Scorching sex: definitely on the menu. Hold the love, please…
Workaholic Carly Mason is caught between a rock and a hard place. The rock: an invitation for four days of sun and sand with her friends and their men. The hard place: “Mr. Invisible”, who lusts after her with delicious abandon, doesn’t exist—Carly invented him to keep her friends off her back about her lack of a love life.
Then she encounters a motorbike-riding Adonis whose image taunts her during the wee small hours. When fate drops him in her sights the next day, she grabs the opportunity to offer him a job. Pretend to be her Romeo, just for the duration of her getaway.
Exhausted from months negotiating his multi-million-dollar company’s expansion, Marco Valente is more than tempted by Carly’s outrageous proposal. If nothing else, it’ll give him a temporary escape from his high-profile life—and his mother’s serial-bride attitude.
Once on the island, Carly realizes her well-meaning friends have tricked her into a “relaxing” vacation. For the next four days and nights, it’s just her and her hired Romeo. And a growing connection that definitely wasn’t part of the contract…
This book has been previously published.
Warning: Contains two unbelievably stubborn people undergoing serious cell phone withdrawal, and seriously scorching sex on the beach. Not responsible for reader’s failure to apply sunblock before reading.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Romeo for Hire
Copyright © 2010 by Jane Beckenham
ISBN: 978-1-60504-868-0
Edited by Linda Ingmanson
Cover by Scott Carpenter
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: January 2010
www.samhainpublishing.com
Romeo for Hire
Jane Beckenham
Dedication
To authors Yvonne Walus and Melody Knight for being such great inspiration, and mates.
Chapter One
She had no one.
She was alone.
And she had lied.
What started as a joke had become Carly Mason’s living nightmare.
The words “Don’t forget!” were ingrained in gold on the glossy invitation, visible from wherever she stood in her office. It was as if they were chasing her, following her every move.
Don’t forget? “Fat chance.”
And now, as the day of departure for rest and relaxation in paradise grew nearer, the joke was on her.
Trying to bluff her way out of going had proved impossible. Her friends wouldn’t let her off the hook.
“Come on, Carly, four days on an exotic island, just us and our men.”
“Can’t wait to meet your man.”
“You mean the invisible man.”
Carly cringed, remembering their reference to the boyfriend she bragged about but never produced. Right now she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
She picked up the invitation, fingers trailing over the embossed outline of a palm tree beside a blue lagoon. “I’ll be a laughingstock,” she moaned and tossed it toward the bin. She turned back to her desk, though the sight of piles of fabric, wallpaper samples and the unopened mail littering her desk didn’t improve her mood.
Barely visible beneath a stack of multi-colored chintz was a gilded frame holding a picture of her and her girlfriends—and their men.
Tania and Martin.
Maxine and Frederico.
She caressed the ornate frame, staring at the photo. Though surrounded by friends, she’d never felt so lonely. She may have been smiling in that photo, but deep down she knew the truth she’d carefully hidden, and now, every time she looked at the group, a sharp pain of something she couldn’t quite understand tugged at her heart.
Dropping the photo frame onto the overflowing desk, she returned her gaze to the mounting piles of work. She had no time for men. Besides, history told her they weren’t reliable.
“D-Day” however, was drawing near, and she still hadn’t produced the invisible man, described, unfortunately, in superlative detail after several glasses of Cabernet. Tall and devilishly good-looking, who of course worshiped the ground she walked on. Where on earth was she going to find such a specimen in less than seventy-two hours?
“Couldn’t make him a nerd, or a plain Harry, could you?” Carly eyed the invitation as if it was a summons from hell.
Her cheeks stung as she remembered the graphic details she’d spouted, and a wave of rampant desperation shook her normally serene composure. How could she have been so stupid? Perhaps she could sleep through it, say she’d caught some grisly plague and couldn’t go.
Own up.
Carly chose to ignore that piece of internal advice. There had to be a way out. She picked up the folder containing the job specifications for the hotel chain, but her mind wasn’t on the job. She couldn’t concentrate. Her mystery man got in the way—again.
Perhaps Adonis could get chicken pox, be deranged and in jail for murder. “Hell and…” She needed to work. Not think about men.
Perhaps then the problem will go away!
If only.
The day never seemed to end. Too many tasks to complete, with not enough hours to do it, which resulted in Carly leaving the office late into the evening.As the road ahead appeared to blur with the murky night, Carly battled to concentrate. She gritted her teeth, and her hands tensed on the steering wheel. She should have left work earlier, but instead pushed herself to finish the last drawing for Auckland’s newest boutique hotel complex.
Get a life.
She did—have a life that is. One she enjoyed immensely. Her business was her life.
As she glanced into the car’s mirror, she caught the reflection of a flickering single golden beam. It loomed out of the darkness, alone, closing in on her and filling the car with an eerie glow. Automatically, she stiffened and a ripple of fear trickled down her spine. She tested the car door to make sure it was locked, chastising herself for taking the back road where the dense hedgerows clung to either side of the narrow winding road. The route was meant to be a shortcut, but now, in the depth of the night, it seemed to meander forever. She pressed on the accelerator and the car instantly sped up, but the beam of light continued to trail mile after long mile behind her.
