Heat Me Up

by Julie Kenner

  Shrugging, she pushed open the glass-paneled French doors, then stepped hesitantly over the threshold into the airy reception area. Empty. Just her, a yellow cat snoozing on a file cabinet, and a single reception desk topped with the largest bouquet of ruby-red roses Kyra had ever seen.

  “Hello?” Her voice echoed through the office. “Anyone here?”

  Nothing. And then she heard the unmistakable sound of heels clicking on the boardwalk leading up to the office. Within seconds, Kyra saw Danielle, Merrilee’s assistant, hurrying toward the door, her clipboard held out in front of her.

  “Kyra!” she said when she looked up from the clipboard. “It’s so good to see you.” She noticed the flowers and frowned. Then she checked the card and a slow grin spread across her face.

  She must have remembered what she was doing, because she turned back to Kyra, suddenly all business. “Sorry. There’s not a problem is there? With your room? With your fantasy?”

  “No. Yes. I mean, not exactly.” She nibbled on her lip, trying to remember what she’d so desperately wanted to ask Merrilee.

  Danielle slid the clipboard onto the desk, then turned, giving Kyra her full attention. “Do you want to talk about it? Sometimes it takes guests a day or so to get used to a Fantasies, Inc. vacation. The staff is always ready to talk.”

  “I was kind of hoping to talk to Merrilee,” Kyra confessed, hoping that Danielle’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt.

  “I completely understand, but she’s not here.” She gestured to her spiffy business suit, complete with pumps and panty hose. “Trust me. I don’t dress like this normally, not on an island. But we have a meeting with a possible new supplier. Merrilee took a boat over last night, and I’m meeting her there this morning.”

  “Oh. Well, it can wait.” Besides, she wasn’t even certain what she wanted to ask. Confirmation that Michael was her fantasy man? Permission to have a wild fling?

  For that matter, did Merrilee already know that Kyra had blown her chance? That she hadn’t seized the unexpected?

  “Kyra?”

  She shrugged and continued, “I guess I’m wondering how much Merrilee knows about what happens on the island.”

  Danielle actually giggled, a totally unexpected response. Apparently, she realized it, because she slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

  Kyra squinted, confused. “What’s so funny?”

  “Sorry.” Danielle’s gaze drifted to the flowers. “It’s just that a few weeks ago I would have sworn that nothing could happen on any of the islands without Merrilee knowing. But now…” She trailed off, raising one shoulder in a tiny shrug.

  Kyra looked from Danielle to the flowers, then back to Danielle. “A secret admirer?”

  Danielle leaned forward and nodded conspiratorially. “She doesn’t have a clue who he is. But I think it’s great. Every couple of days he sends a little gift or roses. Ruby-red, the card always says, because those are her favorite.”

  “How mysterious!”

  Danielle nodded, clearly trying to stay businesslike, but her grin gave her away. “I think it’s great. Merrilee deserves to have someone making such a fuss over her. But it’s driving her crazy trying to figure out who could be sending them.” She cocked her head. “You didn’t see who brought them, did you?”

  “The flowers?”

  “The desk was empty earlier. He must have come when I left to change into my business-girl getup.”

  “No, I—” Kyra stopped. “Wait. There was a man on the beach.”

  Danielle’s cheeks flushed and she moved closer. “Really? What did he look like? Was he tall? Handsome? Did you recognize him?”

  Laughing, Kyra backed away, her hands held up. “Whoa! I didn’t see anything. Sorry. He was too far away.”

  “Well, darn.” She glanced wistfully toward the flowers. “I’m dying to know who her admirer is.”

  “Merrilee doesn’t have any ideas?”

  “Not a clue.” Danielle hugged herself. “It’s so romantic.”

  That it was, and a tiny kernel of jealousy sat like a stone in her stomach. Harold respected and desired her, but there wasn’t any romance—no romantic gestures, no soft words that made her melt.

  Of course, the truth was she didn’t want those things. A romance needed two participants, and while she respected Harold—and even loved him in a friendly sort of way—she couldn’t fathom getting all mushy about him.

