Summer Heat Wave

by Lauren Smith

  That shocked Denver, but he was already in control of his reactions, so nothing looked amiss.

  “What do you think of her uncle?” Denver kept his tone casual as they moved up in line for drinks. “Would you have any problems working with him?”

  “He’s a snake, but we wouldn’t be working with him. By all accounts, Blair isn’t close to her uncle, but I suppose you know that better than me.”

  “She rarely mentions him.” Denver stepped up to the bar as the line moved again. He asked the bartender for a few glasses of water.

  “Will she be moving here to stay with you? Or will you move back to Chicago with her?”

  “We . . . We haven’t decided. I figure after we get engaged, we’ll have that conversation.”

  Jack chuckled. “You had better have that conversation before you propose. Trust me. Decisions like that need to be discussed before you commit.”

  Denver shot a glance toward the distant table where Anne and Blair were laughing. Blair looked gorgeous tonight. This game was getting harder and harder because he was forgetting it was a game.

  “You look happy together. I admit I didn’t expect that.” Jack gave Denver a shrewd look. “I told Anne I was convinced you had bullshitted me about being in a relationship, but after tonight, well, it’s clear you and Blair are the real deal. You can barely keep your hands off each other. It made me feel young again when I saw you, and it reminded me that Anne and I haven’t lost our spark.” His expression turned infinitely tender as he looked back at his wife in the distance.

  “Blair and I, we’re definitely still in the lust stage,” Denver replied, careful to avoid the word love.

  “It’s more than lust. When she looks at you, it’s like you landed on the moon and carved her name into the moondust. She looks at you like you’re a hero. Trust me, I know that look when I see it. It’s how I look every morning when I wake up in bed next to my wife. Like I’m the luckiest damn man on the planet just to be with her.”

  A flutter stirred in Denver’s chest, leaving him unsettled. Blair had to be faking that; there was no way she felt anything romantic toward him. Sure, she desired him, and he desired her, but it was only physical. He would have bet his life on it.

  “Well, let’s not keep the ladies waiting,” Jack said.

  “Your shoe was stuck in between the floor and the elevator?” Anne couldn’t hold back her laughter.

  “Yes!” Blair couldn’t stop giggling herself. “I almost broke off the heel. It was my most expensive pair of Jimmy Choos too.”

  “Of course, that’s always how it goes.” Anne wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “What happened then?”

  “Well, we had been sort of doing that whole ‘politely ignoring’ thing people always do on elevators, but there I was grappling with my shoe, and he came to my rescue. But just as he saved my shoe, the elevator doors closed on him. He was wearing this gorgeous light-gray suit, and the doors left awful grease marks on it. I felt so bad. I told him that I wanted to pay for hotel dry cleaning to fix it, even though he argued against it. I took him back to my room, and one thing led to another.” Blair blushed, her memory of Denver’s fake meet-cute story almost real to her now.

  “I bet it did.” Anne sighed dreamily. “The way he looks at you, even now, it’s like he wants to devour you. There’s an almost scary intensity to the way he watches you,” Anne added thoughtfully. “It reminds me of Jack when we first met.”

  “What?” Blair couldn’t hide her surprise.

  “Yes! You haven’t noticed? Just look at him. He’s doing it right now.”

  Blair carefully peeked over her shoulder toward the bar. Anne was right. Denver was staring at her, and his look was far too intense. It looked like he wanted to carry her off and pin her to the nearest flat surface and have his way with her. She would not have objected if he had.

  “That’s a man not just in love but obsessed.” Anne smiled. “You’ve got him hooked.”

  Blair smiled, acting pleased, but inside she was quaking with nerves. Anne had no idea that Denver’s obsession wasn’t love but loathing.

  “Yes, I’m so lucky,” Blair forced out. She was relieved when the two men returned to the table with the drinks. Denver slid smoothly into the seat beside her and placed a glass of water in front of her.

  “Thank you.” She caressed his arm before she picked up the glass and took a long drink.

  “You’re welcome, babe.” Denver casually reached an arm around her waist, giving it a light squeeze.

  The four of them watched the dancing and listened to the music for another fifteen minutes before Anne announced she was ready to go back to the hotel.

  After Denver pulled up in front of the Seven Seas and tossed his keys to the valet, he and Blair bid the Hudsons good night. They stood together, Denver’s arm around Blair’s waist, Blair leaning her head against Denver’s shoulder, the picture of a loving couple, as they waited for Anne and Jack to vanish from view.

  “How do you think it went?” she asked Denver in a quiet tone.

  He stilled and let go of her waist, but she didn’t pull away. It was far too enjoyable, leaning against him like that. He was solid, warm, and masculine—all things she wanted to cling to in that moment.

  “I think they bought it.”

  “Well, I should get back to my suite.” Blair double-checked that she hadn’t left her purse at the club. She’d been so busy worrying about their charade, she wouldn’t have been surprised to realize she’d left her purse on the table.

  “Let me walk you.” Denver kept by her side as they left the lobby.

  “You don’t have to. Your hotel property is incredibly safe.”

  “Humor me,” Denver said, his tone brooking no argument.

