Sun-Kissed

by Sierra Dafoe

  Julia laughed, winked back, and sucked at the straws. She rather liked the way Michael’s cheeks warmed interestingly as he watched.

  Chuckling indulgently, her prince slid his arms around her waist, speaking to Michael over her shoulder. “Michael, have my car brought around front.”

  “Yessir, Mr. Nova.”

  Still grinning dazedly, Michael reached for the bar phone as her prince turned her back around to face him, drawing her close.

  “I promise you, Jules,” he murmured, bending his head to her ear, “this will be a night to remember.” Julia’s eyes fluttered shut at the anticipatory heat in that whisper. She could feel his unslaked erection pressing against her warm belly.

  “And unlike Kyle, I always keep my promises.”

  Chapter Four

  “Always?”

  Julia curled against the passenger seat, studying him as he drove. God, he was so far beyond handsome it wasn’t even funny. With that wheat-blond hair and those stunning features, he would have taken any woman’s breath away. Even the tiny hairs on the backs of his tanned hands, she noted, were a light, burnished gold.

  He smiled slightly, aware of her scrutiny. “As sure as the sun rises in the east.”

  “That’s pretty much always,” she admitted, and he nodded in mock solemnity.

  “Exactly.”

  They were in his car, which had turned out to be a sleek, pearl-white Mercedes. A very high-end Mercedes, judging from the velvety-soft leather seats and the electronics on the dash. Which made him rich as well as impossibly good-looking. Go figure.

  What she couldn’t figure, though, was what he was doing with her. It didn’t make sense, honestly—okay, a lot of things about this didn’t make sense—but at the same time, she couldn’t deny the way she was feeling at the moment.

  So maybe she should just go with it. What the hell, right?

  At least she had a name to go with that regal profile now. Nova. It suited him somehow. Even in the faint illumination from the dashboard, his hair glimmered slightly, a golden corona that framed his tanned, strong-boned face like a halo.

  He was no angel, though—and for that, Julia was glad. She grinned, still totally amazed at herself. God, what she’d just done—what they’d just done—had been incredible. Mind-blowing. Her whole body felt suffused with warmth, delightfully satiated…

  “So… Do you have a first name?” Embarrassment stung her again as soon as she asked. Oh, way to go, Jules. You don’t even know his name.

  His glance this time was inscrutable—but there was a strange, playful flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Do you need to know it?”

  “Well, I’m certainly not calling you ‘mister’ all night.”

  A flash of white teeth as he grinned again. “Call me anything you like.”

  So long as you call me.

  Damn, this speaking/not speaking thing took some getting used to. “Bloody hard to do when I don’t have your number,” she groused.

  “Oh, you’ve got my number, all right.” He smiled in appreciation of his own double entendre, and Julia rolled her eyes. Yeah, he was full of himself, definitely–it hadn’t been that funny. But it was, she had to admit, a nice compliment anyway.

  Settling back comfortably in her seat, she said, “Fine. How about George? I can call you George.”

  One eyebrow shot up dubiously.

  “Hey, I like George,” she said. “Okay. How about Henry?” His lip curled in disdain. “Albert. Bob. Hell, I don’t know… Xenu.” He chuckled at that, shaking his head. Throwing her arms out in frustration, Julia demanded, “Then give me a hint here, sonny-boy!”

  “That. I like that one.”

  Her mind hit Rewind quickly. “You’re kidding.” He shook his head, that same inscrutable smile playing about his lips.

  Sonny. She shook her head in disbelief. “Ye gods. Sonny Nova.”

  “Is there a problem?” he asked, all innocence.

  “It makes you sound like a used-car salesman. Or a second-rate mobster.” She sighed, exasperated, as he continued to grin. “Fine. Sonny it is. So where are you taking me, Sonny?”

  “Anywhere I like.”