  But with Michael…well, that she could imagine just fine.

  The thought came unbidden, and she cringed. The man had managed to work his way under her skin. She hadn’t expected that, not while she’d been sitting in her brightly lit office in Dallas arranging the vacation. She shivered. She hadn’t expected it at all.

  “Will you let me know if you figure out who the man was?” Danielle asked.

  She nodded absently. “Sure. Yeah. No problem.”

  “Did you want to talk to me? Or leave a note for Merrilee?”

  “A note?” She frowned. “No. No thanks. I’m…I’ll figure it out.”

  Danielle smiled, then went to a cabinet on the far side of the room, opened the wood paneled doors, and pulled out a cell phone. She passed it to Kyra. “Here.”

  “What’s this for?”

  “Intimate Fantasy doesn’t have phones in the guest rooms. So we check these out to guests from time to time.” She shrugged. “You don’t have to use it. It’s just that a lot of folks feel better after talking their fantasy through with a friend. It’s not unusual at all. We have more people phoning a friend than the contestants on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?”

  Kyra nibbled on her lip, staring at the phone in the palm of her hand. The only one she could call was Mona, and Kyra knew exactly what her friend would say: You turned down a wild night with a quintessential fantasy man? Are you nuts?

  No, Mona wouldn’t be any help at all. But instead of giving the phone back, she surprised herself by tucking it into her tote bag. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. And Kyra,” Danielle added, “remember what Merrilee says. Fantasies aren’t a science. In the end, your fantasy is what you make it.”

  CHAPTER 4

  TONY SPRAWLED on one of the lounge chairs under an versize beach umbrella that had been rigged to provide some shade near the pool. He’d hardly slept at all last night—his damsel in distress had haunted his dreams—and now he let the gentle sound of folks splashing in the pool and ordering drinks from the bar work on him like a lullaby.

  Still, though, he couldn’t sleep. Thoughts of Kyra teased and taunted him.

  That morning, he’d awakened fully aroused, her scent on his clothes. A cold shower had relieved some of the pressure, but it hadn’t changed one basic fact—he wanted her.

  In a way, the feeling was welcome. He hadn’t wanted a woman—hadn’t let himself want a woman—since the accident. Certainly he had never let one get so close to him.

  But it was a false closeness. She didn’t really know him. She’d been attracted to the chivalrous green-eyed stranger with midnight black hair.

  Only none of it was real.

  Tony’s own hair was near-black, but the gel made it darker. His own face was scarred, and he’d hidden it under a patch, a cap, and an evening beard that he’d happily shaved off this morning. His own eyes were a bland shade of brown, one of which changed with the help of a vivid green contact lens. He even pitched his voice differently at night.

  True, he’d helped her out of a bind. But his back could only take so much more of that, and he was paying the price this morning. Besides, they were in the middle of an island fantasy. Out in the real world, he was no heroic knight—not anymore. And all the good he did on this island was nothing but cotton candy—sweet enough, but ready to dissolve in an instant. The bottom line? Michael was nothing more than an illusion.

  “Hey, Tony!”

  He kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep.

  “Yo! Moretti!” This time the shout was accompanied by the sound of splash
ing water, followed by a splattering of droplets all over him.

  He sat up, then looked over the rim of his sunglasses into Stuart’s smiling face.

  “We’re getting up a group to play some water volleyball. Want to join in?”

  “No thanks.”

  Stuart hauled himself up and out of the pool, the sun gleaming on his golden hair. Unlike Tony, Stuart wasn’t ever going to have a problem with women looking the other way.

  He marched over, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the slate poolside. “You’re just gonna sit here in the shade?”

  Tony nodded, shifting so Stuart saw only the good side of his face. “Yup.” Stuart had already seen the scars, and to his credit, he hadn’t flinched. Tony didn’t want to give him the chance to cringe now. “I’m just going to sit here in the shade.”

  Stuart plopped down in a chair opposite Tony. “Come on, guy? What fun is that? We’re supposed to get another storm tonight that might even last into tomorrow. You should get out and get some sun while you can.”

