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

by Milly Taiden

  Teeth gritted, I reached up and grabbed the belt, readjusting both hands, not thinking about how high up I was or how bad it would be if I fell. No point in that; it either happened or it didn’t. I learned early on in the stunt business that if you started to worry about the risks, if you tried to circumvent the fears, that was when you took the hardest falls. No, that wasn’t the truth: I learned it before ever getting into the business—at my father’s hands. Death will come or it won’t. You can’t change what will be. No use fighting it, just live hard and never look back.

  However, this time, I did look down. There were still a good two stories left to go—no problem at all.

  “You okay?” Hugh called to me. Grinning up at him, I laughed, feeling the blood pump through me as my heart fed on the adrenaline, loving the rush no matter how many stunts I did. “Shit, man, I’ve taken worse hits falling out of bed the morning after.”

  He barked out a laugh. “There’s no more coil. We’re at the end of it—” he was shoved aside, which was impressive considering he had a good thirty pounds and two inches on me, and Elise popped her head over the ledge. “Jethro, I need to speak to you. Right now. I mean it this time. It’s important. It’s about the baby.”

  The use of my full name sent a full-body cringe through me; that was worse than the fantasies she spun. I didn’t answer her, though she continued to assault me with more words than I used in a whole week. God damn, the woman could talk. It was about her only natural talent, aside from her smoking hot body.

  “Go away, Elise!”

  “No. I want to talk about our relationship, the baby, everything that’s happened.”

  Though I couldn’t see him, I could hear Hugh let out a loud groan. I snapped my mouth shut. How did you talk crazy down off a ledge? You didn’t. You ran away.

  Cursing under my breath, I flexed my arms, pulling myself sideways, and then walked along the wall until I reached a window. Wrapping the belt fully around one forearm, I freed up my other hand and worked the window open. I slid through into the empty room and was out the door and into the main hallway in less than ten seconds.

  Jogging to the stairs, I put Elise from my mind . . . something that was easy to do when I got a glimpse at the girl walking up the stairs, a camera slung around her neck. Photographer or tourist? She had long, wavy, dark hair that was causally messy and gave me an instant itch to bury my fingers into it; to see if it was as thick and silky as it looked. Grinning, I thought about Hugh’s suggestion and it suddenly seemed like a very good idea. I slowed my steps so we met on the next landing. I stood between her and the stairs going up, put on my best, crooked grin—the one that had earned me cookies, women, and jobs, depending on my age.

  “I’m sorry, you can’t go up there; it’s a closed set. I’m afraid I’ll have to escort you back to the lobby.” I pointed to the lower stairs, and then folded my arms across my chest, grinning like a fool. A whiff of perfume curled around me and the smile on my face stretched wider; she smelled like heaven, whispers of flowers and moonlit nights. Shit, I was damn near poetic in my musings.

  Her eyes flicked up to mine, surprise crossing her face, but it was me who caught my breath. Her eyes were green, shadowed with a dark ring of black, smoky and full of depth. Those eyes sucked me in with an effortlessness that shot through my body. And although the beauty of her eyes was undeniable, there was something else, a quality I couldn’t put my finger on, a softness that I hadn’t seen since what seemed like a lifetime ago . . . .

  “I have a pass,” she said, her sweetly husky voice coiling around me, lingering on my skin as if she’d touched me with her fingertips. She held up a tag and a camera that hung from her neck. “I have an appointment waiting for me.”

  I gave into temptation, stepping closer to her, drinking her in; the curve of her cheek, the sudden hollow in her throat as she took a deep surprised breath. She blushed; she actually blushed! How long had it been since I met someone who wasn’t skilled at playing men? Who hadn’t worked what they’d wanted from the man in question and then left as soon as they could?

  This girl was no model, no actress, not because she wasn’t beautiful, but because she was dressed in a t-shirt and cut off shorts with no name brand, and scuffed running shoes that had seen better days. Inwardly, I heaved a sigh of relief. She wouldn’t be after anything I had to offer, no connections for this girl.

  She was perfect.

  I continued to smile, feeling the tension between us and the pounding of my heart, like I was about to pull off a particularly risky move; knowing by the way her eyes dilated she felt the . . . whatever it was between us too.

