His San Diego Sweetheart

by Yahrah St. John

  The man was ripped!

  His chest had been surprisingly smooth and hair-free and Miranda would have loved to flick her tongue across the brown discs of his nipples.

  Sweet Jesus!

  What was wrong with her?

  She’d struggled to gulp in air as he’d walked straight toward her, never taking his eyes off her. At first, she’d thought he was going to make a pass at her. There was obvious interest lurking in those penetrating dark depths. He’d seen her giving him the eye, but instead of talking to her, he’d kept moving, leaving Miranda to wonder if it was because of her man curse. She was still hypersensitive when it came to men these days. How could she not be? She had a bad track record when it came to the opposite sex and the broken heart to prove it.

  Since her breakup with Jake, whom she’d thought was the love of her life, Miranda had had a series of unsuccessful relationships. Jake had unceremoniously kicked her to the curb in a favor of a promising career in Japan with a pretty something coworker he’d met abroad. Her rebound guy, Anthony, was a womanizer and notorious cheat. She’d caught him in bed with one of her supposed friends. The last joker, Chris, she’d dated had only been after her money, ingratiating himself into her family in the hopes he’d hit the jackpot. Thankfully, she’d gotten hip to his real agenda before she’d married him; otherwise it would have been a disaster of epic proportions.

  And now all Miranda could hear was the sound of a clock ticking in her head.

  No, it wasn’t her biological clock.

  It was the timer on her fortune, which was about to slip through her fingers if she couldn’t find a groom. She had her grandfather to thank for putting her in the predicament she was in. He’d passed away a couple of months ago and as a condition of his will, he required that his only grandchild, Miranda, marry by the age of thirty or forfeit her inheritance altogether. If she didn’t marry, the huge sum of money that was rightfully hers would go to one of her grandfather’s charities and forever vanquish Miranda’s dream of opening her own upscale bed-and-breakfast by the ocean. Or at least postpone it.

  Fury boiled inside Miranda’s veins.

  She valued her independence, but perversely she needed to be tied to a man in order to achieve her personal goals.

  But this time love would have nothing to do with it.

  Miranda didn’t know if she’d been trying too hard to find Mr. Right. Or whether she was just one of those people who were destined to be alone. Nevertheless, the rejections and lies of her former lovers had hardened her heart. She’d vowed that no man would ever hurt her again. If they were after her money, so be it.

  But it would be on her terms.

  She’d taken a leave of absence from her job as a hotel administrator in Chicago to go husband shopping. She was hoping to find a man and make him an offer he couldn’t refuse: a marriage of convenience with a huge cash payday.

  After her Adonis had come out of the sea, Miranda had left the beach and gone to a nearby café for a cool beverage. It was casually chic and she hoped offered a good drink. It wasn’t like she’d been dressed for the beach anyway. Her lace sheath dress was definitely not beach attire and as for her pumps, she was still trying to get the sand out of them.

  “Can I get you another drink?” the bartender inquired. “It’s happy hour now and cocktails are half priced.” When she didn’t answer quickly, the bartender walked away to help another customer.

  Miranda glanced down at the pomegranate martini she’d been nursing since she arrived. She’d only been in San Diego for twenty-four hours. Her best friend, Sasha Charles, had picked her up from the airport last night and deposited her at her hotel. Sasha had offered Miranda to stay at her place, but Miranda had been adamant that she didn’t want to put her friend out. That wasn’t the real reason. She didn’t want to share her real plans with Sasha because she knew Sasha wouldn’t approve. And so she’d opted to stay at a hotel instead. It was an elegantly appointed hotel that would suffice for what she hoped was a short stay.

  Miranda was hoping that she could find Mr. Right quickly enough that she would meet the one-month deadline looming over her head, before her inheritance was given away. Her parents, Tucker and Leigh, were just as upset as she was by her grandfather’s stipulation. She’d been hoping to find a loophole, but her attorneys had been unsuccessful. And now desperate times called for desperate measures.

  She was just about to order another martini when the surf god from this morning came strolling into the café. He sat down at the far end of the bar away from her and talked to the bartender. Given the easy rapport they shared, they must know each other.

  She allowed herself a few minutes to adjust to seeing him fully dressed. But this time, he was no less potent than he’d been on the beach earlier. In fact, she’d say he was more so. Her devastatingly sexy stranger had closely cropped black hair, an angular face that held bushy eyebrows and facial hair that was more than a five-o’clock shadow, but not a full beard, and the dreamiest eyes she’d ever seen. He was dressed in distressed jeans that clung to a gloriously tight behind, from what Miranda recalled, and a graphic T-shirt that hugged his defined biceps. Miranda couldn’t forget how delectable his body had looked earlier and licked her lips in remembrance.

  Why was she having such a reaction to this man?

  He clearly didn’t have a nine-to-five job. Why else would he have been at the beach when most people were at work? And here he was again, which told her that he could be exactly the sort of man who could be compelled by the promise of a hefty cash payout.

  Decision made, she slid off the bar stool with as much modesty as she could in a dress, grasped her purse dangling from the stool and moved toward her mysterious stranger. What was the worst he could do? Brush her off? He’d done that earlier and she was no worse for the wear.

