Feel the Heat: A Contemporary Romance Anthology (44 page)

A
horn sounded
outside his window and Trey sighed before drawing the curtain behind him.

"You should go." The voice on the computer reminded him, and he turned to face his wear-worn sister staring back at him.

"They have the damn thing once a week. If I eat any more poi, I think I'll start turning purple."

"Purple could be your color. You never know." Candace grinned and he narrowed his eyes back at her. "Hey, I'm just saying it might be a nice chance to meet someone."

"A vacationer? Be their one fling in Hawaii?"

"You've been worse."

"I've been better, too." He tried to sound nonchalant, but the second they started talking about women, his mind stopped short on the little redhead he'd seen only hours before. It was the first time he'd seen her standing, and he was surprised to find how short she actually was--like a stick of dynamite with a fiery red top. Maybe it was the light of day, too, but somehow she seemed a little less severe than he'd remembered. The curve of her body looked that much smoother, that much softer...

"What are you thinking about?" His sister interrupted him and he answered back a little too quickly.

"Nothing."

"There's a girl."

"There's not."

"I've seen you when there's a girl, and I know your face when there's a girl, so by the transitive property--"

"Don't sight your math facts at me. There's not a girl. And even if there was, per say, a figurative girl, she doesn't live on the island. And even if she did, I'm not seeing anyone."

"Trey--"

"Nope. I'm not. I've got to go, okay?"

Candace waved her hand, either out of frustration or surrender, he couldn't say which, and he clicked out of the window before turning to his bedroom and laying on his bed. In the distance, he could hear the drums from the luau pounding across the wide open beach. He laid back on his bed and closed his eyes, picturing the drummers, trying to allow the rhythm to rock him to sleep...

And then she was there in his mind, her hips swaying from side to side along with the rhythm. Felicia Webb.

It was hard to say why he even thought of her. He'd seen so many women like her come and go on these business-driven trips, but there was just something about her that called to him. Like there was something hidden behind those hazel eyes that he needed to figure out.

Against his better judgement, he slipped into a pair of sandals and padded toward the door. After all, the employees were allowed to eat at the luau for free, and it never made sense to pass up free food.

He had to go. To prevent waste. To save the earth.

And maybe, just maybe, to get another glimpse of Felicia Webb.

* * *

I
f the grass
skirt wasn't enough, the coconut bra definitely had been. Felicia fingered the string holding her hand-full sized bosom in place and hoped for the thousandth time that night that the twine was as durable as the lady in the ship had said they were.

Somehow, she doubted it.

For what it was worth, though, Frank seemed to get a kick out of it. When she'd walked into the luau with her hair down and her ensemble all ready, he'd offered her another of his beaming grins and said, "Now that's it. I love to see my employees getting into the spirit."

That was it. One sentence of praise for one night wearing the world's more revealing outfit.

Now she knew how it felt to be Britney Spears.

Still, the luau hadn't been all bad. She'd learned to make herself a flowered headband and a lei. She'd even had her first authentic Hawaiian drink. And, since the way she felt in this outfit wasn't going to change any time soon, she was sure to have many, many more by the time the night was over.

A little ways away from where she stood beside the beachfront bar, a conch shell sounded and she looked up to the wide platform of a stage to see a score of women pounding up the steps and into the forefront.

"Here in Hawaii we've kept our heritage strong for generation after generation, and none have stayed so pure as the art of the hula." A man announced as one woman in a huge yellow grass skirt took center stage. She shook her hips in a way Felicia had only seen in movies, and when the man spoke again, another fraction of the group of women stepped forward, all their arms swaying by their sides in the most graceful synchronicity she'd ever seen.

"Tonight, we invite you to join us in the ancient art of the hula. Please, step forward if you wish to learn how."

No.

A pit sank in her stomach as she pictured herself climbing the stairs and dancing in her ridiculous ensemble for the whole of the company to see. Her hips would probably jerk from side to side like she was being electrocuted in comparison to the gentle metronome-type movement of the woman on the stage. She'd stand out like a manitee in a school of dolphins. Never a good look.

"I can't think of anyone better dressed for the part, Moonbeam." Frank's languorous voice sounded from behind her and she turned on her fakest smile and let out a breathy little laugh.

"Yeah, no, I don't think I should--"

"Nonsense, nonsense. Have a little fun. You deserve it."

"Right." She took a deep breath. "Right. Sounds perfect."

"Nice outfit," Another voice sounded from behind her and it was all she could go not to hang her head and walk back to the hotel room right then and there.

