For Your Eyes Only

by Tia Louise

The door opens, and my heart flies to my throat when I see who’s storming out of the vehicle. Trip slams his door too hard, stalking towards us with fire in his eyes. Even angry. He’s also gorgeous as fuck (Maybe even moreso because he’s angry?) in a blue blazer over a cream-linen dress shirt. He’s wearing jeans and loafers, and the possession radiating from his face makes me shiver. His eyes level on mine, the green smoldering like fire. “Who’s this guy?” I’m ready to fall at his feet and kiss those damn loafers, but before I can say a word, Michele steps forward projecting a machismo he never shows. “Who are you?” His chest is puffed up, and my jaw drops. “Trip Alexander.” They’re standing too close, and if they fight, I swear… “Michele Santorino.” “He’s my friend.” I pull Michele’s arm so I can step between them. The men don’t break eye contact. “Your friend?” Trip studies Michele as if he’s not sure whether to believe this. “Yes, her friend.” Michele’s hand goes to my waist like it used to when we would dance. I’m momentarily comforted by the protective gesture, but it evaporates when Trip’s expression cools. “I see.” He takes a step back, passing an elegant hand over his mouth, and my heart twists painfully in my chest. I want to take his hand, thread our fingers and lead him away from here, walk out to the beach and explain. “If Gia has a problem, she comes to me,” Michele continues. “Are you a problem?” His hazel eyes land on mine, like a stab to the chest. Then a c...