Wicked Heat

by Kelli Ireland

  “I hate heights,” he said between gritted teeth.

  Oh. Shit.

  Ella wanted to curl in on herself as much as she wanted to explode with rage all over Liam. He’d picked parasailing over horseback riding, and she’d agreed. He’d done it again—thrown her to the wolves and left her to be eaten alive.

  She went into disaster intervention mode. Stepping back, she turned to the guests who were milling about, shooting curious glances their way. With a broad grin, she said, “Jenna was torn between going up with Mike on the first run, or going up with her brother. Mike, being his typical gracious self, offered to let brother and sister go up first. And since we’re an odd-numbered group, Mike has offered to man the ladder for everyone. After you land in the water at the end of your ride, an instructor will get you unhooked from the sail. You’ll swim to the side of the boat and Mike will help you up the ladder if you need assistance.” She beamed at Mike, maybe a little too overdone, but she beamed all the same. “Thank you, Mike, for being ever the gentleman.”

  A smattering of applause sounded.

  Mike took a small bow.

  Jenna nudged him aside and reached for Liam. “We’re first!” She hauled her brother away as if the dock was on fire, shoving him into the first boat so hard he tripped and nearly fell in the water.

  “Everyone else, pick your ride partner.” Numb with anxiety, Ella moved like an automaton, helping people pair up and sorting them onto boats. Then she followed Mike onboard, fully expecting to get reamed out.

  “Thank you,” he said from the side of his mouth.

  Ella shot him a speculative glance. “You’re...welcome?”

  “For not making a big deal about it and getting my ass out of that obligatory ride.” He wiped actual sweat from his forehead. “You have no idea what that would have cost me.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  His face darkened. “I’m sure you didn’t.” He waved her off when she started to apologize again. “Let’s get through this and the rehearsal dinner, and we’ll be golden. How bad can it actually be? As long as I come out of this married to that woman, it’s all good.”

  * * *

  Six hours later, as Mike was loaded into an ambulance, Ella realized exactly how bad it could be.

  Liam had shown up at the rehearsal dinner late and taken his seat with a table of guests. When the appetizer came out and his plate was set before him, he’d shoved out of his chair and scanned the room. Eyes lighting on hers, he started toward Ella with long strides. She’d directed him back to his seat with a sharp point of her finger and a glare.

  He’d kept coming.

  So she’d jabbed her finger in the direction of his seat and mouthed the word Now.

  Still, he kept coming.

  Her stomach had twisted itself into a complex series of knots that tightened with every step Liam took toward her. Then he slipped his arm through Ella’s and directed her to the back of the room, smiling as they went.

  He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, the move as sensual as his words were chilling. “Where are the scallops?”

  “Don’t worry, they’re here. I had them added to the salmon croquette sauce because there weren’t enough harvested to make them part of the main course.”

  “Ella, Mike hates shellfish. Absolutely abhors the things. Gags on them.”

  Everything after that happened in slow motion. She turned toward Mike to find him choking and Jenna panicking. Someone shouted for a doctor. Another person rose and started toward him. Liam lifted his phone, dialed the front desk and requested emergency medical services in the dining room.

  And Mike began to turn a weird puce color.

  “Oh, God.” She stumbled, and Liam caught her. “Liam, he doesn’t hate shellfish. He’s allergic.”

  “Oh, sweet hell.”

  She looked up at him, then, not sure what she’d find. He was so pale he appeared almost corpse-like.

  The resort doctor rushed into the room moments later and, hauling a monster-size syringe out of his bag, stabbed Mike in the thigh. Seconds passed like minutes, hours, and then Mike took a ragged breath.

  Sirens wailed, coming closer with every subsequent breath he took.

  “Did you know?” she croaked out.

  “I swear to you, I didn’t. I intended to annoy him to pieces, but I didn’t have a clue he was allergic. Only that he was a royal prick about not having them touch his food the first night I met him at dinner with Jenna.”