She turned to find Doctor Patterson staring down at her, though this time he was sadly not in his swim trunks. Instead, his broad shoulders were hugged by a well-worn looking blue t-shirt and equally faded pair of jean shorts.

"You're not exactly the height of fashion yourself," she shot back.

"Yeah, well, dress for the job you want. I personally have never wanted a job all that much."

She bit back her smile, then eyed him. "I thought the people who lived on the island would get sick of this kind of thing."

"Seeing women dressed like you? Never." He raked his gaze over her and heat rose to her cheeks. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she checked to see that the hula girls were still dancing, if only to prevent him from noticing her blush.

"My boss wants me to get up there and dance."

"Some people might call that harassment."

"I suppose they would."

"You would look good up there, though. I bet you're one hell of a dancer."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because a woman like you would never do anything they're not already perfect at."

"Good point." She smiled at him. "So why are you really here?"

"The free food. And the drinks. You want one?"

"I don't know..."

"Well, either you tell your boss you're waiting for a drink, or you get up there and hula your ass off. I guess that's up to you."

"I'll take a hurricane."

"That's what I thought." He stepped toward the bar and Felicia surveyed the crowd quickly, noting how many men and women were circled around the tiny table where Frank sat swaying along to the ukelele music. Ken, Thomas, Greg, Barbara--they were all there and more, all vying to grab his next drink or share their opinion on the horoscope with him.

"So which one in the boss?" Trey surprised her with his quick return, but after taking her drink from him, she pointed toward Frank and his mass of stormy gray curls.

"He's...unique looking."

"That's one way of putting it." Tonight Frank had three leis of all different colors slung around his neck, and a headband filled with wildflowers. To be honest, Felicia was starting to worry that the old man was beginning to outshine even her Hawaiian spirit.

"Why aren't you over there?" Trey took a sip from his own drink--a beer by the looks of it--and she shrugged.

"I guess I should be. But I'm worried he might ask me to dance again. Or call me Moonbeam." She cringed.

"Moonbeam?"

"It's apparently my spirit name."

"Ah, spirit names. Your company went for the deluxe package." He nodded knowingly.

"You have a spirit name?" she asked.

"I certainly never asked for one."

"That doesn't mean you don't have one."

"Falcon's Heart." He grimaced. "Like I said, I never asked for it. Tracy gave them to everyone who works here."

"Who has the worst one?"

"The receptionist. I'm paraphrasing, but I think it's something like Rainbow Fart. Whatever it is, Tracy's had a hell of a time getting her calls patched through since then."

Felicia laughed, but the mirth died on her lips as she watched Frank stand, look around, and then find her and start toward her.

"Shit," she muttered, and when Trey followed her gaze, he made a motion as if to say "don't worry about it."

Which was, of course, yet another indication of exactly how little he knew her. And how little he knew about Frank.

"I thought you were going to dance," Frank said, his arms outstretched.

"I was, but I ran into--" She gestured toward Trey, not sure what exactly to call him. Luckily, Trey was quicker on his feet than she.

"An old friend. I begged her not to dance. Believe me, nobody needs to see that."

"Oh, on the contrary, I'm sure it's wonderful."

"No, no, I'm terrible. My skills are more in the boardroom than anywhere else."

Trey shot her a look from the corner of his eye, then added, "Always a joker, Felicia."

"Really, Moonbeam? A joker? I never knew." Frank looked from Felicia to Trey and back again.

"Oh yeah. I'm full of them."

Frank waited, a look of expectation etched in his kindly old face, but when silence reigned between the three of them, Trey stepped in again.

"She has one of those dry wits. It's so funny. Half the time you can hardly tell if she's making a joke."

"Right." Felicia nodded. "Besides, that's more of a personal thing. I try not to bring my personal life into the office with me."

"I don't see why not. We aim for you to give of your whole self. We're here to support you." Frank frowned, then rested his fists on his hips as he surveyed her. "I would hope that by the end of this conference it will be a little easier for you to...shall we say, embrace our new corporate culture."

"Yes, absolutely." Felicia nodded vigorously, and Trey rested one hand on her bicep and offered Frank another smile.

"Please excuse us," he said, "I promised Felicia I had something to show her and I've gotten to see so little of her during her visit."

"Yes, of course." Frank nodded, and Trey led her away as she pursed her lips in worry.

"Ugh, I can never say the right thing to that man," she groaned when she was sure he was finally out of earshot.