  “Ahem.” Miranda coughed loudly, bringing her right hand to her mouth.

  He glanced up from his conversation, but didn’t make any effort to speak. Instead his dark eyes gleamed like glassy volcanic rock as he boldly raked her from the top of her hair to her now aching feet. Pumps were definitely not made for all the walking she’d done today. “Are you done with your appraisal?” Miranda inquired. Flirting could work to her benefit if it garnered his interest. Though he would soon find out she had an agenda.

  “Nearly.” He continued to scan her critically for several more moments before he beamed his approval and looked her dead in the eye.

  “And?”

  A perplexed look crossed his features. “And what?”

  “Do you like what you see?” Miranda inquired.

  “Yes. Yes, I do very much.”

  Miranda’s insides jangled with excitement as she slid onto the bar stool beside him. The bartender came to her immediately. “Have you decided if you’d like another?”

  “Actually, I’d like something stronger.” She turned to her companion. “What would you recommend?”

  He grinned a delicious, stomach-curling smile. “Max, get her a bourbon, same as me.” He swiveled around to face her. “It’s a bit strong, but I think you’ll like it.”

  “I like strong,” Miranda countered. “Men, that is.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  She smiled coquettishly. “It is indeed. I noticed you earlier surfing.” She inclined her head toward the beach that was about a hundred yards away.

  “And did you like what you saw?”

  She raised a brow. He’d seen her watching him, so she answered honestly. “You know I did. It was quite entertaining watching you out there.”

  “And afterward?”

  An image of him in the wet suit flashed across Miranda’s mind. “The view wasn’t bad either.”

  Her stranger laughed heartily and Miranda liked the sound of it. It was deep and masculine and the very air around her seemed electrified being next to him.

  “We
ll, aren’t you a breath of fresh air. You actually say what’s on your mind.”

  “Miranda.” She extended her hand. “Miranda Jensen.”

  “Vic Elliott.” His grip was strong and his hands were massive, swallowing her small ones in his. “Pleasure to meet you, Miranda. And here’s your drink.” He motioned to the bar where the bartender had placed her drink along with another bourbon for him. He held up his glass and she did the same. “Cheers.”

  He tapped his glass against hers and watched her take a sip. His gaze was so compelling that Miranda had to focus on sipping her drink. It was as strong as he said it would be, but she needed liquid courage. “I like it.”

  “A lady after my own heart.”

  “And would there be any other ladies of your heart?” she inquired. Better she know now what she was up against than waste her time with a man who wasn’t available.

  He gave her a sideward glance. “There’s no one special.”

  “How about some dinner?” Miranda inquired. “Since I’m new to San Diego, you choose.”

  “Would love to.”

  * * *

  Vaughn liked Miranda Jensen. She was open and direct. He appreciated her honesty. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to put all her cards on the table. He liked that she’d approached him in the café. She seemed unconcerned about what he did for a living or how much money he made. Twice today, she’d seen him, first at the beach and now at the café. She probably thought he was a drifter she could have a one-night stand with while on a business trip to San Diego. And that was just fine with him. She was a fine-looking woman and he wouldn’t mind getting better acquainted with her. In or out of bed.

  After they finished their bourbons, Vaughn decided to take Miranda to a local seafood spot that had the best crab claws in town. Rather than drive his Ferrari and call out the fact that he was loaded, Vaughn opted for an Uber. When he was getting to know a woman and to weed out gold diggers only interested in his money, he usually gave minimal details about himself, including the name Vic Elliott. In the Navy, his men had nicknamed him Vic and it stuck, so Vaughn used it along with an abbreviated version of his last name.

  “Hope you don’t mind getting dirty?” Vaughn said as the Uber driver drove them to the restaurant. His thigh was inches from hers and he could feel himself getting further and further turned on by this woman and they hadn’t even touched yet.

  “I don’t mind,” Miranda said. “In fact, the dirtier the better. Though I do wish I’d opted to change clothes.” She glanced down at her attire.

  “Why?” Vaughn asked, glancing in her direction. “You look beautiful.”

  “But a bit overdressed for the beach, right?” She laughed.

  He smiled. “A bit—that’s what makes you so adorable.” He reached across the short distance between them and tucked a wayward strand of hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear. When she glanced up at him, her eyes were filled with desire. Vaughn wanted to sweep his mouth across hers and taste her, but the car came to a stop.

  “We’re here!” she said brightly.

  Yes, we are, Vaughn thought. If the car hadn’t come to a halt, it was a certainty he would have acted on the rampant desire he felt for Miranda.

  * * *

  He’d been about to kiss her; Miranda was absolutely sure of that fact. The way he’d looked at her with those searing dark eyes that seemed to read into her soul told her so. And she would have let him. Hadn’t her heart been hammering in her chest, just sitting beside him, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder? Even though they’d only known each other barely an hour. She would have let this handsome and sexy stranger have his way with her.

  What would that have been like? Would his kiss have been soft and sweet? Or hard and hungry?

  She needed to get control of herself.