  “Excuse me, I don’t want to be late.” She tried to step around me, and I followed her, making sure to keep my distance, but not letting her get away from me. God damn, she was fine. Natural, that’s what it was; she had a natural beauty untouched by surgery, Botox or heavy make-up. She was clean and fresh, something I’d almost forgotten existed.

  I wanted to taste her. Without another thought, I lifted my hand to brush along the edge of her jaw, her skin like satin under my fingers. Her eyes widened, dilating further as her mouth pursed and her jaw tightened. Such a mixture of desire and denial in those deep green eyes. The emerald color flashed with irritation, sparkling as if on fire—green fire to burn me all the way to my soul and back, if I let it. I stifled a shiver of anticipation, my muscles tensing, prepping me to move fast. To move in for the killer kiss that would seal the deal, leave her at my mercy.

  The way she stood, the tension in her muscles, the spark of fire in her eyes at being touched without permission, all told me she wasn’t like the other girls. Which only made me more certain that I wanted her.

  She was exactly what I’d been looking for without even knowing it.

  I closed the distance between us, the tension in her body vibrating off her skin. She lifted her chin, eyes snapping with impatience, and put a finger to my chest, poking at me.

  “I said excuse me; I meant it. I have a meeting, and I don’t think he will appreciate me being late. He’s a busy man.”

  “What kind of meeting?” My lips quirked upward; damn, she had some spunk too. This was looking better and better. “You don’t mean like the kind of meeting that pays you by the hour, do you?” I had no such thoughts, but I couldn’t resist teasing her.

  Her mouth dropped open. “I would . . . never . . . ugh!”

  I held up my hands. “I had to ask. Because if we’re going to continue this relationship I need to make sure that I’m your one and only. I don’t share well, nor do I play well with others.”

  She drew herself up, reached out and for a split second I thought she was going to touch my face, maybe even cup my chin for a kiss. Nope, not my Spitfire.

  She grabbed my ear, twisted it hard, and punctuated her words with increased pressure and torque. “I will never be your one and only; it’s none of your business why I’m here, now get out of my way.”

  I yelped, unable to pull away from her hand and my ear, which she continued to clutch as she dragged and pushed me from my place in front of the stairs.

  “What the hell was that?” I griped as she let go and I put a hand over my now throbbing ear.

  “That was a move I learned to use on my brother when he was being a pain in my butt.” She snapped over her shoulder as she strode up the stairs, long legs eating up the steps, her pert little ass beckoning me with each sway of her softly rounded hips.

  Well, I’ll be damned.

  I scrubbed at my ear and let her go; if she was here on some sort of assignment, I would track her down. I stared up the stairs, listening to the woman’s footsteps grow distant. To be fair, I’d have followed her if it wasn’t for Elise waiting at the top for me.

  “Spitfire, don’t forget me!” I called up the stairwell.

  “Shut up!” she shouted back.

  I chuckled to myself. Nope, I wouldn’t be forgetting her anytime soon.

  With a final shake of my head, I hea
ded back down toward the ground floor.

  Once I was out of the building, I did my thing. Waving to the people I worked with, smiling and winking at the women, shaking a few hands. Like a politician of sorts, I couldn’t let people in, I had to be what the industry expected of me. Crazy and wild, stupidly dangerous: especially when it came to my own safety. For the most part, I didn’t mind. But there were moments, times like this that I wanted to go bury my head in the sand, to be unseen for a while. I crossed the street, dodging the light traffic and headed for a place I knew well and where—hopefully—Elise wouldn’t be able to find me. Where I could sit and do what Hugh had suggested: drink away my brother’s words, which had been burned into my head, words I’d been fighting not to hear. The only time they went quiet was when I was working. The drinking worked for a while, but not long enough.

  “I didn’t tell you because there was nothing you could do. Besides, the last thing I want is a label.”

  “Fuck, are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why did you wait all this time?”

  “You should have protected me and you didn’t. This is the consequence. Leave me the fuck alone.”