  “I appreciate your concern for my tan, but I’m perfectly happy in the shade.”

  “Well, it’s not just your tan, guy. We need one more person on our team.”

  Tony shook his head. No way was he dragging out the scar for all to see. No way was he going to reach up to slam-dunk a volleyball only to have his back blow out in front of everybody. Just wasn’t happening. Not in this lifetime.

  “You sure? We could really use—”

  “Stuart,” a deep voice interrupted, “the boy said no.”

  Tony tilted his head back to see C.J., the resort’s pilot, striding over.

  “Hey, C.J.,” Stuart said, a little morosely. “But we need another player. How about you?”

  “I don’t think so.” C.J. said, then laughed. He ducked under the umbrella and took the chair on Tony’s bad side. Tony shifted, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. In the end, he settled for pushing his sunglasses more firmly up his nose.

  Now settled, C.J. peeled off his aviator glasses, revealing vivid blue eyes. Slight crow’s-feet made C.J. seem constantly happy, even though the lines probably meant nothing more than that the man had spent too much time in the sun.

  “Well, heck,” Stuart said. He knew when he was defeated, though. His eyes immediately started searching the area around the pool for another victim.

  Tony had just turned to C.J., when Stuart’s hand flew up. “Kyra! Hey! Over here.”

  Tony’s stomach twisted. Kyra? His Kyra? Calling on every ounce of strength in his body, he managed to maintain a bland expression as he turned to look at her climbing the steps to the pool area.

  She was a vision, her honey-colored hair loose in the breeze. He watched as she impatiently pushed a long strand away from her face as she looked around to see who was calling her.

  This time, she wasn’t in a dress, but was wearing a pair of flower-print shorts with a jacket over what looked to be a matching swimsuit. The shorts hugged her hips, the top accentuated the swell of her breasts, and Tony tried to keep his breathing steady as he remembered the heavenly feel of every delicious inch of her pressed against him.

  “Over here,” Stuart called.

  She waved, then headed in their direction—in his direction. Every muscle in his body stiffened, and he fought the urge to run, afraid somehow she’d recognize him, and then any chance that Michael Moretti might have of spending another night with her would be ruined.

  Disgusted with himself, he stifled a groan. The truth was, she probably wouldn’t even look twice at him. Surely she wouldn’t recognize him.

  With a determined tug, he pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them on the table. Then he pulled up the back of the lounge chair, and sat up to face her, determined to hold his own.

  She headed right over, flashing a smile at his companions. “Hi, C.J. Hi, Stuart.”

  He was just about to mentally congratulate himself on reading her just right—she was going to ignore him—when her sleek gray eyes met his. She held out her hand, her head cocked slightly.

  “Hi. I’m Kyra.”

  “Tony,” he said, more gruffly than he intended. He took her outstretched hand. Any fantasy he’d held out that the sparks between them last night had been due to the lightning storm faded. Suddenly, there was just the two of them, her flesh against his, and he wanted to pull her close to him and wrap his arms around her almost as much as he wanted to yell at her to go away and never look at him again.

  “Tony?” Stuart kicked the end of the lounge chair, and Tony realized he was still holding her hand. He dropped it.

  She rubbed her hands together, her eyes still on his face. He could practically feel his scar burning under her critical stare.

  “It’s just a scar, okay?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  He pointed at it. “It’s just a scar.”

  Her face cleared and a horrified expression crossed her face. “Oh! No. I’m sorry. I wasn’t staring at… I mean…” She sucked in a deep breath. “It’s just that you seem so familiar. Have we met?”

  “No,” he said quickly, shrinking to about two inches tall. “I’m sure I’d remember you.”

  Idiot, idiot, idiot. Not only had he completely misread her, but now what if she put two and two together?

  Her forehead furrowed. “Maybe in the restaurant. I don’t know. There’s something…”

  “Couldn’t have been the restaurant,” Stuart said, and Tony could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Tony spent all of yesterday on one of the other islands. He only came back this morning.”

