Page 9 of Play For Keeps

The guy from the beach who is incredibly cute, sweet, and has a smile that can make you forget your own name. He frowns so perfectly too.

My God, he is handsome.

Jake is hot in a broody, rugged way. His hair is styled so it looks like he tried, but still messy enough that it doesn’t look like he tried too hard.

Every angle of his face is chiselled—a sharp jaw covered in scruff, angled cheekbones, the perfect curve of his nose. The one exception is his lips—they look soft, and I find myself wondering what they would feel like on mine.

His piercing intense eyes are flecked with green the color of emeralds, and he looks at me with that gaze that seems to cage me in, and he’d kiss me fiercely, like he could never get enough.

Every muscle in Jake’s body is perfected. He’s well over 6 feet tall and lean, with broad shoulders. He’s built like an athlete—even with his shirt on I can tell that his abs are cut with grooves and valleys, his arms corded and pecs just big enough that they stretch his T-shirt perfectly.

I doubt he looks that way by sitting at a desk wearing a suit all day. Or being the heir to his daddy’s fortune. Jake is built like he works hard. Like he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. I only wonder if he has a dirty mouth too.

He looks like he would. He seems cocky, in a good way. I bet he has a lot more experience than me. I’ve only been with one guy since I was 23 years old and let’s just say the sex was underwhelming. I bet it wouldn’t be with Jake. It’s too bad I will never find out. A relationship is the last thing I need right now. And even if I was looking for someone, I get the feeling Jake is a lot younger than me. I doubt he’s looking to get tangled up with a single mom and her kid.

I smile at Jake, realizing I’ve been staring.

“We need to stop running into each other. It’s becoming a habit,” Jake says with a grin as he approaches my table. I feel a blush creep up my cheeks. It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to a guy like him, I’m out of practise. I grab Birdie’s sweater from the table and hold the fabric against my chest as if it’s a shield.

“A coincidence,” I correct him, then accidentally drop the sweater to the floor. Before I can bend down to grab it, Jake scoops it up and hands it to me. A wash of goosebumps marks my skin when his hand touches mine.

I breathe hard, taking another look at him. Jake is wearing a pair of dark navy basketball shorts, white crew cut socks and Nike runners with a long sleeve Queens College T-shirt. He has the sleeves pushed half-way up his forearms. He looks fit, and young. I would guess he’s still in his twenties.

Still, I like his look … very much. The basketball shorts leave little to the imagination. There is no way they can hide what he has underneath them. You can’t miss the obvious bulge.

Jake grins again and continues looking at me with his piercing brown-green eyes. Those damn eyes. Can he tell how much his stare is getting to me? My skin heats. It’s a lot to have someone who looks like Jake hold your gaze a little too long.

“Maybe,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his athletic shorts. My gaze drops down, following the motion, drawn to his forearm and the vein that runs the length of it. I tear my eyes away, meeting his.

“What are you doing here? I mean… sorry, that came out wrong. Let’s start again.” I laugh nervously. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Coffee,” he says, nodding at the big espresso machine behind the counter. “I was just grabbing one to go.”

“Right. That makes sense.” I press my fingers into my temple and shake my head, shooting him a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

“Don’t be sorry. You seem to have a lot on your hands. It can’t be easy.” He scrubs the back of his neck. “I know you said your focus is on your daughter, and I absolutely get it. But maybe a night out would be fun. The offer still stands.”

“Jake,” I sigh. “I don’t have time for fun.”

But when Jake smirks and his eyes darken, I feel my resolve weaken.

Green eyes burn into mine.

I give myself a silent lecture. Birdie is your focus.

My eyes drop to his mouth. I wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. What is wrong with me?

Get your things, Everly.

Learn from your mistakes.

Get Birdie and go.

But I stay where I am, not even the slightest movement. Just then I feel a tug at my sleeve and look beside me to find my daughter’s big eyes staring back at me.

“Is that your friend from the beach, Mommy?”

Birdie. She’s looking up at Jake, curiosity written all over her face.

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