Heat Me Up

by Julie Kenner

  Her eyes flashed. “You don’t know that.” She looked away, no longer meeting his gaze. “I’d do the same thing whether I loved Harold or not. This is my family. Everything we’ve ever done is wrapped up in this business.”

  “Do you really think your father would trade your happiness to save the business? Because you’re not going to be happy in a marriage based on a profit-and-loss statement. You deserve more.”

  A single tear escaped, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. “I made a promise to my mother,” she whispered. “My great-grandfather started this company. It’s important to us. It’s important to me. It’s everything I have.”

  He felt like a heel for pushing her. More than anything, he knew how hard it was to give up a career, how losing it could turn you inside out. Even so, he wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, to convince her she was making a mistake. But he forced his hands to stay by his sides. Not only was that a foolish, knee-jerk reaction, but it would certainly put an end to their burgeoning friendship. She needed a shoulder, someone to talk to, not someone to criticize her decisions—especially not someone who really didn’t know about her life.

  And certainly not someone who couldn’t do a damn thing to help her.

  His rescuing days were over, and radio was way the hell and gone out of his league. But he could be a friend to her. No matter how many little deaths he died, he made up his mind he’d be a good friend.

  But still some little demon prodded. He needed to know. In his gut, he just needed to know. “You never answered. Do you love him?”

  She met his eyes coolly. “I’m going to marry him,” she said, killing some tiny bit of hope that he only then realized had been living in him. “He’s adored me for years. We started going out because he was interested in my family’s business, but it turned into more. He’s very good to me, and to my family.” She pressed her lips together, and he silently urged her to continue. “But it’s not like…”

  “Not like?” he urged.

  “My fantasy,” she whispered, and he knew that she was referring to him—or to Michael, anyway.

  “Do you want to tell me?”

  “It feels a little weird confessing this stuff to you.”

  He felt weird, too. Weird and a little guilty. After all, he’d shared her bed, explored her body, watched as she’d opened herself completely for him. But she didn’t know, didn’t have a clue. His disguise and Stuart’s ad-libbed alibi had worked beautifully, and now here he was, pulling one over on this amazing woman.

  But what choice did he have? Tell her? If he did that, he’d surely lose her, and that wasn’t a risk he was prepared to take. Not talk to her? Also unacceptable. Already she’d worked her way under his skin. He wanted to know everything about her, to be her friend. If he couldn’t help her in any real, useful way, at least he could be a shoulder for her to cry on.

  What was that saying? The road to hell was paved with good intentions? Well, his intentions were the best, but he was already in his own private hell. And he didn’t intend to lose the one bit of heaven he’d run across in a long, long time.

  Ignoring his demons, he took her hand and sat down on the sand, tugging her down beside him. The waves rolled in, covering their feet before rolling back out again. “I know it feels weird, but ‘instant friends,’ remember? You can tell me anything.”

  She nodded, one quick jerk of the head, and he could practically see her gathering her courage. “He makes me feel so special.” She pressed her lips together, blinking, and he was certain she was fighting tears. “It’s like he’s given me this gift of memories, something I can take back with me.”

  Damned if she wasn’t describing the exact way he felt. His stomach twisted, and he wanted to reach out for her, wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. Instead, he schooled his face into an expression of polite interest. “Hell of a fantasy man. Did you analyze this fantasy as much as you do the rest of your life? Plotting it out on graphs and charts?”

  She licked her lips, looking a little sheepish. “Well…yeah.” She sat a little straighter, silently defending her choices. “When I was trying to decide if I should marry Harold, I sat down and made a list of all the pros and cons.”

  “Since you’re gonna marry the guy, I guess the pros won out?”

  “Mmm-hmm. I assigned point values, and the pros won by a twenty-two point lead.” She shrugged. “So I’m sure I’m doing the right thing, except…” She trailed off, her teeth grazing her lower lip.

  “Except some of the cons sounded pretty interesting.”

  She nodded. “So I made another list. This time of everything I might be missing. And then I applied to come here so I could get everything out of my system in one fell swoop.”

