Wicked Heat

And he wanted more of her, then and there, than he’d ever wanted of another woman.

He hesitated a split second, but it was enough.

Ella broke the kiss, slipped under his arm and took several long strides toward the bedroom. Pausing, she reached down and slipped her heels off. Liam watched as she curled her bare feet into the fluffy rug and then uncurled them.

He couldn’t believe that this woman, this siren, would have toenails painted the faintest seashell pink. It seemed like a secret that he alone knew, and he had the strangest urge to keep anyone else from knowing this tiny private thing about her.

This had to stop.

He hadn’t come here to engage in a tryst. The only reason compelling enough to take him away from the office mid–corporate takeover was his little sister’s well-being. When she’d told him she needed help planning the perfect wedding, he’d met her and her fiancé in London for dinner. The man, semiprofessional baseball player Mike Feigenbaum, had been attentive at first. That had quickly devolved following a phone call the man had taken midmeal—answering without apology and leaving the table without excusing himself. He’d missed most of the main course and had snapped at Jenna when she went to check on him. She’d been upset, and her proposed groom had done nothing to console her. Instead, he’d shown signs of a temper Liam wouldn’t allow Jenna to become tied to.

So he’d flown halfway round the world to stop his sister from marrying a domineering asshole following a whirlwind romance that had been documented by all the gossip rags.

Rolling up his sleeves and strolling with feigned casualness to the hammock, Liam lay down and locked his hands behind his head. He watched Ella from under half-lowered eyelids. She was temptation incarnate. Her body was in lush profile to him, her unapologetic stare locked on his.

“So that’s what our kiss would have been like?” He rubbed his chin between thumb and forefinger. “Sufficient.”

She chuffed out a sound of indignation laced with disbelief. “If that driving wood behind your zipper is any indication, that kiss was far more than sufficient.” Bending, she scooped up her shoes. “And seeing as I’ve been more than clear on my lack of appreciation for liars, I’d suggest you cut the crap.”

“Testy.” Liam gently set the hammock to rocking and continued to watch Ella. “Tell me, have you always had this aversion to fibbers, or is this something new?”

“I’ve never been a fan of lying. What’s the point?”

“To get what one wants, I assume.”

Her face closed up, any and all emotion under lock and key. “No matter whom you hurt?”

“Who hurt you?” The question wasn’t meant to be as weighty as it sounded, but Liam found himself desperately wanting to resolve the problem for this fiery woman. It would cost him little and potentially relieve her of some personal baggage.

She looked at him askance, worrying her bottom lip.

“Tell me.”

“Ask nicely,” she retorted.

He waited.

So did she.

Liam rolled his eyes. “Please.”

“You’ve heard of Two Turtle Doves?”

He shook his head.

“It’s a prime-time TV show. I was supposed to be half of it. My business partner sold me out, took our idea to the network and they bought it...without me as a cohost.”

Liam set his foot on the deck and stopped the hammock’s rocking. “Threw you under the bus, did she?”

“He, and yes. Clients followed the fame, and that left me coordinating children’s birthday parties and bar mitzvahs to make ends meet. No one wanted the event planner who hadn’t been good enough for the network to pick up.”

“But you were excluded. It wasn’t a matter of being good enough,” he countered.

“That part didn’t make the network news. All people knew was that I was cut out of the deal. They assumed.”

“So your partner lied...”

“And everyone believed him. He ruined my life with a single lie.” She shrugged. “That pretty much made me a stickler for the truth. And now your sister’s wedding is going to put me back on the map and reestablish my reputation as the premier event coordinator for the upper echelon of Los Angeles.”

The truth pricked the little guilt he allowed himself, but he couldn’t let that sway him from his course of action, no matter how deliciously tempting he found Ella, nor how heartbreaking her story was. Jenna’s happiness and well-being had to come before all else, including Ella’s business. After all, she would have a multitude of opportunities to reclaim her place in the who’s who of society planners. But Jenna? She had one real shot at a happily-ever-after, and it was not going to happen with some semiprofessional baseball player from Wisconsin.

Settling deeper into the hammock, Liam set the swing into motion once more. He closed his eyes and forced his breathing into a rhythmic pattern—in, two, three, four, five...hold...out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. His heart rate slowed. The churning in his stomach eased. And he was able to address Ella, who’d moved to stand at the foot of the hammock.

“I can’t speak to the reputation you once had, but I’ve no doubt you’re perfectly capable. My sister wouldn’t have hired you if you weren’t.” He opened his eyes. “Seeing as we’re going to be spending the next seven days together, how do you propose we best handle our close proximity?”