  I ran my hands over my head and scrubbed at the back of my neck, tracing the scars that started there and spread out over my back. Memories were not something I wanted; if I could burn them from my mind I would. Or at least I would try.

  The cafe was shaded with umbrellas and I ordered a beer—wishing it was stronger, but knowing I had to keep it together in case I was called back to the set—and sat at the back, leaning my elbows on the table as I tried to push away my last conversation with my brother before he headed to Europe. What felt like the last conversation we might ever have. What he’d told me I couldn’t un-hear; what I knew about our childhood had been flipped on its head. I’d always thought he’d been safe, that I had done what I could to protect him; that I’d kept him safe. But I hadn’t known everything, and he blamed me for what happened to him.

  “And that makes two of us,” I said softly, flicking my hand in the air and ordering another beer.

  3

  Jasmin

  I bolted up the stairs once I was out of sight of that cocky bastard, holding my camera so it wouldn’t get jostled. Who the heck did he think he was anyway? Did it matter that he’d been ridiculously handsome with his over confident grin, tousled hair and almost golden eyes? Did it matter that I couldn’t help but notice his muscles flexing under his shirt as he’d lifted his hand to touch me? The way I’d considered touching him . . . good God, what was wrong with me? None of that was important. Absolutely none of it.

  God, I hoped Jet had more sense than that man. As one of the best, he probably just did his job and nothing more. I could hope anyway, right? And Jethro would be ugly as sin, a troll; he wouldn’t make my heart jump around in my chest or my skin flush with a fever that had no apparent cause. Nope. Not Jethro, with a name like that he couldn’t be handsome. Heck, that was probably why there were no photos of him. Yes, that made perfect sense.

  The fact that Jet didn’t know I was coming didn’t mean I couldn’t tell people I had an appointment with him. How long could it take to do a few shoots, get him to answer some questions? I’d be done, and on my way home in no time and onto my next assignment and my next paycheck.

  My mind went once more to the stuntman on the stairs. Kevin was right, that guy had made a move on me that was slick . . . he was probably so good with the ladies that he’d expected me to buckle to my knees and swoon into his arms. I smiled as I thought about twisting his ear. Now that had been beyond satisfying, to see him so stunned.

  It was easy to see why he was so confident. His black shirt and blue jeans with the rip in one pant leg had fit him well, and he’d been lean and hard all the way from his jaw line to the tips of his fingers. Those fingers, which had stroked along my jaw with a casual possessiveness that had almost made me forget why I was there—not that for one minute I’d even considered anything more than just getting him out of my way. I shook my head at myself. Nope, not going there.

  Hmm. And you didn’t feel anything? Not even a little bit turned on, not even a little bit tempted?

  “I most certainly did not.” I glanced around to make sure I was alone. Here it was, it had finally happened. The stress of Ryan’s death had cracked me. I was answering the voices in my head out loud. At the top of the stairs, I paused and took a breath. On the other side of this door was Jethro Sterling, my first assignment, and I had to make a good first impression. Professional, polite, a pro. I had to make sure I was spoken of well, so that Kevin would continue to use me as his main photographer and interviewer. I had to make sure I was taken seriously, so I’d prove that despite my age and inexperience, I could do this.

  One last quick smoothing of my clothes, and I was ready to face him. The tell-tale tremor of my hands irritated me and I did my best to stifle it. God, I was nervous. But then I soothed myself with the fact that Jet couldn’t be as bad to deal with as that man on the stairs had been. That confident, crooked grin that showed one chipped eye tooth, overshadowed by his gold flecked eyes had stuck with me much to my consternation. The chipped tooth actually made him look better, more real than if he’d had a perfect Tom Cruise blindingly white dazzler. I snorted at myself.

  Put him aside, Jazzy. You’ve got work to do.

  Reaching out to turn the doorknob, it was yanked away from me as a woman opened the door from the inside. We both let out startled gasps. She was easily six feet tall, maybe taller, but it was hard to tell as her hair was at least two inches high with back combed bleach blond curly hair. She wore a pair of short shorts and a tight white tank top; it was easy to see why she was in the industry. Perfect body, perfect boobs, blond hair, blue eyes, and Botox plush lips. Barbie come to life.

