Mariah sat in the passenger side of Zayad’s black SUV as they raced up the 101 freeway. Her seat was slightly reclined and her booted ankle rested on a stack of pillows. Zayad had meant for her to be comfortable, but it was a lost cause. All she wanted to do was fade into the gray leather seats. She remembered everything that had happened last night, from her wine-induced rest on the window ledge to Zayad putting a gentlemanly arm around her waist to his not-so-gentlemanly kiss a moment later. That last bit made her smile, so she turned to look out the window at the orange groves. Who was she trying to kid? Zayad may have kissed her back with double the heat and intensity of any man she’d ever known, but she’d been the instigator. She’d told him he looked mighty fine with her eyes, then gone in for the kill. Damn that wine and pain medicine. They’d totally messed her up. She shouldn’t be acting like a teenager anymore. She glanced over at Zayad, took in his chiseled features and those amazing, teasing, oh-so-full lips she’d felt last night.