  Paramedics had Mike on a gurney and were wheeling him out before Ella was able to move. She rushed to the bride’s table, where Liam was talking to Jenna in a low, calm voice.

  Jenna caught sight of Ella and, with a tear-streaked face, said, “You served shellfish. Why? Why?” The last word was screamed, a demand for an unanswerable question.

  Behind Ella, the crowd began to murmur.

  “The why isn’t important right now,” Liam said. “We need to get you to Mike so you can be with him.” Taking her by the arm, he steered her toward the exit at a brisk pace, not once looking back to where he’d left Ella...standing at the front of the room, under the weight of glares from people who believed she’d just poisoned the groom. What was worse, she couldn’t remember if she’d made the change or if Liam had.

  Regardless, Mike had suffered for the choice. Badly. And she’d never forgive herself.

  Her career had been on life support, and Liam had just pulled the plug.

  * * *

  Liam stood in the corner of the hospital room and watched Jenna and Mike. Heads together and hands clasped, they whispered to each other and shared small, intimate kisses despite Mike’s swollen face and lips. Hell, his swollen upper body. Even his fingers looked like sausages. His eyes were slits in his head. At least he was breathing.

  And it was all because of the shellfish.

  Liam stood quietly, hands in his pockets and chin to his chest. Damn, but that had been close. Mike had all but stopped breathing when the resort physician had arrived with an EpiPen. Mike had left his own in the hotel room.

  God alone knew how guilty Liam felt. He’d known Mike didn’t like scallops. When Liam had treated Mike and Jenna to a rather fancy dinner in London, the man had turned down the scallop appetizer. Liam had prodded him about being a burger-and-beer guy. Common. Mike had blown Liam off without mentioning that it was an allergy versus a preference. If he’d left Ella to do her job, it would have been fine. If he’d not insisted on poking at Mike until his temper exploded, this wouldn’t have happened. If he’d only—

  “Liam?”

  He looked up and found Jenna focused on him. Mike had drifted off to sleep.

  His little sister took a deep breath, stood and squared her shoulders. “I want you to fire the event coordinator.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the best course of action.”

  Her brows winged up so far they nearly met her hairline. “Not the best course of action? How can you say that when she nearly killed my fiancé? Look at him, Liam.” She tipped her head toward the sleeping man. “His oxygen saturation only just topped nintey. According to the doctor, it should be ninety-nine given the excellent shape he’s in. I know you were involved in the peacock thing—” she held out her hand when he tried to interrupt “—don’t bother denying it. But she knew I was scared of birds. It was on the original paperwork. The excursion was supposed to have been diving. It’s what we picked. She changed that to parasailing. And we had specifically requested a native meal for the rehearsal and wedding dinners, listing things we wanted included. Shellfish wasn’t on the list for a reason. And you don’t serve something like that, let alone hide it in a sauce, without knowing if someone is allergic.” Her voice had risen as she listed her complaints, and Mike stirred beside her. “Shh, baby. Rest.”

  “Want to get married.”

  “And we will,” she
said softly, smoothing a hand over his hair. “We will.”

  Liam had a difficult choice to make. He could respect Jenna’s wishes and use Ella’s termination as a means of cutting ties with the woman. He could still fire her but keep to his original plan and hire her to coordinate several high-end functions, thus helping her get things back on track. He could even leave everything to his sister and let her terminate Ella, keeping his hands out of it completely.

  But he was the direct cause of everything that had gone wrong. Ella had changed the dive excursion to parasailing because the changes Liam had insisted upon were eating into her profit margin. He’d been directly responsible for the peacocks—pink peacocks, at that. And the doves. And the changed flowers, from the bride’s bouquet to the groom’s boutonniere to the table toppers. And the revised seating chart. And, worst of all, the addition of scallops to the menu. While he wanted to deny it all, to affect having no conscience, he couldn’t. Not this time. Ella had paid, and dearly, for his mistakes. He wouldn’t let her take the fall, again, for his screwups.

