Trapped In Temptation Box Set (BBW Alpha Billionaire Romance)

by Flynn, Mac

  "This would be your third."

  "I'm begging for a third chance."

  I tilted my head to one side and raised an eyebrow. "Why are you so desperate for me to stay with you, anyway?"

  His eyes swept over me with such a heated look that I blushed. "Maybe you've inspired me. A writer has to have his muse, you know," he teased.

  "No, I don't know. I don't write," I admitted.

  He grinned. "But you read, or you wouldn't know my name."

  I snorted. "Your name's hard to miss when every woman has your website bookmarked on their phone browsers."

  "I take it you're not a fan?" he guessed.

  I blushed and fidgeted. "I wouldn't say that. . ."

  His grin changed to a sly smile. "Then you've read some of my work."

  "A little. It's hard to miss, and I liked your covers," I admitted.

  He climbed to his feet and offered me his arm. "Good. Then you know I know how to give my heroine a good time, and I'd like to show you the same courtesy." I hesitated. He was famous, but I didn't want to be famous if he decided to give up his fame for infamy and murdered me. "Trust me. You'll have a good time," he promised.

  "I don't know. . ." I murmured.

  "It's the least I can do for stealing your bungalow away from you," he pointed out.

  I sighed and took his arm. "All right, but no funny business or you'll be writing your next story from a hospital bed."

  He bowed his head and led me down the boardwalk towards the last bungalow in the row along the beach. "You won't live to regret it," he assured me.

  I raised an eyebrow. "I can see why you write for a living."

  "Why's that?"

  "Because the wrong things come out of your mouth when you talk."

  "It's a family gift, now what would you like to do first?" He swept his hand over the beach to our right and the boardwalk that lay in front of us. "There's a whole wild world out there for us to explore."

  "I'd like to first explore the inside of the bungalow. My shoulder's killing me," I quipped as I readjusted my bag.

  He chuckled. "A good plan, starting at the beginning."

  "You usually start your stories in the middle?"

  "No, the end." He leaned towards me and his eyes glided over me. I blushed under his careful gaze. He lowered his voice to a whisper that was full of sensual promises. "It seems to be everyone's favorite part."

  "I-I guess," I stammered.

  He pulled me so close to him that his warm, sweet breath washed over me. "Is it yours?"

  I felt a warm, aching desire rise within me. It washed over me like a hot wave and penetrated my thoughts with delicious fantasies of silk sheets and groans. My body pulsed with my feminine need for him to fulfill the promise in his voice and make me his. He would seduce me with his warm touches and sweet words, and I would moan and arch into his touch.

  My eyes widened at the image. The dirty thoughts caused my cheeks to redden and I stared straight ahead to avoid eye contact.

  "I-I don't know. I don't think I ever got that far in them," I told him.

  Murphy studied me for a moment before he leaned away from me, but I caught a knowing look in his eye. I couldn't fool him with my pathetic lying. "I see, well, we'll take a look at the bungalow and then see about showing you a good time around here. Is this your first time at this beach?"

  "My first time at any beach this large," I replied. I was pleased at the turn of the conversation, and yet a part of me, a deep part, was disappointed. He was handsome, and being rich didn't hurt.

  "Then you'll have to let me be your guide, at least for tonight," he insisted.

  My heated mind conjured up images of us on a dance flour grinding our bodies together to a fast beat. "I don't know-"

  "Then it's agreed. Just as soon as you get settled in I'll take you for a night on the town you'll never forget," he promised.

  "I don't doubt it. . ." I muttered as we made our way to our shared bungalow.

  CHAPTER 3

  Murphy turned us off the boardwalk and onto the sand for the short walk to the deck in front of the bungalow. It was much like the other decks, but with a special touch that told me the occupant was a little-well, quirky. There were two folding chairs with a small ice chest between them. Atop the ice chest was a flat piece of driftwood, and on its top was a wide, short drinking glass with a pink umbrella. There was melted ice cubes in the bottom and a slice of lemon off to the side.

