Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
But I didn’t want to sit. I’d done too much of that today. I wanted to explore this incredible house. Though it still felt like a dream, I wanted to make the most out of my time here.
That thought drew me toward the far side of the vast room. There was a row of doors, each one covered by pale, gauzy curtains that blew in the breeze. The air was warm and carried the same salty scent I’d noticed outside.
In my eagerness to see the water, I set my purse down on a console table and grasped the handle to one of the doors. It was so bright outside that I could barely see, but there was blue on the horizon that could only be one thing.
I pulled the door open and stepped out onto a terrace. There were tables and umbrellas scattered about. A waist-high stone wall marked the edge of the sunny spot.
The sun caressed my skin, and I blinked at the bright light. To my right, there was a stone statue of a man. It looked like something out of a museum. Amused, I paused to examine it. I’d known that Evelyn was rich, but this house spoke of a level of wealth I’d never even imagined.
The statue itself was about my height but was wearing far fewer clothes. It was of a well-muscled young man, with an aristocratic nose, and curly hair that—
Its hair moved.
I shrieked, jumping back. Something… there’d been something on the statue’s head that slithered.
My heart jumped in my chest as I looked at the statue cautiously. It was still now, but I swear I’d seen something move.
Then something touched my bare ankle.
I screamed and jumped away from the doorway, my adrenaline spiking and sending me into fight-or-flight mode.
I chose the latter.
It was probably just the curtain brushing against me, part of my brain protested as I sprinted across the patio. But the freaked-out part of my brain didn’t listen.
I slammed into the stone wall, catching myself before I tumbled over it. My breath came out in uneven pants as I tried to calm myself down.
And then the most amazing sight I’d ever seen took my breath away entirely.
The Gulf of Mexico. It was right there, not fifty yards from the house. My pulse slowed as my fear dissipated. It was so damn beautiful. The deep blue-green color. The sound and motion of the hypnotic waves. The saltiness in the air. I could practically feel it on my tongue.
I leaned against the wall, my arms spread wide as I took it all in. Then my gaze fell lower, onto a completely different kind of water. Directly below me was the clear, still, turquoise water of a pool.
And in the pool were three men, their tan faces staring up at me in astonishment.
The sound of the surf faded as my brain froze. Did they know who I was? Or did they assume I was an intruder who broke into ocean-side mansions and started screaming?
One of the men brought his knees up to his chest and pushed off the side of the pool. As he glided backwards, his body unfolded, almost as if in slow motion. Ripples radiated outward as his head and broad shoulders broke through the water.
All of his perfectly formed chest was visible. As a massage therapist, I knew what a well-muscled man looked like—or at least I thought I did. This man had an eight-pack and then some. My fingers clinched as I imagined what it might feel like to massage oil along those ridges and panes.
He wore dark blue swim trunks that clung to his powerful thighs. He didn’t kick his legs or move his arms. His magnificent body seemed to cut through the water effortlessly.
My throat went dry as I dragged my gaze up his ripped form. My pulse spiked—his dark brown eyes were still trained firmly on me.
Then his full lips parted. “The water’s perfect,” he said in a lazy drawl. His arms sliced through the water, propelling him further and causing a small wave to wash over his abs and swim trunks—in other words, parts of him I was trying not to stare at.
“Want to go for a swim?” he asked.
2
NAOMI
“So you’re Evelyn’s nephew?” I asked the young man who'd hoisted himself out of the pool in one smooth movement when I descended the stairs.
He grabbed a towel from a nearby lounge chair. “Yes. I’m Dominic.” He dried off his hand before holding it out to me.
I shook his hand, trying not to gape at the way water glistened on his tan skin. He wasn’t as tall as the man who’d pushed off the pool wall, but he was every bit as muscled. “I’m Naomi.”
“I figured.” He smiled, but it wasn’t the cocky kind of smirk a lot of good-looking men employed. It didn’t take away from his amazing body, but it made him look more approachable. “Have a seat. I think you’re out of the splash zone if you sit here.”