Wicked Heat

by Nicola Marsh

  A stab of jealousy speared Allegra as she turned away. She’d love to be that confident in her sexuality, that empowered to make a move and not analyze it to death.

  “I’m officially nuts,” she muttered under her breath, absentmindedly stirring her G&T with a straw. Where did she think this could go? Fifteen minutes of flirtation before they went their separate ways? Yep, definitely nuts.

  “Hope you’re practicing to whisper sweet nothings in my ear,” he said, his warm breath fanning the tender skin beneath her earlobe and sending an unexpected shiver of longing through her.

  Disconcerted by her physical reaction to him, especially since didn’t know his name yet, she tilted her chin. “I don’t whisper in the ears of strangers,” she said, her abruptness making him chuckle.

  “Is that your subtle way of asking my name?” He held out his hand. “Jett Halcott. Sydney-sider and proud of it.”

  “Allegra Wilks.” She placed her hand in his and as his warm fingers curled over hers, another zing of electricity zapped her in places that were in serious need of zapping.

  “I know.” He held her hand a fraction too long—not that she was complaining.

  “Know what?”

  “Your name.” He released her hand. “Saw it on your case.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t use it to your advantage.”

  “Didn’t need to.” He picked up his beer off the bar and raised it in her direction. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

  She chuckled, unable to resist his teasing. There was something infinitely attractive about sharing a drink with a transient stranger, something exciting with a hint of daring. Far removed from her usual life.

  “You should do that more often,” he said, reaching out to trace her bottom lip with his fingertip. “You’re beautiful, but when you smile? Wow.”

  Uncomfortable with his overt compliments, Allegra sat there and let a guy she’d just met touch her lips with a slow, sensual caress. His fingertip traced her bottom lip in a butterfly-soft sweep that left her breathless.

  Their eyes locked as he lowered his hand, and what she saw made her wish she could ditch Palm Bay and travel to Australia.

  Blatant lust. Strong. Sexy. Seductive. His eyes deepened to an incredible green that matched a favorite jade pendant she wore often. He wanted her, and in this crazy moment, the feeling was entirely mutual.

  He raised his beer to his lips and took a long swig, his heat-filled stare never leaving hers.

  Damn, she had no idea what to do in this situation. Make a joke to diffuse the tension? Acknowledge it? Flirt?

  She hated feeling out of control, had instigated steps her entire life to avoid it. Yet in a loaded thirty seconds, Jett had made her damp with just one look and made her flounder.

  “Is the blatant charm an Aussie thing or is it just you?”

  Thankfully, he blinked, and broke the scorching stare that made her want to grab a napkin off the bar and fan herself. “It’s me.” He leaned in close. “Time you fessed up.”

  Yikes. Was her reaction to him that easy to read?

  “To what?”

  His lips almost brushed her ear. “You’re battling an incredible urge to drag me into the nearest janitor’s closet and ravish me.”

  She laughed at his outrageousness. “Sorry. I don’t do sex in cleaning closets. Too many hazardous chemicals.”

  “Yeah, those pheromones can be killer.”

  She loved his quick wit and for the second time in as many minutes, wished she’d met him at a different place, different time.

  “Pity.” He reverted to a smoldering stare that had her wishing she’d ordered a vodka shot chaser. “Sex in confined spaces can be fun.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” Heat crept into her cheeks and she signaled the waiter for a glass of water. To douse herself with.

  “Not the answer I was hoping for,” he said, shifting his barstool closer so their thighs brushed. “Would’ve been better if you’d said, ‘Sounds good, Jett, let’s go try.’”

  She cleared her throat and gratefully accepted the water from the waiter, drinking it all and wishing she could run the cool beaded exterior across her forehead. “How did we get onto this crazy topic?”

  “Started with you wanting to ravish me.” He clinked his beer bottle to her empty glass. “Seriously. There’s no need to hold back. I can take whatever you want to dish out.”

  Oh, boy.

