Red Hot Lovers: 18 Contemporary Romance Books of Love, Passion, and Sexy Heroes by Your Favorite Top-Selling Authors

by Milly Taiden

  Someone stood at the water’s edge, hands fisted at his sides, staring at her. A mop of dark, glossy hair and wide shoulders was all she made out before he spun on his heel and started climbing up the beach toward the bar.

  She trudged wearily to the beach and dragged her feet to her deck chair where she proceeded to flop, face down, until her gasping breaths evened out and the stars faded from her eyes.

  Jeez. She was so out of shape.

  A silhouette cast a shadow on her face and something glass-shaped was placed by her head.

  “Are you all right?” Kai’s deep voice asked and she squinted up to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. “I brought you some water.”

  Whoa. Dressed in ripped jeans and a white t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest, his hair falling into those shining eyes, he was definitely a ten. Ten plus, maybe. She wasn’t sure. Her brain had blanked.

  His eyes seemed darker than ever, pupils dilated even in the glaring sunlight. They rested on her face, moved down to her breasts, then back up. His scrutiny made her catch her breath.

  She curled her wrinkly fingers around the glass and sat up. “Thanks for the water.”

  “You shouldn’t swim that far in,” he said and looked out at the sea. His jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked. “It’s dangerous.”

  “You’re worried about me?” she asked, the words slipping out before she realized how flirty and teasing they sounded.

  He huffed, mouth flattening into a line, and turned around. “I need to get back to work.”

  Wait, whoa again. Work?

  Gripping the glass of cool water, she watched him stride toward the beach bar where people sat at the tables, sipping coffee and lemonade. Kai disappeared behind the bar, swallowed by the dimness.

  Oh. Right, a glimpse into the mystery named Kai: he didn’t just deliver groceries to the hotel. He was the daytime barman.

  Now you’re telling me.

  Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her towel around her hips, hung her goggles on her arm and went to get a table.

  *

  Kai marched up to her table and whipped out his notepad, not looking at her. He stared at it as if it held all the secrets in the universe. “Why aren’t your friends with you?”

  His cold tone was like a slap. “Do I have to answer the question or will you get me something to drink anyway?”

  He glanced up, brows arching, and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I was just... When I saw how far you swam...” He shook his head and lowered his gaze. “Never mind.”

  Hell. He’d been really worried about her. The anger left her as fast as it had come. “Markus had a heatstroke. He’ll be fine. Kirsten is nursing him back to health.”

  He nodded, a jerky movement. “What can I get you?”

  “A lemonade, please.” She waited but he didn’t look up, only nodded again and turned to go. “So you’re Panos’ little cousin.”

  He stopped, his broad back to her, muscles bunching across his shoulders. “What did he tell you?”

  “That I should hook up with him because he’s a man and you’re still a boy.”

  His stance relaxed and he shook his head. “He’s an idiot.”

  She snorted. “He’s very funny.” Damn, she felt weird, talking to his back. And ass. His cute ass. “And he’s nice. Like you.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “Sure I do. You help me. Look out for me. You seem nice.” And hot. And kinda sad.

  He turned around, his pretty lips pressed tight. “Appearances can deceive.”

  “Then yours is particularly deceptive.”

  A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth and she took it as a good sign. “Look, I know appearances aren’t everything. That all that shines isn’t gold and all that.”

  “Is that why you threw your gold ring into the sea? Was it a fake?”

  She bit her lip and shook her head. The ring had come from a true place, a true feeling — only not hers. At least she thought so. “It’s a long story.” And she didn’t feel much like talking about Justin, especially to Kai.

  He took a step toward her, his gaze intense. “I have to work.”

  “Oh? Sorry I’m keeping you.” She glanced around at the other tables. Nobody seemed to be looking for a waiter. “You’d better go, then.”

  “I finish my shift at four.”

  Was that what she thought it sounded like? “So you wanna go for a coffee afterward?”

