Free Balancing Act (The Santa Monica Trilogy Book 3) by Jill Blake Page A

test out how sturdy the lawn chairs were?
    Before he could move either way, she shifted and drew her knees in. “I’m fine.”
    He had a brief glimpse of cleavage as she leaned forward to drape one end of the shawl over her exposed legs, before straightening up again and tucking the other end more securely around her upper body.
    He swallowed his disappointment and changed the subject. “The election’s in a couple weeks.”
    She looked at him. “And…?”
    “The city council is meeting a few days later. Rumor has it they might vote to rescind our DA.”
    “Your development agreement? For this project?”
    “It all hinges on one vacant seat. If the front-runner manages to win, it’ll alter the balance of power in a way that threatens all pending commercial construction, not just ours.” He paused. “You sure you didn’t have a hand in this?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Glad you think I have that kind of influence, Zach. But this has nothing to do with me. Santa Monica isn’t exactly developer-friendly these days.”
    “Tell me about it.” He sighed. “Sometimes I just feel like pulling up stakes and moving to Alaska. Plenty of wide open spaces and land just waiting to be developed there.”
    “You think they don’t have environmentalists in Alaska?”
    “I’m sure they do. But I doubt they’re as rabid as the ones here. And I’ll bet you anything they don’t have preservationist fanatics who think slapping a sign on Will Rogers’ outhouse makes it a historic monument instead of a shithole.”
    “Seriously? His outhouse?”
    He raised three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
    “Now I know you’re pulling my leg. You were never a boy scout.”
    He wished he could capture this moment—the teasing glint in her eye, the playful lilt of her voice, the intimacy of just the two of them sitting together beneath a starry sky—so he could replay it whenever he felt lonely or discouraged.
    She shivered again, and this time he didn’t hesitate.
    “What are you doing?” she said.
    Instead of answering, he nudged her legs aside and slipped in behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and aligning their bodies so that her back rested against his chest.
    Through the double layer of Pashmina wool and silky gown, he could feel the rigid tension in her muscles. His lips brushed the exposed nape of her neck, warm breath stirring the fine silky hairs that had escaped her upswept do. “Better?”
    “Zach,” she said in a strangled voice.
    “Shh. It’s okay. I just want to hold you.”
    Her bottom moved against his pelvis. He stifled a groan and flattened his palm over her belly, stilling her movement. The scent of her engulfed his senses: orange blossom, jasmine, a hint of vanilla.
    “Zach.”
    “Give me a minute, Angel.”
    He could feel her breathing. “What happens if they rescind your DA?”
    He closed his eyes and nuzzled the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder. “We’ll sue the city for breach of contract.”
    She turned her head to look at him. “They’ll make you scale down the project. You know that, right?”
    “Maybe.”
    “No maybe about it, Zach. That’s what they’ve done in the past under similar circumstances.”
    “They’ll still be in breach.” He propped himself up on an elbow. “And if we have to alter our plans to get a new DA approved, then you’re basically left without a case.”
    “We can always amend the complaint.”
    “And the judge can always decide to throw your case out of court.”
    She shoved an elbow into his stomach and pushed up to a sitting position.
    “Angel, come on, be reasonable.”
    She rebuffed his attempt to draw her back down. “Whatever happens with the city council, this case is not going to just go away.”
    Zach sighed and sat up, watching her scrabble beneath the chaise for her shoes. “You can’t halt progress, Angel, no matter what pinko-liberal laws you invoke.”
    She sent him a scathing look. “Maybe not. But I can certainly slow