  “Scoping it out for a friend,” Tony added, pleased that Merrilee’s promise that Stuart and Danielle would back his alibi had held fast. “Perhaps we’ve seen each other earlier in the week?” he suggested, knowing that was impossible, since she’d only just arrived.

  She shook her head. “No. I got here yesterday.” Her smile was bright and sunny. “Well, at any rate, it’s nice to meet you now.”

  “Very nice,” Tony said, relaxing against the chair. His alibi was solid. Even if she wondered about his scar and Michael’s patch, there’s no way she’d catch on now. Merrilee did her job well.

  “The game, you guys,” Stuart said, almost pleading. “It’s waiting.”

  Kyra frowned. “What game?”

  Stuart sighed, then jerked his head impatiently toward the pool, his mop of hair flying like a member of a sixties band. “Volleyball. You’re on my team.”

  “Volleyball,” she repeated, sounding almost horrified. “Oh, no. I don’t know how.” She dug a cell phone out of her mesh tote bag. “Besides, I was going to make a phone call.”

  “Can’t it wait?” Stuart asked. “Where are you calling?”

  “Excuse me?” She glanced at C.J. then Tony for help. He just shrugged, not at all opposed to watching Kyra in the pool.

  “Where are you calling?”

  “Texas,” she said, then put her hand on her hip. “Would you like a name and phone number?”

  “Nah,” Stuart said, either not hearing her irritation or ignoring it. “It’s just that they’re an hour behind. So it’s only ten there, and it’s Sunday, so you oughta at least wait an hour. Let whoever you’re calling sleep in and play a game or two with us.”

  Kyra looked mildly terrified. “But I’ve never… I don’t know how.”

  Apparently Stuart took that as a yes, because he was up out of his chair and helping her off with her jacket. He tossed it Tony’s way. “It’s easy. You’ll have a ball.”

  “Um, but…” She looked from Stuart to C.J., and then to Tony, her gaze lingering on him.

  Tony grinned. “Have fun.”

  “Thanks. You’re a lot of help.”

  That just made his smile broader, and as Stuart led her away, he realized how much he enjoyed being near her. He’d loved the feel of her in his arms last night, but he wanted more than just to have Kyra in his bed. A lot more. And he hadn’t the faintest idea how to go about getti
ng her.

  “Nice girl,” C.J. said, pulling Tony away from the enticing view of Kyra stripping off her shorts to reveal a matching swimsuit bottom.

  “Hmm?”

  C.J. chuckled. “I said, nice girl.”

  “Kyra?” Tony said, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “Give it up, son. You’re talking to a man who’s been infatuated with a woman once or twice in his life.”

  “I didn’t realize I was so transparent.” He glanced toward the pool, wondering if Kyra’d been glad to get away from the scarred guy who had the hots for her.

  “Don’t worry, kid. I don’t think she noticed.”

  “You read minds professionally? Or is it just a hobby?”

  “I just recognize a kindred spirit when I see one.” He gestured toward the bar. “I’m not flying today. Can I buy you a beer?”

  “Sure.”

  The older man left for the bar as Tony wondered what he meant about kindred spirits. When C.J. came back with two ice-cold long necks, Tony didn’t waste time letting the man sit down. “You’ve got a girl on one of the islands,” he guessed.

  The older man’s eyes sparkled. “Got? No. But I’m working on it.”

  Tony leaned forward, his mind sifting through the possibilities. “Staff or guest?”

  “What is this? Twenty questions?”

  “Just curious.” Tony genuinely liked this man. C.J. was one of those salt-of-the-earth guys, the kind who looked like they carried around a ton of baggage, yet never let it get to them. The kind of man who deserved to be genuinely off-the-scale happy, but always seemed to come in a few points short. “So who is she?”

  “Not yet, buddy.” C.J. took a long swallow of beer. “I like you, kid, I really do. And maybe one of these days I’ll tell you. In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret from Kyra if you keep mine to yourself, okay?”

  Tony chuckled, but nodded, and they watched the game in companionable silence until C.J. stood up. “Time for me to go clean out the plane.” He polished off the rest of his beer. “Remember my advice, kid. You want to get to know Miss Cartwright, you have to work for it.”