"This may seem like a bad time to say it but--"

"Please, please don't tell me to relax. I tried to relax. I'm not fit for relaxing."

"Well, if you can't do it on your own, then maybe you need someone who can teach you how."

"Are you suggesting...?" She didn't want to say it aloud. Not when the space where his hand had touched her skin still tingled with his warmth.

"Surf with me tomorrow. Come to my lesson. Get out some of that energy."

"I don't know."

"Come on, what's the worst thing that could happen?"

"I fall and die on the coral?"

"Second worst?"

"Eaten by a shark?"

"See you at ten," he countered, and before she had the chance to argue, he turned on his heel and started away.

W
hen Trey knocked
on Felicia’s door the next morning, a feeling like dread coiled low in his stomach.

All night, he’d asked himself why he was doing this, why after all his self-inflicted pep-talks about women and relationships he was letting this redhead get the jump on him. Again and again, he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t her, though. That it was his professional duty driving him to help her find an outlet. As if surfing was going to be her number one pastime when she got back to New York…

He shook his head, knowing a headache was mere minutes away if he kept wracking his brain like this, and then lifted his hand to knock again. Before he got the chance, though, it swung open and Felicia Webb stared up at him with wide eyes, her mouth crinkled into something between confusion and disbelief.

“It’s ten. Ready to go?” He held out the drink tray he’d been carrying in his other hand and she eyed it before grabbing a cup of coffee.

She took a swig, seemed to think about it for a moment, then tilted her head to the side and asked, “How did you find me?”

“I have my ways.” And it never hurt to be friends with the receptionist. Or the concierge. Or the hotel managers.

“Right. That is…not unsettling at all.” Still, she took another sip of her coffee. “Kona,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “Best stuff on the island. You’ll need your energy for today. Now come on, let’s hit the shore.”

She sucked in her bottom lip, then sat down her coffee and nodded. In one quick move, she pulled off the robe she’d been wearing and revealed the sexiest little bikini he’d ever seen. It was plain enough, just a solid sort of dark teal color, but it complimented her red hair and her eyes so well that he had to force himself not to stare at her or the bare expanse of her smooth, creamy skin.

Forcing an air of platonic disinterest that he very much did not feel, he said, “Well, you’re certainly prepared for someone who wasn’t expecting me.”

“I just…like to be ready. That’s all. And I was thinking about going to the pool. That’s all.” The slight tinge of rose rising in her cheeks was all he had to see to know she was lying through her teeth. Cute. And interesting.

Had she been hoping for him to show up?

“All right. Now let’s get to the beach.”

Their walk down to the shore was quiet for the most part, though as Felicia followed along behind him he couldn’t help but notice just how uncomfortable she looked in her swimsuit. Every now and then she’d cross her hands over her stomach or her chest, or check the security of her straps.

He wanted to reach out and take her hand or say something to assure her that everything would be fine. That she looked great—better than great, even. That she was stunning.

But he couldn’t. Or rather, he wouldn’t.

“I hope you slathered on some sunscreen,” he said, but as the words came out he imagined himself running his hands over her back, kneading lotion into her soft skin.

“Yeah, always,” she answered. “When you have red hair, that tends to be a detail you remember.”

A pang of disappointment shot through him, but he nodded all the same. “Good.”

“Are you covered?” she asked. He nodded, but as he glanced at her he couldn’t help wondering if it was his imagination or if she too looked the slightest bit disappointed by his answer.

“Great,” he said, then he spotted the two boards he’d laid out before he’d gone to get her. The first was long and red with a white racing stripe down the center—the board he’d bought himself the second day he’d been on the island. Beside it lay a raggedy-looking foam board that he’d borrowed from a surf instructor buddy.

“I call red one!” Felicia shouted, then rushed toward his board with so much agility that it took him a minute to realize what was happening.

When he did, he jogged behind her, his hand outstretched. “Not on your life. You’re not even qualified to
look
at that board yet.”

“How would you know? I could be a natural.” She fisted her hands on her hips and grinned at him with so much enthusiasm that he had to take a minute to remind himself why it was she couldn’t have whatever it was she wanted.

“No way. You’ve got the old stand by here.” He set his foot on the foam board and Felicia wrinkled her pert nose.

“How am I supposed to look cool on the waves on that thing?”

“You won’t be on the waves. At least, not yet. Come here and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

For ten minutes, he set to work showing her how to lay on the board and paddle correctly, the two different ways to pop up onto the wave, and the way to hold herself when she’d finally gotten her footing. He had to hand it to her—she was a fast learner, and she looked more natural on the board than any of the tourists he’d seen.