  His words were accompanied by a wickedly graphic image, and Julia’s exasperation derailed like a train wreck. So did her thoughts. God help her, she was turning into a nympho and he hadn’t even been inside her yet!

  Yes, I have. And will again.

  Only this time in the flesh. The oh-so-masculine flesh. Everything inside her quivered at the mere thought.

  Although she still had no idea how he’d made love to her on the balcony—or at least, how he’d made her think he was making love to her. Okay, sure, thoughts were one thing—if anyone had ever asked her before this if she believed in telepathy, she probably would have snorted, but she could go with it. Seeing is believing, as the saying went.

  But how in God’s name could somebody make you think they were touching you without, you know, touching you?

  Maybe she shouldn’t examine it too closely, she told herself. Maybe she shouldn’t examine any of this too closely. Gift horses and all that. But there were things here, she knew, that she definitely wasn’t getting.

  Which part, Jules? The part where he can read your thoughts? The part where he seems to know everything about you? What about the part about what on earth this devastatingly handsome man is doing with you anyway, huh?

  What was he doing with her? He was gorgeous. Obviously rich. Powerful too, judging by the way he carried himself, the self-assurance that radiated in his every action. What could he possibly want with her?

  With each question her heart sank lower, her shoulders hunching defeatedly. It was all just too implausible—look at him; he could have movie stars falling all over him. Cover models hanging on his every word. He wasn’t interested in her. He couldn’t be. She wasn’t young or gorgeous or stacked like a stripper…

  “Stop the car,” she mumbled.

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so, okay?” she snapped. She felt sick, her stomach churning with incipient humiliation. He was playing her—he had to be. There was no other rational explanation. “Damn it, I said stop the car!”

  Did he sigh slightly? Julia rather thought he did. She stared straight ahead, refusing to even look at him as he put on the signal and pulled the Mercedes over to the curb.

  They were still on Ocean Boulevard, up past the boardwalk, and the beach to the right of them was empty and dark. The ocean gleamed in the moonlight, each wave and swell chased with its own delicate line of silver. Julia gazed at it, biting her lip.

  Already, she regretted her outburst. God, what was wrong with her? Why did she have to dissect everything? Why couldn’t she simply keep her mouth shut and enjoy a night’s romp and leave it at that? Who cared if he was playing her—it was better than nothing, right?

  That’s the same thinking that kept you with Kyle for so long.

  For the life of her she didn’t know if the thought had been Sonny’s or her own. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering slightly as she watched the waves.

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you, Jules?” Sonny’s voice was low and gentle. She dropped her gaze to her lap, where her folded hands were clenching and unclenching as if trying to strangle her own doubts.

  “Why me?” she whispered.

  “Why you, what?”

  God, how could he ask her that? She laughed unhappily, letting her tears escape to roll down her cheeks. “Why are you interested in me? I’m not anything special. I’m not gorgeous. I’m not skinny. I’m not even all that young anymore.”

  “Oh, Jules.” A strong arm encircled her shoulders, pulling her toward him. Unable to resist the offered comfort, she closed her eyes and let her head droop against the solid strength of his shoulder. Heat radiated off him, steady and soothing.
“You really don’t know, do you?”

  She shook her head wordlessly and felt his lips brush her forehead, as soft as the words whispering in her mind.

  If only you could see what I see.

  Raising her head, she looked up at him. His gaze was as warm as his body, solid and reassuring. “Julia, you have no idea how beautiful you are.”

  “Oh, right,” she snorted, swiping at her tears. “You could have women about a thousand times prettier than me.”

  “I’m not talking about pretty.” Capturing her hand, he wrapped it in his. “I’m talking about the whole package. How many women would have had the courage to go somewhere alone, determined to shake off a broken heart? How many who have had their hearts broken have turned bitter, unable to reach out for happiness even when it’s right there in front of them? How many would have been brave enough to follow their desires, to walk into that bar tonight, hoping to find me?”

