Feel the Heat: A Contemporary Romance Anthology (68 page)

T
wo Years
Later

The Maria Santos Recovery Center

Hayley’s Island

H
ayley watched a very pregnant Betty
, her new sister-in-law, carry a stack of thick white towels into the hallway. “Wait a minute, little mommy,” she said, grabbing the stack. “No way are you going up those stairs.”

“I’m pregnant, not useless,” grumped the woman. “And you should talk,
little mommy
.”

“I’m nine weeks, not nine months. Where’s Claire?”

“Talking to the woman who checked in last night.”

“And Ben?”

“He’s in class showing the kids how to paint. I don’t know why he gets to do that. He can’t paint.”

“It’s finger painting, not recreating Van Gogh portraits.” Hayley checked her clipboard for the day’s tasks. All but one room was full, and each room held a woman, some women with their children, and in one, a young man escaping from an abusive mother. The Center was a cost-free facility open to any and all suffering from emotional and physical trauma. People with wounded souls could recover on the island in peace and solitude. The Center offered self-defense classes, exercise equipment, GED studies, and therapy sessions. And when the person was ready to start into the world again, the Center gave him or her a stipend to help start a new life.

There were perks to being the wife of a billionaire

“Speaking of paint-splattered muscled men with wicked grins,” said Betty.

“We weren’t—“ She felt Logan’s arms around her as he whirled around and smacked her with a big kiss. “Are you done painting the shed?”

“Work, work, work,” he murmured. “I needed refreshment.”

“Did you talk to the contractor about expanding the new facility? You know we have a waiting list, and I hate turning away people. Maybe I should—“

“Kiss your husband and chill out. You’ve gotten so bossy.”

“Yeah, well, everyone agreed I would be a good manager.”

Betty giggled then waddled away. Hayley vaguely heard Claire shooing Betty out of the checkout area, chiding her to go rest.

“You are beautiful.”

“Thanks.” She kissed him again and wrinkled her nose. “You smell like turpentine.”

“No, that’s my new cologne.”

Hayley laughed, her heart so filled with joy, and her life so filled with purpose, she found herself dancing down hallways, singing in the shower, and laughing out loud for no reason other than she felt like it.

The front door swung open, and Logan and Hayley turned. In the doorway was a young woman, a fading bruise on her cheek, wearing a torn dress, and in her gaze, an expression Hayley knew all too well

“Go on, baby,” said Logan. “I’ll meet you later for dinner.”

Hayley put down her clipboard and hurried to the girl, wrapping her arms around her thin shoulders and urging her toward the stairs. “C’mon, sweetheart. We’ve been waiting for you.”

J
uly
, Suva, Fiji

Day One

Brittany West

One of the great things about having a best friend who's married to a billionaire is the leftovers. And I don't mean food. Truly fantastic stuff like designer shoes, purses, clothes, and vacations they're too busy to take. Specifically—a four-day vacation at a private beach cabin in the water a dozen yards off the beach of its own private island. Yes. A house literally built and anchored out in the middle of a sparkling blue reef. With a view of nothing but sun, sky, light blue waters, palm trees, and white sands.

Secluded. Peaceful. No noisy touristy crap to contend with. Fully stocked with food and refreshing tropical drinks. Nothing to do but kick back and relax.

And the most exotic feature ever? An underwater bedroom. If the online promo pictures were any indication, it was gorgeous. Like sleeping in an aquarium. Or being a mermaid, no tail required. When I was little, I'd wanted to be a mermaid when I grew up, so this was perfect.

No need to scuba-dive or snorkel to look at the fish. I could just lie in bed and watch the tropical fish swim by while I read about other people's romances or watched a movie with a rum-filled drink in hand.

All thanks to my best friend Kayla, who, to everyone's surprise, went to Reno on business late one week and came home the wife of billionaire geek guy Justin Green.

I was in total shock when she surprised me with it. I
never
would have been able to afford it on my own.

The vacation package was clearly designed to be a romantic vacation for two. But I wasn't currently involved with anyone. So I invited our mutual friend Sarah to come with me.

Sarah and I decided it would be a long girls' weekend away. Sarah was also my colleague at Flashionista, the company Justin cofounded. Work had been hectic of late. We both needed the break. We agreed it would be chill. Just sunning topless on the deck, drinking tropical drinks, snorkeling, if we wanted, and catching up on our reading and relaxing.

All would have been perfect. Except Sarah pulled her Achilles tendon playing beach volleyball two days before we were supposed to leave and regretfully had to bail on me at the last minute. She lost the game, but gained the attention of a particularly hot guy who took her to emergency. So all was not lost.
For her.

I almost cancelled. Kayla talked me out of it.

She and Justin had won this getaway in a heated auction at a charity event last year. Kayla had been quite proud of the way she'd waved her bidding paddle around and outbid a particularly contentious rival. The satisfaction was in winning the item and the amount of money raised for the charity. But the prize was no slouch, either. Not in my opinion. Unfortunately, they'd been too busy to use it. The deal had an expiration date that was fast approaching. There was only one available set of dates left—the third week in July. It was use it or lose it time. And who could stand to lose it?