  I pointed at the glass as we passed. "Wine?" I guessed.

  "Beer," he told me. He opened the door and stepped aside. "Ladies first."

  I rolled my eyes, but entered. The bungalow had three separate rooms. The kitchen, dining room and living room flowed into one another, and there was a bathroom and a bedroom. The place was plainly furnished with second-hand everything, including the coasters on the coffee table. The bright spots in the rooms were the wide, tall windows that looked out on the beach. The view showed the horizon and the setting sun in the distance. Night would come in less than an hour.

  I jumped when someone behind me grabbed my bag. I spun around and glared at Murphy. He sheepishly grinned and nodded at my bag. "I just thought I'd take your coat and hat," he explained.

  I blushed. "Oh, right. Sure." I slid the bag off my shoulder and was glad for the lost weight. I had enough weight as it was.

  Murphy took my bag and strode into the bedroom that was located at the rear of the building. On the same back wall was the door to the bathroom. I took a peek inside and was surprised to find it had a jacuzzi bathtub and his/hers sinks.

  "The bath's big enough to fit two," Murphy spoke up behind me.

  I jumped and whirled around to glare at him. "Do I need to put a bell on you?"

  His sly smile widened. "Depends. Are we playing a game of cat-and-mouse?"

  I rolled my eyes and strode over to the living room. It sat on the far left side of the bungalow, and to its right were the dining room and kitchen, respectively. I plopped myself onto the couch and winced when my rear hit a spring.

  "I'm too tired to play anything," I commented.

  "I hope not. I have a promise to keep, and you're going to help me keep that promise," Murphy insisted. He walked over to the back of the couch, slipped his arms under mine and pulled me off the couch. "Come on," he wheezed, "time to go have fun."

  I couldn't help but laugh. "You keep holding me and we're going to have a lot of fun in the hospital treating your dislocated back."

  "It's fine," he choked out. He grunted and pushed me forward so I was forced to stand on my feet. "There. Now we're ready to go have some fun."

  I turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "What kind of fun were you thinking about?"

  He grinned. "The kind of fun that may or may not end in a wild ride."

  "That sounds illegal."

  "Maybe in a few states."

  "This one?"

  "I hope not, but I haven't checked up on the rules." He strode around the couch and grabbed my hand. I blushed at the feel of his warm hand over mine. His touch sent shivers of warm pleasure through my body. He pulled me around the couch and towards the door.

  I shook myself out of my daze and dug my heels into the waxed wood floor. "Wait a sec! I haven't eaten in eight hours!" I told him.

  "Great! I know the perfect place to eat!" he replied.

  Murphy dragged me out of the bungalow and back onto the beach. The crowds had thinned over that short time in the bungalow, and the setting sun warned everyone that a cool night was coming. Murphy led me onto the boardwalk and down the beach away from the small shops and parking lots. He left me go and slipped beside me. I saw he had a huge grin on his face. That worried me.

  "Where exactly are we going?" I asked him.

  "Just this place I know on the reef," he explained.

  I glanced down at myself. I wore a white t-shirt, tan jean shorts, and my tennis shoes without socks. "I hope they offer dresses to rent."

  He laughed. "If they have spare dre
sses they're being used as curtains for the windows. The only other ones are still attached to the senoritas."

  "'Senoritas?'" I repeated.

  "Never been to an authentic Mexican restaurant?" he guessed.

  "If you mean the ones where I can't pronounce any of the food, then yes."

  "Ah, but I bet you haven't been to one like this," he insisted.

  "Is that a good or bad thing?"

  "Definitely good."

  I frowned. "Have you been known to lead innocent young women astray before?" I mused.

  He furrowed his brow and rubbed his chin in one hand. "Yes, several dozen times." My eyes widened, and he laughed. "Only in my books," he explained.

  I rolled my eyes. "I can't believe you're the guy who wrote all those romances."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why not?" He stepped out in front of me, spun around and spread his arms out. He didn't break his stride, but performed it walking backwards. "I don't fit the male lead."

  I silently admitted that he fit that part very well. "It's not that, it's just that-well, you're strange."

