Captivated

by Scarlett Avery

  Miranda brings her car to a screeching halt in the driveway. She’s barely cut the engine before she steps out in a flash. By the energetic way she opens her door, I’d say she’s pretty ticked off that I got here before she did. She stomps my way with her mouth gaping and her eyes wide open. Before she even speaks her hands are already gesticulating in the air.

  “What the hell?” she asks incredulously.

  “Well, it’s good to see you again, sweetheart.”

  She flashes me a suspicious side glance. “Did you fly here?”

  “Nope.” I shake my head.

  “Didn’t you have to deal with traffic?”

  “Not really.”

  “How can that be? It’s rush hour in LA, for God’s sake. Other than Mumbai in India, this is as hellish as it gets.” Her voice rises by an octave at that last sentence.

  “Only for those who don’t know shortcuts.” I grin proudly.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “What are you doing here anyways?”

  “Cute car,” I say, ignoring her question and checking out her metallic blue ride.

  “I love my car,” she snaps.

  “Down, girl. Don’t take it the wrong way. The Volkswagen Beetle is a good car. Those Germans know what they’re doing. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

  “So you’re using my car as a distraction and a way to avoid answering my question?” She places her hand on her hip, tilts her head to the right and bats those long eyelashes at me. I’m not sure she realizes how sexy she is right now. Damn, she’s feisty.

  “We have a date starting in”—I pause, bend my arm, drop my eyes down and pull at my sleeve to reveal my Hublot watch—”thirty minutes exactly.” I meet her stunned gaze. “I hate being tardy. I figured I’d wait here for you.”

  “What’s the point, Hunter?” She straightens her shoulders and pushes her magnificent breasts at me.

  I force myself to focus on her beautiful amber eyes and not get distracted by what she’s hiding underneath her button-down pale pink blouse. “We need to talk.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” she retorts.

  I push myself off my SUV and take a step towards her. “Miranda, if you thought not answering my numerous text messages and phone calls was going to deter me, you’re wrong. It takes a whole lot more than that for me to back down.”

  “Hunter—”

  I raise my hand, preventing her from finishing her sentence. “No. You need to hear me out. Don’t tell me you don’t have questions about my relationship with your new boss.”

  She closes her eyes and shakes her head vigorously. “I made a bad call and now I’m paying for it.”

  “Is that what you call Saturday?” She’s not fooling me. “You must be kidding me,” I continue. “I remember distinctly how you melted in my arms. It wasn’t a bad call when you came screaming your head off all over my tongue.” Don’t even go there with me.

  Her shoulders collapse. “I don’t know how else to explain this bizarre turn of events. A few days ago I didn’t even know who you were and now you show up at a meeting at my new job and I find out that you live with my boss. If this isn’t bad luck, I don’t know what is,” she says, throwing her hands up in the air impatiently.

  I look to my right before meeting her gaze again. “Listen, I agree. We keep bumping into each other in the most peculiar way, but we can’t leave things like this between us. We can’t go inside the house without jeopardizing your job and we can’t keep talking about this in the middle of the street without your neighbor”—I point at the house across the road—”Mrs. Silverstein poking her nose into our business. We need a more private spot.”

  She dances from one foot to another while biting the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know, Hunter. Being in a private setting with you last Saturday night is exactly what got me into this mess. Pushing this”—she stops, purses her lips in the most frustrating way before waving her finger between the two of us—”whatever this is, any further seems to be such a bad idea. Maybe we should just leave it at that.”

  I don’t think so. “Why don’t you get into my SUV, let’s drive to the beach and let’s have an open conversation.”

  “I’m not—”

  “I’m warning you now. I’m not willing to accept no for an answer.”

  She rakes her eyes down the length of my body before speaking again. “Are you telling me you’re going to go to the beach in your eight-hundred-dollar designer suit?” She laughs.

  “It’s five thousand dollars.”

