water, took two strides and dove in under the waves. Standing back up, the water sparkled as it flicked off him. He splashed at me and I stepped away, covering the camera.

  “Hey, none of that or you’ll be buying me a new camera,” I said.

  Laughing, he crooked his finger at me. “This is way too nice to be in here alone, you should come in with me.”

  “Can’t.” I held the camera up, pointing at it with my other hand.

  Picture after picture I took, feeling the need to get just the right shot. The perfect shot. The one that would clinch my job for me. It was eluding me though, just out of reach. Finally, I called it.

  “That’s good for today, though I’m not quite ready to call this done.”

  Jet stepped out of the water, shaking his head, his hair going every which way.

  “Are you two wrapping things up? I thought we could all go for lunch together.”

  I turned to see Hugh strolling toward us, an easy, open smile on his lips. Women’s heads turned as he passed and I could see the attraction to the tall, dark, and handsome man—I just didn’t feel it myself.

  “I don’t know if I want to share you just yet,” Jet whispered into my ear, his sudden closeness and the coolness of his ocean-soaked skin against my sun-baked back made me jump. That was surely why I jumped. It had nothing at all to do with the shock of lust coiling through me, urging my hips backwards to bump into him.

  “Yeah, lunch would be good, but I’ll have to pass,” I managed, stepping deliberately away from him. I didn’t want to tell them I couldn’t afford to go out. Even with the small advance Kevin had given me, I wasn’t sure what was okay for me to spend it on and what wasn’t. I was pretty sure sunscreen was out, but even using the money to eat out made me nervous.

  “Ah, come on, I’ll even pay,” Jet offered almost as though he knew what I’d been thinking.

  I took a moment, and then gave a nod. “All right, then I can get some dirt on you from your friend here, as after the bee story this morning I think it would be best if I have some outside information on you.”

  Hugh frowned. “Bee story?”

  Jet laughed and snatched my camera, despite my protests, and handed it to Hugh. “I’ll tell you all about it at lunch. Hold this would you?”

  “Hey, you can’t have my camera!” I yelped, struggling to get at it, a fear that Hugh would drop it tangling the breath in my throat. I had no way to replace it if he so much as bumped it and the thing turned off or worse, wouldn’t turn back on. “Seriously, give it back!”

  I wasn’t ready for what happened next, surprised at how fast Jet could move. With an easy scoop, he had me over his shoulder.

  “No, I don’t want to get wet, I want my camera back!” I smacked his butt, my hand stinging on the wet jeans and hard muscle.

  “Oh, baby, you know I like it rough.” He laughed, swatting my backside in response, but made sure to give me a squeeze too, his fingers kneading the curve of my ass.

  I screeched a denial, both of his treatment of me and the hot burst of anger that shot through me as he threw me into the water. Closing my eyes and mouth, the salt water sluiced over me, soothing my scorched skin. He was right, this felt amazing on my overheated body and I floated under the waves for a moment before pushing to the surface.

  The water was waist height when I stood up, and I smoothed my hair back, plucking at my sundress, still pissed off even thought the water felt good. “Seriously? You couldn’t take no for an answer?”

  He splashed me. “Not lately.”

  I glared at him. “Well, maybe you should try it on for size. Not everyone is here just for your pleasure.”

  He didn’t seem perturbed by my attitude at all. In fact, he continued to smile. “Are you sure about that?”

  My eyes met his, locking onto the desire simmering there. He strode toward me, his intent obvious as his eyes dipped to my lips, his hands already reaching for me. Panic warred with my anger and I backed up, the water slowing my escape, though I was moving as fast as I could. He reached for me and I dove under the water, swimming to one side. Every time he touched me, my resistance eased; so the only answer was, I couldn’t let him touch me again. Bobbing to the surface, I didn’t stand right up, but instead just lifted my head, my hair floating around me in black tendrils. I did my best to talk like a grown up, like my mom would have scolded him.

  “That’s enough, Jet. I’ve had enough. Are you going to behave? You going to keep your hands to yourself? Stop touching my things? Because I sure as hell have had enough.”

  He put his hands on his hips and frowned at me. Really frowned, not an I’m-frowning-just-to-make-you-smile frown.

  With a sharp bob of his head, he gave a curt, “Fine. Hands off, as per your request.” He turned away from me and I glared at his back.

