Одри Карлан - January (Calendar Girl #1)

“You’re Mia?” he asked as I dismounted the bike and strode over, making sure to give an extra sway to my hips as I did. His eyes seemed to twinkle in appreciation as he caressed my form with his gaze.

“That’s me. You Weston Charles Channing, the Third?” I held up three fingers and cocked a hand on one hip.

He chuckled and leaned against the side of his Jeep giving me an even better view of his bare chest. Damn, he was beautiful. His green eyes were dark when they met mine. “Third,” he mimicked my gesture. “My friends call me Wes,” he said causally.

“Am I your friend?” I said coyly.

“One can only hope, Ms. Mia.” He winked then turned and rustled around in the back of his Jeep. He pulled out a white t-shirt and quickly pulled it over his head covering that beautiful body. I almost thanked him for the distraction. Immediately dumb Barbie left the building and intelligent Mia made her appearance once more. “You ready to go?”

“Your dollar, you say where and when,” I offered.

Wes licked his lips, looked me over again, smiled and shook his head. “I’d offer you a ride, but it looks like you’ve got one.”

“That I do. I’ll follow you.”

***

By the time we made it back to his home in Malibu, my libido was back in check though I didn’t think it would take much for me to get worked up again. The gates of his home opened, and I followed him up a small winding driveway until he stopped in front of a home that looked more like something you’d see in the mountains. It wasn’t quite a log cabin, but the house was made from giant stones intermingled with wood. Lush greenery surrounded it in all directions making it feel like it was nestled into a secret garden hideaway.

I pulled my helmet off and held onto my backpack while following him up the stone steps. The door wasn’t even locked when he opened it. I guess if you lived in Malibu and had high gates with fencing surrounding your property, you didn’t worry too much about security. Perhaps he had security somewhere.

We walked into a giant cavernous room with dark wooden exposed beams meeting at the center. The floors were a rich cherry wood and spanned the entire palatial space. Area rugs in dark rustic colors dotted the floors alongside deep burgundy plush couches that look puffy enough to run and leap into. The room was bright and airy, surrounded by windows. The entertainment center was enormous and took up an entire fifty foot wall. Scattered in all the shelves and cubby holes were books and a wide array of DVDs. Tapestries in vibrant hues filled the walls. Plants and art were everywhere the eye could see. It’s nothing like I expected from a man in his late twenties or early thirties. I made a mental note to find out his age at some point along with what he did for a living. You had to be pretty smart or independently wealthy to own such digs.

“This place is incredible,” I said and walked over to the open French doors stepping onto the wooden balcony with a wrought iron railing. The view was of the rolling mountains and open vistas that seemed to go on with no end until the horizon. Living in downtown Los Angeles didn’t give me a lot of opportunity to appreciate Southern California the way one would looking out that view.

Wes smiled and clasped my hand. His was warm and soft. Comfortable. “Come here. I’ll show you what drew me to this place.” He tugged me along to follow the balcony around to the other side of the large home.

The sight stole my breath when we finally made it to the other side of the wraparound porch. “Oh, my God,” I whispered in complete awe. His hand tightened on mine, sending a bolt of electricity to tingle at the back of my neck. In front of me was an unobstructed view of the Pacific Ocean. It spanned the entire half of the house. Wes leaned closer to me and whispered in my ear as he pointed over to a sandy area nestled against a rocky terrain.

“That’s El Matador Beach,” he said close enough for me to feel his breath kiss the skin of my cheek. I could almost see where he was surfing from here.

“It’s…” I lost the words.

“Amazing. I know,” he said, but not in a smug way. No, he seemed to take in the view with his own sense of wonder, which surprised me. A man who lives here, sees this every day and is still taken by the gift before him. I realized then that I might have been remiss in thinking he was a young, hotshot, rich kid. His eyes reflected something older, well beyond his years. He gripped my hand and pulled me toward the house. “Let me show you to your room.”

I followed him through the several thousand square foot home. Room after room flew by before I could catch much of a glimpse. I thought it odd that he continued to hold my hand, but I didn’t say anything for fear he’d stop. It was nice feeling the warm, large hand in mine. Made me feel safe and protected in a way I hadn’t experienced in years.

Wes led me to a set of double doors. He finally dropped my hand and opened both doors at once. “This will be your home for the next twenty-four days,” he smiled as I entered.

The room was white on white. Everything. The furniture, the bedding, even the artwork was varying shades of white with only the barest hints of color. It was such a dramatic contrast to the rich, thick colors of the living room. Without realizing it, I frowned.

“You don’t like it?” His hands fell down to his sides. He moved over and opened another set of double doors. Within were enough clothes to choke a horse, all in wild arrays of colors, textures, and fabrics. Now this was more like it. I could move into the closet. It certainly looked big enough. I ran my fingers over the hanging clothes, all with the tags still dangling from them.

“It’s beautiful, thank you. So why don’t you tell me a little bit about why I’m here,” I asked as I exited the closet and sat on the bed. Wes was a tall, large man but not beefy. He was over six feet and trim. Had the body of a strong swimmer who definitely spent some serious time in the gym lifting weights.

He took a breath and brought his hand up to his chin resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. “My mother,” he said, as if that explained all the secrets of the universe. I crooked an eyebrow, and he shook his head. “I have these events I need to attend professionally and personally over the next few weeks. Having a woman on my arm would help ward off the socialites and gold-diggers that often vie for my attention, preventing me from getting the networking I need to do completed.”

“So you need a buffer to ward off the vultures?” I chuckled, crossed my legs then pulled off one long boot, stretched out my other leg and repeated the process. Wes nodded then watched with rapt attention as I pointed and wiggled my socked toes. I looked down and realized why he was holding his hand over his mouth, a veiled attempt to hold back his laughter.

I had on my Christmas socks under my boots. Tall to the knee green and red stripped socks stared back at me proving I’d just committed fashion suicide. Not to mention, I was certain I’d just broken one of Millie’s escort rules by wearing the hideously ugly socks. I bit my lip and chanced a glance at Wes, but he just continued to smile the cat-that-ate-the-canary type grin.

Rolling my eyes, I huffed, “I got ready in the dark.”

“Obviously,” he laughed. “I think it’s cute.”

“Cute? That’s like the kiss of death.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You think I’m cute? Well, no refunds, buddy. You said yourself, I’m here for twenty-four days. No take-backs!” I stood and put my hands on my hips.

He leaned back and crossed his bare feet at the ankle. Oh, I hadn’t noticed his feet before. They were long, lean and perfectly groomed. Tiny bits of sand stuck to the tops of the upper arch at the top of his foot. That libido I’d kicked to the curb and stuck in a hidey-hole peeked out and was paying close attention to the finer details of the man before me. It wasn’t fair. Even his feet were sexy.