Page 2 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

Estrella smiled to herself. “He doesn’t look like a man who needs a bed to make my fantasies come true.”

“Is he there?”

“I can’t see.” Frustration scraped at Estrella’s nerves. The bus was moving too fast, grinding gears with a nauseating whiff of diesel. “Why are there so many men standing around?”

“Have you never looked at a construction site before? It’s a law that five men must stand by and watch the one who works.” Brenda settled back and honked into a tissue. “Damn allergies,” she added gummily.

Estrella decided to skip lunch at the coffee shop. The day’s schedule was already too busy. Eve was going on a business trip, and Estrella had a list of chores that would have to be finished before the airport departure at two.

She gazed outside as the bus rolled past the barrels and flags marking the end of the construction zone. Missing her usual morning’s eye candy would make the day that much longer.

Suddenly he was there. Striding over the dirt berm that had been created for the widening of the road. His boots dug deep among the chunks of earth and stone. Uneven footing, but his chin was high, his ey

es on the swaying fronds of the palms that bordered the boulevard.

Dark eyes, Estrella believed, to match his black hair.

In her imagination, they were seeing eyes. Really seeing. Eyes with so much fire and knowledge they would melt her insecurities as easily as her bones.

“Drum,” Brenda said in her ear.

Estrella’s head gave a quick nod, but she didn’t look away. Every detail must be memorized. The height, somewhere over six-four unless her perceptions were distorted by his sheer presence. There was the fit of his jeans over his firm ass and thighs, the swing of his arm, the vitality in his strong profile.

Today he wore a shirt—a wifebeater. Horrid name. A chill chased across her warm skin. She shivered, distracted from her perusal until his head turned and she caught an unexpected glint. An earring? Why hadn’t she noticed that before? She didn’t know if she liked the thought of an earring, although that wasn’t as bad as tattoos. So far, she’d spotted none of them, thank you, Jesus.

Huh. Not that her preferences mattered. He exuded the confidence of knowing himself, of being sure of his place in the world. She was envious of that. It had taken her years to feel halfway sure of her choices.

He looked toward the bus as it drove away. At her window? Estrella’s hand went to the collar of her polyester blouse, as if she could catch the hope and longing that leaped into her throat.

The bus moved beyond range. She scoffed, getting her senses back. He hadn’t been looking at her. She was a nobody.

“Drum,” Brenda repeated. “That’s his name.”

Now that he was out of sight, Estrella could concentrate on the conversation. “Drum? What kind of name is that?”

“Dunno. Maybe he’s a musician.”

“What else did you find out?”

“Not a lot. Supposedly he keeps to himself. But you were right. He has lots of women.”

Estrella’s stomach twitched. “Of course.”

“Even a Hollywood agent stopped once, to give him a card.”

“He’s a wannabe actor?” Too bad.

“Kris’s old man didn’t think so. That was only a story he’d heard once about Drum, along with the gossip about the women who holler their phone numbers out of passing cars. Heh. Or other invitations.” Brenda nudged elbows. “The guys like to be on Drum’s crew, ‘cause they get plenty of boob flashers.”

Estrella groaned.

“That doesn’t mean Drum likes that type of woman,” Brenda said. “Only that he attracts them. Easy to see why.”

“He does look like the Calvin Klein version of a road crew worker. Most of them are short and stocky, kind of grizzled.”

“Kris’s hubby sure is. The guy looks like he stuffed a six-pack under his grimy T-shirt. Where Drum—”

“Wears his sex-pack well.”

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