FORBIDDEN HEAT

ZOE I run down the boardwalk by the beach like a crazy woman, gasping for air, and cursing my stupid car for being so slow to start. It’s my first day on the job, and I’m already five minutes late. When I finally make it to the small wooden building at the edge of the beach, my new boss is standing outside looking at me like he already wants to fire my ass. Mr. Anderson gives me an angry scowl that accentuates his double chin and points dramatically at his watch. “Your shift starts at 2 p.m., Zoe. Not 2:10.” I stop in front of him, bending at the hips as I balance my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I notice his eyes drift to my t**s, and I try not to outwardly cringe. “I know, Mr. Anderson. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.” “It better not. I can’t give you special privileges just because I know your mom. I expect the same from you as I expect from all my other employees. You’re 18 now. It’s time you learned some responsibility.” I start to answer, but he’s already turned his back and is halfway to the ice cream stand. Forcing myself to stand, I jog after him, determined to not lose this job. It’s not that it’s my dream job to work at Double Dipped or anything, but I do have a very good reason for wanting to work here. Our ice cream shop is located right next to the marina, and that’s exactly where Logan Reynolds keeps his sailboat. Mr. Anderson is yakking on about something, but all I’m trying to do is look around his bulky frame so I can see out the large open window that doubles as a walk-up order stand. My eyes lock on the sailboat, but Logan is nowhere in sight. I try not to get discouraged. After all, I have all summer to catch his eye. “Zoe, are you even paying attention?” Mr. Anderson’s voice cuts through my daydreaming. “Yes, sir,” I quickly say, giving him a sweet smile. He gives a loud grunt and turns back to the ice cream machine. I listen as he explains how to make shakes and cones and every other dessert this place offers. I nod and smile and ask just the right amount of questions for him to be satisfied that I’m listening. When he’s done with his speech, he hands me a black waitress apron that I tie over my jean shorts and waves toward the family that’s walking up to the counter. “Let’s see what you can do,” he says, stepping back to watch me. I put on a smile and head toward the approaching family, feeling Mr. Anderson’s pervy eyes on me the whole time. The afternoon passes by in a rush as I learn how to juggle various orders and crying kids who drop their ice cream seconds after I hand it to them. I can’t keep my eyes from constantly darting to Logan’s boat, and every time I do, I feel a stab of pain in my chest when he’s nowhere to be seen. When the sun begins to set and all the lights come on, illuminating our little stand and the marina’s dock, I begin to lose all hope. Mr. Anderson sends me outside with a wet rag to wipe down the plastic outdoor tables and chairs. I’m so absorbed in trying to get all the sticky fingerprints off everything that I let out a squeal and jump when I hear a deep sexy voice coming from behind me. “Is it too late to get a cone?” I turn around to see Logan smiling at me, an amused look on his face. God, he must think I’m such an i***t. Who the hell squeals like that? I’m a waitress for crying out loud. Hearing a customer shouldn’t be a surprise. “Of course not,” I manage to say, even if my voice is way higher than usual. I have to tear my eyes away from his tanned, gorgeous face and force myself to walk back behind the counter. He’s wearing a red pair of swim trunks and a white t-shirt, and I desperately want to rip them off him. I reach down to grab the order pad, hiding my smile from him at the idea of running my fingers over all that toned flesh. When I raise my head, his hazel eyes are studying me. God, he’s even better looking up close. His dark hair is tussled from the ocean breeze, making him look f*****g adorable, and the dark stubble on his face has me wishing he would kiss me hard, leaving my face red from the roughness of it. I don’t care that he’s twice my age. I’ve always thought he was the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. I realize I’m staring when I hear his deep laugh. My face heats up, and I bite back an embarrassed groan. Grabbing a pen, I ask, “So what can I get for you today, Logan?” He lifts an eyebrow at me, and I immediately realize my mistake. Fuck! How am I going to explain how I know who he is? It’s not like I can just come right out and say that I’ve been obsessed with him for years and am madly in love with him and want him to pump baby after baby into me, so I bite my lip and focus very hard on the order pad. “Well, it seems I’m at a disadvantage.” His words startle me so much that I drop my pen. He holds his hand out for me to shake, and I quickly put my hand in his, watching as he swallows mine up. His skin is warm, and I can feel callouses against my palm, and it sends a shiver up my spine. I want his rough hands caressing every inch of my body. He doesn’t let go of my hand. His thumb slowly caresses my skin, and against all my attempts at stopping it, a soft moan slips out of my mouth. Mortified, I look up to find him studying me yet again. There’s a smile playing on his lips, but it’s the heat in his gaze that has my attention. “What’s your name?” he asks, still holding onto my hand. “Zoe.” My voice comes out low and husky and my panties are quickly becoming sopping wet. “It’s nice to meet you, Zoe.” Hearing my name on his lips sends another shiver through me. All he’s done is hold my hand, and I’m already more turned on than I’ve ever been. My n*****s are rock hard, and when I see his eyes lower to my t**s, I’m ridiculously thrilled at the need I see in them. The sound of Mr. Anderson shuffling around behind me snaps us out of our trance. He gives my hand one more caress before gently letting it go. I immediately miss the feel of his touch. “Can I get a vanilla cone?” he asks with a grin. I nod slowly like a real dumbass, and it’s several more seconds before I remember that I have to go and make the damn thing. It takes all my willpower to not lick his cone before I give it to him, wanting his mouth to touch where mine was. He hands me a ten, and with a grin says, “Keep the change, Zoe.” I don’t want him to leave, or more accurately, I wish I could go with him. I got this job so I could be closer to him and see him, but it’s going to be torture to have to constantly watch him walk away. Granted, the view will be amazing, but it’s still going to be painful. Before he leaves, he licks up the side of his cone, making my breath hitch at how f*****g sensual he makes it look. All I can think about is that mouth on my p***y. Judging by the wicked glint in his eyes, that’s exactly what he was hoping for. It’s absurd that the most intimate, sensual moment of my life is happening at the Double Dipped with my pervy boss behind me, but it is, and there’s no stopping my body’s reaction to it. Damn it, I still have two hours left on my shift, and I’m going to be doing it with soaked panties and more s****l frustration than I know what to do with. “Will you be working here often, Zoe,” Logan asks, stepping away from the counter. “Yeah, 2 to closing, Tuesday through Saturday,” I’m quick to tell him so he knows exactly when I’ll be here. For good measure, I add, “Now that I’m 18, I need a job with more hours,” just in case he’s wondering if I’m legal. He gives me a sexy smile, lifting his ice cream in a sort of farewell salute. “I’ll be sure and stop by then. I have a feeling I’m going to be craving a lot of ice cream this summer.” Before I can even think to reply, he gives me a wink and walks off. I stand there, stunned and horny as f**k. What the hell just happened? Did Logan Reynolds just flirt with me? I watch him walk away, and smile when he turns around to give me a wave. I can’t take my eyes off his broad shoulders as he makes his way to the marina, stopping to talk to a man who waves him over to a boat berthed a few slots down from Logan’s. I wish I could stand here watching him for the rest of the night, but several families are walking up to place their orders. The next two hours go by in a blur of ice-cream-making madness After my shift ends, I help Mr. Anderson clean and lock up. Before I head down the boardwalk to my car, I look back one last time, but Logan’s boat is hidden in the shadows, and I can’t see anything. Without bothering to second guess myself, I wait until I’m standing underneath the next light look back at his boat, and blow him a flirty kiss. After seeing him, I’m more determined than ever to make him mine.