Page 80 of Manhattan State of Mind

As the van rumbles on, I let my mind drift to Daredevil. With his music playing, Matty is oblivious to my daydreaming.

I need to put him out of my mind. He admitted to hurting me somehow. How serious was it? Did he cheat? Were we even together? Maybe it was just a kiss at some convention before I caught him with a Jessica Rabbit. But it doesn’t matter now. I pointblank asked if we’d meet again and he went silent. I have my answer.

Stealing a quick glance up front, I see JP talking with the driver. His T-shirt hugs his muscular frame in all the right places. I did some late-night “research” on him before bed—because I can’t figure the guy out at all. He’s 38, has one sister, and came from a working-class family. He was married in his twenties but it didn’t seem to last long. From what I can see, he’s been living the bachelor lifestyle in Vegas ever since.

His hand scrapes along his stubbled jaw as he chuckles at something the driver says. He seems to be in a really good mood today. I tear my gaze away before he catches me gawking. Ogling my unfairly hot boss is a one-way ticket to disaster.

As we step off the bus, the landscape around us feels so alive, almost as if it’s breathing. Lake Welch stretches out before us, a large, shimmering body of water cradled by the mountains, mirroring the calm sky above.

We get changed into our swimwear, then with every muscle in my body tightened—ass clenched, stomach sucked in, chest thrust out—I venture out of the changing rooms. The gravel crunches under my feet announcing my presence.

Most of the team is already out on the beach, sunscreened up and ready to go. Even Dwayne is game for paddleboarding.

And then, there he is—JP, lounging casually by the lake, dressed in nothing but swim shorts. The evidence of his quick dip—wet hair slicked back, drops of water on his chiseled torso—sends an involuntary shiver up my spine. And it’s not from the temperature.

His gaze latches onto me and he executes a lazy scan up my body. I respond by sucking my stomach so far in, I’m sure my spleen is now doubling as a lung.

He saunters over to me with a life jacket in hand. Part of me wishes I was wearing some medieval armor so my nipples wouldn’t betray my excitement.

“How cold is the water?” I ask, fighting the urge to let my eyes wander to his chest.

“Cold. I’m not going to lie. But once you swim in cold water, you’ll never want to swim in hot water again.”

“I find that unlikely.”

He gives me a lazy smile that feels deliciously intimate. “You excited for it?”

“Yes, but I’m not very graceful. I took a tumble down the Plaza stairs, remember?”

“If you take a tumble here, you’ll be fine, in fact, I imagine we’ll all be in the water at some stage. But I’ll be near anyway to make sure you’re safe.” His voice drops lower. “Can I help you with your life jacket?”

“Uh, sure.”

As I slip my arms through, he pulls the jacket closed around me. His hand skims my stomach as he tightens it. He’s so close I can smell the lake on him, a heady mix of fresh water and some cologne that should be rebranded as pure pheromones.

“There we go. How does that feel?”

His hand slips a little higher on the life jacket, brushing the underside of my breast. It might have been unintentional, but his touch sends a current straight through me.

“Great,” I wheeze, voice as tight as the jacket.

“Ready?” His fingers linger on the strap of my life jacket, his touch leaving a trail of goose bumps on my skin.

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. Do you know the secret to good paddleboarding?”

I shake my head. “No, what is it?”

His eyes hold mine. “It’s about trust. Trust in your body, your balance, your instincts.” His voice turns huskier. “Much like… trusting another person.”

I blink, taken aback. This must be the midlife crisis talking. Paddleboarding seems to have a philosophical layer I hadn’t anticipated.

The sun beats down as we make our way toward the glistening blue water. I can’t resist sneaking glances at JP in those sinfully low-slung black swim trunks stretched taut across his sculpted ass. Between that charged kiss with Daredevil and now my hot boss sauntering around half-naked, I’m more wound up than a dog in heat. Pretty soon I’ll be pathetically humping the nearest male leg just to get some relief.

Wading into the frigid lake, I gasp as the water envelops my legs. JP cuts a path ahead of us, his strong thighs slicing confidently through the water. We trail behind him like obedient ducklings.

We wade out until the water level reaches our thighs, the right depth for us to bravely stand on the boards. Some of us, born with a natural talent for balance, make it look easy. I’m not a complete novice, but let’s just say I wouldn’t pass theBaywatchtryouts. After a few shaky rises, I finally manage to stand, knees bent in a slight crouch.