His San Diego Sweetheart. Yahrah St. John

       Chapter 2

      “I had a lovely evening,” Miranda said when Vic insisted on seeing her back to the hotel and walking her to her room. She knew what he was up to. He wanted to get in her pants and as much as that scenario would ease the sexual tension that had been flying between them throughout the night, it wouldn’t solve her current situation.

      Vic was a viable candidate for a husband, but she couldn’t let her hormones run away with her, despite how much she wanted to. And boy, did she want this man something fierce. She’d love to have free and unfettered access to roam her hands up and down his chiseled body, to relish him taking her to new heights, because her intuition told her Vic knew how to please a woman in the bedroom. All that patience waiting for the perfect wave. There was no way he was a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of man. He’d take his time exploring every sensual side of her nature.

      They walked in silence after exiting the elevator. Neither of them too keen on talking. Even though they’d done just that for hours. They’d actually shut down the restaurant, only leaving when it closed. Miranda had thoroughly enjoyed her evening with Vic much more than she would have guessed when she slid off her bar stool at the beachside café and introduced herself.

      And now they were here.

      At her door.

      Miranda took an extraordinary amount of time fumbling to find the hotel card, but when she did, she didn’t use it. Instead, she spun around to face Vic. He’d moved closer to her during that short time and now he was a breath away from her, a tantalizing breath.

      “Vic...”

      He pulled her into his arms and she was surprised when she didn’t object. Instead, she allowed him to come closer and mold his body to hers until every inch of their lower bodies were touching. Then his head lowered until his forehead was touching hers. Miranda’s breath caught in her chest.

      God, how she wished she was one of those women who could bed a man and walk away the next day, but she wasn’t. Furthermore, her situation didn’t allow her to have a weak moment and have a night of passion with Vic. She had to think with a clear head and not with other body parts.

      “Ask me in,” Vic whispered huskily. “You know you want to.”

      He was right.

      She did.

      She wanted him desperately, but tomorrow morning she’d be in the same boat she’d been in yesterday. Or maybe even worse. Vic was dangerous. He was the kind of man she could fall for, lose her head over when practicality was needed here.

      “I should go inside.” She pushed against his rock-hard chest and Vic released her.

      “If that’s what you want.”

      She didn’t dare look up at him, because he’d know it was a lie. So Miranda kept her head low and murmured, “Yes, it is.” Then she quickly used the card to let herself in the hotel room and immediately closed the door.

      But not before she caught a glimpse of Vic’s stunned expression and his last words. “I’ll call you.”

      * * *

      Did Miranda really just close the door in his face? Vaughn stood staring at her hotel door in stunned disbelief. Was he losing his touch?

      He’d felt her heat when he’d pressed her against him. Her body had reacted to his, instantly molding itself against his. She’d wanted him too, but for some damn reason she was denying herself—hell, the both of them—a night of mind-blowing sex. Because that was exactly what she would have had in store. He’d been nursing an erection on and off for half the night and that was just from a brush of his hand across her back, accidental foot play underneath the table or a look from Miranda from across the table. If he’d had all night with her, she wouldn’t have slept. He would have made sure to explore every inch of her body from head to toe.

      But alas, he wasn’t getting that chance.

      She’d closed the door, and if he wasn’t mistaken, locked it.

      Was she locking it to keep herself from opening it or from letting him in?

      Shaking his head, Vaughn headed to the elevators. He just couldn’t understand how he’d gotten his signals crossed. And what possessed him to say he’d call her? Maybe he should leave well enough alone and move on to greener pastures.

      The elevator doors chimed and opened. Vaughn stepped inside.

      As the doors closed, Vaughn knew he wouldn’t move on. Miranda Jensen had intrigued him and not many women did. And it wasn’t just the chase that had turned him on; he wanted to know more about her. Throughout the night, he realized they’d talked more about general topics than they had anything personal. Miranda had been cagey about revealing any personal details other than her name and job title, which made Vaughn’s antenna come on high alert. She may not be interested in his wealth, but she was certainly hiding something.

      And Vaughn wanted to know what it was.

      But more importantly, he wanted Miranda. And he would have her.

      * * *

      There was no trace of Vic Elliott. He didn’t exist.

      After returning from the amazing dinner she’d shared with the man, Miranda had decided to Google him. Find out more about this mysterious stranger who had captured her attention since emerging from the sea. But she couldn’t find a single thing about him. There wasn’t a record of Vic anywhere online. She’d tried several spellings of his name, including using Victor, and still her results had been fruitless.

      He’d lied to her about something as fundamental as who he was.

      How could she have been so blind yet again?

      Was she destined to be a loser when it came to picking the right man? It stung because Miranda was sure she’d seen something in Vic that was special, something that she’d never encountered before with the other men she’d dated. Over drinks and dinner, they’d shared true companionship, laughing and talking about a number of topics from sports to politics to religion. Though she was woefully out of her league when it came to sports. Instead, Vic hadn’t made her feel dumb or stupid and they’d even discussed catching a game.

      Now she knew he’d been lying the entire time.

      But had she been that open? No. But at least she’d given him her real name. If he wanted to find out more just as she was researching him, he could. If he was interested, but he couldn’t have been if he’d lied to her. He was probably married and had given her a fake name in the hopes she’d spend the night with him. And her traitorous body had wanted to. Oh how she wanted to indulge in all the desires of the flesh. His sinful flesh.

      His hard, lean body had been made for a woman’s touch. Of that, Miranda was sure.

      Except she wouldn’t be partaking because Vic, whatever his name, wasn’t hers. She sighed. It had been nice to