Private Paradise

by Jami Alden

  While she was apparently able to dismiss what had happened between them like it had never occurred, Sam was going batshit crazy, living in an agony of frustrated desire. He'd always thought people who claimed you never got over your first love were crazy. But now...

  Whoa. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Just because you're still dying to fuck Carla DeLuca at age thirty-two doesn't mean you feel the same way you did when you were twenty-one. As if you could really call that love anyway...

  Not that Sam knew much about it either way, and now he shied away at the thought that what he'd felt for Carla back then was far and away more than he'd felt for any other woman before her or since.

  He shook off the thought. He cared for her, true. And he wanted her. So much he was afraid he would spontaneously combust if he didn't get relief from something other than his right hand in the very near future.

  Which was why he was here, at the resort's state of the art workout facility at the ungodly hour of six a.m., as he'd been every morning for the past five, pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion to take the slightest edge off the grinding need coursing through his body every second of every goddamn day.

  At this early hour it was deserted, as even the most fitness conscious guests wouldn't start wandering in for yoga or Pilates until after nine when regular classes began. Good thing, because the way he'd been grunting and sweating his way through his workouts this week any observer would be likely to think he was about to have a coronary.

  He pushed himself through his fifth set of sit ups and stayed seated on the mat, picked up his bottle and squirted water into his mouth. His breath came so fast and loud he didn't hear the door to the fitness center open.

  “Oh, you're here.”

  He didn't even need to turn and look to see who it was. The charge of electricity that traveled down his spine to zap him in the balls was enough. Still, Sam pushed himself to his feet and turned to greet her.

  Carla hesitated in the doorway as he drank in the sight of her. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, her hair pulled into a tight pony tail. Knee length black pants stretched tight over her tight, toned thighs and mouthwateringly firm ass, and a bright orange lycra tank top clung to the lush curves of her breasts and the flat plane of her stomach, leaving her tanned, well defined arms bare.

  She glanced at the watch strapped to her slim wrist. “You're usually gone by now.”

  So, she was keeping tabs on his gym time. To make sure she didn't run into him? Interesting.

  Sam grabbed a towel from the stack near the cardio equipment and used it to wipe his face and neck. “I usually am, but I felt like going a little longer this morning.”

  Needed to, was more like it, especially after the dream he'd had in the small hours of the morning, a variation on the same one he'd had every night since he'd arrived. Him and Carla naked, skin to skin, kissing, touching, his fingers sliding between her legs to find her pussy soaked with a need that matched his. Him sliding his cock against the smooth skin of her inner thighs as she spread them, the pink folds of her pussy parted and wet, waiting for him to come inside.

  He always woke up at that point, his dick in is own hand as he writhed in an agony of lust and the need to get inside of her, to know once and for all what it would feel like to have Carla's tight, wet pussy take him all the way inside.

  He felt the familiar stirrings at the memory and dropped the hand holding the towel in front of his crotch before he sprung a full tent pole in his shorts. He found her watching him, color high on her cheeks, her plump bottom lip caught between her teeth as her eyes tracked him from the top of his sweat damp head, down the front of his sleeveless work out shirt, now drenched from exertion.

  Lingering on the towel draped oh so casually in front of the raging hard on he'd sprung the second she walked in the room.

  Her dark eyes went hot, just for a second, but it was just enough to let him know that maybe she wasn't as indifferent as she wanted him to think.

  “I―I don't want to disturb you,” she said, her voice a little breathless like it used to get when she was about to come.

  Sam smiled and walked to the water cooler, in the opposite direction of her and the door. “The place is a thousand square feet,” he said. “I can't imagine how you'll disturb me.”

  Still, she hesitated, and though she tried there was no hiding her discomfort. He walked over to a leg extension machine and started a set, surreptitiously watching as she seemed to draw herself up. Flashing him a tight smile, she stalked over to the line of elliptical machines that overlooked the clear blue waters of the sea. She propped what looked like an e-reader on the front, put her ear buds in and fiddled with her iPod. Within seconds, her legs and arms were pumping in a steady rhythm.

  Sam's arms and legs were already twitching with exertion, but he finished his leg lifts and did three more full treadmill-pull up-push up-sit up circuits. He watched as the wispy hairs on the back of her neck curled up as the skin there got damp with sweat. He could see droplets of sweat beading on her upper back, above the scoop of her tank top and on her shoulders. He wanted to pin her to the mat and chase every single one with his tongue.

  She did a good job of pretending to tune him out, but Sam could feel the heat of her gaze on him as he worked through his routine. Finally she got off the elliptical and went over to the racks of hand weights lined up against the wall.

  Carla was as no nonsense about her workout as she was about everything else in her life, Sam noted as he watched her work her way through a series of exercises that targeted her arms, shoulders, and back. She treated her workout with a quiet intensity, and the sleek muscles undulating under smooth skin were evidence of her dedication.

  Sam wandered over in her direction, his reflection visible in the mirrors lining the walls. Carla stared straight ahead, seemingly focused on her own form as she lunged to the side and rested her elbow on her knee for a set of bicep curls.

  Sam had left his towel draped over the railing of the treadmill and he tugged the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face.

