Free Over the Line by Cindy Gerard Page B

wore. Instead, she'd tied it back into a loose soft, fluffy tail at her nape. Her hair like this made him think of that stuff his mom used to use to decorate their Christmas trees. Angel hair—that was it. Very full. Very fine. All soft and a little curly this morning and sort of out of control.
     
    No. This Janey Perkins wasn't even a close second to the glitzy rocker the public was used to seeing.
     
    Or the centerfold material he'd just ogled like a damn pervert.
     
    Feeling guilty about that and trying not to stare, he watched her dig into her chow. She thought he looked like a kid? Right now she looked all of twelve ... and as she ate her fruit, he realized it wasn't just her fresh-scrubbed face that lent the impression of youth. It was the way she carried herself. Without her makeup and high-end boutique clothes, she'd transformed from personality to person. And this person, though steady and serene, was far from the controlling, commanding rocker who'd threatened to boot his ass out the door a few nights ago.
     
    "Be back in five," she said after finishing her fruit. "And we'll have that run."
     
    Yeah. They'd run. And maybe he could run off that picture he kept seeing in his mind's eye. The one of her wet fingers and feathery curls.
     
    "Whoa, whoa, wait," Jase said when she came scooting out of her bedroom wearing a skimpy black leather and silver bikini and enough bling to choke a horse.
     
    Lord Jesus God. This morning is just one trial after another.
     
    "Pardon me, ma'am, but you're not really planning to go out in public like that?"
     
    Hot. It was very hot in here, he thought, doing his damnedest not to ogle all that smooth sleek skin and those amazing curves. And that low-riding tattoo of a clef note. But hell. He was human. He was male. It was against the laws of nature for him not to notice how totally rockin' she was. But it was against company rules for him to do anything about it. Not to mention his personal code of honor.
     
    Which he'd shattered all to hell when he'd let himself stare at her naked in bed.
     
    He should apologize for that. He needed to apologize for that. Told himself he was about to when she challenged him.
     
    "What's the matter with the way I'm dressed?" She looked down at herself, reacting, no doubt, to his scowl.
     
    Besides the black, almost-bathing suit, she was wearing that clunky Celtic cross around her neck. The thick silver and leather bands she wore on her forearms and around her wrists fairly shouted that whips and chains couldn't be too far from reach.
     
    The glittery silver-threaded do-rag she'd wrapped around her head was a nice subtle touch. So was the silver link chain circling her bare hips that hooked on to a silver hoop complete with a twinkling diamond. The hoop hung from her pierced navel. And unlike her fresh-from-the-shower rain forest and sunshine scent, she smelled— Hooah —she smelled like sin on a silver platter. Something floral and musky and designed, no doubt, to grab a man by the gonads and squeeze him into a stranglehold.
     
    Jesus.
     
    "Nothing's wrong—if you want to draw your usual crowd, ma'am. But we're talking public beach here. I'm good, but I can't control a mob, and that's what you're going to get, decked out like that."
     
    No shit, Sherlock. Besides her "look at me, I'm a rock star" getup, there was that world-class body to deal with. Wouldn't be anyone missing that. Strong, firm legs. Slim hips. Tiny waist. Not much of a rack, but mighty fine, just the same.
     
    And she has the prettiest diamond-tight little pink nipples.
     
    "And you suggest—what?" She gave him a look.
     
    He cleared his throat and tried not to think about racks and nipples and natural blondes. And about the way she smelled, which was almost too good to bear.
     
    "Well, for starters, you could lose the bling, ma'am. Go for a tank top. Gym shorts. Running shoes. No glitzy designer labels, if you own such an animal. And if you've got a ball cap and