Practicing deep breathing, Carly managed to rein in her fanciful thoughts when a fractured boom pierced the night. The car jerked sideways, the steering wheel whipping from her grip as the right front wheel began to thump with a bone-jarring jolt.
She yanked the wheel back, righting the car, swerving to miss a culvert.
Her foot pumped the brake.
Nothing. No pressure, no resistance.
Staring down at her foot as if it would explain why the brake wasn’t reacting, she tried it again and pushed harder.
Still nothing.
Dear God. Carly’s stomach lurched. She was going to crash. There was no way out. No brakes and only three tires. The grating scrape of metal against metal rent the air—then nothing—no movement or sound, except for the
hum of a single engine echoing in the silence.
Carly’s heart thudded so hard she thought it would explode. Her breathing came in harsh, short gurgles and her eyes fluttered shut for a second. She counted slowly to ten, trying to collect her scattered wits.
“Need some help?”
Her head shot up and she choked back a fearful sob as she looked up into the eyes of a stranger at the driver’s door. Instinctively, she pulled away from the daunting outline of a lone man silhouetted by the flare of a motorcycle headlight.
There was no one here to protect her.
So what’s new?
Carly gave a tiny internal shrug.
With stubborn pride, she bit back her uncertainty, struggling to stamp down the flock of butterflies doing an upbeat tango in her stomach.
“I…uh, yes.” Remembering common sense to meet your foe at eye level, she opened the car door. She clutched her car keys in the ball of one fist, letting the pointed edge of the key poke between thumb and finger, and stood. She was battle-ready if need be.
Grateful for the lighting of the moon that haloed them as if they were in their own illuminated cocoon, she pulled herself to her full height. He was powerfully built, with the broad stance of an athlete and the aura of being in charge—totally. It unnerved her, and she stepped back a fraction.
“The tire is flat,” she muttered apologetically, feeling foolish at stating the obvious. On autopilot, she operated on sensory rather than brain cell. “And the brakes wouldn’t work.”
“Sounds bad.”
It was. Very bad. And his nearness set Carly on edge and drowned out any sensible thoughts. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled the spicy scent of his cologne, recognizing the tang of citrus and cinnamon. The exotic perfume wrapped around her, conjuring up visions of the desert, of men riding bareback. Very sexy. Very tempting. And definitely all male.
Beneath her silk blouse her nipples grazed against her lacy bra and she felt a scalding heat stain her cheeks, liquid desire spreading through her body. It pooled where it had no right to make her feel. Not here. Not now. Not in the middle of the night, on a lonely back road with a total stranger.
Whoa! Back up. What was she thinking?
Never mind thinking, what was her body doing? Her wayward reaction set her off balance, as if she were two people, her body and her brain.
That reaction alone ignited an uncomfortable emotion in Carly she hadn’t dealt with for a long time. Things like this didn’t happen to her. She had no time for men. She wasn’t interested.
Perhaps if she said it enough, she would finally believe it. Carly frowned and ignored her own reasoning.
If the stranger noticed her scramble for sanity, he said nothing. He crouched down, and Carly heard the clanging sound of metal wrenched from metal. A frown creased his brows, and her gut churned. The nightmare wasn’t easing.
He straightened and dusted his hands down leather trousers that molded his muscled thighs like a second skin, the moon in a cloudless sky striking a play of light against the shiny fabric. It hid absolutely nothing.
No. Don’t do that, she pleaded silently. But her gaze remained riveted to his hands as they grazed his thighs. She choked back a cough, and her brain switched into overdrive. In her overheated imagination it wasn’t his legs his hand caressed, but hers.
“I can change the tire, but I don’t think it’ll do much good if the brakes are acting up.”
Carly’s eyes closed. She bit back the urge to cry. “My foot went straight to the floor. There was no pressure at all.”
“Be dangerous to drive then. You’d better ride with me.”
Carly’s eyes shot open. “Dangerous?” she repeated. “With you?”
“Yeah. I can promise you a smooth ride.”
She bet he could. His voice had a faint accent, making it smoky and sinful. Just the sound of it sent a shiver racing down her spine.
She shook her head. This shouldn’t be happening. What was wrong with her? She was…on fire.
So where is Ms. Boring now? Ms. Everything-is-about-business.
Who the heck knew?
From the scuff of his ebony boots with all those shiny silver buckles to the tip of his rakish jet-black hair, this man fit the description of her Mr. Invisible perfectly.
Whoa. Forget it. Bad, bad idea.
What was she thinking? She tried to find her voice, but came up blank.
“If you lock up your car, you can call the auto service when you get home.”
“Ride with you?” Oh, Lordy. Carly eyed the bike. A silver-chromed monster, seething with power and…sex. Just like him.