  He smiled and dropped his arms, but continued to walk backwards. "Well, every writer has what they're good at writing, and what they'd want to write."

  "And that means what?"

  "It means I'm good at romance, but I'd rather be writing comedies."

  "So why don't you?"

  "Comedies get the laughs, but don't pay the rent."

  "So few laughs and more sex?"

  "Yep, and the money just-whoa!" One of his heels caught on the boards beneath us. He flailed for a moment before he tumbled backwards onto the sand and landed on his rear.

  I bent down in front of him and grinned. "You sure you shouldn't have been a circus clown?"

  "Sometimes I'm not so sure," he admitted. He winced and reached under himself. His hand retrieved a shell from his posterior which he tossed onto the beach. He held out his hand to me. "Mind giving a sad old clown some help up?" I grabbed his hand with both of mine and yanked him to his feet. He brushed himself off and chuckled. "I'm making a pretty big fool of myself, aren't I?"

  I smiled and shrugged. "I've seen worse."

  "Well, I'll try not to beat that record." He looked over his shoulder at the beach in front of me. On the left opposite the waters sat a cluster of warehouses. Their doors were closed for the day, but their smells were still open for business. A wind blew from that direction and I wrinkled my nose. I pinched my nose and turned to Murphy.

  "I thought you were going to treat me to dinner, not take away my appetite," I reminded him.

  "It's not the warehouses we're going to, it's the dock," he explained.

  I followed his gaze and saw a long pier that supplied the warehouses with their daily catch. Large and small fishing boats lined the dock. Not a single soul was around.

  "Are we going to have to fish for our meal?" I guessed.

  He laughed, set his hand on my lower back and led me forward. "No, but we do need a boat. The place I'm taking you to isn't fancy, but it is exclusive."

  "How exclusive?"

  "You have to have a boat to get to it."

  I snorted. "How picky of them."

  "It is, isn't it?"

  Murphy guided me onto the wide, long pier. There were several long arms of the pier that allowed more room for ship parking, and the boats created a maze of masts and cabins. The planks clapped beneath our feet as we made our way along the rows of ships. Murphy turned onto a branch of the pier and stopped in front of a small rowboat with an even smaller, older diesel engine.

  "Here we are!" he announced.

  I looked to the left and right. "What? Lost?" I guessed.

  "No, this is my sloop that will take us to Casa Paradiso," he explained.

  I gestured to the rowboat. "This?"

  He smiled and nodded. "Yep."

  I narrowed my eyes and leaned towards him. "Are you really Ken Murphy, the author?"

  "Do I need to show you my tax returns?"

  "That would be nice."

  "Unfortunately, I left them in my other suitcase." He stepped into the boat and it rocked precariously beneath him. Murphy turned to me and held out his hand. "We'd better go or we might not get a good table."

  I folded my arms across my chest and planted my feet firmly on the pier. "I'm not going anywhere until you prove to me you're Ken Murphy, the author, and not Ken Murphy, the clown."

  "Can't a guy be two things?"

  "Guys aren't that great at multitasking."

  The man known to me as Murphy shrugged and pulled a wallet from his back pocket. He held it out to me. "Look inside."

  I took the wallet and opened the pocket. My eyes widened when I beheld a large row of bills. These weren't bills for tipping, either. There were more Franklins than Georges, and I saw a few Grants mixed into the bunch. There must have been a couple thousand dollars in the wallet.

  Murphy grinned at me. "Impressive, isn't it?"

  "No!" I clapped the wallet shut and glared at him. "What the hell are you doing carrying around this much money?"

  "To prove to beautiful damsels that I am who I say I am," he quipped.

  "And to get yourself robbed!" I retorted.

  "That, too." He took the wallet back and stuffed it into his pocket. "Now I don't know about you, but I'm starving. What say we agree to stop being suspicious and silly towards each other, and just be our normal, sane selves."

  I snorted. "I don't think that describes you, but I guess."

