His San Diego Sweetheart. Yahrah John St.

do you want to tell me why you were hightailing it out of town?”

      “I’ve completed my business here,” she said. “It’s time for me to move on.”

      His brow furrowed. “Is that a fact?”

      “It is.” She straightened her shoulders. But even as she said the words, they both knew it was a lie.

      She was leaving because Vaughn had gotten too close. When he was around, Miranda couldn’t think clearly. She only felt. Felt things she shouldn’t. Couldn’t afford to feel. She’d been preoccupied with this man for the last forty-eight hours. She’d been listless and distracted thinking about how he’d taken her in his arms and the excitement he made her feel. Last night, she’d been unable to sleep, remembering the passionate kissing and touching they’d shared in her room. She hadn’t been able to push the thoughts away and she was angry with herself for losing focus on her goal of finding a husband.

      “That’s bull and you know it, Miranda,” Vaughn responded. “You’re leaving because you’re running scared. And I haven’t the faintest idea why.”

      “That’s because you have no idea what I’m dealing with.” Miranda rose to her feet and so did Vaughn. “I have to go. I have a plane to catch.” She tried unsuccessfully to push past him, but all she was greeted with was a rock-hard wall of chest. “Move aside, Vaughn.”

      “Not until you tell me what’s going on,” he said. “And I think now is as good a time as any.” He grabbed her suitcase and took her other hand with his free hand and led her toward the exit.

      “What do you think you’re doing,” she asked, nearly trotting to keep up with his long strides. “You can’t just manhandle me.”

      “I can. And I will,” he said tightly. He handed the valet his ticket and she watched him scurry to get Vaughn’s vehicle.

      Vaughn’s grip on her loosened, but instead of letting her go, he laced his fingers through hers. Miranda stared down at their joined hands. It was an innocent action, but held so much meaning. “I’m not letting you go,” he whispered, looking down at her. “Otherwise, I fear you’ll run in the opposite direction. So you’ll stay with me until you tell me the real reason you’re running and keeping me at arm’s length.”

      They stood in relative silence, each in their own thoughts until the valet returned with Vaughn’s car several minutes later. Once Vaughn had ushered her inside the passenger side and put her luggage in his trunk, he got in the driver’s seat. “Buckle up, Miranda. Something tells me we’re in for a ride.”