  They walked in silence; the only sounds were the whisper of the wind in the palms and the distant roar of the waves. When they got to her bungalow, she turned to face him.

  “So . . . What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

  “Jack and Anne will have a proper tour of the hotel and see how I operate everything. If you don’t mind meeting us for dinner again, that should be the only time I need you.”

  She nearly flinched at the brusqueness of his words, but she reminded herself that this was what she’d agreed to. That everything tonight had been a game of pretend, and she had real work to do on her campaign if she was going to get him to take her seriously.

  “Oh, good. I was thinking of touring the resort on my own and taking some photos. I have some ideas for the campaign, and that will give me some time to rework things. Is there a professional printer on the island? I want to have the pamphlets and brochures redone, and I’ll need a print shop.”

  “There is. I’ll text you the information, and you can have the valet give you my car if you need it.”

  “Thank you, Denver.” She wanted to lean into him, to touch him one last time before going to bed alone, but he wouldn’t want that. Blair was certain she was starting to win just a hint of trust from him, and she didn’t want to jeopardize that. She turned and headed toward the door of her bungalow. She paused when she heard him speak and couldn’t help but smile at his words.

  “Good night, Blair.”

  7

  “I don’t like the look of this,” Denver muttered as he and Simon stood in his office, watching the seventy-five-inch TV screen on the wall opposite his desk.

  A massive tropical storm was swirling out in the Atlantic just south of the Bahamas. Denver retrieved the TV remote from his desk and turned the volume up as a meteorologist appeared on the screen and started speaking.

  “We are following the development of this new tropical storm. We have received word that it has been assigned a name by the National Hurricane Center based on the strict procedures of the World Meteorological Organization. The storm is now Tropical Storm Blair. If you are on the southeast coast of the United States or the Caribbean, please stay tuned to your local news channel for updates.”

  “Blai
r.” Simon choked on the word, clearly trying not to laugh. “That’s ironic.”

  Denver stared at the storm headed right for his island. “Some days I feel like the universe is mocking me.”

  Simon clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Blair can’t be that bad. I ran into Mr. and Mrs. Hudson this morning on the path from the beach, and they were singing her praises. They think she’s sweet and charming. She’s working out just like you wanted.”

  Denver wanted a lot of things, and Blair on her back, naked beneath him, was high up on the list, but he wasn’t going to go there. Simon was right, though. She had done well so far, winning over the Hudsons. They just had to make it a few more days, and he’d seal the deal for the Bali resort.

  “What time are you meeting with the Hudsons?” Simon asked.

  Denver checked his watch. “In a few minutes. Will you run point on the storm? If we need to evacuate, I want all the guests ready. Even if it’s just a bad storm, I want all the hurricane windows on the bungalows activated and guests brought into the main building for safety. We’ll serve everything Christian can cook, run movies in the movie theater, and have games and drinks in the lounges.”

  He had gotten storm preparation down perfectly at the Seven Seas and was proud that his hotel was one of the safest in the Caribbean. Thanks to a signed consent form, his staff was able to track guests on the property using their electronic wristbands. During a dangerous storm, every guest had to be accounted for. Storm surges could catch people unaware and sweep them off their feet, and he didn’t want anyone getting hurt or killed.

  “I’ll keep watch. We usually don’t get any bad storms until September and October anyway. We might get lucky,” Simon reminded him.

  “I hope so.” Denver removed his suit coat and left it on the back of his desk chair before he left his office to meet with the Hudsons.

  Jack and Anne were in the lobby, both looking at Anne’s phone when he joined them.

  “Tropical Storm Blair, eh? Does Blair know you’re naming storms after her?” Jack’s tone was teasing, but Denver didn’t miss the concern in the man’s eyes.

  “She doesn’t.” Denver forced a smile. “She’ll be amused. Don’t worry, we have everything under control here.”

  “Is it safe to tour the property?” Anne asked.

  The wind had risen a little and the skies were turbulent, but the rain hadn’t started and he couldn’t smell it in the air yet.

  “For the moment, yes,” Denver assured her. “Simon is watching the radar. I’ll explain all of our storm procedures as we walk.”

  Denver took them on a tour for the next two hours, explaining all the structures and amenities that were currently offered at the Seven Seas that he planned to offer at Atlantis Rising, as well as the new services he planned to add to the Bali resort to set it apart for guests as a unique experience.

  Each time they left a building and stepped outside, he immediately breathed in a lungful of sea air and studied the darkening skies. With his ability by now to judge the sea, he guessed that the tropical storm would be there in less than two hours.

  His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. Simon’s name flashed on the screen.

  “What’s the word, Simon?” he asked as he stepped a few feet away from Jack and Anne.

  “I’m turning on the sirens. We’re calling all guests into the main complex now. Where are you?”

  “We’re at the docks.” Denver had been showing them the private boat jetty where the tour boats stopped to take people out to scuba dive, snorkel, Jet-Ski, or parasail.

  “Well, head back now. The storm is moving northwest faster than predicted, and we don’t have much time,” Simon warned.

  “We’re on our way now.” He started to hang up the phone, but then a bad feeling hit him. “Simon, where’s Blair?”

