Trouble in Tinseltown. Aimee Duffy
was no way Gem was going to win.
‘Open up,’ Elle said, tipping the open bottle above Gem’s head.
‘Elle, give me the bloody thing. You’ll drown me in tequila.’
Blue, puppy dog eyes no man could resist followed. ‘Don’t you trust me?’
‘No one who knows you does, Elly.’
The voice did not belong to any of them and the girls all whirled around.
A man walked into the garden – a very tall, very hot and sweaty man with nothing on but trainers and a pair of shorts. Dark eyes, hair and a slight day old growth on his jaw that made Ciara feel dizzy wondering how it would feel against her face, her neck, her…
And how could she miss those abs? Better definition than the polo players at uni, no contest, and those little dips disappearing under his shorts at each side made her finger tips itch to reach out and touch…
For the second time that day she was imitating a fly catcher.
Elle stormed across the terracotta tiles to get in the man’s face. ‘Don’t you dare think you’re staying here! Granddad said we could have this place for a few days.’
The hottie didn’t shrivel away from the heat of Elle’s fury like anyone else would have, but his frown and the way his jaw hardened made her wonder if he had a temper of his own.
‘I’m not going anywhere except for a shower.’ He shoved by her and headed for the house.
Ciara had never seen Elle’s temples throb like they were about to burst before, but she guessed there was a first thing for everything. Elle took off after him, shouting ‘Pack up and get out, I mean it!’
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