  My response puts an end to her amusement. “Five thousand?” Her eyes are nearly bulging out of her head in bewilderment. “That’s how much your suit costs?” From her expression, I’m not sure if she’s frightened or impressed.

  “Yup. I’m very good at what I do, Miranda. My tenacity and unwillingness to give up are my trademarks. So if you think I’m walking away, I’m not.” I shake my head to emphasize my point. “You can climb into my SUV on your own accord or I can fling you over my shoulder and cause a scene. The choice is yours.” I narrow my eyes, already expecting her defiant answer.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  I tilt my head to the side and lift my eyebrow to let her know I’m willing to stop at nothing to have my way.

  “Fine,” she huffs. “Considering I might end up losing my new job at Food TV once my boss finds out I made out with the boyfriend she shares a home with, I might as well hold onto this housesitting gig.”

  “See,” I say, waving my finger at her, “that statement right there is why we need to talk. Now get in,” I command, walking past her to open the passenger door.

  * * *

  We drive the ten minutes to the beach in silence. Miranda obstinately focuses on the road. We could duke it out right now, but the short drive will calm us down. I park strategically to allow us to have a full view of the ocean. I want to make sure we’re able to admire the horizon as the sky changes from blue to a kaleidoscope of warm shades. This is my favorite moment of the day. I don’t care how pissed off you are or how bad a day you’ve had, no one remains impervious to a gorgeous sunset—its warmth washes away all of your troubles.

  Runners are exercising, dog walkers are greeting each other as they stroll by, some parents are coaxing toddlers into taking their first few steps while others are pushing strollers and a few people are sitting on benches simply enjoying the last few hours of daylight. It’s so packed, you’d never think it was early evening on a Monday. No wonder LA is renowned for being laid-back.

  Okay, she’s still not talking to me. I wait a few minutes hoping Miranda might turn and look my way, but after a while I realize I’m going to have to sweeten the pot, so I get out of the vehicle. I walk to the trunk, pop it open, slip out of my designer jacket, hang it on a spare hanger I always keep handy, loosen my silk tie and pull it over my head, happy to finally ditch this exec look, before undoing the first three buttons of my white shirt. Much better. I reach out for a big white plastic bag I hid before rushing to meet Miranda. When I get back into the driver’s seat, my little fiery, curvy, petite bombshell is intrigued by what I’m holding in my hands. I’ve got your attention now.

  I turn my body towards her and prop my knee against the cup holder partition. “You’re going to have a really hard time being upset at me while resisting the temptation of sinking your teeth in the absolute best donuts in LA,” I say, waggling my eyebrows as I untie the bag sitting on my thigh, releasing the most delicious aroma of sugar, butter and vanilla. I’m fully aware I’m not playing fair, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I knew the minute Riley made that remark about us living together that I’d have a hard time getting Miranda to listen to my side of the story. These donuts should play in my favor.

  Miranda glances at the bag I’m holding up like a prize before meeting my eyes. I can immediately tell I’ve won her over. “You had time to stop by Prime Glaze?”

  “Oh, yeah. Do you want one or should I eat them all myself?”


  I’m rewarded with a huge smile and just like that her whole demeanor changes. From my experience, the best way to win a woman over is with decadent sweets and mind-blowing sex. I’m pretty good at offering both.

  “All glazed?”

  “Is there any other flavor?” I answer playfully, sticking my hand inside the bag. “Voilà,” I cheer as I present her with a small sphere of sugary goodness. She licks her lips in anticipation at the sight of the tantalizing treat. Shit. What I’d give to devour her lips right now, but I need to remember why we’re here.

  “Thank you.” She grabs the donut from my hand and bites into it, letting out sensual moans. Her eyes are still on me. Damn. “These are insane. No, scratch that, they’re sick,” she says in the most languorous way.

  It’s cruelty—no, torture—to ask any red-blooded man to sit here and watch a sexy woman take so much unbridled pleasure from eating something other than his cock.

  “You like them that much, huh?” I stick my hand inside the bag and pull out my own donut.