"How many opportunities will you get to sleep beneath the water, Britt? Hello! Mermaid, anyone?" Kayla knew how to hit below the patent leather belt. "Complete privacy. Time to unwind. You've been so
stressed
lately." She gave me a pointed look and broke into laughter when I scowled at her.

"And we all know why." I shook my head.

Kayla arched an eyebrow. "Or should we say who?"

I wagged my finger at her. "Don't mention that little prick's name. Not if you don't want me to go ballistic."

I was a senior merchandise buyer for Justin's company Flashionista. We were the premier online fashion flash sale site in the world. And expanding daily.

We were primarily a women's fashion site, with some housewares, a few items for men, and gifty items thrown in for good measure. I'd been assigned the dubious honor of expanding the brand offerings further into menswear and accessories. Men's furnishings. Dubious because I'd been trying to land a deal with Hott Socks for an exclusive event for weeks.

Hott did more than just men's socks. They designed lines of cool T-shirts, belts, even grooming products like beard oil and cologne. They were the hottest, hippest thing in men's fashion. So hot that stores couldn't keep their products in stock. Scoring an event with them would be a career-making coup for me.

Unfortunately, their stuck-up, arrogant douchebag of an owner, Eli Davis, had been putting me off. First he pushed me off on a junior executive who demanded unreasonable terms. Then, when I went over junior's head and called Eli directly, he wouldn't take my calls. Just the thought of him shot my blood pressure off the charts.

"I actually think you'd like—"

"No." I stabbed my finger at her. "Don't go there."

"Him," she continued calmly. "Your emotional intelligence is failing you, Britt. You and he have a lot in common."

"That's a low blow." I prided myself on my emotional IQ.

"You're blinded by your ambition. He's a friend of Jus'. Jus thinks he's
great
. You and Mr. Hott Socks would be so cute together if you didn't let business come between you. And your feet would never be cold."

I shook my head. "No. They'd be up his ass."

Kayla rolled her eyes. "It's nothing personal with him. Just business. Jus doesn't let it bother him that Hott Socks won't do a deal with us."

I took a deep, calming breath and rolled my eyes. She didn't know how personal it was. I never lost a deal. "I wouldn't get together with Mr. Hott Socks if he was the last billionaire on earth."

"That's good. Because he's not
quite
a billionaire.
Yet
. But he's working on that third comma and determined to get it." She laughed again. "Back to this vacation—you need to go. Relax. Come back to the office rested and ready to do battle with all the hard-assed douche businessmen of the world. There are worse things than a week away with the peace and quiet of your thoughts and time in the sun. You need some downtime."

She was right. Which was how I ended up at a marina on a sunny day in beautiful Fiji, looking for my boat ride to the cabin, staring at the back of a hot, well-built guy of the flavor that made my toes curl. Bleached hair. Broad shoulders. Over six feet. Check. Check. Check.

I was in the middle of the perfect sex-on-the-beach fantasy when he turned around. Of all the beaches in the world,
he
had to find mine. The hot guy from the bar I'd met months ago and made a fool of myself with. The guy who had never called.
Awkward
. The guy who was also my nemesis—even worse.

"Eli
Davis
." His name slid off my lips like a hiss. Mr. Hott Socks himself.

I had actually only met him in person once. At a bar near Flash back while I was still working for my previous employer. Before I knew who he was. I
thought
we'd hit it off. My mistake. A year later and he still hadn't delivered on his promise to call me.

I knew who he was now, of course. Had for a while. It was hard not to. I recognized him from publicity photos and all the social media sites. But unless he had a stellar memory, he had no reason to remember me. We'd both been drunk. I'd been out with coworkers celebrating a big deal we'd just landed. I didn't generally get bombed, but that evening I cut loose. Plus I'd had practically nothing to eat all day. Another one of my mad diets.

Now that guy, who looked so much more seductively like my memories of the adorable, hot guy at the bar than nemesis Mr. Hott Socks, was standing on the edge of the pier. One gentle push while he was caught off guard and he'd be in the drink.
Delicious.

There was a huge, evil part of me that screamed,
Do it!
If I hadn't needed his business so damn much…

Fortunately, my saner head prevailed. This could turn out to be my lucky day.

His eyebrows shot up. "You?"

For half a second I thought the stunned look on his face might actually have been happy surprise.

"Britt West," I said.

"Britt?"

Why the question in his voice? Didn't he remember me? Or maybe the name of Flashionista's most tenacious merch buyer struck fear in his heart. A girl could hope.

"
The
Britt?"

Was I a celebrity suddenly? I frowned, puzzled, and looked around, wondering if there was another girl standing behind me. "
The
Britt?"