  “Sounds like a pretty prudent plan.”

  “Thanks,” she said, apparently missing the sarcasm.

  She reached out and grabbed his hand, then gave it a little squeeze. “I’m very happy with the daytime adventure part. And I’ve had at least one good nighttime adventure.” She dropped his hand then, shoving her own between her knees almost as if she was embarrassed. “I guess I’ll know more about that tonight, huh? I mean, Michael may not come again.” Her lips grazed her bottom teeth. “And if he doesn’t, I wonder if Merrilee will arrange another encounter.” She squinted slightly, as if she’d just tasted something unfamiliar and was trying to decide if she liked it.

  “Yeah,” he said, suddenly realizing that he’d turned a complete one-eighty. He had planned to stay away, planned to protect his own heart. Now he wondered if Michael was going to have to show up tonight after all. “If he doesn’t come…this Michael…if there’s someone else…” He took a deep breath. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, her eyes sad. “I guess I’ll have to wait until tonight’s poolside party to see.”

  He swallowed, unable to stomach the thought of another man touching her. “Yeah,” he repeated. “I guess you’ll know tonight.”

  CHAPTER 8

  LIT WITH tiki torches, Kyra thought the poolside restaurant resembled a fairy garden. Either that, or a nighttime scene from an old episode of Fantasy Island. She stifled a giggle. All in all, she’d take Mr. Roarke over fairies any day.

  Unless the fairy was the wishing kind. Right now, she had about a dozen wishes zipping through her head, not the least of which was the wish that she knew the identity of her mysterious lover. The problem with anonymous encounters, it seemed, was the difficulty in tracking your date down for a repeat performance.

  Of course, she really didn’t want to know his identity, had made a studied effort not to try and compare his body to any of the men she saw at the resort. Anonymous was safe. She wasn’t sure her heart could stand it if she had to walk away from a man she knew. For half a second, an image of Tony popped into her head, but she pushed it firmly away. She had no business thinking those kinds of thoughts about him. No business at all.

  “You look like a woman who needs a drink.” C.J. sidled up and nodded toward the bar. “Can I buy you a beer?”

  She pulled herself out of her funk and smiled at him. “I promised myself I was only going to drink exotic-sounding fruity rum drinks.”

  “We can probably manage that.”

  She followed him to the bar, set up in a thatched-roof open hut, and watched while he ordered a draft beer and a Razzmatazz.

  The bartender dumped some fruit, some ice, and quite a bit of alcohol into the blender, then slid a deep purple concoction in front of her. She eyed it dubiously. “Just what exactly is this?”

  C.J. glanced at the bartender. “Kevin?”

  “Secret recipe. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  C.J. shook his head. “That’s okay. Merrilee frowns on doing away with the guests.” He nodded toward the drink. “Feeling adventurous?”

  “Funny you should put it that way.” She stuck a tentative finger into the liquid and took a quick taste. So far
so good, and so she took a sip through the curlicue straw, pleasantly surprised by the sweet and tangy sensation.

  She flashed Kevin a smile. “It’s wonderful.”

  “Well, yeah. I don’t go around killing guests for just any secret recipe.”

  She laughed, warming up to the party atmosphere. “Good plan.”

  C.J. took her elbow and steered her to a table by the pool. Underwater lights, colored for the occasion, had transformed it into something magical. Not that she really needed the lights. That afternoon she’d found her own bit of magic in the pool. She had so few close friends, and meeting a guy like Tony…well, that counted as something special.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” C.J. said.

  She smiled, sheepish. “Sorry. Wandering mind.”

  He chuckled. “No, I’m sorry, using an old cliché like that on you. But you look like a woman with a lot to think about.”

  “I thought I looked like a woman who could use a drink.”

  “Like I said…”

  They laughed, but in the end she nodded. “I was thinking about Tony.”

  C.J.’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, another island romance brewing? I thought you two kids might hit it off.”

  “No, no.” Her cheeks burned hot. She was uncomfortable thinking about romance and Tony in the same breath. Tony was her friend, hopefully, Michael was her lover. If she could just keep her feelings locked in their appropriate little cubbyholes, she’d do just fine.