“Okay, okay, I get it. Now are you ready to take me out on the ocean?” She was laying on her board, her cheek pressed to the foam surface as she surveyed him.

“Not just yet. Let me see you pop up one more time.”

She huffed and a piece of her hair blew out from in front of her face. “Okay. I’m paddling.” She made the motions as she went. “My feet are together on the board. I feel the wave, and then—

She bent her leg out over the edge of the board and hopped up, but her knees locked almost instantly.

“Almost.” He frowned. Of all the tips he’d given her, this one had been the hardest for her to follow. Standing, he mimed a stance for her., bending his knees while keep the arches of his feet center with the board. “More like this”

She bent her knees slightly, but not enough.

“No, um…” He looked her up and down, then, hating himself, he walked behind her and grabbed her waist. “Like this.”

He guided her lower, then sucked in a breath as her ass brushed against his thigh.

“Better,” he said, only too aware of the sudden grit in his voice.

Coughing, he regained his control and said. “Okay. Time to hit the waves.”

And to get out of close quarters once and for all…

* * *

T
he waves were
, apparently, no more fun than the sand.

It felt like every time a wave pulled for her to ride, she tipped over and crash-landed in the waves. Worse was the way Trey kept grinning at her and saying things like “that’s okay.” Or “you’ll get the next one.”

This was why she never bothered to try out for a sports team or learned how to play anything. The pressure was too much. If she couldn’t get it right every time, what was the point of trying to do it at all?

Still, every time she bobbed back up in the water, Trey would swim toward her with his words of encouragement and instead of getting irritated, her heart would stop in her chest and she’d be struck again by the brightness of his blue eyes or the way his tanned skin glowed. On land, he was stunningly good-looking, it was true. But in the water? With the droplets glistening off his contoured muscles? He was practically otherworldly.

“How do you know when you’re just never meant to surf?” Felicia asked, and though she kept her tone light she knew there was still an edge of frustration to her voice.

“It’s been a tough day for surfing. Here. Why don’t you try the next one and if it doesn’t work, we’ll go back to the resort and I’ll get you a well-earned drink.”

Was he…asking her out? For a drink?

She had to confess, she wasn’t sure if this morning had been a date or not, but every time she contemplated the idea, she was reminded of her need for a vacation fling. And then about his comment about needing to let off steam. Then, of course, the way his ass looked in his navy blue board shorts…

Still, he’d spent most of the morning avoiding all opportunities to touch her. Hell, even when he’d had his hands on her hips and his warm touch singed through her, he’d only stayed there for ten seconds.

Maybe this was just some twisted version of pity where he was concerned…

“We have a deal?” His voice broke through her thoughts and she shook her head.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Sorry, yes. We have a deal.”

With a deep breath, she climbed onto her board again and padded out to the waves. For a moment, she waited, listening to the tide, and then the pull of the wave began and she closed her eyes.

Okay. Focus. You can do this.

In one quick movement, she swung her leg around until she was centered on the board, then spread out her arms to keep her balance.

Keep your knees bent. Keep your head up.

The crash would be coming any moment now. Any second she’d be falling in the water.

But no, the crash never came. Instead, her chest filled with exhilaration and she was gliding across the water.

“I’m doing it!” she shouted, then she glanced over her shoulder and found Trey grinning at her, his hands held up in celebration.

“I’m doing it!” She pumped her fist in the air—

And then realized her mistake.

With a wobble, she crashed back into the water, but this time she didn’t care. She’d done it. She’d surfed.

After retrieving her board, she swam over to Trey who was still smiling at her like she’d won a gold medal in surfing.

“I can’t believe I did it.” She bobbed in the water.

“How did it feel?”

“Incredible. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before.” And it was true. Even in all her pilates or her hours on the stationary bike, she’d never found something that made her feel free. So alive. “Thank you.”

Unable to help herself, she embraced him. “It was so nice of you to—“

She pulled back and when she found his gaze fixed on hers, for a moment she forgot herself. Her heart skipped another beat, and then she was stuttering. “I mean, it was really, really nice of you to, you know, teach me.”

With a jolt, she realized her arms were still around his neck and she moved backward until she bumped into her board.

“Any time.” He cleared his throat, but the look in his eyes was still there—all darkness and hunger.

She wanted to address it—to do something to provoke him. But before she had the chance to devise a plan, he was hopping on the board again. “Come on, Felicia. The ocean waits for no man.”