  “Nothing even compares to these,” she answers before taking another bite. She chews so animatedly and with so much gusto, I find myself mesmerized by what would ordinarily be a very mundane act.

  “You don’t say.” Without even thinking, I reach out with my thumb to scoop up some of the glaze from the corner of her mouth. I bring my thumb up and hold it out to her mouth. The passion I read in her eyes is such a turn-on. She opens wide and I stick my finger into her mouth. She obediently sucks off every last bit of the glaze. Good girl.

  Slowly, she becomes aware of the intimate moment and blushes. “I think you wanted to come here so that we could talk, right?” she breathes.

  “Right.” Back to reality, Hunter. “You have to admit that the fact that we keep bumping into each other is a sign.”

  “Trust me, if the shoe were on the other foot and you were in my place, you’d think it was more a curse than a sign.”

  “You call a man who brings you to the brink of ecstasy and back a curse?” I ask.

  “I’m not talking about that and you know it.”

  “How am I supposed to know, Miranda? You seem to be pissed off at me, as if I ambushed you today. Trust me, I was as shocked as you were. I had no idea you were going to be at that meeting. Heck, I didn’t even know what your new job was about. Remember, you were the one who wanted to keep your new job under wraps because you didn’t want to jinx things. It’s an eerie coincidence, but that’s all it is.”

  She sighs. “I guess you’re right. You’re the last person I ever imagined walking into today. I’m more upset at myself for making out with you only to find out you have a thing with my new boss.”

  “Miranda, let’s get one thing straight. There’s nothing going on between Riley and I—and there never has been. I’ve known her since I was sixteen years old. She’s my best friend’s little sister. I might have had a tiny crush on her when we were teenagers, but that was a very long time ago. As much as I love Riley, she has a way of delivering things that can sometimes be misconstrued.”

  “I think she was clear when she said you lived together.” Miranda sits back against her seat. Suddenly, the donut she’s holding in her hands becomes a fascinating object.

  It’s time to get this over with. “Do you remember when I told you I own a ranch in Colorado with my best friend, Jake?”

  She nods, but her eyes are still focused straight in front of her. “Yes, I do.”

  “We own several hundred acres of land on a massive property. A little over four years ago, Riley’s husband left her with a brood of young kids. You don’t have to be around Riley for very long to know that she is a very strong personality, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, after her deadbeat husband reneged on his responsibilities as a father and husband, she was determined to make it on her own, but after a few months she was struggling. Unable to see his sister so vulnerable, Jake demanded she move in with us.”

  “Oh.” I must’ve struck a chord because finally Miranda turns and looks at me.

  “For the first few months she lived in the house Jake and I shared at the time. We had a great living arrangement prior to Riley’s arrival, but it didn’t take us long to realize that if we were going to live with Jake’s boisterous sister and her four rambunctious kids, we were going to kill each other. Jake came up with the idea of building different houses on our property so we can each have our own private space. It took about eight months to complete this ambitious project, but now Jake, Riley and I each live in our own house. So technically, yes, Riley and I live together, but not under the same roof.”

  She looks at me, surprised. “So you guys aren’t dating?”

  “No.” I hope my monosyllable answer gets my point across fast.

  “Really?”

  “I’d never lie about something like that, Miranda. There’s nothing remotely intimate going on between Riley and I. Please believe me when I say that.”

  She nods and rewards me with a shy smile. “I’m relieved to find out the two of you aren’t involved.” Suddenly she looks worried again.

  “What now?” I ask.

  “Hunter, it still doesn’t change the fact that this is a very awkward situation.”

  “It shouldn’t be, Miranda.”

  “How can you say that?”

  I comb my fingers through my hair and breathe in deep through my nostrils before answering her. “What we share is between us. It has nothing to do with Riley or your job as her assistant. The reason you feel this discombobulated is because you simply didn’t expect to see me today… well, not in that setting.”