  She wasn’t here for romantic entanglements. She needed a husband—and quick. This man looked like he wasn’t desperate for money, but wouldn’t mind some extra cash in the bank. And it didn’t hurt that he wasn’t bad on the eyes either. Not that her marriage would be a real one. She had no intentions of consummating the marriage. They would only stay together long enough to ensure her inheritance before going their separate ways. But first, she had to ask him.

  After exiting the car, Vic led her inside the seafood restaurant with his hand lightly resting on the small of her back as he propelled her forward. It was in no way untoward, but Miranda felt it all the same. He kept it there until they were seated and he’d scooted her chair underneath her before taking his own.

  “You’re quite the gentleman.”

  He grinned. “My mama taught me how to treat a lady.”

  “Sounds like she’s a wise woman,” Miranda offered.

  “She’s an amazing woman.” The way he said it told Miranda that he was close with his mother. A man who had a good relationship with his mama was always a good sign.

  After the waiter filled their water glasses and took their drink orders, Vic immediately begin firing questions at her. “So where are you from, Miranda?”

  “Chicago.”

  “And what do you do there?”

  “I work in the hotel industry,” she responded.

  “And what brings you to the West Coast?”

  “I have a pressing business matter that I’ve put off for far too long and now it requires my attention.”

  He laughed and shrugged off her evasiveness. “That’s rather vague, but you don’t have to share. I understand the need for anonymity.”

  “And what is it that you do?” Miranda inquired. If he was going to put her on the hot seat, why shouldn’t she return the favor?

  “I used to be in the Navy, but now I surf.”

  “Why the Navy?”

  “If you couldn’t tell, I love the ocean and the sea. Quite frankly I’ve never felt at home anywhere else except on the water. It’s a part of me.”

  “I’ve a laundry list of places I’d love to go to, but I imagined you’ve traveled the world extensively while in the Navy.”

  “It did afford me certain luxuries, but we usually weren’t there long enough to truly take in the culture. Now Chicago, on the other hand, I’d steer clear of. I can’t imagine living in the Midwest and having to deal with all that cold and snow. How do you do it?”

  Miranda shrugged. “I suppose you get used to it. Have you always lived in California?”

  Vic nodded. “It’s close to the ocean, just how I like it.”

  The waiter returned with their drinks and they continued happily chatting about Vic’s travels until dinner came. Miranda was a good sport when the waiter put bibs on both her and Vic so their clothes wouldn’t get soiled. A platter of succulent crab claws with mustard sauce and Lyonnaise potatoes were placed in front of them.

  “You have to try this.” Vic reached for a crab claw and after dipping it in the mustard concoction, he leaned over the table and fed it to Miranda. Her eyes grew large at the romantic gesture and she toyed with the idea of not accepting, but in the end, she grasped Vic’s large hand in hers and bit into the crab, taking a large chunk into her mouth.

  Vic sat back in his chair, but his eyes never lost hers as a sigh of ecstasy escaped her lips at the sweetness of the crab meat and tanginess of the mustard sauce. Desire zinged through her and Miranda knew a blush had to be tinting her cheeks.

  “That’s delicious...”

  “I know, right?” The tone of his vice was jovial, but the look on Vic’s face was anything but. It was a hungry look. A look that told Miranda she’d awakened the beast. She watched him place a small heap of potatoes on her plate. And thank God for it. Miranda was completely tongue-tied. She’d known she was attracted to Vic. And it scared her. If she chose this man—there was no way theirs would be a marriage of convenience.

  Chapter 2

  “I had a lovely
evening,” Miranda said when Vic insisted on seeing her back to the hotel and walking her to her room. She knew what he was up to. He wanted to get in her pants and as much as that scenario would ease the sexual tension that had been flying between them throughout the night, it wouldn’t solve her current situation.

  Vic was a viable candidate for a husband, but she couldn’t let her hormones run away with her, despite how much she wanted to. And boy, did she want this man something fierce. She’d love to have free and unfettered access to roam her hands up and down his chiseled body, to relish him taking her to new heights, because her intuition told her Vic knew how to please a woman in the bedroom. All that patience waiting for the perfect wave. There was no way he was a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of man. He’d take his time exploring every sensual side of her nature.

  They walked in silence after exiting the elevator. Neither of them too keen on talking. Even though they’d done just that for hours. They’d actually shut down the restaurant, only leaving when it closed. Miranda had thoroughly enjoyed her evening with Vic much more than she would have guessed when she slid off her bar stool at the beachside café and introduced herself.

  And now they were here.

  At her door.

  Miranda took an extraordinary amount of time fumbling to find the hotel card, but when she did, she didn’t use it. Instead, she spun around to face Vic. He’d moved closer to her during that short time and now he was a breath away from her, a tantalizing breath.

  “Vic...”

  He pulled her into his arms and she was surprised when she didn’t object. Instead, she allowed him to come closer and mold his body to hers until every inch of their lower bodies were touching. Then his head lowered until his forehead was touching hers. Miranda’s breath caught in her chest.

  God, how she wished she was one of those women who could bed a man and walk away the next day, but she wasn’t. Furthermore, her situation didn’t allow her to have a weak moment and have a night of passion with Vic. She had to think with a clear head and not with other body parts.