Excerpt from On Paradise Key
“Go back to Boston, Cassidy. Do yourself a favor and sell me the bar and the land. Just take the money and run.”
“The name isn’t Cassidy,” I muttered for the one thousandth time.
“Call me Kathleen or don’t bother to call me.”
Joe Scipio had planted his six-foot-three frame on the stool opposite me.
I stood safely behind the bar—separated from him by a width of approximately three feet and seven inches. Everything about Joe Scipio intimidated me. When I saw him walk through the door, my whole body went into a weird vibrate mode. Like my heart started to dance. And my brain leapt into a tumbling team routine.
I’d just opened the Gator Hole for the day. It was only a few minutes after eleven in the morning, and in my opinion way too early for people to be drinking anything other than lemonade, my beverage of choice. But I’ve learned they did things differently in the Florida Keys. Especially here in Paradise Key.
I hated to admit it, but Joe was hot. Even with his dark, ever present, two-day stubble of a beard he’s one fine-looking man in a rugged, jagged-edged knife sort of way. When a woman gives Scipio the once-over, she sees danger and sex—the two most potent promises a man can make.