by Marie Carnay
Beckett’s mouth fell open. “I—yes. A few times. We… um… know the owners.”
Must be nice. “Is it as beautiful as the pictures?”
“Better.” He moved to let her onto the plane. “Come on in. We’re just waiting on Bronx and the pilot to finish the inspection.”
“Is that his regular habit?”
Beckett nodded. “This is his plane. If we were on one of the smaller ones, he’d be piloting himself, but he thought you’d be more comfortable here. And he can relax. I think he needs it after this week.”
Chelsea swallowed. She really didn’t know anything about these men at all. Flying across the ocean to a secluded island suddenly seemed rash.
Beckett’s hand landed on her shoulder and she practically jumped out of her skin. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay.”
“Can I get you a drink?”
Thank God. “Yes. Anything with liquor in it.”
Beckett smiled again and her insides went all gooey. “Mai Tai’s coming right up.”
Chelsea sat down in a white leather club chair at the rear of the plane. Had it been a commercial jet, it could have fit at least ten or twelve seats. But Bronx had outfitted it with four swivel club chairs, a wet bar, and a couch. Everything a rich guy could need to fly in comfort and style.
She fidgeted with the strap of her sandals. The cork on the back of the wedge had worn, scuffed from walking the city pavement over multiple summers. She couldn’t afford to replace them on her salary.
They looked so out of place on the plane, just like she did. With a clearance-rack dress and worn-out shoes, she wasn’t made for this sort of lifestyle. They were so out of her league.
A drink appeared in front of her eyes, brimming with ice.
“No orchids to put in it until we land, I’m afraid. But it’s the best drink for enjoying the tropics.”
Chelsea took the glass and sipped. The rum slipped down her throat and she instantly relaxed. It was sweet and strong and the perfect balm to her rising anxiety.
“You don’t need to stress about this trip, Chelsea. It’s a vacation. Relax and enjoy yourself.”
She gave him a pained smile. “Is it that obvious?”
He nodded at her sandal. “If you bend that strap any more it’s going to break in two.”
“I haven’t been on a vacation in two years.”
He stared at her for a moment. “Not once?”
She shook her head. “I’ve worked almost every weekend, most holidays. You name it, I’ve done it. I guess I’ve forgotten how to slow down.”
He clinked his glass against hers. “Here’s to a whole month where you can figure it out. You never know, by the time it’s over, you may never want to leave.”
Beckett sipped his drink and his blue eyes sparkled under the cabin lights. Tanned and toned, the man was the living embodiment of a summer vacation. Every time she looked at him, she thought of the ocean.
“Do you live somewhere like Sarabelle?”
He paused, drink mid-way to his mouth. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, you just remind me of the beach.” She half-laughed. “Maybe it’s the bare feet.”
“What can I say, I hate shoes.”
“You’re not at all like your brother, are you?”
Beckett snorted and took a gulp of his drink. “No. Bronx is a lot like you. He’s so focused on work and the business. He never stops to think about what he really wants out of life.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m still trying to figure it out.”
“But you’re trying.”
“Exactly.”
Chelsea nodded. She understood both sides. Going through the motions every day, she lost herself in the rhythm of life. Get up, go to the office, work an event. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
That’s how she’d spent the last four years. Never stopping long enough to figure out where she was headed, just constantly moving. What had it gotten her so far? A tiny apartment, a few work friends.
She wasn’t working toward a goal or a plan. There were no boxes to check in her life, only… this never-ending wheel. She took another sip and glanced up at Beckett.
While she’d been lost in thought, he’d been watching. Her cheeks heated. “What is it?”
“You’re beautiful when you’re thinking.” He motioned at her eyes. “Your eyes turn black and you make this little pout with your lips. It’s sexy.”
Chelsea blinked. Beckett Kingston did not just call me sexy.
“I leave you alone for a minute and you’ve already liquored up our guest.” Bronx stepped into the cabin and Chelsea tilted her head to take him in.
Where Beckett was laid-back and charming, Bronx was… dark. Brooding. His brown eyes simmered as he stared at her, not an ocean breeze in sight. Hell.
The fluid grace of his strides across the cabin spoke of a man who honed not just his mind but his body, too. He’d cast his suit jacket aside and rolled his sleeves, showing off forearms roped in muscle. Chelsea took a sip of her drink to pretend she wasn’t staring. How did they manage to be so different, yet both so sexy at the same time?
She glanced at Beckett. Did he catch her ogling? God, she hoped not. As she was trying to rein it in, Bronx brushed past her and sat down. Keeping tabs on two men who pushed her buttons was like trying to herd a pair of stallions. Impossible.
With a deep breath, Chelsea straightened up and crossed her legs. She tugged her sundress over her knees as Bronx leaned closer.
“Tell me the one thing you’re looking forward to the most about this trip.”
She forced her gaze up to meet his. Bronx’s eyes kept darting down to focus on the hint of cleavage at the top of her dress, then back up to her lips. Suddenly her tongue turned to cardboard and her brain to mush.
“I’m pretty tired. It’s been a long few days. Do you mind if I rest?”
It was a cop out, to be sure, but she didn’t know how to get through the flight with the two of them so close. Were they sucking up all the oxygen or was she having a panic attack? Chelsea didn’t know. But she had to get away for at least a little while.
“Of course.” Bronx smiled. “There’s a button on the side of the sofa, hit it and it turns into a bed.”
“Thanks, but I think a chair will be just fine.”
She moved to the empty club chair across from her and turned to face the windows as the pilot’s voice came over the speaker.
“Everyone please fasten your seat belts. We’re about to take off.”
Chelsea did as instructed and snuggled into the chair.