  “Yeah, sure.” He tapped his pen on the notebook, head cocked to the side, his eyes gleaming. “I want to hear the story. Will you be here?”

  “I’ll come back,” she promised and watched him go, biting her lip nervously.

  Holy hells, was that a date?

  *

  No, of course not a date, she told herself as she fretted about what to wear. Having a coffee with a hot guy wasn’t a date.

  It was half past three and she was nervous like a schoolgirl. The full length mirror in her room showed her a skinny girl with practically no boobs, disproportionately fat thighs and limp blond hair hanging past her shoulders.

  He had looked, though. He’d checked out her barely existent cleavage. Had he been disappointed? Had he thought it okay?

  Should she fucking care? Not a date, she repeated to herself. The project was back on. Find out about him, make him laugh.

  Maybe she should try tickling. That would require running her hands over those perfect abs.

  And he’d call the cops to press charges for sexual assault. Yeah.

  Thank god she’d gone shopping the previous day. The dress looked good on her, and...

  Too fancy. Too obvious. Four o’ clock was afternoon, not evening. Maybe she should wear exactly what she’d been wearing at the beach.

  Yeah, your bikini and a pink towel. Ingenious, Liv.

  She ran her fingers through her hair, tugging. The contents of her suitcase lay on the bed. Her hotel room looked as if a wardrobe had exploded in the middle of it. She picked up her sandals with the butterflies and tied them on.

  Good. We have the shoes.

  She looked down at herself. She was still in underwear.

  Okay, now clothes.

  The desired outfit, however, didn’t magically appear. She waded through the blouses she had brought along, and lifted a white of-the-shoulder one. She dragged it on, then picked a pair of cut-off jeans and a wide leather belt.

  Hippy style. It fit the place and hour, not to mention the sandals. She put on her hoop earrings, grabbed her purse and decided she was ready.

  It was still half past three.

  Dammit.

  A knock came on the door and she went to open. Kirsten stared at her, a book in hand.

  “You look pretty,” she said, coming inside.

  “You think?” Olivia tugged on the hem of her blouse. “I have fat thighs and my hair is limp and—”

  “Sweetling,” Kirsten said and wagged a finger, “you look fabulous. Stop doubting it. Are you meeting with the non-rebound guy?”

  Olivia nodded, tugging again on her hair, glancing at the mirror to see if the shorts made her ass look big.

  Kirsten sidestepped and nudged her in the ribs. “The non-rebound guy is very lucky.”

  Snorting, Olivia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know if he’s lucky, but he’s kinda mysterious. I’m trying to get him to open up.”

  “Oh great.” Kirsten rolled her eyes. “The clam trying to get another clam to open up.”

  “Oh shut up, you.” Olivia gave her a pat on the ass. “Shoo. Go back to your wounded boyfriend. How is he, by the way?”

  “He says he feels better. Doctor said he may need to lie in tomorrow as well.” Kirsten rubbed her nose. “Sorry about this, Liv.”

  “Not your fault. Besides, it gives me more time to investigate my mysterious non-rebound, clammed-up guy.” Olivia winked and slung an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “Go give Markus a big sloppy kiss from me before I go and give it to hi
m myself.”

  Kirsten sighed and gave her a quick hug before she left.

  Olivia closed the door firmly and glanced at her watch. Three forty. Ugh. Was her watch broken? She shook it experimentally, not sure what she was hoping for. It was digital, not a wind-up antique.

  She grabbed a book and went to sit on the balcony. A huge white bougainvillea climbed the side of the building and arched over her, providing shade. She propped her feet on the low table and found her bookmark.

  The novel was a paranormal romance a friend at the university had lent her. The protagonist, Marisa, was a kick-ass heroine who changed men more often than she did underwear — not that she was ever shown changing underwear. Marisa never seemed to be in need of peeing, eating, showering — or sleeping, for that matter. In the space of two chapters, she dated vampires, werewolves, zombies, and even a ghost.