  She could blame her lightheadedness on the alcohol, but she’d be lying.

  Thankfully, he reined in his overpowering masculinity to drain his beer, giving her an unimpeded view of his throat and the tanned skin there. Her fingers itched with the urge to touch…

  “Hate to cut this short but…” He glanced at his watch and grimaced. “I have a plane to catch.”

  Ridiculous regret tempered her uncharacteristic yearning to spend five more minutes in his company. “Me, too.”

  “Shame, really.” He held out his hand to help her off the barstool, and while she didn’t need it, she took it anyway. “We could’ve had some fun together.”

  For the first time in her life, Allegra couldn’t agree more.

  Maybe it was the shock of having her groom dump her hours before the wedding, maybe it was years of rigid self-control, maybe it was the simple fact that she’d never experienced the gut-twisting attraction buzzing between her and Jett, but what she was feeling now?

  Reckless and impulsive and crazy. Crazy enough to kiss a stranger good-bye.

  She stared at his mouth, imagined what it would feel like on hers.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, I like it,” he said, tugging on her hand and pulling her in close.

  “This is insane,” she said, a second before she kissed him, snatching her hand out of his so she could slide her arms around his waist and grope his butt.

  Oh wow…firm…sexy…ass… were the only things that registered as he deepened the kiss, angling her head, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with commanding precision.

  She made an embarrassing needy sound in her throat, partway between a gasp and a moan, and he drew her to him, the heat from his body making her meld to him.

  The dampness he’d elicited earlier with a look turned into so much more when his hard-on pressed against her. To her utter shock, she was on the verge of coming.

  With Flint it had taken a good ten minutes of foreplay for her to feel remotely turned on, and even then it wasn’t a guarantee of an orgasm.

  How could this stranger have her desperate to rub against him in the hope of getting off?

  Hoots and a wolf whistle filtered through her lust-filled haze and brought her back to reality. She wrenched her mouth from his, pressed her palms against his chest—whoa, nice pecs—and pushed. He didn’t budge.

  “Ignore them, they’re just jealous,” he said, his voice husky as he stared at her lips. “You pack a helluva bon voyage kiss.”

  Heat surged to her cheeks, and this time when she pushed against his chest he released her.

  She didn’t want to discuss the kiss or acknowledge how she yearned to ditch Palm Bay and follow him Down Under.

  Damn. Bad analogy, considering she still buzzed down there in a big way.

  His lips quirked into a wicked smile that made her think of long, hot, sultry nights spent naked and sweaty and entwined. “I’m guessing you don’t do long-distance?”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “One kiss and you want a relationship?”

  “Babe, you misunderstood.” He trailed a fingertip along her jaw, lingering just below her mouth, where her lips still tingled. “Long-distance means phone sex.”

  This time, the heat from her cheeks seeped southward. She’d never done phone sex, yet there was something about Jett that made her want to try.

  She could imagine listening to that lazy Aussie drawl murmuring dirty words, telling her how to touch herself while he jerked off…

  Damn. Not helping.

  “How about it?” He leaned
in close to murmur in her ear. “Wouldn’t you like to get hot and bothered without an audience next time?”

  What she’d like is to get extremely hot and bothered, but with him present, not on the end of some stupid phone. Considering they’d never see each other again, she summoned the bravado to tell him.

  “What I’d really like…” She slid her hand around the back of his neck and lowered his head so her lips grazed his ear. “You and me. Naked. Having hot and sweaty, unforgettable, wild, climb-the-walls sex.”

  “Fuck,” he said, turning his head a fraction to claim her lips again.

  With her body straining toward him and her panties so damp she’d have to change into one of those mortifyingly skimpy things Zoe had packed, she put every ounce of yearning into the kiss. Not surprised at her sigh of disappointment when they eased apart.

  “I have to go,” she said, grabbing her suitcase handle and making a run for it before she changed her mind.