  His words were more intoxicating than the drinks she’d had earlier. They swirled inside her, making her giddy, unsure of her emotional footing. The woman he was describing—could that really be her? Was she brave? Courageous? It hardly seemed possible, and yet…

  And yet the warmth in his eyes told her he meant every word. Julia swallowed, trying to expand her view of herself enough to encompass what he was saying. The effort made her dizzy.

  “Besides, believe me, you are young, Julia.” That teasing twinkle in the depths of his eyes was back—the one that said he knew something she didn’t.

  Probably a lot of things, she thought with a twinge of pique. This whole situation confused the hell out of her, while he sat there, calm as a king—one who was, in her opinion, getting far too much amusement from her confusion.

  Pulling herself upright, she demanded, “All right, then, how old are you?”

  “Old enough, Julia.” The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened as he grinned. “Old enough.”

  And just like that, the air in the car was taut with a tension that held her spellbound again, her nerve endings humming at the sensuous promise in those few words. Heat flooded her groin, and her breasts felt suddenly fuller, heavier, aching for that damn seductive touch of his…

  He smiled wickedly. “Are you still feeling sick?”

  “N-no.” She was feeling something, all right, but sick decidedly wasn’t it.

  “Good.” He turned forward again and put the car in gear, then covered her hand with his own as they pulled away from the curb. “Then let’s go locate your misplaced self-confidence.”

  How exactly Sonny planned on doing that, she had no idea. But right at the moment, she honestly didn’t care—especially when his hand slid to her thigh.

  They turned left, away from the ocean, heading up toward the strip. Julia tilted her head against the car window so she could gaze up at the stars. They were hazy here, dim and distant behind the glow of lights. She watched them, acutely aware of Sonny’s hand on her thigh, stroking it lightly, his fingers trailing over the silken fabric of her dress.

  How could this be happening to her? Was she really that special, that beautiful? It seemed impossible to believe, and yet here she was, sitting next to a man who was to all appearances completely taken with her, a man so handsome he made her want to rip her own clothes off and crawl all over him.

  He didn’t glance over at her, but she could tell by the way his lips quirked that he’d caught her thought. For once, she just plain didn’t care—she was sick of being embarrassed by her attraction to him.

  “Good. You shouldn’t be.” He squeezed her leg, then raised her hand to his lips briefly. “You should never be embarrassed by your own desires.”

  Yeah, well… It was a nice thought, but c’mon. Look at what they’d just done, for God’s sake. Engaging in oral sex on a bar—a very public bar—definitely rated a twinge or two of embarrassment.

  “Why?”

  “Damn it, Sonny!” She glared at him. It was even more embarrassing to have him peeking in on her every thought.

  He grinned—unapologetically, she noted. “You’re avoiding my question.”

  “Why?” she echoed. “Seriously? Why should I be embarrassed that I just did two total strangers on top of a hotel bar? Are you really asking me that?”

  “Yes.” His grin had faded, but his gaze hadn’t lost one jot of its intensity. Christ, he was serious. As if crawling around on a mahogany bar should be no more remarkable than reading a newspaper.

  “Oh, and I suppose you think girls should do that all the time,” she groused. Yeah, you and every other man in America.

  He surprised her by shaking his head. “Not at all. I don’t think anyone should do that if they don’t want to. But, Jules, why are you so convinced it’s bad to want to?”

  “Because,” she muttered mulishly.

  “Because why?”

  “Because it makes me feel like a slut, okay?”

  “Are you?”

  “Hey!” Yanking her hand from his, she slapped his biceps. Hard. It didn’t even give. God, she couldn’t wait to see him naked. Which was a hell of a thing to be thinking when she was pissed at him.

  He glanced at her mildly, his left hand steady on the steering wheel. “Well, are you?”

  “I thought you knew so much about me,” she jeered. “You tell me.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think,” he answered, reclaiming her hand. “What matters is what you think, Jules.”

