Free Barefoot in Lace (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 2) by Roxanne St. Claire Page A

crossing her arms. The move deepened the cleavage that peeked out of the V-neck and forced him to fight the urge to look down and enjoy.
    “You’re judging,” she said.
    “I’m appreciating the scenery, as I was told.” He dragged his gaze from her body to her face, nice and slow. “No need to worry about my judgment or this job. I’m committed now.” He tapped her chin for the sheer pleasure of seeing the response in her bright green eyes. “Anyway, it might be fun.”
    “Might? It is fun. I mean, if you even know how to have that.”
    “What?” he asked. “I can have fun. I had a lot last night,” he admitted, placing his hand on the roof of the van, trapping her between his body and the vehicle. “You made a sad and sleepy house come alive.”
    She stayed still, smiling at the compliment. “That’s good,” she said. “And that is what I promised to do in exchange for”—she notched her head to the van—“your photography services. So, like it or not, get in.”
    Neither one of them moved, warmed by the sunshine and each other. “You know, if I’d been a smarter negotiator”—he inched closer to get a whiff of gardenia-sweet perfume—“Alex wouldn’t be the only one playing games with you.”
    “I think you’re playing one right now.” She opened the door without breaking eye contact, lifting one brow. “Aren’t you, Tommy?”
    “Not really,” he admitted. “But if I did, would you let me drive?”
    “Nope.” She slipped out from under his arm, disappearing around the back of the van. Damn .
    He climbed in and watched her do the same, settling into the driver’s seat with an air of authority that made him want to kiss her. Everything, in fact, made him want to kiss her. And he might, soon.
    “So, did Alex come out of her shell a little after last night?” she asked. “Did we accomplish the mission?”
    “For a while, yes.” He blew out a frustrated exhale as she turned the ignition. “I thought we’d made a breakthrough, but this morning she still hates me.”
    Gussie considered that, shaking her head. “I actually think she’s a little scared of you and maybe sensitive to how much of an inconvenience she is for you, but she doesn’t hate you.”
    “Scared of me? I guess that’s possible. When I arrived for the funeral, she looked at me like I was a tattoo-covered monster. But I’ve never said she was an inconvenience. Hell, I’m not that much of a monster.” Was he? Had she picked up the vibe? “When she found out that her mother’s will left her in my care…” He shook his head, remembering the look of horror on her face. “Call it terror or hate, but she doesn’t want me there any more than I want to be there.”
    She gave him a sympathetic look before pulling out of the lot and heading down the beach road toward the mainland. “So, what are you going to do?”
    “Long term, I have no idea. Short term? Well, I offered her a trip to the south of France and she said no.”
    “ What ?”
    Exactly. “I’m getting pressured to accept a job in Nice,” he said. “And by pressured, I mean they’re laying on cash, an apartment in town, an au pair for Alex, and a private jet for transportation to and from the Riviera.”
    “And she doesn’t want to go?” She sounded incredulous.
    “She acted like I was going to drag her to a drug lord’s house in the Colombian jungles and sell her into slavery.”
    “Oh.” She shook her head. “The poor kid. She’s probably as confused as you are, and maybe France seems like a long, long way from home.”
    “It’s only for a couple of weeks, before school starts.” He turned from the water view to the one as lovely next to him. “I really wanted this job.”
    “What is it?”
    “A commercial campaign for LaVie, the bottled-water company.” As they drove off Mimosa Key and over the long causeway that connected the island to the mainland, he told her about the shoot, frequently interrupted by the kinds of questions