  Regret bound his chest like a vise. And he knew that whatever he was suffering, Ella had to be suffering a hundredfold. Her career’s recovery had hinged on the success of this job. People had seen what had happened. Influential people. And they would talk. He might not be able to stop them, but he would do what he could to help her find her path forward.

  If he could manage to salvage this, maybe he had a chance at getting her to forgive him.

  Better luck betting the contents of my wallet on the afternoon races.

  But he had to hope. It was all he had.

  Then there was Jenna. And, more consequently, Mike, he acknowledged grudgingly. Watching them together in this intimate setting, he saw something between them he’d somehow missed before. They’d gotten together so quickly, had already been engaged when Jenna introduced him to Mike. Liam hadn’t had the chance to observe them like this, to watch how the man tended to Jenna’s every want, met her every need and cared for her without apology. Liam had been wrong about the man and his motives, and he’d have to admit it. Not just to Jenna, but to the man himself. So many apologies in front of him, the first of which would be hard, the last of which would be the hardest but also the most important.

  Looking at Jenna, he struggled to find the right words. Liam blew out a hard breath, gave up what little semblance of control he had left and did what he’d never done before. He spoke from the heart. “Jenna, I’ve made a right mess of things.”

  “It’s not your fault Ella nearly killed Mike.”

  Ever faithful, his little sister.

  “Actually, it is.” If he could just keep his voice steady. “Your assistant provided her with your wish list. I have a copy of it on my computer.”

  Jenna just looked at him.

  “I also have the digital copy as well as Ella’s hard copy of that list with... Damn it.” He raked his hands through his hair and grabbed fistfuls in frustration. This was proving even harder than he’d expected it would be.

  “Leem, what’s going on?” Jenna’s skepticism was beginning to trump her faith in him, and witnessing the change devastated him.

  Treat it like a bandage. Grab the edge and rip. “I’m responsible for every change that was made to the original wedding plans.” And he waited.

  She stared at him, eyes wide. “You.”

  “Yes. Me.” He blew out a breath. “I didn’t believe Mike was the best choice for your husband, squid. You ran off and fell in love between Christmas and New Year, accepted a proposal without consideration and began planning a wedding by Easter. It was too fast. And my first impression of Mike was poor, to say the least.”

  “Your first impression trumps mine?” she wheezed. “What, he wasn’t high enough on society’s scale of ‘Rich and Richer’ for you? What about me, Liam? What about what I want? I told Ella precisely what my dream wedding would look like. It was her job to make that happen. Your only job was to be happy for me.”

  “Ella only did what I told her to do. She was operating in good faith and believed I was acting in your best interest as your proxy. I wasn’t, and I own that.”

  “You own that?” she asked, voice deceptively calm. Her eyes? Not so calm. In them, a tempest raged, coming closer to the surface with every heartbeat. “How dare you, Liam. How dare you come in here to Mike’s room, a room he wouldn’t be in if it weren’t for your callousness, your narcissistic belief you know what’s right for everyone. How. Dare. You.” She turned away from him and picked up Mike’s hand. “Damn you, Liam. Your arrogance could have killed this man. Killed my heart. In turn, you would have killed me. You were okay with that?” Blond curls slid forward, curtaining her face, shielding her from him. “You aren’t the man I thought you were. Please leave.”

  “Jenna—”

  “Leave,” Mike whispered, voice raspy. “We’ll work out what’s best for us and let you know where we go from here.”

  Liam swallowed the argument he’d been mounting, the words scraping his throat raw before plummeting into the depths of his belly.

