Body Moves. Jodi Lynn Copeland

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      She crossed the rest of the way to Danica, handing her the file and sitting down without a word. Completely unlike Lena, who compensated for her small stature by being as vocal as possible. “Well? What was it about?” Danica prompted.

      Lena didn’t look up. “You don’t want to know.”

      “I asked, didn’t I?”

      She looked up, her lips curving in an impish smile. “A Pepsiholic with one hairy armpit because she was too afraid to go back and finish the job.”

      “Cute, Lena. Very cute.” Despite her follow-up groan, the friendly jab eased Danica’s tension—until she returned to her own office to find Mr. Hot, Blond, and Oppressive waiting in front of her desk.

      Jordan happened to walk in right at ten—fifteen minutes early for his appointment—and made her have sexual thoughts for the first time ever while on the job, but that didn’t mean he was trouble. He could just be a pain in the ass.

      She sat down on her side of the desk, popping two chocolate-covered almonds into her mouth before opening and quickly reviewing his file—all one and a half mostly blank pages of it. She looked up at him. Damned if a bolt of lust didn’t shoot through her with the brilliance of his eyes. “There’s nothing listed on what you would like to have done.”

      “I didn’t say.”

      “The facilities vary a great deal depending on the type of procedure you’re considering. Showing you the entire resort would require hours, possibly days.”

      “It’s a”—he glanced down—“sensitive matter.”

      “A sensitive…” Danica’s gaze landed on his crotch. For an instant, as she thought about the anatomy behind his zipper, the heated state of her body returned. Then his meaning settled and she barely subdued her gasp.

      She didn’t exactly like the guy, but there was no denying he was a stunning specimen of masculinity. Was it possible he could be equipped with an undersized penis?

      Of course it was possible. She’d scrubbed in on several phalloplasty surgeries where the patient was bigger bodywise than Jordan yet miniscule below the belt.

      The irritation in her belly let up some, knowing he was here because of body issues beyond his control—something she could relate to well. “I understand. The facility for that surgery is quite a distance from here. If you don’t mind going for a ride in the open air, we can use my golf cart to take a shortcut.”

      “You golf?” He sounded impressed.

      “Actually, I bought the cart because I live only a half mile from here and figured it a more economical choice than a car.” Technically, her rationale had been the more she saved on auto expenses, the more she would have to invest in the resort. Since he actually looked impressed now, she kept that tidbit to herself. Not that she was trying to impress him. Even if she could get past the whole “order” thing, he probably had performance-anxiety issues.

      How small could he be?

      Her gaze strayed back to his crotch, lingering for a few seconds before intelligence caught up with her Pepsi-starved brain. “I do golf, when time allows for it.”

      “Same here. It’s been a while since time has allowed for it,” Jordan admitted, perhaps a bit grudgingly.

      Danica closed his file and pushed her chair back from her desk. “Work has a way of taking over.”

      “That it does.”

      “Having a job you love helps.”

      He gave a noncommittal murmur. She took it to mean he wasn’t comfortable with the conversation any longer. While the casual talk had lifted his oppressive air and mostly relaxed her stomach, it was time to get on with the tour.

      She gestured to the door, then pointedly led him to the elevator and out into the parking lot so she wouldn’t be tempted to peek at his ass.

      “Have you tried a natural approach?” Danica asked as she slid into the driver’s side of her golf cart.

      After climbing into the cart, Jordan looked over with a frown. “Natural?”

      The breeze wreaked havoc on his previously flawless hair. The sun baking through the roof of the cart already had perspiration gathering on his forehead. He should look like an imbecile for how warmly he was dressed. Not to mention completely unappealing with that frown. Instead he looked sexy and sweaty, and he smelled downright appetizing.

      It was a good thing he probably had performance issues, because Danica was aching to let passion rule her in a way she hadn’t allowed in ages.

      “Have you tried exercising your…” She sent a covert glance at his groin. “The area in question?”

      “Yeah. Sure. Didn’t work.”

      She started the golf cart. “What about pills?”

      “Didn’t do a thing.”

      “There are a lot of placebos being illegally marketed as the real deal. It’s an easy mistake to make.”

      Jordan wanted to view the words as an insult. The reassurance in Danica’s greenish gray eyes when she told him it was an easy mistake made that hard to do.

      She wasn’t what he’d expected. For one thing, she didn’t wear glasses—not at present anyway—and for another she did play golf. Her behavior skirted from strange to skilled to sexual. She kept staring at his crotch. No way in hell could he be imagining it; his dick would know the difference and not be in the process of tenting his pants. Then there was her appearance.

      The Internet hadn’t done her justice. In person, her layered, shoulder-length hair was more fiery copper than dull red, her nose narrow and straight with a charming bump and even more charming freckles near the tip. Her mouth was soft pink, lush, and wide, and he had more than one idea of how she might use it on him.

      Danica reached across to a small compartment in front of him. The back of her hand brushed against his knees, jetting frissons of heat up his thighs to his stimulated groin. On a sharp inhale, Jordan retracted his body into the seat. He was acting like a pubescent teen, but he didn’t want to like her, and he sure as hell didn’t want to want her.

      “Sorry.” With a sympathetic smile, she lifted a pair of wire-framed glasses from the compartment. “You don’t want to ride with me when I’m not wearing my glasses.”

      As it turned out, Jordan didn’t want to ride with her when she had her glasses on either. The golf cart had clearly been modified to go beyond traditional speed. Twice, on the mile or so ride, he’d been certain she was going to need to call 911 to come scrape his remains off the ground.

      Danica halted the cart in front of a wooden footbridge surrounded by tropical underbrush and trees. “It’s easier to walk from here.”

      He jumped out and hoofed it across the bridge, wanting the hell away from the psycho driver who had overtaken her body. The bridge opened up on the other side to reveal a number of pale gray and slate blue villas detailed in sky blue and separated from one another by a good-sized yard and towering palms. A three-story, mostly СКАЧАТЬ