Taking It All Off. Cindi Myers
“I don’t know if I can expose myself this way.”
“I’ll make sure your face is covered, Glynna. Your eyes, anyway. No one will know,” Jake said. “Except you and me.”
She wished she could see what he was seeing now. She wasn’t some model—just an ordinary woman with a far from perfect figure. She was crazy to do this. “Jake, I—” She started to sit up.
“No. Lie still. You’re beautiful.” The shutter clicked, the auto-winder whirred. Once, twice, half a dozen times.
“Jake, please. This feels so strange.”
“Why? I’ve seen you naked before.”
“But you’ve never…stared at me like this. From across the room.” She shifted her hips, trying to get more comfortable, but the discomfort she felt was inside her, not in her surroundings. “I feel like I’m on display.”
“And I like what I see.”
Dear Reader,
Ah, summer vacation! The perfect chance to relax, have fun and try something new. When Glynna McCormick takes advantage of a weekend on a fantasy island to seduce wild man Jake Dawson, she discovers a whole new side of herself—and the man of her dreams.
While most of us don’t have quite that much excitement on our vacations, it is always nice to get away for a while. This book was inspired by my own once-in-a-lifetime trip to a romantic, couples-only resort in Jamaica. Not only did my husband and I have a fantastic time, but also we made friends with some other wonderful couples we still keep in touch with today.
Whether your vacation is a trip to Disneyland, a day at the beach or a relaxing afternoon in your own backyard, I hope you’ll find some time to rest and relax during the year…maybe with a good book, like this one!
I love to hear from readers. E-mail me at [email protected] or visit my Web site, www.CindiMyers.com.
Cindi Myers
Taking It All Off
Cindi Myers
For the Tower Island Gang
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
1
FROM NOW ON, we’re going to do things differently.
Sure we are, Glynna thought as she read through the memo from Gordon McCormick—aka her father—about his plans to revamp Texas Style, the biweekly magazine he’d overseen for the past twenty-five years. Glynna had no doubt the magazine would change—her dad had already hired a new managing editor and a new art director, determined to transform the ailing publication’s stodgy reputation and lagging sales. What wasn’t likely to be any different was her own role as staff drudge.
She looked at her cluttered desktop. How had she gotten so far away from her real love, writing? Sure, she still produced articles for the magazine, but those were squeezed in between the rest of the tasks her dad assigned her. And what about the other work she wanted to do—the hard-hitting investigative stories that could really launch her career to the top? She had half a dozen such pieces crammed into file folders on her desk, clamoring for time she didn’t have to give them.
She frowned at the thick folder on top of her in-box—reader surveys her father wanted her to summarize in a report. A report he would glance at once, then ignore. Contemplating that folder made her queasy.
Sucking in a deep breath, she picked up the file and dropped it in her trash can. She smiled at the sight of it balanced atop the fast-food wrappers and disposable coffee cups, relief stealing over her.
But the pleasure was short-lived, as her well-honed sense of obligation took over. What would her father say if he saw it?
Overwhelmed by guilt, she fished out the folder and put it back in her in-box. Having a conscience was a pain in the ass sometimes.
Her intercom buzzer sounded. “Glynna, can I see you in my office when you have a free minute?” Editor Stacy Southern’s pleasant voice brought a smile to Glynna’s lips. Here was one thing her dad had done that actually made Glynna’s life easier. Stacy was a great editor and a true gal pal. The two women had bonded the day Stacy had interviewed for the editor’s position. Glynna had found her in the ladies’ room, frantically trying to stop a run in her stockings.
One new pair of panty hose and two aspirin later, Stacy had the job and Glynna had a new best friend.
She leaned forward and punched the button for Stacy’s office. “I’ll be right over.” Any excuse to get away from that overflowing in-box for a while.
She headed toward Stacy’s office, turning the corner just as the stairway door burst open and a familiar figure in motorcycle leathers barely missed colliding with her. He jerked back just in time, though the saddlebag slung over his shoulder popped open, spilling manila envelopes across the floor at her feet.
“Hey, sorry.” Jake Dawson, staff photographer and unconventional thorn in her father’s side, reached out to steady her. “I didn’t expect anybody to be out here.”
She shrugged out of his grasp, the leather of his fingerless gloves dragging against the silk of her blouse. With the ends of his shoulder-length blond hair tangled by the wind and his jacket unzipped to reveal a Museum of Modern Art T-shirt, Jake stood out amidst the suited office workers like a cobra in a cage of pigeons. And he was about as dangerous, at least to her sense of well-being. He had the annoying ability to fluster her, in spite of her best efforts to remain cool. Maybe it was the unnerving way his steel-blue gaze met hers directly, as if daring her to hide anything from him. Or the obvious enjoyment he got from refusing to adhere to any accepted standard of corporate behavior.
Or maybe it was the heat that built within her whenever he was near, an unbidden flicker of desire that reminded her that she was a woman and Jake was a man with a capital M. A man she didn’t want anything to do with, despite the automatic way her body responded to him. Why was it she could control everything else about her life but the way this one man made her feel?
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” She hid her agitation by stooping and picking up a handful of the envelopes that had slipped from his bag. As she rose, one of them opened and a black and white photograph slid to the floor.
She stared at the photo, warmth flooding her face as she realized it was the image of a nude woman—a full-breasted, round-hipped woman seated in a chair, hair falling across her face, hiding her identity, while her spread-legged posture left nothing else to the imagination.
“Do you mind?” Jake eased the photo from her hand.
“Wh—what are you doing with those?” Glynna stepped back, struggling to remain