by Cathryn Fox
“Holly—” he began.
Her eyes went wide. “Josh, we’re in the lead.” As she looked around the room, her excitement pulsed through him, and he felt something inside him give. “We’re the only team to get a lime into the bowl.” He followed her gaze. “We could really win this.”
Torn between duty and pleasure, he raked his hair from his face and took in her big eyes. Shit. She really wanted to win this, and dammit, he really wanted to help her—even if it went against everything he was trying to accomplish. If she got the promotion, she’d never return home to where she’d be safe under the watch of her father’s men. But like her, he had a competitive streak in him a mile long, and well, maybe they could win just this one. He could give her that much, right?
“Wait, what were you going to say?” she asked.
He cursed under his breath and dragged his fingers through his too-long hair. Jesus, he wanted to cut it, but he was undercover as a techie, gamer dude. Remember your mission, Josh. Get her home. Get her safe. The only way to do that is by losing these challenges.
But she really wants to win.
“I…uh…” But the protest died on his tongue. “Let’s do this.” He rolled a lemon to the edge of the counter.
She steepled her fingers and bounced back and forth from one foot to another as she anxiously watched. “Try not to drop it this time,” she said.
He shot her a glance. “You think it’s so easy.”
“All you had to do was hold it,” she shot back, but her voice held a teasing note.
“I’m going to be mixing all the other ingredients.” With a nod, he gestured to the spot on the floor behind her, to the container that had Vodka, tomato juice, Tabasco sauce, and Worcestershire sauce. At least they’d all been put in labeled plastic bottles, and wouldn’t shatter if they fell. “Let’s see how easy it is for you to hand those to me—or rather, not hand them to me.”
He tucked the lemon under his chin and bent his knees to drop to her height. Breathing a little harder, she stepped into him and angled her head. Her tongue snaked out to moisten her bottom lip, a familiar habit when she was concentrating on something.
Her hands went to his shoulders, and he placed his on her hips. For the briefest of moments she stilled, her nails raking across his T-shirt.
“You good?” he asked.
“Yeah, almost got it.” Her warm, sweet breath—hot and distracting on his neck—washed over his flesh as her hair tickled his chest.
Strawberries. Yeah, he bet she’d taste like strawberries.
“A little lower, Josh,” she said. “Right there. Yes, just…that’s it.”
Would she give directions like that in bed?
Mind on the task, dude.
He bent his knees, and her body brushed against his. The sweet skin-on-skin contact set off a chain of unwanted reactions in his body. He clenched his jaw so hard it nearly popped out of place. Goddammit. Get your mind off sex.
“So, uh, where is it you come from?”
“What?” she asked as she carried the lemon to her bowl. It fell with a clunk, and she clapped her hands.
“Last night, when I was on the bottom of the pool, you said where you come from, you call that drowning.” Truthfully, he still couldn’t believe that she jumped in to help. When he first met her, he’d lumped her into the same category as his ex. She wouldn’t, under any circumstance, jump in the water to save someone if it meant getting her hair wet.
“I live in L.A.”
“That’s where you live, but I take it you come from New York.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Accent.”
Her back went poker straight, a haunted look in her eyes as they drilled into his. Okay, so clearly she didn’t want to talk about home.
“I grew up in New York, but I live in L.A. now. Where do you come from?” Her redirection of the conversation didn’t go unnoticed.
As they continued to pass ingredients back and forth, on to the celery now, he said, “All over. But I spent my high school years in Brooklyn.”
“You’re far away from home.”
“Work,” he said.
“L.A. is the place for techies,” she said.
And protecting rich girls who aren’t privy to the dangers around them. But he thought it best to leave that comment to himself.
She dropped the last celery stick into her bowl then frowned at the plastic bottles in the box on the floor beside her.
“What?” he asked.
“How the heck am I going to pass you those?”
“I have an idea.”
She arched a brow. “Yeah?”
“Why don’t you get it between your knees and pass it to mine.”
“How do you get it from your knees to the counter? You’re tall but you’re not that tall.”
He stepped closer, and their knuckles brushed. “All right, then. I could lie down, and you could drop it onto my stomach. Then you can lie over me. We can press the bottle between our bodies as we stand. We can shimmy it higher until it’s under my chin, then I can drop them into the bowl.”
She went quiet, thoughtful. “You want me to lie down on top of you?”
“Yeah.” She swallowed loud enough for him to hear it, as her glance slid down his body. “Unless, of course, you have another idea.”
She shook her head. “No, I…uh…think that position will work.”
Oh, yeah, that position would work for a lot of things. Mainly sex. Which he absolutely could not have with her. No way. No how. Not even if she asked him.
Okay, maybe if she asked him.
Chapter Three
As the sun set over the lush tropical island, and birds chirped happily overhead, Holly dug into her meal and tried not to stare at Josh as he sat across from her at the outdoor candlelit dinner. Colin and Adam, two of the young techies who weren’t going through a midlife crisis, sat on either side of her, and while Colin tried to make conversation with her, she was too focused on Josh.
