Moonlight Beach Bachelors: Her Forbidden Cowboy

Jessica reached for him across the table, her fingertips feathering over his good hand gently, comforting him with the slightest touch. When he lifted his lids, he gazed into her knowing, sensitive eyes, and she smiled. “Let’s have them pack up this food. We’ll eat it later on.”

“Do you mind?” he asked.

“Not at all. I’m ready to go anytime you are.”

He felt at peace suddenly, a glowing warmth usurping the dread inside his gut.

And then it hit him. Sweet Jess. She was good for him. She understood him, perhaps better than anyone else on this earth. She was a true friend, an authentic reminder of home, and he needed her here.

“You asked me before if I’d find a replacement for Mariah.”

“Yes, I did. Hard shoes to fill, I would imagine.”

“Yeah, I agree.” He looked her squarely in the eyes. “Except I’ve already found someone, and I’m looking straight at her.”

Four (#u4556d30e-f269-5c3c-b65e-d9c987081b99)

Jessica woke to a glorious sunrise, the stream of light cutting through early morning haze and clouds in a host of color. Every morning brought something new from the view outside her bedroom window, and she was beginning to enjoy the variance from fog to haze to brilliance that took place before her eyes.

She stretched her arms above her head, working out the kinks, not so much in her shoulders and neck, but the ones baffling her brain. Last night, Zane told her to keep an open mind and sleep on his suggestion of replacing Mariah as his personal assistant. Her mouth had dropped open, and she thought him insane for a few seconds, but then he pointed out that he wasn’t working, he had no gigs lined up, and he wasn’t doing interviews right now. Most of what she had to do was hold off the press and postpone anything pending to future dates.

She wouldn’t go into it cold. Mariah would be in touch to give her the guidance she needed to get her through anything remotely difficult.

“You’re an intelligent woman, Jess. I’m convinced you’d have no problem, and I’m right here to help you,” he’d said.

Zane’s assurances last night gave her the push over the edge she’d needed this morning. Her head was clear now, and she valued the challenge and even looked forward to it. She wasn’t ready to return to Texas anyway. Zane wanted freedom from his agent and manager’s constant urging to get back on the horse. Zane wasn’t ready yet and she could understand that. He needed more time, just as she did.

The new, bronzer Jessica no longer had freckles on her nose, thanks to a wonderful suntan that had connected those freckly dots and browned up her light skin. How many more hours could she feasibly sunbathe her day away? Staying on for a few weeks and helping Zane out would give her a new sense of purpose.

Jessica showered and dressed quickly. Putting on a pair of khaki shorts and a loose mocha-brown blouse, she slipped her feet into flip-flops and strode toward the kitchen. There were no wickedly delicious aromas drifting from the kitchen this morning. Mrs. Lopez had yet to arrive.

“Sonofabitch!”

A string of Zane’s profanities carried to her ears. She grinned. Poor guy. He hated being confined.

She ventured into his bedroom. “Zane?”

“In here!”

She followed the sound of his cursing. He was standing over the bathroom sink, and their eyes met in the mirror. A scowl marred his handsome face, and three blood dots covered with bits of tissue spotted his cheeks and chin. Remnants of lime-scented shaving cream covered the rest of his face. “Damn hand. It’s impossible to get a good shave.”

“Whoops.” With her index finger, she caught a drop of blood dripping from his chin before it landed on his white ribbed tank. “Got it.”

He peered at her in the mirror and handed her a tissue. “Thanks.”

“Thank me later, after I shave you. We’ll see if I can’t do a better job.”

“You?”

“I used to lather up my dad and shave him when I was a kid.” She hoisted herself up onto the marble counter to face him and picked up his razor. “It used to be a game, but darn it, I did an excellent job. Dad was surprised. Seems I’m pretty good with one of these.”

Doubtful eyes peered at the razor in her hand.

“What? You don’t trust me? It’s a guarantee I’d do a better job than what I see on your face now. Or, I can drive you to the local barbershop. Since I’m going to be your new personal assistant and all.”

The scowl left his face immediately, and her heart warmed at seeing approval in his eyes. “You’ve decided, then?”

“Yes, I’m on the clock now. So what will it be? A shave by your PA or a drive to the barber?”

“Try not to cut me,” he said.

“You’ve already done a good job of that.” She handed him a towel. “Wipe your face clean. We’ll start from scratch.”

Zane’s eyes widened.

She chuckled at her bad choice of words. “You know what I mean.” Pressing down on the canister, she released a mound of shave cream in her hand and leaned forward to rub it over his cheeks, chin and throat.

Zane leaned a little closer, his body braced by the counter. Her heart did a little dance in her chest. His nearness, the refreshing heady lime scent, her position sitting on the counter, touching him—suddenly she was all too aware of the intimate act she was performing on her brother-in-law.

What on earth was she doing?

Zane needed help and she’d rushed to his aid. But she hadn’t thought this through.

He still towered over her, but only by a few inches now. She lifted her eyes and found him, waiting and watching her through the mirror.

Her hand wasn’t so steady anymore.

She couldn’t fall down on her first official act as Zane’s personal assistant, intimate as it was.

“Okay, are you ready?”

He kept perfectly still. “Hmm.”

Her legs were near his hip, and she angled her body to get closer to his face. Bracing her left hand on his shoulder to steady herself, she was taken by the strong rock-hard feel of him under her fingertips. She stroked his face, and the razor met with stubble and gently scraped it away. Carefully she proceeded, gliding the razor over his skin in the smoothest strokes she could manage.

His breath drifted her way as heat from his body radiated out, surrounding her. Cocooned in Zane’s warmth, she fought an unwelcome attraction to him by thinking of Steven, the man who’d shattered her faith. And that reminder worked. Thoughts of Steven could destroy any thrilling moment in her life. She dipped the razor into the sink and shook it off. Zane’s gaze left the mirror, and as she lifted her eyes to his, there in that moment, a sudden surprising sizzle passed between them.

One, two, three seconds went by.

And then he focused his attention back on the mirror, keeping a silent vigil on her reflection.

“How are you holding up?” she asked, breaking the quiet tension.

“Am I bleeding?”

Her lips hitched at his intense tone. “No.”

“Then, I’m good.”