  “I’m not sure. She and I were supposed to meet this morning, but she called and said she wanted to take photos first and would call me back this afternoon.”

  Denver scanned the horizon just as the resort’s storm sirens started blaring.

  “Track her bracelet and call me back when you have her location.”

  “I will,” Simon promised before he hung up.

  Denver returned to the Hudsons. “We need to return to the main building. Everything is going to be fine, but we’ll be spending the next several hours waiting out the storm in the safety of the main building.”

  “Is Blair all right?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know. She hasn’t checked in at the main building. I need to go find her, but I need to get you both back first—”

  “Denver, we’ll be fine. Go and find Blair.” Anne’s tone was soft and full of worry.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Go,” Jack echoed his wife.

  Denver headed for the Siren bungalow. The other small housing units in the Nautilus complex were dark. Their protective window screens had all lowered automatically when Simon had triggered the tropical storm alarm. It was one of the many things Denver had insisted on when he built the place. He wanted the main building to be large enough to accommodate and entertain all guests, and he wanted remote control of all the building windows where they could cover themselves with storm shields to prevent as much damage as possible. In the few years they had been open, this was only the second time they’d had to use them. He hadn’t worried then the way he was worrying now.

  He jogged up the steps and pounded a fist on Blair’s door. Behind him, the winds had picked up, and the usually gentle sound of the sea had turned angry.

  “Blair!” he hollered and pounded on the door again. No one answered. “Dammit!” Just as he turned and rushed back down the steps, his phone rang.

  “Simon, tell me where she is.” He walked fast, but his legs were aching to run.

  “By the north dock at the far end of the resort. She’s right by the water.”

  Simon’s words sent a flash of pure primal fear through Denver. Right by the water was the worst place to be. She could get swept off her feet and pulled out to sea, or she could get trapped under debris, or she could fall and hit her head. It all came back to the fear of losing her.

  He shoved his phone into his trouser pocket and ran along the path that would take him to the north dock. The storm was gearing up now, the palm trees bending ominously as the waves surged past the beach and over the sidewalks close to the water.

  Where the hell are you, Blair?

  He spotted her just as a wave knocked her facedown onto the sidewalk. She slid back several dangerous inches as the suction of the retreating water tried to drag her toward the sea. For one brief instant he saw the fear in her face—a look of animalistic dread, of knowing nature was winning the battle and she wouldn’t make it—but nature couldn’t stop him, not today.

  Denver reached her just before another wave would have overtaken her completely.

  He gripped her waist and pulled her up into his arms, holding her tight. She was freezing, her limbs like ice, stiff and quaking as he half carried her away from the reach of the water.

  “Can you walk?” he shouted over the howling winds.

  “Y-yes . . . I think so.” Her teeth chattered.

  “Let me help you.” He gripped her waist again, keeping her pressed to his side.

  She lifted her head to stare up at him in surprise. Her brown eyes were wide and dazed with fear and confusion. She looked so young, so innocent, so afraid, that every protective instinct in him surged to life.

  In that moment, it didn’t matter that she was the daughter of his most hated enemy. All that mattered was her and that she was safe from his other love, the sea.

  “Just a bit farther,” he said, trying to give her something to reassure her. They moved down a walkway toward the main building where all the other guests were waiting.

  The waves rushed in again toward them, but he had a firm footing and wouldn’t let anything happen to Blair. The doors to the lobby opened, and two employees rushed o
utside, one of them holding a small towel.

  “Are you all right, sir?” the man with the towel asked him.

  “Yes, thank you. Are all of the guests safe?” Denver asked.

  “Yes, sir. All safe and accounted for. We have implemented the hurricane protection plan. All of the housing is secure as well. The National Weather Service has already downgraded the storm to a category one, and within a few hours we should have clear skies again.”

  Unable and unwilling to let go of Blair, especially when her shivering was so strong that it shook his body too, he spoke quickly to his employees.

  “Miss Ashworth and I will be in my apartment. Call me if you need me.” As water dripped down Blair’s face, Denver lifted the towel given to him and wiped the water away from her face. Then he handed the towel back to one of the men.

  “Yes, sir.” The man nodded and returned to the front desk.

  Denver led the way down a private hallway toward his living quarters. He had never brought a woman back here before. In all the romantic encounters he had had, none of them had been meaningful enough for him to break the sanctity of his own rooms. But Blair was different, and he needed to take care of her, and the best place to do so was in his private world.

  Denver released his hold on her waist and lifted his wrist with the metal band to open his door. Then he stepped out of the way and let her pass by him.

  Once she was safely inside his apartment, he closed the door and nodded for her to enter the living room.

  “Sit down.” He kept his tone gentle, knowing she was still in shock and that soon her adrenaline would wear off and she would feel completely out of control of everything, especially her own body’s reactions. It was better if she sat and let her body ride out the adrenaline crash.

  Denver went down the hall and grabbed two of his thickest, softest towels, along with the first aid kit, before he returned to the living room. When he returned, Blair was perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, looking too tempting, like a rain-soaked siren who had just been granted the gift of legs. And what legs they were, too . . .