  ‘Where are your friends?’ the ghost asked and Olivia frowned because someone had asked her that before. I’m alone, he went on, and colors swirled in his eyes — or was it tears? I want to hear your story. I want to know you.

  She came awake with a start. The book had fallen from her lap to the floor. She picked it up.

  She’d fallen asleep. Shit.

  Kai.

  A glance at her watch confirmed it. She’d been out for over half an hour.

  She was late.

  ***

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It is the stars, the stars above us, govern our conditions.

  Shakespeare

  It is the tides that govern us, the deep, invisible currents.

  Myra Crow

  Her leather sandals slapped on the floor as she ran into the lobby, practically threw her key at Panos and pushed on the revolving doors to get out. She pounded down the steps and raced along the pool on the small path to the beach bar.

  Winding between the small coffee tables, she hurried under the thatch roof to the bar.

  Behind it stood the blond guy from last night, polishing a glass. He raised his gaze and blinked at her.

  “Hello,” he said, and nodded at the stools. “Have a seat. What can I get you?”

  “Kai,” she panted and leaned against the bar.

  “You want me to get you a Kai?”

  She nodded, still gasping for breath. “The Kai, if possible, your one and only co-worker?”

  “Ah, the Kai.” He grinned, his teeth slightly yellow, stained with nicotine. “He left not five minutes ago.”

  Crap. Big steaming pile of it. “Where did he go?”

  “Went walking along the beach. That way.” He pointed with the glass he held. “He doesn’t like crowds.”

  She looked in the direction he was pointing. The beach was full, every square meter filled with umbrellas, deck chairs, beach mats and children madly digging with plastic shovels. “What happened here?”

  “Tourist bus arrived this morning.” He went back to polishing the glass. “French, I believe.”

  “Thanks.” She pushed off the bar and rushed toward the water, the sand slipping into her sandals and burning her feet. Shit shit shit. Too many kids, too many moms running after them, too many umbrellas. Where was Kai? She stopped at the water’s edge to get her bearings and shaded her eyes.

  A dark figure stood on the rocks, hands in pockets. Even with her new, super shiny contact lenses on, she wasn’t sure it was him.

  Ah well. She shook the sand out of her sandals and hurried toward him. It had to be him. Who else would wear long pants on a beach in this heat?

  He turned around as she approached. The wind had swept his dark hair into spikes and she itched to touch them, see if they were soft or encrusted with salt. His eyes were hard as stone.

  “I’m so sorry I was late,” she said, and thought, damn, it’s over already. She wasn’t sure exactly what she thought was over — the project, the interest, the soft curiosity in his eyes, the chance to get to know him a little — but he blinked as if he’d just seen her and his gaze softened.

  “It’s okay,” he said, a rasp in his voice. “I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

  “Oh no, I want to have that coffee,” she said.

  The corner of his mouth curled in a half smile. “Even though you can see me clearly now?”

  “Definitely. I want a coffee with you.”

  “Okay. Can we...?” He gestured at the beach. “Too many people. I know a nice cafe not far from here. If you don’t mind.”

  Mind? Did she mind? His jaw was square, his chin dimpled, and that bow of a mouth made her knees go weak. “Sounds good,” she breathed.

  Project. She’d planned a project. Couldn’t quite remember the topic right now. She followed him to his truck which was parked up at the road, and climbed inside. Huh. It wasn’t as dusty as she remembered. Had he cleaned?

  Nah. She’d been half blind. Had probably taken the color of the dashboard for a layer of dust. She tried not to stare at Kai as he started the car and rolled out to the asphalt. She was also grateful he hadn’t asked why she was late.

  Sorry, dude. I was so excited about meeting you I fell asleep. Yeah.

  His hands were strong, tanned and long-fingered. She kept her gaze there. Safer than to look up at his brooding face. Barely.

  Maybe better look outside. Oh look, landscapes. The sea. Trees and other green stuff. The whole world.