She tilted her head toward the bedroom before flicking open the top button of her blouse. She grinned, backing away from him. “I can handle the...proximity issue...if you can. First thing I’m going to do is put my dive suit on and check out the resort’s dive excursion. Your sister and her fiancé wanted some fun prewedding activities for their guests, so I’m planning a group dive. But I want to check out the instructors myself and make sure the experience not only meets but exceeds the hype. Sunken ship, hammerhead sharks, colorful reefs with abundant life—all that jazz.”

Liam stood and moved toward her, closing the distance with measured steps until he stood mere inches from her. He looked down and stared into light green eyes rimmed with ebony lashes. Reaching out, he tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

“I, uh...”

He leaned toward her, quietly amused at the way she responded, instinctively moving closer to him before she caught herself. Undoubtedly, it was her need for control that forced her to pause midmotion. But she didn’t retreat, didn’t recover the steps she’d taken toward him.

Good to know.

“I thought we’d cleared this up,” she said. “Business before pleasure.”

“Oh, we did.” He deftly removed the earring that had been about to fall free of her ear, handing it over. “I didn’t want you to lose this. It looks like the real deal.”

She took it from him, closing her fingers around the earring and stepping back. “Thank you.”

He began to unbutton his shirt, thrilling as her eyes followed each button until he hit his waist and pulled his shirttails free. Then she looked up, eyes wide.

Someone knocked at the door.

His mouth kicked up in a small smile, though his eyes never left hers. “I’ll get that, as it’s likely our luggage.”

“Sure.”

He started for the door. Several steps away, he glanced back and found her rooted in the same spot, her eyes locked on his backside.

“I’ll have our bags put in here. If you’ll give me five minutes, I’ve a mind to grab my suit and head out with you.”

“You dive?” she blurted out.

“I do.”

“Is your future brother-in-law certified, do you know?”

He tried not to scowl and, by the worried look on Ella’s face, achieved far less than even 50 percent success. “I’m not certain. But I suppose he’s like anyone else—he’ll either dive or drown.”

Her brow furrowed at the comment, but she didn’t reply.

He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it on the bed. “Be right back.”

He rounded the corner but still managed to hear her reply.

“Please, God, let them be trunks. But if You’re listening, it would be fine if they’re small.”

* * *

Long before they reached the dive center, Ella was certain she’d been cosmically destined to face death by drowning. Why? If Liam Baggett was a menace in a power suit, then he was lethal in swim trunks. Yes, small swim trunks, at that. God’s existence had been verified the moment Liam walked out of their bungalow, towel slung over one broad...broad...shoulder, his lips still slightly swollen from their kiss.

Their kiss. What had she been thinking? The answer was simple: nothing. She’d been living on the sheer influx of desire that had clouded her brain and determined conservative thinking—and living—to be a crime given proximity to him.

She sneaked another look, this one longer. And she wasn’t any sorrier this time than she had been when she’d stolen the first, second or third looks.

His upper body had the professionally chiseled look that came from long hours in the gym and, for good measure, a little physical work on the side. His thighs were lean but corded with muscle. If she touched his calves, they’d be solid. But his arms were the most arresting part of him. They were nothing less than sculpted perfection, a wordless covenant that protection could be found within their embrace.

Ella shook her head. Covenant? Protection? You’re thinking Henry Cavill as Superman, not British surrogate wedding decision maker.

They passed the bar, and she eyed it longingly. If she stopped for a drink, just one, they’d miss this excursion but could still catch the last outing today. Watching the bartender muddle the mint as he put together a mojito almost made the decision for her... “Ella?”

Instinct had her rubbing her furrowed brow and forcing herself to take a deep breath. “Yes?”

Liam waited several feet ahead of her, a knowing look in his eyes. “If you want another...”

Kiss. Say kiss.

“...drink that badly, I’m sure we can make the next excursion. We’ve plenty of time before the wedding party’s arrival.”

Wedding party. Job. Stay focused.

“No.” The word registered clear and sharper than she’d intended. “No,” she said again, this time more pleasantly. “I need to... We need to use every minute to our advantage to ensure your sister’s wedding comes together without a hitch. No cutting corners, and certainly no making do.”

That same shadow she’d seen earlier passed over his face. “Of course.”

“Wait. What’s that look? Is there something I should know?”

He glanced away, his gaze fixed on some unseen spot in the water. “What, specifically, are you referring to?”

“I’m referring to the wedding. I mentioned it being perfect and your face went totally blank. Is there something you aren’t telling me? Something I should know?” She hesitated. “Is it something between the bride and groom?”

“I assure you, Ella, that my interests lie solely in securing my sister’s well-being. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less. Understand that I will do whatever I must to ensure her happiness is secured. She’s the priority here, not me.”