  She blinked and gave me a once over, inspecting me even as I was doing the same to her. No doubt my non-designer clothes didn’t meet her standards, but it didn’t bother me. I’d never been particularly swayed by fashion or brand names. I sure as heck wasn’t going to start now. Still, she might be a good contact, so I held out my hand. “Hi, I’m Jasmin Vargas. I’m a photographer here on behalf of Wild Child.”

  Again she blinked, her blue eyes flickering from me to the stairway. “Did he pass you?”

  Okay, so we weren’t going to do the polite chit chat. “Umm. Yeah, I passed a guy down there. Kind of a jerk,” I said, then winced. So much for professional. What if he was her boyfriend?

  “I mean, he seemed in a hurry.” Good save, good save.

  Good grief.

  The woman nodded and stepped passed me, her heeled sandals clinking on the stairs as she headed down.

  “Nice to meet you,” I called down, not really meaning it. This might be harder than I thought. The idea of dealing with men like the one on the stairs I could handle. But if even the women in this industry were that hard to deal with . . . damn this was going to be a tough job. Though it was unlikely the blond woman was a stuntwomen; most likely she was an actress, if I was going to guess at her profession.

  Making my way into the air-conditioned green room, I let out a quick sigh of relief. The heat was a huge change from the cool, damp city of Seattle. I plucked my shirt away from my body, letting the air conditioning do its job while I searched the room for my assignment.

  Across the room from me, next to the snack table, stood a big guy. He was pretty much all muscle, wide shoulders and back narrowing to slim hips, and well-toned thighs. He had dark hair and moved with an easy grace, interacting smoothly with those around him. The small circle of people seemed enraptured with whatever he was saying, the women blinking up at him with goofy smiles on their faces and the men nodding and encouraging him.

  That had to be Jet. I did another quick search of the room. Nope, there was no one else even remotely close to Jet’s stats. Six two, 225lbs . . . except for the man on the stairs. The part of my brain attached to my stunted libido let out an excited whoop. As if I would let tha
t cat out of the bag while in Mexico. I think not.

  I let out a groan and then pulled myself together. I could be wrong; it wouldn’t be the first time I’d made a mistake. Already, though, I was seeing his eyes, the man on the stairs, the one I feared I would be dealing with on a much more personal basis than I’d thought when I grabbed his ear. His eyes hadn’t been brown but hazel flecked with gold and more than a whisper of a devil inside of them. I swear at that moment my panties actually twisted. A pair of eyes and a ripped body did not long-term boyfriend material make. Not that I was looking. At all. Never. And if he was Jet, I could just forget about it—no way I was going to lose everything over a guy.

  Umm hmm.

  I made my way to the large man I seriously hoped was Jet Sterling—yet knew I was wrong before I even asked the question. “Excuse me, are you Jethro Sterling?”

  He turned, dark blue eyes widening as he took me in, then a deep slow smile spread across his face. The small crowd around him seemed to melt away, though the red head he’d been talking to gave me a dirty look before she sauntered off with a deliberate sway of her tiny hips.

  “No, miss, I’m not. But I’m considering stealing his identity right now.” He leaned back against the table, sitting his butt on the edge and lowering himself so that I didn’t have to crane my neck.

  “I don’t suppose you know where I can find him? I’m from Wild Child, I’m here to interview and photograph him for the magazine.” I held up my camera, as if that somehow proved my claim, then held up the media tag the security guard had given me at the front entranceway.

  He snagged one of my hands before I could get it away. “I’m Hugh, Jet’s best friend and confidant. If you stick close to me he’s bound to show up eventually.” He leaned forward to read my tag, which also put him at eye level with my breasts. Classy, all the way.

  He made as if to grab the badge. “Jasmin Vargas. That’s a pretty name, is it Spanish?”

  I jerked my hand, and the tag, away from him, feeling trapped. Oh my God, Kevin wasn’t kidding; they were all horny devils. Especially that one on the stairs, the way his eyes had seared into mine; my heart rate picked up when I thought about him and I told myself it was just because the thought of working with him stressed me out. I sharpened my voice. “Do you know where Mr. Sterling is or not?”