Yahrah St. John - His San Diego Sweetheart

* * *

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 wonder what if, if only for a little while.

* * *

The next morning, Vaughn was up with the birds. Images of the raven-haired beauty from the beach had dominated his dreams, causing him to toss and turn in his king-size bed. Eventually, he’d thrown back the covers and, after brushing his teeth and showering, donned an Elite wet suit and gone to the beach. He dove into the waves. Whenever he needed to clear his mind, surfing was a good cure-all. He could lose himself in the powerful forces of Mother Nature and forget whatever it was that ailed him such as a certain body part which ached to be released.

Vaughn couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an erection that had gone unsatisfied. Usually, when he was with a female, the night would come to its inevitable conclusion, him in the arms of a beautiful woman.

Not last night.

Miranda Jensen had rebuffed his advances, sending him home with a hard-on like some love-struck teenager. And it irked him. Not because she’d turned him down, which, although rare, could happen. He was rankled because he knew Miranda wanted him equally as much as he wanted her, but instead she’d made them both miserable by pushing him away. The question was why?

There had to be more to the story and he would find out.

Several hours later after returning home to shower, Vaughn drove to his office. Elite’s headquarters were located a few blocks away from La Jolla Shore’s beach. Most of his staff wore shorts, T-shirts and sneakers because Vaughn wanted a laid-back vibe at the office and found it made for productive workers. They appreciated not only the dress code, but the free healthy snacks catered by a local food truck, the coffee bar as well as a game and nap room onsite. He treated his employees well and consequently had their loyalty.

He greeted his assistant, Kindra, as he stopped by her desk. Kindra was one of the sweetest girls he’d ever met. She had a wholesome, all-American quality to her five-foot-five, blonde appearance. She was athletically built, wore no makeup and rarely had he seen her in anything other than a skirt, but she was the best help he’d ever found.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Kindra said. “I’d have thought with today’s forecast you’d be catching some waves.”

Vaughn grinned. She knew him so well. “I already did.”

“So you thought you’d come in and do a little work?”

“If that’s okay with you?” He gave her a wink.

She shrugged. “You’re the boss.” Kindra followed him inside his office and caught him up to date on what he’d missed that morning. Once he was up to speed, Vaughn dismissed her so he could open his laptop and satisfy his curiosity.

He typed Miranda Jensen into his browser and searched.

He was shocked by what came up.

Miranda was no gold digger on the hunt for her latest meal. She was a wealthy heiress from a prominent Chicago family. He went on to read how her grandfather had made a killing in the finance world and as his sole granddaughter, she was due to inherit millions.

Vaughn leaned back in his chair and rubbed his beard. So he hadn’t been the only one not being completely truthful. Although she’d shared that she was from the Windy City, Miranda hadn’t mentioned she was an heiress. Was she just as cognizant as he of men’s less than altruistic motives when it came to dating her?

Who knew they had so much in common?

It certainly eased Vaughn’s fears about revealing his true identity to her, when she was clearly rich several times over. It made what he was about to do very easy.

* * *

“I’m so excited you’re in town,” Sasha Charles told Miranda when they met for lunch at noon. Miranda was excited to finally spend time with her dear friend. Since college, they’d only seen each other on the odd girls’ weekend, but to have quality time to seriously catch up was worth the trip to San Diego alone.

“Me too,” Miranda responded. “It seems like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Sasha laughed. “It has been a while. The last time I saw you was when we went to that ski chalet in Colorado with our significant others.”