“Unless you want to walk ten miles in those sex-kitten heels you’re wearing?”
“Sex-kitten? They’re expensive…”
“Most likely, since they’re Manolo’s,” he interrupted, surprising Carly that he knew about shoes. “But with that peep toe you’ve got going on and heels that are no fatter than a noodle, they’re definitely in the sex-kitten category.”
Carly stared down at her feet. The beam from his motorcycle highlighted her shoes. “What the heck do you know about shoes?”
“Not shoes exactly, but I’ve seen plenty of legs in killer heels in my time.” He gave her a wink.
How did she reply to that? Carly snapped her mouth closed. Heaven help her.
“Ready?”
Was she? Suddenly, she felt as if she’d swallowed the Sahara desert and licked her lips. But the moment she lifted her gaze and saw Mr. Blue Eyes staring straight at her mouth, she slammed her lips firmly closed.
“Have you ridden on top before?”
Oh, good God. Help! Someone! Why was everything he said, plus everything she thought, sounding like sex? Totally and utterly carnal. “I…I’ve never ridden a bike, unless you count a push bike and my sister’s tricycle.”
“Really?” One dark brow arched, and his smile broadened. “Then it will be my pleasure to teach you.”
Oh, boy.
The way he said pleasure—lilting, charming, and very sexy—set her body firing.
He held his hand out to her and for a fleeting second Carly thought to turn tail and run. But where to? Her car was knackered, in a ditch with a dud tire and brakes that wouldn’t get her home in one piece. She had no choice. No car repair service would come out at this time of night.
“You prefer to walk?” he asked.
Her head shot up and she caught his amused expression.
“Don’t panic. I can’t read minds.”
Thank God for that, she reasoned. Her shoulders sagged as she realized there was no way on earth she wanted him to read her wayward thoughts.
“But your face tells the story, cara mia.”
“Cara…?”
“Cara mia is Italian and means my heart.”
“I know what it means, but…”
“You wonder why I speak such intimate words?”
“To a stranger, yes.”
“A beautiful stranger, nonetheless.”
Carly stiffened, but he smiled again, tilting her off her axis of sanity.
Huh!
That had long gone, and unless she stayed on this darkened road for the rest of the night, she knew she had no other option. Her cell phone battery had died, and besides, she was probably beyond coverage.
“I’m Marco,” he said as she took his hand. His fingers wrapped around hers in an almost tender caress. She couldn’t help wondering how they would feel against her bare skin.
Oh, dear Lord. What was she thinking—again? Stop, stop, stop!
“So now we’re not strangers,” he said. Then he smiled—slow and teasing. If it was meant to set her at ease, it completely failed.
She stepped closer to the bike and eyed the monster.
“It’s like a woman,” he said. “Very smooth. Treat it right and you get a good ride.”
Carly choked back a shocked gasp. Did he really say that?
With her hand still clasped in his, an action she told herself was
so that she kept her balance—which she didn’t believe one iota unless it was for her mental balance—she lifted her right leg over the seat. Her skirt hoisted up her thighs. Catching Marco’s blatant appraisal, she shifted awkwardly, trying to yank down the fabric.
“Skirts and bikes don’t really mix,” he advised her with barely controlled humor.
“Don’t I know it.”
Then he joined her on the bike.
He was close. So close she could lean forward—if she wanted to—and rest her cheek against his leather-clad back.
“Hold on,” he laughed.
Hold him? Or the bike?
The bike roared to life and Carly grabbed Marco.
Hard muscles slid beneath her fingers. She held on tight.
“Ready to roll?”
His lop-sided grin sent her heart and stomach into tandem flip flops again.
“Just remind me to follow my own rules next time.”
“What are they?”
“Rule number one, never travel this road again at night, and rule number two, learn how to fix tires.”
“And deny me your company? Not fair.”
Carly never had the chance to answer him as the engine roared and he eased the bike back onto the road. With a death grip, she clutched him while trying not to lean into his back and her thighs vibrated with the roar of the engine between her legs.
Oh, heavens. How sexy could it be? A throbbing, vibration between her legs.
She shuddered and her eyes closed.
“Lean closer. You won’t ache so much.”
Wanna bet? Nothing would take that particular ache away. Except…well, there was one thing.
Carly leaned forward, her cheek touching his back, ebony hair poking out from beneath his helmet tickling her nose. But it was his smell that teased her most. She licked her dry lips. Temptation all wrapped up in leather.
Stop it. Right now.
She shook her head. She was way out of her depth. And she knew it.
Chapter Two
It was a sin that a man could look that good, Carly reflected the next day. But sexy men, or one in particular, weren’t the reason for her joy. Nope. That was down to her hard work paying off. If she played her cards right, she would formalize the deal of a lifetime. CV Hotels was expanding its international base, and she intended to land the contract for the interior design. It would be the culmination of everything she’d worked so hard for.
Romeo for Hire Page 1