"I'm supposed to ferry
a
Brittany to my buddy's cabin. He auctioned four days at his place off for charity last year. He would have been here himself but he was called out of town suddenly…"

I had stopped listening. I went cold, and quite calculating, in the eighty-degree-plus heat. Vacation-and relaxation-wise, I wasn't thrilled with this new scenario. But as long as I had him cornered on a boat ride to the cabin, I may as well take advantage of it. I could swallow my pride long enough to land a deal.

My heart pounded treacherously fast. The same way it had the first time I'd met Eli in that bar when he'd simply been a charming hot guy who flirted exceptionally well.

I lifted my chin and showed him my reservation on my phone.

He looked resigned. And sheepish. "That's the place." He pointed to a boat moored at the dock. "We'd better get going. They're forecasting a rare July storm for this evening. It's no Category 5 tropical hurricane, but it won't be a picnic for this small boat."

I looked around at the clear blue sky for as far as I could see. "There's not a cloud in the sky."

"Don't let that fool you." He took my bags from me and loaded them into the boat. "They come up quickly around here."

"It's supposed to be the dry season."

"It is.
Mostly
." He gave me a hand aboard the boat.

I hated to admit it, but the touch of his hand sent shivers of sexual awareness through me. His hands were long-fingered and strong. Can hands be sexy? If so, his were. Along with the rest of him—his chiseled jaw. Sparkling blue eyes. Fashionably longish hair. And close-cropped beard. Long, strong legs. And he smelled amazing.

He was wearing one of Hott's hottest-selling T-shirts, shorts, and boat shoes, no socks.

I let my hand linger in his too long. "Too hot for your socks?"

Hott's motto was
You're never too hot for our socks
.

He looked down at his feet. "With boat shoes?

He had me there. Why did I lose it around him?

"If I could find a way to make it sexy, and comfortable, to wear socks with boat shoes, I would." He flashed a killer grin that lit up the adorable dimples in his cheeks.

I was such a sucker for dimples. Pair them with a strong jaw, a close beard, and dancing eyes…

But this man was a shark. And a typical sweet talker. Why do guys say they'll call when they have no intention of following through? Promises, empty promises.

"These are prototypes using new technology and materials from a friend's company. Completely odor-free, no matter what you do to them. Slip-free. Comfort soles."

Was his chest puffing? It was already hot enough around here. Did he need to peacock, too?

"We're teaming up on a joint venture…"

Did he not know what he was saying? Throwing gas on the fire. I resisted shaking my head. Sure. Fine. Taunt me with another product you won't let me feature at Flash. I wanted to slap him in the
worst
way. Or maybe just throw myself at him.

"What are you doing in Fiji?" I could put the chill in my voice when I wanted. And I definitely wanted.

He was being so damned casual.

"I've been vacationing down here for the past week. Just hanging with my buddy." He untied the boat and headed for the driver's seat, nodding toward the passenger seat next to it. "You'll be most comfortable up front. It can get choppy in the back."

"So that's why you haven't been returning my calls." I followed him to the passenger seat. But only because I wanted his ear. In this case, a captive audience was the only kind I was likely to get with him. "And here I just thought you were avoiding me."

For a split second he looked almost guilty. Adorably so. "
Oh.
That
Brittany West." His voice hardened. "From Flashionista. I thought I recognized your voice from somewhere."

Finally
.

He pulled the boat out of its space and headed toward open water.

"We'd love to do an event with you." I launched into my sales pitch.

He cut me off. "I have a strict no-business-while-on-vacation policy. I don't make deals during my downtime."

Where there's a will, there's a way to get around every stupid policy ever conjured up.

"Fair enough. I'm on vacation, too." I shot him a sly look. I saw no reason to antagonize him right away. Bonding was probably a better tactic in the long run. I patted the side of the boat. "This is a beauty. Why don't you show me what it can do?"

His answering grin was perfectly devilish. "My pleasure."

Target hit. With that, the hot-dogging began. He showed off his boating prowess while I grinned appreciation as we skimmed across the waters.

As we got farther out to sea, the water got rougher and the wind resisted us. I hung on to the edge of the boat, glad I'd taken my less-drowsy Dramamine before we left.

An hour of rough ride later, a tiny island came into view. With spectacular palm trees and white sandy beaches. The kind of deserted isle it would be perfect to honeymoon on someday. Definitely the place to be stranded with the right guy.

As I swept my wind-struck hair out of my face, a gorgeous small house surrounded by blue waters turned dark by the clouds now forming overhead came into view around the island. It was two stories high, with a sundeck on top and a deck running the entire perimeter of the ground floor. Is it really a ground floor, though, when it's actually on the water? Well, whatever. The first floor.

Minutes later, Eli pulled the boat into the covered boathouse attached to the house. The wind was kicking up, rippling the relatively calm waters over the reef, and blowing the palm trees in the distance. The air was fast becoming heavy and humid. Close. My sundress stuck to my back.

Eli jumped onto the dock in the boathouse and gave me a hand out of the boat before reaching for my bags and supplies he'd brought with him. I took me a second to find my land legs.