Swinging a newly hired buggy off an unmade track, Albert curled his sensual mouth with satisfaction as he moderated his speed and headed the vehicle towards the solitary figure standing with a cool box in front of Morey's salon.
Her glorious hair was bundled beneath an old floppy-brimmed straw hat, but the rest of her was delightfully on view.
A sleeveless red vest top clung lovingly to her beautiful breasts, and the softly rounded flare of her hip was covered by a pair of tiny ice-blue shorts that emphasized the warm tan and the enticing length of her fabulous legs.
A tide of warmth spread through his groin. No problem. He wasn't going to act on it. One of the reasons why he'd agreed to this lunch, aside from a growing desire to be around Kyla, was because he hoped to figure out the truth that was locked securely inside her pretty head.
And it was an extremely pretty head, he approved as he drew level, and applied the brakes.