  As she strode away on wobbly legs without looking back, she wanted him to come after her. She wanted him to take her up on the brazen offer she’d thrown out, knowing full well he couldn’t.

  She wanted him. Period.

  But he didn’t come after her and she didn’t look back. And for one, insane moment she thought her wishful imagination had conjured up a murmured “see you soon” from the guy who’d made her lose control for the first time in forever.

  …

  Jett hadn’t played fair. Screw it.

  Life wasn’t fair. He’d learned that the hard way.

  Allegra would learn the truth soon enough. Besides, he wanted to see her priceless expression when he sauntered into that first-class cabin and sat next to her.

  It had taken some quick finagling and a hefty sum to upgrade from business to first, but if Allegra’s departing comment was anything to go by, it’d be worth it.

  He’d never met anyone like her. Fire and ice. Passion and aloofness. Hot and cold.

  He planned on unleashing that heat. Soon.

  For a guy who’d done the rounds and dated his fair share of women, he’d never had mile-high action. Guys in the surf crowd had boasted about it back in Bondi but he often wondered how much of their big talk was fact or fiction.

  Guys spun shit the way girls liked to shop. Natural as breathing.

  But the thought of having sex with Allegra on a plane had him harder than a horny teen, if that were possible. As for the unexpected bonus of having her travel to his all-important destination… While nailing the business deal on Palm Bay was imperative, he could definitely do with a little R & R of the sizzling variety.

  Her spontaneous kiss had been unexpected and her bold declaration had cemented what he’d suspected. The chemistry they had going on would equate to sensational sex.

  Which they would definitely have. If she didn’t throw him out the emergency door without a parachute when she learned he’d withheld the pertinent information of his destination.

  He knew how this would go: she’d be angry and would freeze him out for a while. But he’d faced bigger challenges, and after the way she’d almost combusted in his arms…

  Oh yeah, this flight to Palm Bay would far exceed expectations and take the edge off the relentless disappointment that had dogged him since he’d learned the truth about his best mate and business partner.

  If Jett hadn’t made a few wise investments away from their business, he’d now be broke. Without a cent to claw his way back. And clawing his way back was exactly what he intended on doing, starting with landing the lucrative Kaluna Resorts campaign.

  He’d almost lost everything when Reeve had fleeced their company. Lost his dignity, his cash, and his reputation in an industry where he’d been on top for years. Landing Kai Kaluna would go a long way to restoring his professional name. And prove to everyone, including his dad, that no one or nothing could stop him.

  He shouldn’t have splurged on upgrading his airline ticket—who knew how much of his personal cash stash he’d need to use to fund his new advertising company?—but he’d had enough shitty luck lately to last a lifetime, and the prospect of a little recreation of the horizontal kind with Allegra called for drastic measures.

  Worth every cent to be holed up with her in a private first-class compartment with the airline’s specialty romance package thrown in. It was also guaranteed to change his luck.

  He gave Allegra a good five minutes’ head start, and waited until she’d boarded before following at a sedate pace. As he handed over his boarding pass, walked along the air-bridge, and smiled at the flight attendant welcoming him aboard, he wished he’d had time to make a stop at the pharmacy.

  That one condom in his wallet wouldn’t be nearly enough for an eight-hour flight and what he wanted to do with Allegra.

  …

  Allegra relaxed into the butter-soft cream leather of her first-class seat and sighed. She often traveled business class for work, but the compartment Flint had booked on this commercial flight made that look like coach on a budget airline.

  She loved the wide armchair, with enough legroom to stretch, wiggle her toes, and hit nothing. And a flat-screen TV promised a host of nonstop, top-notch entertainment for the flight. But the best feature was a sliding door, ensuring privacy from the rest of the privileged passengers.

  The only thing she didn’t like was the matching empty seat beside her.

  She’d heard about these first-class compartments on the latest whiz-bang planes. Privacy assured, with seats that converted into a queen-size bed. No surprise that Flint had booked it for their honeymoon. It fit with his high profile: everything done with practiced extravagance.