“Of course.” Ella gripped her shoulder and pulled, stretching, before repeating the same with the other side. She was wound so tight she couldn’t tell up from down, left from right, or brotherly concern from familial dissatisfaction. His answer struck her as a bit odd, though. Aggression created a solid foundation for every word he spoke. What was he willfully omitting?

The answer wasn’t right there for the plucking, but she’d figure it out. One thing was certain, however. He loved his sister and, like he said, she was the priority. At least they agreed on that much.

“About that drink?”

A shake of her head before she resumed the trek to the beachfront dive hut. “It’s best I don’t give in to temptation before hitting the water.”

The wind carried his response to her, soft and so sexually charged it seemed lightning should have struck. “On that, Ella, we very much disagree.”

Fighting to keep from visibly clenching her thighs at the impact of his words, she focused on retying the sarong around her waist. Her dive suit wasn’t skimpy, but it fit tight, and the thin neoprene did nothing but enhance every movement. So she’d suffer a little discomfort. It wouldn’t kill her.

Liam remained silent the rest of the walk, lagging behind just far enough that she felt his eyes caressing every line of her body, every inch of her bare skin.

CHAPTER FOUR

WAVES ROCKED THE 109-foot catamaran, the slap of water against the fiberglass hull soft. Rhythmic. Every now and then, the breeze would gather enough momentum that the sails swelled and billowed. The fabric would snap taut only to fall back to its lethargic default when the winds quieted. Clouds were sparse—brilliant white against the endless azure sky. If the Garden of Eden had been anything like this particular slice of paradise, Adam had been a fool to risk it all over a mediocre piece of fruit. For Eve, though? Particularly if she’d looked anything like Ella...

“I’d have eaten brussels sprouts if she’d offered,” he murmured.

Ella had started the trip by grilling the dive instructors, asking for everything from credentials to referrals. The poor men had been overwhelmed, though she hadn’t understood why. And wasn’t that just like her. She was everything brilliant and strong and professional...yet kind...and wearing a bikini. The poor dive instructors had been tripping over themselves to satisfy her every request. If they knew how the woman kissed? They’d be lost—land or sea, it wouldn’t matter.

As for himself? Well, he’d simply watched with avaricious appreciation as she took off the short dive suit and revealed the little number beneath. Thankfully, she hadn’t required anything of him. Even so, they hadn’t cleared the outermost harbor buoys before he’d lost the little bit of temper he’d packed for the afternoon.

“For God’s sake, Ella,” he bit out. “Leave the men to their jobs. I’m certain your questions will be answered in due course, either by the instructors or through the experience.”

Ella’s chin had set, and she’d shot him a sharp look. “I get your point, Liam. I’m annoying him by doing my job. Let me make something perfectly clear now, before we go any farther. You seem like you’d be the type who’s more comfortable dealing with women as accessories. That’s fine if it’s okay with the women in question. But I’m absolutely not that woman. I don’t require a man to intervene, to handle the difficult tasks—the proverbial heavy lifting. Thanks for feeling the need here, but I’m good. If you think I should retire to the deck and lie back, get a little sun and let the men do their jobs, think again.” She smiled sweetly at Liam. “Unless you’re willing to join me.”

“Well, shit,” he muttered. “Insult my manhood when I’m just trying to help you relax. What’s the old saying? ‘Out of the frying pan—’”

“Oh, you have no idea the fire you’ve just waltzed into,” she murmured, retrieving a glass of punch offered by the boat’s deckhand. “See, if you had grown up in the United States, Smokey the Bear would have taught you not to play with fire unless you were prepared to get burned. But after that interruption? You better hope there’s a first aid kit onboard, because I’m about to blister your ass.”

“Foreplay in such a public manner?” Liam teased. “I’ll take my chances.”

She grinned into her cup. “You’re just that type, aren’t you?”

“What type is that?”

Shaking her head, she wandered over to an unclaimed space on the deck and lay down before shooting him a quick, devilish look. “You know—the type to make things a little public.”

He sank down beside her, propped himself up on one arm and leaned over her, seeing his reflection in her sunglasses a split second before his subconscious made the decision his conscious mind would’ve eventually landed on. He kissed her. Quick. All heat and passion, without apology and certainly without regret. He’d only had the one taste of her, but he craved more. She was an instant addiction.

Breaking away, he smiled down at her. The stunned look on her face sent a thrill through him. Seducing her, or being seduced by her, would be worth every effort. Or almost any compromise. So she was clear, however, he leaned closer and said, “I don’t mind public displays of affection.”

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