  He held out his hand and stared unblinkingly at me. "Shake on it, and no returns on the promise." I grinned and gave his hand a nice, tight shake. He winced and extracted his hand from mine. Murphy rubbed his hand as I slipped into the boat. "You're as strong as you look."

  "I'll take that as a compliment, now off we go, chauffeur!" I called out.

  "Yes, ma'am!" he replied.

  CHAPTER 4

  He started up the diesel engine and we zoomed away from the dock and to the far end of the beach to our right. The boat rocked and I gripped the sides.

  "Don't have any sea legs?" he teased.

  I kept my eyes glued on the bow and not the dark water that we passed over. "Just not much experience with boats, or water. How far is this place?" I asked him.

  He nodded ahead of us. The beach curved into the water like a scythe. There was a thin strip of land beyond the sand with trees and rocks that blocked the view of what lay on the other side.

  "There's a small lagoon on the other side of that curve. That's where the restaurant is," he told me.

  "A lot of people know about this place?" I wondered.

  "Only the locals and a few of the tourists," he replied.

  "So how'd you learn about it?"

  He grinned and shrugged. "I come here pretty often to get away from my blog, so I'm practically a native."

  We fell silent as the world darkened around us. The chilly wind of our speed whipped through my hair, and a few errant waves pushed against the left side of our boat. The boat rocked to and fro, and I clung to the sides and bit my lower lip. The setting sun just dipped beneath the horizon, and the beach was covered in the shadow of night.

  In fifteen minutes we rounded the beach horn and curved rightward. The turn revealed a small wilderness on this side of the strip of land. The trees pressed close to the edge of the water and large, sharp rocks lay among their roots. The sand was replaced by beds of seaweed and more large rocks, and the water was murky from the trash of humans and the sea.

  "Nice place," I yelled to him.

  "The tide brings in all the waste from the sea and drops it off here," he explained.

  "So where's this fashionable restaurant?" I asked him.

  He nodded to a small bit of light about a hundred yards in front of us. "That island."

  I leaned forward and squinted. "That looks like a rock with a light."

  "That's a pretty good description of the restaurant," he returned.

  "Oh goody."

&
nbsp; Murphy steered us towards the dim light, and the closer we sped the brighter and more festive the light became. It was joined by others, all of different colors of green, yellow, red, orange. You name it, they had it. I realized the lights were lanterns, and those hung from the steep eaves of a large shack. The shack sat on a clump of boulders situated fifty yards from land. The building had a large deck that wrapped completely around it, and a large, sturdy-looking dock catered to its clientele. Music and laughter reached my ears, and I saw the dock was full of small boats like ours.

  Murphy double-parked us on the crowded dock by sidling us up to another boat and wrapping our rope around the engine. Faint light streamed over us and cast long shadows over the water. He climbed into the other boat and turned to offer his hand to me.

  "Careful there. This other boat isn't exactly seaworthy," he warned me.

  "Neither am I. . ." I muttered as I shakily stood.

  I took his hand and he helped me across the other boat and onto the dock. The dock sat eight feet lower than the shack, so we climbed a flight of stairs made from driftwood onto the porch. The bustling noise increased ten-fold as we approached the wide doorway that led into the shack. I could see small, round tables placed closed together with the backs of their chairs touching. The patrons crowded together in smiling groups of two to ten. Glass bottles without labels were passed around, and anyone who took a swig had a noticeable redness to their cheeks. At the rear of the shack was the open kitchen where I beheld every creature of the sea being cooked up for the loud, partying patrons.

  A counter stood just inside and to the left of the doorway. A portly man with dark hair and a bright smile scurried around the counter and opened his arms to us.

  "Welcome! Welcome! My good friend, Murphy, it's been too long!" He wrapped Murphy in a hug that popped his back.

  "It's only been two days," Murphy choked out.

  "Much too long! What reason could you have for not coming here?" the man asked him. He looked past Murphy at me and his smile turned sly. "Oh, I see now! A lady-friend!"

  "I'm not-" The man grabbed my hand in both of his and shook with all his might. I was so jarred the world bobbed up and down.