  A sliver of sorrow pierced her pragmatism as she wondered what it would be like to share this intimate space with someone important. She’d thought that person would be Flint, but it wasn’t to be. Guess she should be grateful he hadn’t canceled the seat before the devastating call from her farm client had come through and she’d had to utilize it anyway.

  “Champagne, madam?”

  Allegra smiled her thanks at the flight attendant as she accepted a flute. “Yes, please.”

  She needed a drink. Fast. Needed something to take the edge off. Sadly, as she sipped the expensive champagne and the bubbles tickled her throat, she knew an alcohol injection wouldn’t ease what was bugging her.

  Damn that cocky Aussie.

  Even now, fifteen minutes since she’d walked away from him and boarded the plane, she couldn’t forget the buzz. The way he’d teased her. Held her. Kissed her. Damn, she wanted more. With a ferocity that defied logic.

  Sex with Flint had been nice. Yet in less than five minutes at that bar, Jett had made her want to rip her clothes off, shove him against the nearest wall, and clamber all over him.

  Which made her wonder. Had she sold herself short in accepting a lackluster sex life in exchange for a stable relationship with infinite business possibilities? At the time she’d thought it had been sensible to marry for friendship and work. Had pretended Flint’s staid, bordering-on-repressed antics in the bedroom didn’t bother her. Lights out, missionary position, once a week like clockwork, had seemed a small price to pay for a Hollywood marriage made in heaven.

  But that kiss with Jett had proved she’d been delusional, her tingling skin from rubbing against Jett’s deliciously hard body taunting her to admit the truth: that putting her business first may be financially and professionally rewarding, but it made for a lousy bedfellow.

  What she wouldn’t have given to have half an hour in bed with Jett…

  Maybe she should’ve given him her number for a little of that phone sex action he’d mentioned after all?

  She downed the rest of her champagne in three gulps at the thought.

  This crazy, out-of-control feeling had to be a result of stress, and as she glanced at the empty first-class seat in the exclusive cabin Flint had booked, guilt pierced her faint alcohol buzz.

  She should be more upset their wedding had been called
off. She shouldn’t be lusting after a stranger she’d had a chance encounter with. Yet here she was, not particularly heartbroken that her ex-fiancé wasn’t accompanying her to the luxurious Palm Bay, and still unable to get Jett out of her head.

  Had her priorities been so screwed up that even at this point, she was more concerned about scoring an opportunity to present her pitch to Kai Kaluna than what her friends and family would think about her aborted wedding?

  Flint had said he’d take care of everything. And he had, issuing a press release to all the major Hollywood gossip mags this morning, accompanied by a trumped-up photo of him and a voluptuous brunette cozying up at a recent film premiere. Along with a brief statement that his engagement to prominent, successful advertising guru Allegra Wilks was over.

  The paparazzi had gone wild.

  “Hollywood Heartbreak” and “Producer on the Prowl” had been some of the tamer headlines. Flint had laughed over the wildly inaccurate speculation in the press when they’d chatted on the phone and she’d berated him for deliberately taking the fall.

  It shouldn’t have surprised her. Flint was old-school Hollywood, a gentleman through and through. The only people who knew the truth were her parents. No way would she be responsible for their long-standing friendship suffering, so she’d sat down with them and Flint an hour after he’d called off the wedding and explained.

  Daphne and Ross Wilks, Beverly Hills royalty, hadn’t been impressed. Yet they’d cheered up pretty damn quick when they heard Flint would foot the exorbitant cancellation fees and take care of everything else.

  Not once did her parents ask how she was feeling. Not once did her mom commiserate or offer chocolate or a hug. Not once did they ask if she needed anything.

  When was the last time they acknowledged her anyway? At birth? When she was a five-year-old being shipped off to boarding school? When they air-kissed her at graduation before leaving immediately after the ceremony to attend some gallery opening? Not surprising she overcompensated by offering assistance to everyone, whether they needed it or not.