  I waited until he’d sloshed his way out of the water, taking his time to shimmy out of his wet pants, much to the whispers and giggling delight of the women on the beach. Tight black boxer briefs clung to his body, shifted low over his hips as he peeled his jeans off. I couldn’t take my eyes of his long, lean muscled legs as he took the pair of khaki shorts and tank top Hugh had obviously brought with him.

  Then he strode away, like he’d forgotten me already, without a single backward glance. Which was good. Right?

  This was better, I told myself as I made my way out of the water. Truly, it looked like he’d finally gotten the message. I was not to be flirted and played with. Out of bounds. Off limits. Permission slip denied. No touching allowed.

  Yet, why then did I feel this ache of loss? Like I’d done something wrong and somehow hurt him? I hadn’t, I knew that, he didn’t really care about me; I was a game to him, a challenge. This was the right thing to do—push him away and keep what was left of my heart safe.

  Hugh handed me my camera, which I checked over quickly, sighing a breath of relief when the finicky beast turned back on for me.

  “You want to get changed?” Hugh asked.

  I let out an irritated sigh and shook my head and glanced at my sundress. “No, this will dry off quick enough. Thanks.”

  Hugh’s eyes held more than a trace of amusement. “You tie him up in knots, you know that, right?”

  “I doubt that very much. Look at the women he could have.” I waved my hand to indicate the entire beach. “Stunning, willing women who would be more than happy to oblige and not complain when he shooed them out the next morning. Women who won’t mind him touching them. Women who would gladly let him break their cameras.” I glared at the closest woman, who was watching the receding figure of Jet with an interest that would make a hyena look reserved when eyeing a hunk of meat. What was with these women anyway? He wasn’t that gorgeous.

  With a smile, Hugh slowly shook his head. “Yeah, that’s true. Maybe I should suggest it to him.”

  My gut clenched at the thought of Jet in bed with a woman. Like the blonde woman, Elise, his one night ‘mistake.’ I bet if she offered, he’d jump on it—her, literally.

  Hugh and I followed in Jet’s wake in silence for a few minutes before I sucked up what was left of my pride and started questioning him about his friend.

  “How long have you known Jet?”

  Hugh squinted one eye closed with thought. “Since we were about seven years old. So going on twenty years now. We lived next door to each other. Our fathers were friends. Drinking buddies.”

  “Any good stories about him growing up?” I glanced over at Hugh’s profile. His eyes were drawn and he shook his head

  “No, not really. Nothing I could tell you anyway.”

  Now that was weird. How did you grow up with someone, next door to them no less, know them for twenty years, and then say you didn’t know any sto
ries about them growing up?

  I wasn’t going to let this go. “Did he get picked on a lot, because of his name?”

  Hugh’s lips tightened. “I don’t really remember.”

  What the hell was this crap? A tingle of unease wormed through me and I felt a cool shiver, even with the sun warm on my skin, teasing at what I knew was going to be the sunburn from hell if I didn’t get into some shade soon.

  We rounded a corner and I fiddled with my camera, thinking about ways to draw the two men out. After how outgoing and gregarious they’d both been, this turn of behavior threw me for a freaking loop. Ahead of us was a touristy restaurant called the Tortilla Shell, complete with a giant sombrero hanging off the edge of the sign. Super touristy, nothing like the local cantina Jet had hidden in the day before.

  Jet was already there, charming a pretty little red head who leaned into him, batting long fake eyelashes with the subtlety of a linebacker in a lingerie store. With a shift of her shoulders, her cleavage lifted upward, giving—even me five feet away—an ample view of her fake boobs. He wasn’t really going to buy into that move, was he?

  His hand snaked around her waist, tugging her close. Apparently he was. Not that it mattered to me, not one bit. Jaw tight, I stepped up and smiled, holding out my hand.

  “Hi, I’m Jasmin Vargas.”

  The red head smirked at me, offering me her hand like a queen offers a servant a dirty plate. “Tina.” Her handshake was like gripping a limp noodle and I had to restrain myself from either admonishing her to shake hands like a grown up, or squeezing her hand until she winced. I did neither, letting her hand go and then sliding into one of the barely cushioned chairs under the umbrella table.

  “So, Jet, handsome boy, darling. Are we on for later? Say around nine?” Tina said in a stage whisper that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. She circled his neck with her arms, and pressed her body up against his, kissing him with a ferocity that made me think she might try and eat him. Like a prime cut of steak. Claiming her territory? Lord, what a ridiculous thing to do. I was no competition for those big bouncing boobs.