  Yeah, no shit, she thought reflexively.

  Except did she believe that? Did she really? Because if she did…then why should it matter so much what other people thought? What Kyle thought? Wasn’t that exactly what she’d been thinking earlier—that it really didn’t matter what that shithead thought of her?

  Maybe she did believe that, after all. Or maybe she was at least starting to.

  So, did having sex with two strangers on a bar top make her, in her own personal opinion, a slut? She pondered the question and decided the answer was no. Partly because, now that she thought about it, she really didn’t know what that word even meant. Someone who’d sleep with anybody, she guessed, which definitely was not her. Someone who’d do anything anybody wanted. Someone who didn’t respect herself…

  Ugh. That thought took her just a little too close to the way she’d behaved with Kyle. She sure as hell hadn’t shown a lot of self-respect in that relationship—which actually, now that she thought about it, struck her as a hell of a lot more slut-like than even being the middle section of one seriously yummy three-person sandwich had been.

  Because she’d done that for herself. Because she’d wanted to. And ya know what? She didn’t think one bit less of herself for it.

  In fact, she thought with a very private grin, she actually felt kinda proud.

  Damn, that had been hot.

  That’s better, Sonny murmured, lifting her hand to his mouth again briefly before letting go to turn on the blinker. “Here we are.”

  They were pulling into the parking lot of what appeared to be a nightclub, one she hadn’t noticed before on her sojourns up and down King’s Highway. It sat back from the street, lit by muted accent lights, with a white gravel walkway meandering between flowering bushes to the door. Lush foliage screened the handsome one-story building, with statues of what looked like Greek gods tucked here and there among the shrubbery. The sign above the door said Julio’s in an elegant white script on a burgundy background, along with some white graphic she couldn’t at first make out.

  “Nice,” she said, looking it over as Sonny pulled into a parking space and shut off the Mercedes. Then the flowing lines of the graphic design sank in, and she jolted upright. “No. Hell no.”

  “What?” He glanced at her, one brow raised inquiringly.

  Julia bristled at his obtuseness. “No way am I going to some sleazy strip joint with you.”

 
Sonny chuckled, the deep sound thrilling along her spine. She fought its effects as she glared at him. He leaned closer, nuzzling her—and, furious as she was, she couldn’t repress a shiver of delight at the feel of his warm breath on her neck. “It’s not a sleazy strip joint, Jules,” he whispered. “It’s your strip joint.”

  “What?”

  He smiled and nodded at the building. “Look again.”

  Forehead wrinkled in confusion, she did.

  Julia’s.

  Impossible, and yet…

  And yet that was exactly what the sign read. Picked out in a graceful script that matched the simple white outline of a woman’s hip and thigh. The design was elegant. Understated. Even classy. Just a swash of white paint, tracing lush curves with an artist’s appreciation…

  Whoa. She froze, staring. She knew those curves—intimately.

  “So, do you like it?” She could feel Sonny looking at her, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small smile.

  She wasn’t going to answer that. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to ask how he’d magicked a nightclub with her name above the door into existence. How was any of this even remotely possible?

  Ignoring that question—because she was absolutely certain Sonny would simply duck it again if she asked—she folded her arms across her chest and demanded, “Exactly how is this supposed to help me find my misplaced confidence?”

  Sonny chuckled and opened his car door. Coming around to her side, he helped her out of the Mercedes, smiling down at her with the lazy, canny intentness of a feline. “You remember how you felt, earlier this evening, when you were getting dressed?”

  “I… How did you know about that?” The look he shot her as he took her arm was slightly impatient. Julia gave an exasperated laugh and fell into step beside him. “Okay, you’re right—I should be used to the weirdness of all this by now. Yes, I remember.”

  “And the way you felt walking down the street this evening?” he asked. She nodded, recalling the sound of her heels clicking on the pavement, the tingling sense of anticipation, the extra wiggle she’d put into her walk for no damn reason at all…