  He left.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ELLA DIDN’T BOTHER trying to sleep. There were no available flights off the island until the following afternoon, so she had time to kill and nowhere private to do so. She spent the first part of the night on a beach chaise again, but the resort’s security patrol asked her to return to her room for her safety given that the height of the carnival was nearing. She couldn’t argue with that, so she went to the hotel lobby, powered up her computer and opened her accounting file. No need to put off the truth of her financial situation. With a new spreadsheet, she began compiling a list of bills, a second sheet with a list of physical assets she could liquidate and a third sheet with a list of liquid assets. The last was the shortest list. She was broke, and it was only going to get worse before it got better.

  Her eyes were heavy and she found herself bobbleheading as the hour hand slipped past two in the morning. No doubt she’d lost the job, and that meant she had nothing better to do. She was about to give in and lay her head on the table when someone slid a cup of coffee toward her.

  “Brain juice,” she whispered. Slurred? Whatever. She needed the caffeine like a newborn babe needed its mother’s milk. Her hands shook as she lifted the cup to her mouth. Had she ever been this tired? She took a big sip.

  “It’s hot, Ella.”

  She spat the contents out. Yes, it was hot. But the warning was delivered with a British accent.

  A male British accent.

  Adrenaline crashed through her, and she started to shake even as her bleary vision cleared. Liam sat across from her, wiping coffee from his face. All the things she wanted to say rushed to the tip of her tongue and fought for their right to be the first words chosen, the first threat delivered, the first curse uttered. But instead of saying anything intelligible, she sputtered and tripped over her thoughts, managing single syllables.

  “Not the greeting I expected, though not as bad as it could have been.” Liam’s words were muffled as he dragged his arm across his face and blinked a few times to clear the last of the coffee from his eyes.

  “That you expected anything from me after all you’ve done tells me what a fool you really are.” Ella gathered her personal flotsam, closed her computer and began shoving things into her bag.

  “Ella, please.” He settled a hand over hers.

  Shock raced through that point of contact and up her arm. Heat followed, so intense it was nearly unbearable. She jerked away from him and knocked over the coffee cup and the saucer it sat in. Porcelain splintered on the tile floor and bled black as the still-hot brew seeped out of the mess in every direction. Shoving her chair back, she stepped around the mess and hoisted her messenger bag over her shoulder.

  No matter what he’d done, seeing Liam hurt on a deep, personal level. But there were a couple of t
hings she had to say or she’d never forgive herself. Steeling herself, she lifted her chin and met his dark gaze head-on. “It breaks my heart on a variety of levels that you lied to me, Liam, that you used me and proved yourself to be someone other than the man I thought I’d come to know.”

  “Ella,” Liam interrupted.

  But she was having none of it. “I’m. Not. Done.” Her jaw was so tight she didn’t know how she’d get the next words out, but they were burning a hole in her self-worth, and pride demanded she fling them out so she alone didn’t have to bear the burden of their being. “You destroyed my career, Liam. You have made it impossible for me to go back to Los Angeles and get any type of respectable work in event planning. You screwed me—physically, mentally, emotionally and, above all, professionally. My only solace is that karma’s a bitch, and her memory’s infallible.”

  With that, she hoisted her bag higher and strode across the lobby, out the main doors and across the grass. She shook, an emotional tempest whipping her thoughts into a frenzy, the vortex dropping into her chest and battering her heart. She should’ve let him have it—really let him have it. She could’ve ripped him to shreds, could have left a tattered mess in her wake.

  “Pretty to think so,” she said to herself, kicking at a small coconut that had fallen on the path to the beach.

  All night she’d been skirting the truth, coming close and then racing away. But when she’d stormed off, her heart aching with every beat and her eyes stinging with caustic tears, she’d realized that avoidance might work for others, but she wasn’t programmed that way.

  The truth? She wanted to hurt Liam, deliver a little tit for tat, but she couldn’t. Because she’d fallen for him.

  Sincerely.

  Thoroughly.

  Completely.

  She stepped off the end of the path and onto the beach, feet sinking ankle deep into the soft white sand. The moon cast a silvery beam across the water. Waves rolled in and crashed against the shore.