  He knew Carla was watching when she let out an audible gasp. He lowered his shirt and met her shocked gaze in the mirror. She straightened up, the dumbbell momentarily forgotten in her right hand. “Oh my God, is that from a bullet?”

  He knew she was referring to the thick, puckered scar that stood out white against the otherwise tanned flesh of his chest.

  “Yep. Took a hit when I was on a job in Colombia.”

  Carla turned to face him and took a step toward him. The blank expression of the past week was gone as her dark brows drew together in a look of deep concern.

  The same look she'd worn, he remembered, the day his father had shown up, insulted Carla, and then demanded money from Sam. Back then, it had made him feel sick to his stomach, convinced as he was that she was pitying him.

  Now, it brought a rush of warmth and a pinch of regret to see the sincere concern in her eyes. For all her ball busting and type A focus on moving ahead, Carla had the same big heart and generous spirit as her cousin Chris. She'd cared about him once, and now he wanted to go back in time and kick his own ass for being too stupid to deal with the intensity of what was happening between them.

  “Was that when you were in the army?” she asked softly, her gaze lingering on the spot on his chest, though it was now covered by his shirt.

  He gave a quick shake of his head. “No, it was a couple years after I started up with Argus. I was part of a team hired to protect the president of one of the oil companies and his family. There was an assassination attempt.”

  “And you jumped in front of the bullet?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with a combination what looked like horror and admiration.

  Sam felt his face heat and was glad he had the excuse of the tough workout to hide his flush. “It was part of the job,” he said uncomfortably. “One I was very well paid to do.”

  Her eyes flickered to his face. “I guess I can see why you n
eeded a break. Holley Cay has its challenges, but so far no assassination attempts.”

  He his mouth pulled into a grin. “The surroundings are a little mellower, but I'd say this position has turned out to be intense in its own way.” He'd been in some of the worst hell holes on earth, but nothing had ever thrown him farther out of whack than having to control himself around Carla every single day.

  As though they had a will of their own, his eyes traveled from Carla's face, down the tan column of her throat where he could see the flutter of her pulse beating under her skin.

  Down the smooth expanse of skin exposed by her tank top, to where just a hint of deep cleavage peaked over the scoop neck. As his gaze traveled lower he saw her nipples stood in hard points against the slick fabric. Carla gave a little shiver, though the gym was anything but cold..

  Sam took a step closer, slow and easy like she was a wild animal that would vanish into the forest if he moved too fast. She was smart to see him as predator, he thought bitterly, given the way he'd taken her down before.

  “Is that the only time you were wounded?” she asked.

  He shook his head and moved closer, close enough to smell the floral scent of her shampoo which made his pulse beat in his cock. He turned so his back was to her and tugged one leg of his gym shorts up his thigh to show her the webbing of scars that criss-crossed the skin that stretched over the back of his right hamstring.

  “That was from a IED that hit our convoy in Iraq. It was so hot the skin of my thigh melted into the seat.”

  He looked over his shoulder to gage her reaction and saw that she had one hand covering her mouth as her eyes stared at the ropy flesh. “And right up here,” he said as he tugged his shirt up his back and pointed to his left shoulder blade. “See that?”

  “You mean that thing that looks like a dent?” She stepped closer, apparently too mesmerized to worry about keeping her distance.

  “That's from when a Taliban soldier took a chunk out of me with a knife.”

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered and reached to brush her fingers over the divot carved out of his skin.

  He barely repressed a groan at the soft brush of her fingers. “Trust me,” he said, tugging his shirt back down before he completely lost it, “he got the worse end of the deal.”

  He turned and found Carla staring at him like she didn't quite know who he was.

  “What?” he asked.

  She shook her head, her eyes roaming over his face and body like she was trying to absorb every new detail. “It's just so hard for me to imagine, what it must have been like, what you went through. Those burns, the scars, it must have been so painful―”

  “I got off easy,” he cut her off. “By the time I ripped my leg off the seat and pulled my buddy from the humvee, he had third degree burns over ninety percent of his body. The driver's leg was blown off and he bled out on the ground. A little pain and a couple of scars are pretty puny in comparison.”

  She cocked her head to one side, her full lips quirked in a thoughtful half smile. “This from the guy who used to try to get out of the afternoon shift at the marina every chance he got.”

  He felt the little kick of shame at the reminder, part of him wondering how she'd ever fallen for him in the first place, given what a little asshole he'd been. “People change, grow up. It took me a while but I realized I couldn't go through life acting like an immature little fuck, charming my way through life, too scared to let anyone get close.”

  He saw her throat bob as she swallowed hard. “Do you expect me to believe you've changed so completely?”

  “I've just grown up enough to man up and take responsibility for my life and my mistakes, and not to be afraid to go after what I want.” He closed the distance between them, until his shirt front brushed hers. She had to tip her head back to keep eye contact. Her eyes were dark and liquid, her lips softly parted. He lifted his hand and cupped her neck, brushed his thumb along the delicate line of her jaw. “And a lot of what I want,” he whispered as he bent his head to hers, “hasn't changed a whole lot in the past eleven years.”