  Clearing her throat, she looked back up at C.J. “I mean, yes, we hit it off. But it’s not a romance at all. We’re just friends.”

  He looked dubious. “I thought you found the boy attractive. What did you say? Something about him being rugged?”

  “I said that his scar wasn’t that big a deal.”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  She blinked. “Yes or no, what?”

  “That you think the boy’s good-looking.” He held his beer bottle up in mock salute. “You need to stick with the program, young lady.”

  Pushing her hair out of her face—barrettes, she needed to remember those stupid barrettes—she leaned over for yet another sip of her Razz-ma-something-or-other. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

  “Pretty and smart. A woman to be reckoned with.”

  She laughed and took another sip of her drink. If she couldn’t be with Tony or Michael, she was delighted to be passing the evening with this man who reminded her so much of her father before his health really started to go downhill.

  Fortified by one more pull on the straw, she swallowed and leaned forward. “The truth is, I do think he’s awfully good-looking. He’s got the most fabulous golden-brown eyes, and this dangerous, roguish quality about him.” She frowned. “Except he’s not really a rogue at all. I think he just seems that way because he’s always wearing sunglasses and sticking to the shadows.”

  “You’ve been thinking a lot about him.”

  “Not that much.” In truth, she had. But why not? He was her new island buddy. “Besides, we’re friends. Aren’t I allowed to psychoanalyze my friends?”

  “Didn’t I say you two would get along?”

  She nodded, liking the way the word felt in her head. Friends. She liked the way Tony filled that role.

  “Yeah,” she said. “We get along great.” She grinned. “Guess you’re psychic.”

  * * *

  C.J. TOOK the last swallow of his beer, pleased that the two kids had hooked up. “No, if I were psychic, I’d know where your friend was.” And he’d know why Tony’d left such a pretty young woman to fend for herself.

  “Well, I know where he is.” She leaned forward too quickly and almost lost her balance. C.J. put out a steadying hand. “He’s hiding in his cabana away from the crowds.”

  “Leaving you all alone? Not very chivalrous.”

  “I’m not alone. You’re here.” One more sip, then she moved closer, urging him to lean in as if for a secret. “And I’m hoping someone else comes along, too.”

  Someone else? He had a sinking feeling his fledgling matchmaking efforts weren’t taking.

  “Michael,” she whispered.

  “The mysterious fellow I’ve heard about? The one at night?”

  Kyra nodded, looking like the cat who’d swallowed the canary. “He’s part of my adventure. Or he was.” She squinted, then glanced around the pool area. “I was kind of hoping he would be again.” She licked her lips. “Actually, I’m a little nervous about it, too.”

  He looked at her near-empty glass. “No kidding.”

  Well, he’d tried. Too bad for Tony the pairing of men and women wasn’t C.J.’s cup of tea. At least he’d given it a shot.

  “Merrilee!” Kyra stood up, a bit wobbly, and waved across the pool deck.

  Her call reminded C.J. that he hoped to have better luck matchmaking when he was the man in question. Then Kyra’s words stuck home. Merrilee.

  Slowly he looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, there she was. Just like always, she took his breath away. She’d been trying to corner him for days now, making appointments that he’d conveniently forgotten, visiting him at the dock so that he had to sneak away just to avoid her.

  He really didn’t want to avoid her anymore.

  No, what he wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss away the years. But now wasn’t the time. Soon he’d tell her everything, and she’d know why her secret admirer seemed to know so many of her secrets.

  He hoped she’d be thrilled, ecstatic. Hoped she’d slip into his arms and the years would just disappear.

  But he didn’t know for sure, and that tiny bit of fear kept holding him back. Soon, though. When the time was right, he’d tell her.

  Kyra waved again. “She’s not looking this way. I don’t think she heard me.” She cocked her head, eyeing him. “Too bad, too. She said last night she was looking for you.”

  “That is too bad.” He tugged at the collar of his T-shirt. “You know, I need to run check something in the office.” He slid his empty bottle onto the counter. “I’ll be right back.”