  They drove on the seaside road for a while, passing over steep inclines leading to secluded bays. A yacht was moored in one, a smudge of white set against the blue of the sea and sky. On the other side, tall mountains loomed, their slopes bare and reflecting the rays of the sinking sun.

  Breathtaking.

  But her eyes kept straying to Kai’s muscled arms, the arch of his neck, the messy dark hair falling in his eyes and curling against his nape.

  She was glad when he turned into a small gravel parking lot, not sure she could keep from staring much longer. Her eyes were cramping from looking in two directions at once.

  He hopped out of the truck and came around to open her door. She stared at his offered hand for a moment, uncomprehending. She’d just spent six months in Germany where offering such courtesy to women, the old and the handicapped was taken invariably as sexism, arrogance and stupidity.

  His gaze was warm, sliding from her face to her neck and lower, until her whole body tingled.

  She took his hand and leaped down. He didn’t release her, his fingers clasped around hers, and they stood chest to chest — almost. She was at eye-level with his chin, but he dipped his head and, oh god, she was going to melt into a pool of lust right there, in the parking lot.

  Forget about getting to know his story. How about getting to know his body, first? Hadn’t Kirsten said he was her rebound guy? Hell, why not?

  “Come,” he said and stepped away, letting go.

  She shook her head, dazed. It was his scent, she decided, that mixture of sea salt, male musk and something she couldn’t put her finger on — oh, but she wanted to. She followed, trying to compose herself, to cool her heated thoughts.

  One thought kept bouncing up and down, though, demanding to be examined: she hadn’t felt that way with Justin. Nor with anyone before.

  Damn scary.

  *

  The cafe composed of a stone-built bar, a kitchen with a wooden roof and a terrace with a stunning view of the rocky bay below, where the beach appeared as a white smudge. Seagulls wheeled on the air currents and fluffy clouds traveled on the horizon, where blue met blue.

  They sat under a jasmine pergola, the small blossoms looking like stars. The low sunrays passing through the twisted branches threw a filigree of shadow on the stone wall and dipped Kai’s lashes in gold.

  Almost too beautiful to be true, she thought, and her neck heated.

  Old magic. It was this place, the colors, the textures, the rich light that brought everything out in relief and carved lines in the people’s faces. She was falling into a fairy tale, arms spread wide like the wings of a sea gull.

  Go
d, she needed an extra strong coffee.

  The tables around them were empty, apart from two which had been seized by blond, sun-burned tourists.

  A tiny woman, her grey hair tied in a bun, came to take their order. Olivia asked for Greek coffee, which, her guide said, was similar to Arab coffee. Kai asked for something in Greek and the woman nodded, made a moue and left.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I asked for a fruit preserve.” He worked his jaw and looked out at the sea.

  “Something wrong with the order?”

  “It’s not that. I’m uncomfortable speaking Greek. I have an accent, I make mistakes. I’m afraid everyone will laugh at me. And usually they do, or look unhappy. Like her.”

  “I understand,” she said. “It’s like my glasses.”

  He quirked a brow. “My Greek is like your glasses?”

  She laughed and was treated to another of his faint half-smiles. It was a sexy smile and she wished her coffee was there already to distract her.

  He was staring at her, obviously waiting for an explanation. Oh crap. She never talked about these things to anyone. Why was it she couldn’t keep her mouth shut around this guy?

  Well, she’d started it. “As you know, I’m blind as a bat without my lenses. As a kid I used to wear glasses. The other kids teased me a lot. I hated it.” God, this was like pulling teeth. Where was that coffee? “Why do you have an accent, anyway? Didn’t your father talk to you in Greek?”

  Kai didn’t speak for a moment, and she thought he might be angry she knew so much about him — that he might have guessed she’d asked Panos. But he only sighed. “He tried. I was stubborn and didn’t want to answer in Greek. We were in the States. People spoke English.”

  It made sense. Fit in with stories of immigrants’ children she’d heard over the years. They wanted to blend in, not stand apart and be bullied for it.