The Tycoon and the Townie. Elizabeth Lane

we can sit down, at least,” she said, settling onto a low ottoman. The neck of her robe had fallen open to reveal the luminous curve of her throat. Her skin was delicately freckled, like tiny dots of cinnamon sprinkled on rich cream. Jeff battled the ridiculous urge to bend over and taste her.

      “I—my clothes are pretty wet,” he muttered.

      “Oh, sit down. You can’t do anything to that couch that hasn’t been done a hundred times before.”

      Jeff moved the cushions aside and lowered himself onto the threadbare upholstery. “Sorry about that I drove over here, but before that, I was running along the beach like a wild man. I was afraid Ellen had tried to go back out to the rocks.”

      “You must have been frantic.” Her aquamarine eyes were cautious.

      “Out of my mind is more like it. Ellen’s never done anything like this before. If she hadn’t been here—”