Chatter took place all around her as the entire Encore staff bonded, but she couldn’t get her mind off Josh or the way he was laughing at something Anita, the boss’s cute nineteen-year-old-looking bimbo secretary said. Holly stabbed at her steak with a little more force than necessary and popped a piece into her mouth. Jealous? Absolutely not. There was just something in the way Anita was bonding with Josh that bothered her. From the frown on their boss’s forehead, he didn’t seem to like it, either. Really, did the girl have to be all touchy like that?
Breaking her two-drink rule, she refilled her wineglass from the carafe in the center of the table and took a much-needed sip, praying the alcohol would wipe away the heated memories of their mixology contest.
Why, again, did I think it was a good idea to lie down on Josh?
A fine shiver moved through her, her back still tingling from the way he splayed those big hands over her flesh, pulling her body down over his. And when his hips lifted to join with hers… Torture. Her nipples tightened inside her lacy bra, and she gave a silent prayer of thanks that it was dusk and no one could see her arousal through her cotton sundress.
Josh Steele.
A hot rush spread over her, and if she knew what was good for her, she’d figure out a way to suppress this sudden attraction to him. She was here for one reason and one reason only—to prove to her boss she was a team player so she could get the position she deserved. If she continued to pair up with Josh during the challenges—and get distracted by his hard body and big hands—it was going to put a whole lot of kink into her plan.
Oh God, why did I think of Josh and kink in the same sentence?
Okay, that was it. First chance, she was going to ask for a new partner. The idea of pairing with Stanley was starting to look better and better all the time. A warm breeze carried Josh’s scent across the table, and she breathed in, pulling his warm, outdoorsy aroma into her lungs. Good God, how was this helping her douse her attraction to him? Maybe she should head to
the beach and dunk herself into the cold water. That ought to get her head on straight.
She stole a quick glance at Mr. Distraction, himself, as he relaxed into his seat, shoulders square, long legs kicked out in front of him. Seeing him in wet board shorts was one thing, but this version of the well-built gamer-boy—a pair of khaki pants that fit his body to perfection and a button-down shirt that pulled snugly across tight muscles—was something else entirely. He definitely cleaned up nice. Sam was right; there was a treasure beneath the surface. Was she right about Holly doing him, too?
Oh God!
He pulled his phone from his pocket, and his hair fell forward as his fingers flew over the screen. Was he playing a game during dinner? Texting? His head lifted slightly, and her gaze moved over his taut face. He sat up a little straighter, his back suddenly tense. Holly considered his body language as she pierced a small potato and brought it to her mouth. He didn’t look happy about something.
“Josh,” their boss, Jeff, said from the head of the table. “I had no idea you could make such a mean Bloody Mary.”
The potato lodged in Holly’s throat. Come on! Josh was getting all the credit for their combined efforts. Did her boss not know how much torture it was for her to lie over him? Seriously, though, would Jeff never see her as an equal in this male-dominated workplace? Would Encore forever remain a boys’ club? Fighting the urge to inflict Jeff with bodily pain, she gripped her wineglass to busy her hands.
Josh tucked his phone back into his pants, and in a move that was slow and calculated, he took a sip of water, placed his glass back on the table, and met her eyes. A troubled expression crossed his face and lingered for a moment, and then it was gone. He smiled, his features softening when he said, “Actually, it was all Holly.”
Her head snapped back. What? Josh was giving her the credit? Why would he do that when he was up for the senior analyst position as well? More importantly, why did his endorsement feel so…personal? Yeah, they might be on an island, stuck in close quarters, but she needed to put as much distance between them as possible. Tomorrow she’d ask for a new partner.
“Really,” Jeff said as he turned her way. Eyebrow raised, he fixed her with a surprised look. “Is that true, Holly?”
“It wasn’t all me. I couldn’t have done it without my partner,” Holly said, her professional demeanor back in place. “If there is one thing I know, it’s that effective team players get the job done and done well.” Okay, now she was laying it on a little thick. But she wasn’t the type to sell someone out to further her own career, even though she preferred to work independently. Past experiences had taught her that letting others in only led to heartache. How many friends had come and gone over the years, using her to get into her father’s organization? Those who were actually interested in her, and not what her father could do for them, ended up frightened away by the inquisitions, background searches, and her dad’s overbearing personality. Other than Sam, no one ever cared enough about her to stay and stand up to the man. Even her mother had left. Sure, her dad had driven her away with his possessive behavior, but she’d left Holly, too.
I wasn’t enough of a reason for her to stay. Wasn’t worth the fight.
But she couldn’t let Jeff know that she’d closed herself off to others. If he didn’t see her as a team player, she’d never get the position.
Josh’s gaze warmed as he held eye contact with her, and a flutter erupted inside her stomach. She clamped her thighs shut and cursed her body’s traitorous reactions. “Who knew we’d make such a good team.”
“Well, then,” Jeff said, as he linked his fingers together. “I was thinking about mixing the teams up tomorrow, but since you two seem to be working so well together, I don’t think I will. I’m interested to see how things play out in the next couple days.”
Well, hell, talk about a plan backfiring.