  “Yeah.” She ponders. After a few long seconds, she finally nods in agreement. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I stand by my words.” I pause for a beat, reach out, place my two fingers under her chin and I tilt her head until our eyes are locked. “I want to know more about you.”

  Pink floods her cheeks and she blinks three quick times. “Really? You still do?”

  “Absolutely. If things have changed for you between Saturday night and now, just come out and say it. But don’t use the fact that I have a connection with Riley as a shield.”

  Miranda looks at me with the most goofy, dimpled smile I’ve ever seen. “I’d like to get to know more about you too, Hunter.”

  “Looks like we’re on the same page, sweetie.” I can’t help but grin back at her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Miranda

  Hunter is staring at me with that intense gaze that does things to me. Hearing him say he actually wants to see me again makes my insides coil with joy. But from the corner of my eye, I catch a tall blonde leggy Amazon—the same type that littered the after-party gala the other night—and my insecurities kick in. As thrilled as I am, there’s still something nagging at me.

  If it’s not Riley, there must be someone else on the side. I mean, how can an Adonis like Hunter be unattached? He’s such a masterful lover. If he can do those earth-shattering things with his fingers and his tongue, I can only imagine what he can do with his cock. It makes no sense that women wouldn’t find him as irresistible as I do. Sure, he wants to get to know more about me, but how many other women has he said that to this week? I’m torn between going with the flow or asking what’s on my mind. I go for the latter.

  “Hunter?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A guy like you wanting to get to know a woman like me… it’s a bit surreal, really. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but it does beg a question,” I blurt.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I can’t believe no other woman in LA has caught your eye.” I’m not certain I intended for it to come out quite like this, but I guess there’s no going back now.

  He furrows his brows as if he doesn’t quite understand what I’m boldly asking. After a moment he smiles. “I told you when we met at the market, I’m single.”

  I nod in recollection. “Perhaps, but i
t doesn’t mean you’re not… you know… enjoying a different woman every night.”

  He laughs. “I never said I was celibate. I’m simply not seeing anyone in particular right now.”

  “I see,” I say cautiously. I’m not certain if his words are supposed to bring me comfort or not. On one hand, I’d be a fool to think this guy is a virgin, and on the other he is being upfront about not dating.

  “I could turn the tables on you as well. You said you were single, but how do I know you’re not breaking men’s hearts left, right and center? I have a sneaky suspicion there’s a vixen hiding under that shy shell.”

  Hardly, but you do a great job at bringing her out.

  “You’re too funny.” I laugh, hoping to deflate his compliment.

  I still find all this impossible to believe. I mean, look at him. I lower my eyes, taking him all in—his chest as it widens and retracts with his slow steadying breaths under his crisp white shirt that must cost more than my entire wardrobe, his muscular legs that can hardly be contained under his well-cut pants, his tanned skin, his well-defined jaw covered in dark stubble and his strong large hands relaxed on his thighs—holy Jesus, those fingers should be classified as weapons of seduction. His lips part slightly under my inspection. Sweet Lord. I desperately want those lips on me again. Silence thickens between us inside his SUV. My desire for him must be written all over my face. I’ve never been able to put on a poker face and I blame my Italian heritage.

  Hunter’s eyes darken in understanding and he reaches out to cup my cheek. Unwillingly, I whimper as I lean into his big strong hand. A gorgeous, deadly smile tugs at the side of his mouth. “See anything you like?”

  I swallow hard, closing my eyes for a fraction of a second, saying only, “Very much so.” I can’t even believe those words came out of my mouth.

  He winces slightly. “What are we going to do about it?” he asks in a deep, provocative voice. He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. He leans in and drops a short soft kiss against my lips. God. Visions of Hunter’s head between my legs and memories of his warm suction and growling vibrations, and of all the naughty things he did to me at the gala, wash over me and make me ravenous. I want way more than just a peck. I’m like a starved woman whose only salvation is her lover’s hungry, demanding kisses.