The first thing that comes out is legs. Two mile-long, perfectly toned ones capped in a pair of high, high heels. I wait anxiously to see the rest. She pauses for a second before scooting out of the car.

I see her first in profile as she reaches down to tug on the rising hem of her slim black skirt and then tucks her hair behind one ear.

When she finally turns toward me, her head is down as she looks at something in her hands. That’s fine by me. It just gives me time to ogle the shit out of her without getting a nasty glare for it.

The long legs were only the beginning of the package. Narrow hips curve into a tiny waist and lead up to what looks like a nice-sized rack. Not too big, not too small, although it’s hard to be sure through her loose-fitting blouse.

She walks gracefully toward me and, when she’s a couple of feet away, she looks up.

Just as my jaw drops in surprised recognition, the spray of the water hose hits the front bumper of the Jeep and shoots water all over my chest and stomach.

“Shit!” I yelp, jumping back when the cold water makes contact.

I redirect the hose and glance at the girl standing just outside spray reach. She’s smiling down at my wet shirt.

My mouth waters when I look at the lush pink lips spread over her perfect teeth. I remember the way they taste—sweet and innocent.

Like peaches.

And like a challenge.

I knew going into this whose estate I’d be recording. I saw the names on the paperwork and recognized one immediately.

Jake Theopolis.

It’s been a long time since that kiss at the fair, so I didn’t think twice about taking the assignment. It gets me home for a while and that’s what I wanted most.

Space.

Distance.

Escape.

Although I’d forgotten how incredibly handsome he is, I feel perfectly in control of myself as I look at him in his soaked T-shirt.

That is, until he lays the hose to the side and peels the dripping material from his body.

My breath is suddenly stuck in my chest, my pulse is racing, and my skin feels warm and damp.

Inches and inches of glistening golden skin cover wide shoulders, a powerful chest, and rippling abs. His jeans sit low on his hips, as though they were made to fit his lean body. If all that weren’t enough to get me flustered, the cocky grin on his face would be.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Might’ve even done it on purpose. I guess that’s what I get for smiling at his mishap.

Who’s laughing now?

“Something wrong?” Jake asks, his deep voice dripping with knowing amusement.

My eyes fly up to his, hoping for a break from the onslaught of his hotness. But I don’t get one. I fall headlong into those honey yellow eyes of his. I’d forgotten how disconcerting they are.

I’ve never seen honey like that before!

The movement of his hand draws my gaze downward again. Jake is wiping his wet palm on the leg of his jeans. The action causes the muscles in his chest to flex, making me feel even warmer.

I squeeze my eyes shut and pray for some composure.

Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!

“Jake Theopolis,” I hear him say. I open my lids a crack and see his hand extended toward me. Slowly, I reach out and slip my fingers into his. They curl warmly around mine. “Welcome to my lair.”

Again, I see amusement when my gaze flickers back up to his. He’s really enjoying me making a complete fool of myself.

Pulling my hand from his grasp, I clear my throat and look over at the house. “So, this is the main home on the estate?”

When Jake says nothing, I’m forced to glance back at him. He’s smiling at me, a devilishly wicked grin, as he wrings out his shirt. He’s chewing a toothpick again, reminding me of the way his mouth tasted all those years ago. “Yes, this is it. Would you like me to show you around?”

“That would be helpful, thank you,” I say stiffly, feeling mortified by my reaction to him.

He tips his head toward the house, his lips still curved in a cocky half smile. “Then come with me.”

As I follow along behind him, I wonder at his ability to make every look, every word, and every gesture seem so . . . so . . . suggestive. I have no doubt it’s intentional. He obviously knows I’m flustered and is exploiting that, which makes me mad. Unfortunately, that anger isn’t nearly enough to help me keep my head on straight, as evidenced by the fact that I watch his butt all the way on the walk to the house.

After mounting the steps, he turns at the front door to allow me to precede him. I jerk my eyes up, looking guiltily away from his backside, hoping he didn’t see what I was doing.

When he winks at me as I pass, I realize that he did. I feel my face go up in flames.

Oh my God! Just kill me now!

The house is quiet and dark, and the interior smells slightly sweet and homey. At first glance, it’s hard for me to fathom a guy like Jake Theopolis being raised here. He’s the type that I imagine landing on the scene with a loud bang, like life just spit him out, fully grown and wild as a buck. Never a sweet, innocent child.

Jake tips his head toward a sage green couch in the den. “Have a seat and I’ll get us a beer.”

“No, no thank you,” I rush to say as I make my way to the sofa. As I perch demurely on the edge of one cushion, I glance over at Jake. He’s eyeing me from the doorway leading into what I presume is the kitchen.

He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

A few seconds later, he returns carrying a beer and a glass of some other kind of golden liquid. I look up at him, frowning as I take the proffered wineglass. “What’s this?”

“Peach wine,” he says, watching me intently. “Did you think I’d forgotten?”

My cheeks flame and I take a nervous sip of the sweet drink, any excuse to get my eyes off of his. “Thank you,” I mutter, avoiding his question.

After a tense moment, Jake plops down in an armchair across from me, crossing his legs to rest one ankle on his knee. He still hasn’t put on a shirt and, when I look up, all I can see is an ocean of flawless skin.

“Would you mind getting dressed so we can discuss what’s ahead for your family?”

With his golden eyes trained on mine, Jake rubs his hand across his bare chest. “Why? Does this bother you?”

I know he’s teasing me, but I’m trying to keep things professional. And I can’t do that with a gorgeous, half-naked man sitting a coffee table away.

“Not at all, but it’s hardly appropriate.”

One black brow shoots up. “Not at all, huh?”

I hold his gaze, hoping he doesn’t see the lie of my words. “Not. At. All.”

“Well, then I’ll just have to see what does bother a prim and proper woman such as yourself.”

The warning is not lost on me. However, my only option is to ignore it. I can’t very well do my job if I let Jake Theopolis strike me stupid and speechless every time he’s in the room.

Jake gets up to leave. With one foot on the bottom step, he turns toward me. “Are you ever gonna tell me your name? Or should I just call you ‘peaches’?”

“Laney,” I offer, adding another brick to the huge pile of my embarrassment. “Laney Holt.”

He nods slowly. “You from around here, Laney Holt? Or were you just working the kissing booth for pleasure that day?”

“Originally I’m from around here, yes.”

Jake starts to turn away again, but stops himself, his brow furrowing. “Holt. You’re not related to Graham Holt, are you?”

“Yes, I am. He’s my father. Why?”

Jake throws back his head and laughs heartily. “Oh, God! That’s perfect! The preacher’s daughter!”

It seems like he’s making fun of me, and I bristle. “And why is that perfect?” I ask sharply.

Jake lowers his head and looks me square in the eye. “Because I’ve got a thing for forbidden fruit, Laney Holt. Consider yourself warned.”