Holly placed her napkin on the table. “On that note, if you’ll all excuse me, I need a good night’s sleep so I’m well rested for the exercises tomorrow.” Nods and agreement spread around the table as a few others stood and prepared to leave.
“I’ll walk with you,” Colin said from beside her. “Your villa is close to mine.”
“I—” she began, not really wanting the company, but Josh stood so quickly his chair faltered backward.
“Colin,” he said, “hold up. I need to talk to you about the Lexington data.”
“Oh,” Colin said, his gaze darting back and forth between her and Josh. “Sure.”
Holly hiked her purse up higher on her shoulder and hurried her steps so she wouldn’t have to make conversation on the way back to her villa. With her brain going a million miles an hour, she needed time to think, to figure out a game plan.
How the heck am I supposed to work with Josh and keep my mind on my task?
She wasn’t sure, but she needed to find away.
The sounds of waves washing up on shore reached her ears, and instead of turning in for the night, she made her way to the ocean. Signs were posted warning beachgoers to do the “stingray shuffle.” Since she had no idea what that was, she kicked off her shoes and walked on the cool sand. The beach was quiet this time of night, the perfect place to gather her thoughts. She walked along the shore, the cold water rushing over her feet and up to her knees, only to be dragged back out again by the pull of the tide. The tang of salt wafted before her face, and she breathed it in and looked over the moonlit water. It really was breathtaking. If Sam were here, she’d no doubt drag Holly into the water for a late night swim.
You should do him.
Dammit, she really needed to stop thinking about her friend’s dare. She was not going to do Josh—no matter how hot he was, or how her traitorous body was urging her to do just that.
She lingered in the water for a long time, until she figured the others had all returned to their rooms and settled in for the night. As she prepared to head back to her villa, a noise in the distance drew her attention. She looked up from the water and noticed a figure jogging toward her—a big, muscular figure that could only be Josh.
Talk about temptation in a pair of shorts—and nothing else. Why oh why couldn’t he have just gone to bed like the others? And more importantly, why did he have to jog without a shirt on? Any more half-naked run-ins with him and she’d be going against her own best interests and doing him already.
She turned, intent on avoiding him, but when her foot came down on the sand, and something sharp dug into her heel, she let out a cry, and fell backward. The sand provided a soft landing, but her wrist twisted when she fell onto her outstretched hand.
“Ow…dammit.”
“You okay?” Josh yelled as he rushed toward her.
“I don’t know. Something stung me.”
“Shit.” He bent down and scooped her up, grabbing her purse and her shoes. “You probably stepped on a stingray.”
“It hurts.” She touched the inside of her heel and felt something sticky. “I think I’m bleeding.”
“The stinger is probably still in there.” He tightened his grip on her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Are you feeling anything else? Like nausea, lightheadedness?”
“No,” she said honestly and was grateful that he hadn’t asked about arousal because, yeah, the sting hurt like a son of a bitch, but she was in Josh’s arms. The feel of her body pressed against his almost overrode the pain. Almost.
“Okay, but we still need to get you to the clinic and get the stinger out.”
She rested her head against his strong, bare chest as a fresh jolt of pain shot through her foot. She was thankful for it, happy that it gave her something to think about other than how powerful and protective he was, how good his muscles felt beneath her fingers. She moaned, and he must have mistaken it for pain.
He took off running along the beach, his long legs eating up the distance in record time as he carried her like she was nothing but a seashell. His heart crashed against his chest, and he cut through the res
ort and hurried to the clinic outside the main lobby. He came to a fast halt at the clinic door, where a Closed sign dangled in the window.
“Shit.”
“Should we check with the front desk?” she asked.
“That will take too long.”
He looked around and stepped up to a bench. “I’m going to set you here for a second, okay. Will you be all right?” He lowered her and pressed her purse onto her lap.
His concerned gaze moved over her face, taking her in, and even though he was trying to help, it reminded her too much of her father’s men. Her spine straightened, and she instantly went on the defensive. “I’m fine.” She was a big girl who could take care of herself. “I don’t need your help.”
He frowned and dropped to one knee in front of her. “I know that, but Mrs. J would tear me a new one if I didn’t help.” He jabbed his thumb into his chest, and as she took in the worry lingering in his eyes, something inside her surrendered. “So, this is about me, not you, okay?” A pause and then, “Think you can take one for the team?”
She was about to ask who Mrs. J was, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tactical knife. What the heck? The thing was big, with a handful of blades and scissors. He stood, and she inched back in her seat, hoping he wasn’t planning to remove her stinger with that unsterilized piece of equipment.
She tightened her hands around the strap of her purse. “Where are you doing with that?”
“I always carry one.”
She angled her head and looked him over. Her father’s security guys carried tactical knives all the time, but what would a tech guy need with one?
“A guy never knows when he’ll find a damsel in distress.”
“I’m a lot tougher than I look.”
Instead of answering—which pissed her off; she was tough dammit—he stuck one blade into the lock. A quick jiggle and it opened with ease.
The door yawned open, and she eyed him carefully. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
He rolled one shoulder, making light of the situation, but she sensed there was more to this Josh than he was letting on.