One Night With the Billionaire (Men of the Zodiac) by Sarah Ballance

look, then left Zoe for the dry side of the swim-up bar, where she promptly began haranguing the man Zoe assumed to be former bartender Carson for leaving his station. He simply shook his head and went to task, mixing a drink for Aggie without even asking what she wanted.
    The group was clearly a family, and Zoe envied them. She’d never found herself like this, on the outside looking in, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard laughter beside her family’s pool. Her father’s goal had long been to sit on the Supreme Court, and in chasing that appointment, he’d lost all trace of humor. He lived as if smiling was some kind of indignity. Her mother had once been a vibrant woman—Zoe had seen the pictures to prove it—but for as long as Zoe could remember, Charlene Davenport had been as subdued and solemn as her husband. Any emotion he showed tended to be politically fueled, and her mother must have tolerated his rants, but that was the end of her interaction with him. Zoe didn’t get the impression her parents were unhappy together, but she didn’t sense they ever had any fun, either.
    How ironic that the tables had turned—that he now surrounded himself with the kind of family relationships she felt were missing from her life.
    He caught her staring and stood, drawing to his full height like he was in some kind of advertisement for beach resorts. Or six packs. Or sin. A visual trace of his abdomen was akin to that first big drop on a roller coaster, or maybe the click to the top when your heart was in your throat because you knew what the ride would entail. And what a ride it would be. The man was better than a sculpture…he was real.
    “You enjoying that drink?”
    She’d been so lost in her thoughts that his proximity hadn’t registered until she felt the heat of his skin. Definitely closer than he’d been to the guys. He stood protectively, and while it didn’t have to mean anything…it did. She wasn’t worried about her cover on the island—even if word got out that she was there, there was no way any two-bit gossip columnist would get near her. She doubted if any cared enough to try. She might be news now, but the DC and national rags had plenty of scandal to keep them busy without burning up frequent flyer miles to find her.
    “Yeah, I am. It’s probably one of the best drinks I’ve ever had.” God, his eyes were mesmerizing. Why hadn’t anyone put him in a movie? She could stare at him for days, but that was something she’d figured out years ago. She was surprised to realize she missed those days, but no way they’d compete with being this close to him now.
    He turned and held up his beer, signaling his desire for another, then tossed it at the same time the bartender shot one his way. The bottles crossed in mid-air, Ryder catching the refill with practiced ease. He popped the twist-off top and took a long swallow, in the process giving her a great view of the tat on his bicep. She’d noticed it upon her arrival, but until that moment, the details had escaped her. Now, there was no mistaking what it depicted.
    A horse’s ass.
    “What’s the story behind that tattoo?” She stared appreciatively. He had the kind of arms normally covered in ink. Rock star muscles—built, but agile. Works of art within themselves. God, how they’d feel around her.
    “I got it when I was eighteen from a traveling-gypsy-type artist who has a shop in New Orleans. I’d just left home and decided I was going to be a rebel.”
    “And your idea of rebellion is the ass end of a horse?”
    He choked on a burst of laughter. “Nah. It was supposed to be the sign of Sagittarius. Spontaneous, exciting, optimistic. Honest and strong-willed. Ambitious.”
    “And modest.”
    He snorted. “The other half of the horse is an archer.”
    Her brow hitched. “The other half of the horse is missing.”
    “Yeah, well, getting this half traumatized me more than I thought it would. I hate needles.”
    Zoe