  “But Merrilee, she’s—”

  He patted her on the shoulder and slipped away into the crowd, considering himself lucky he’d managed to avoid her one more time. But it couldn’t go on forever. Sooner or later, they’d have to meet. And sooner or later, he’d have to tell her the truth.

  He thought of the heart-shaped ruby necklace he’d hidden in his flight bag. Just a few more gifts. A few more, and then he’d fortify his courage and go have a talk with the woman he loved.

  Carefully, so as not to attract Merrilee’s attention, he slipped behind a stand of potted palms and ran smack into Tony.

  “Lord have mercy, you scared the devil out of me.”

  “Sorry.” Tony stepped backward, slipping further into the shadows. “Trying to avoid Merrilee?”

  “Eavesdropping’s a bad habit, son.”

  “I’ve got a lot of bad habits.”

  The kid tilted his head, one green eye boring into C.J. “Didn’t I see you outside of Merrilee’s cabin the other night?” He grinned, then leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. “C.J., old man, have you got a thing going with the boss?”

  C.J. took an involuntary step backward. He’d left a wreath of roses along with a bottle of White Shoulders perfume on her bed. The last thing in the world he imagined was that he’d been seen. “Don’t be absurd. There’s nothing going on. I was just in the area,” he lied.

  “Uh-huh.” Tony didn’t look convinced. “What were you telling me about going after Kyra? It was good advice. You sure you’re not taking it yourself?”

  “I never noticed your eyes are different colors,” C.J. said, hoping to change the subject.

  The kid shifted, pulling the cap he wore down lower. “Just a trick of the light,” he said.

  C.J. wasn’t convinced. In fact, for the first time, he noticed that, slicked back, Tony’s hair seemed darker. And the boy was in desperate need of a shave. Something tickle
d the back of his memory, and he tried unsuccessfully to grab on to it. “Kyra’s over there,” he said. “I think she’d love to see you.”

  “And I think you’re changing the subject.” The kid leaned against the planter. “You’ve got a secret, old man. When are you going to tell her?”

  C.J. exhaled. He knew when he was beat. “The time’s not right. Not yet.” He also knew what had been bothering him. The unshaven face. The one green eye. He looked Tony in the eye. “It’s hard knowing when to share secrets, don’t you think?”

  “I’ve never given it much thought.”

  “No? Maybe you should.”

  For a moment, the kid looked startled, but he recovered nicely, and C.J. wondered if Kyra had any clue that her friend and her lover were the same man. Even more, he hoped that finding out wouldn’t kill that light he saw in her eyes when she talked about either one of them. Deception was a tricky game.

  He knew. He was risking everything for another chance with Merrilee.

  But soon…soon he’d share his secret with the woman he loved.

  He only hoped that Tony would, too.

  * * *

  SECRETS.

  The word hung in the air, raw and accusing.

  Tony swallowed and took a step backward. “I don’t have any secrets.”

  “Uh-huh.” C.J. nodded toward the bar. “Go see the girl, son.”

  Tony shook his head, wanting more than anything to go to her, right then. But Tony Moretti wasn’t the man she wanted to see. “I’m not the one she wants to see right now. She’s interested in someone else.” He met C.J.’s eyes. “She’s waiting for someone else.”

  C.J. looked him up and down. “I know. She told me exactly who she’s waiting for.” He patted the kid on the shoulder as he moved past him. “Good luck, son. Give my regards to Ms. Cartwright.”

  As C.J. moved past him, Tony wondered if C.J. had figured out his secret identity. The possibility didn’t unnerve him too much. After all, the man was part of the staff, so if he did clue in, he’d still be sworn to secrecy. Besides, he knew C.J. liked him; the man wouldn’t rat on Tony.

  He grinned. C.J. and Merrilee. He had to admit, they’d make a handsome couple. But Tony had never pictured C.J. as the type to sneak around, wooing a woman by playing the secret admirer. There was a history there, and he wondered what the story was. Even more, he hoped C.J. knew what he was doing. He’d hate to see the pilot lose his chance at happiness with the woman he loved.