  Her dark lashes fluttered closed and he heard her sharp inhale as he bent his lips to hers. Shockwaves sizzled through him at the first brush.

  “Carla, are you in here?”

  She jumped about three feet at the sound of Bryce's voice echoing through the gym. Sam stifled a groan and fought not to grab her by her ponytail and drag her back to his apartment to finish this.

  Chapter 6

  “I'm over here, by the weights,” Carla called out as she turned and practically ran in the direction of Bryce's voice. The fitness center was laid out in an L design with the free weights section in the back corner between the walls shared by the yoga and pilates studios, and thank the universe it wasn't visible from the main entry.

  That's all she needed, was for Bryce, who had already been giving her a hard time about what he saw as the undeniable chemistry between her and Sam, to see her in a liplock with the man she'd sworn up and down she had absolutely no lingering feelings for despite what she had described as a brief and meaningless teenage fling.

  Not to mention, Sam was her employee. Even if they hadn't shared a tumultuous past, there was no way in hell she'd make the mistake of getting involved with a co-worker at Holley Cay. She still bore the scars from the last time around.

  By the time she got to Bryce she was only slightly out of breath her heart still pounding and radiating heat.

  “Thank God you're here,” Bryce said. His frosted hair was spiked and today he accessorized his Holley Cay Polo with a teal blue ascot.

  His gaze flicked past her shoulder. Carla heard Sam's heavy footsteps behind her, but she didn't dare turn to look. Every nerve ending was tingling, and the heavy pulse between her thighs made it difficult to think. “What's so important you couldn't wait for me to get to the office?”

  Instead of answering, Bryce gave her an assessing look. “You're all flushed.”

  Carla felt her already hot face get hotter. “I've been working out.”

  Bryce's gaze flicked from her, to Sam, and back, his eyes narrowing in a way that said he didn't believe her for a second. “Have you looked at the weather reports this morning?”

  Carla shook her head. She'd had a cup of coffee to jolt her awake and come straight here, only taking the time to check the clock to make sure she didn't intersect with Sam, who usually finished up by six fifteen or so.

  But not this morning, she thought as another wave of heat coursed through her.

  “Why? What's going on?” Sam's voice was so close behind her she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. It should have turned her off. Instead it made her want to throw him down to the floor and crawl all over him, see how sweaty they could get before they hit the shower and helped each other get squeaky clean.

  Bryce wasn't immune to Sam's masculine beauty under the best of circumstances, and his eyes got a glazed look as he took in Sam's sweat slick form as he moved beside Carla.

  “Bryce, focus,” Carla snapped.

  Bryce's frosted head jerked and he refocused on her with an expression so grave and unlike him Carla felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

  “You know tropical storm Edina? The one that's been brewing off the coast of Venezuela?”

  The knot in Carla's stomach pulled tighter. This being September and the height of hurricane season, they'd been monitoring several storms over the last few weeks. In the entire time she'd worked at Holley Cay they'd only been hit with a severe storm once, four years ago.

  Since then, they'd been lucky enough to avoid the worst hurricane seasons in decades.

  “They've upgraded it to a hurricane, at least category four. And unless there's a sudden change in direction, it's headed right for us.”

  Their luck was about to run out.

  ###

  Carla's blood turned to ice as she looked at the satellite pictures of the storm, moving in an ominous mass across the blue expanse of the Caribbean. Ag
ainst the expanse of the storm, Holley Cay looked like a pin dot on the map.

  The storm was indeed headed right for them, and she was picking up speed.

  “We have to evacuate, and fast,” Chris said over the speaker phone. Carla nodded absently then remembered he couldn't see her. “They think the storm is going to hit by this afternoon.”

  “I know,” she said, the knowledge filling her with dread. Even though it was the low season, the resort only half full and a reduced staff, it meant organizing over fifty people―of whom at least thirty were the very definition of high maintenance―to evacuate the island in a safe and orderly fashion before they were overcome with what were predicted to be one hundred mile per hour winds and swells that could very well crest the breakwater and flood the villas closest to the beach on the windward side of the island. “We have the plan in place―”

  “I have a couple of changes I'd like to suggest before we move forward.”Carla looked up to see Sam in the doorway. Unlike Carla, who had come straight to the office from the gym, Sam had taken a quick shower and changed. His hair was still damp, curling a little at the ends, and he was dressed in a clean white polo with the resort logo and a pair of khaki's.

  The smell of soap and clean male skin flooded her nostrils, making her acutely aware of her own disheveled state, her ponytail a rats nest of curls, the salt of dried sweat coating her skin and making her itch. God only knew what she smelled like.

  She shook her head snapped herself back to attention. What the hell was wrong with her, worrying about what Sam might think about what she looked or smelled like when they were about to have a head on collision with the worst storm to hit Holley Cay in the resort's history? “Sam, we have this covered. We really don't have the time to discuss this, so if you could just leave and wait for instructions―”

  “If I'm not mistaken emergency planning is a significant part of my job here. I had extensive experience in the military planning for and dealing with natural disasters. I know you'd like for me to keep my distance but I think in this case you need to put whatever personal issues you have aside and let me contribute.”