“Hey, sleepy head. Wake up.” A hand shook her shoulder and Chelsea blinked the word into focus.
Apparently, she’d fallen asleep the minute her eyes closed. “Is something wrong?”
Beckett stared down at her, an amused look on his face. “We’re here. I thought you might want to wake up and take a look at paradise.”
She sat up with a start. Not only had she slept the entire plane ride away, but she’d managed to drool all over the leather seat. She wiped it off with her palm and hoped he didn’t notice. “Thanks.”
He stepped aside and Chelsea stood up. “Where’s Bronx?”
“He’s checking on the plane. Come, ladies first.”
Beckett motioned for her to disembark and Chelsea rushed to comply, squinting in the evening sun as she stepped onto the asphalt. The smell of the ocean hit her first, followed by thick, heady bursts of flowers.
She stepped away from the plane and her hand flew up to her mouth. Oh my God. Everywhere she looked bright orange and purple flowers jutted out of the ground on reedy stalks, giant green leaves flanking them at the base.
Birds chirped in the trees, the hum of insects echoed in stereo all around her, but the ocean... Oh, my. The sight of the ocean through the trees made her wobble on her feet. White sand, bright blue water, setting sun a brilliant vermillion.
It was u
nbelievable.
Without waiting for Beckett to join her, Chelsea was off, heading for the trail that would take her straight to the waves. Her feet sunk into the sand and she bent to slip off her sandals. They were useless now.
Sand squished beneath her toes and she sidestepped the occasional rock and driftwood as she made her way toward the water. The foamy spray of a wave lapped over her skin and Chelsea laughed out loud.
To think she’d almost turned down this chance because of what? Embarrassment?
Sarabelle Island was more than she’d ever dreamed of and she hadn’t even seen the house yet. Chelsea spun around and a building loomed in front of her. Pink stuccoed with yellow cornices, it looked straight out of a brochure for a Bahamian vacation.
She stepped toward it, trying to peer through the windows, when Beckett appeared out of nowhere.
“That’s not the main house.”
“It’s not?”
“No. I think it’s just storage. Come on, the entrance is this way.”
Chelsea smiled and hurried after him. She had an entire month to get to know the place. The beach could wait.
Chapter Eight
BRONX
A few years away and Bronx had forgotten what Sarabelle was like. The place was so much more than just a getaway. It was paradise. He knew why his mother had insisted they never develop it.
All the nature and beauty surrounding the house would have been demolished. A big box of a condo building towering over the sand would have wrecked it. He watched as Chelsea wandered away from the plane toward the shore.
Her hips swayed up and down with every step, oompa, woompa, up and down. So damn sexy without even trying. Her midnight hair blew over her shoulder in the breeze and Bronx’s dick throbbed.
He adjusted himself and looked away. Despite his best attempts at figuring her out, he couldn’t get a read on her.
Instead of falling all over him like most women, she’d gotten up and switched seats and promptly fallen asleep. Had he become that much of a bore these days? He turned his attention to the plane. At least he could understand a machine.
Planes didn’t say one thing but think another. The metal and fiberglass were an open book. One he hadn’t spent enough time enjoying lately. He walked the exterior, checking for any damage from the ride over.
“She’s a beauty, Mr. Kingston. Thanks for letting me fly her today.”
Bronx smiled. “Glad to have you aboard, Harry.” He’d met the pilot while learning to fly as a kid. They’d been friends ever since.
“It’s about time you took a vacation. How long has it been since you’ve seen the island?”
Bronx thought for a minute. “Three years. But I haven’t spent more than a day or two here in forever.”
“How did Beckett twist your arm to stay?”
Bronx pointed at Chelsea as she danced with the waves. “She did.”
Harry grinned. “Not your usual style, but I like her.”
The pair of them watched as she played in the water. So carefree and without hesitation. Bronx couldn’t think of the last time he hadn’t thought about something before he did it. Every move he made in New York was calculated and planned. He never just jumped in with two feet.
The waves washed over Chelsea’s feet and her laugh echoed through the trees.
“I don’t know her very well, but there’s something about her.”
Harry clapped him on the back. “Then what are you waiting for?”
Bronx smiled and some of the tension left his body. “You’ll check out the plane before you fly back?”
“Of course. I’ll let you know if any issues come up.”
“Thanks, Harry.”
“Anytime.”
Bronx made his way toward the front entrance of the house as Beckett and Chelsea emerged from the beach. Beckett sped up to reach Bronx first.
“I’ve got some things to take care of. Can you show Chelsea around? Maybe the beach first?”
Bronx opened his mouth to respond, but Chelsea was within earshot. Lying to her about owning the island was a terrible idea. He frowned, but nodded. “No problem.”
He turned to Chelsea. “Looks like you were having fun out there.”
“It’s amazing.”
“Then let’s go back out. I haven’t walked on a beach in years.” He slipped his arm around hers and steered her back toward the water.
They slipped through palm trees and fern fronds and emerged onto the sand. He toed off his dress shoes, stuffed his socks inside, and wandered out onto the beach.
Hot sand and crisp ocean air with that unmistakable salty tang. A beautiful woman by his side. He could have pinched himself; it seemed so unreal.
Chelsea bounded away from him and her laughter propelled him forward. A wave crashed against her shins and she squealed in joy. Bronx stared at her.
One check to the MacIntoshes’ charity, one split-second decision to buy a gorgeous woman a vacation, and his whole life had changed. When he’d met Chelsea at the auction, she’d been gorgeous and sexy, but frazzled. All business. No pleasure.
He’d hinted around, but she’d shut him down at every opportunity. The woman in front of him couldn’t be more different.
Another wave crashed onto the shore and Chelsea spun around, arms outstretched, raven hair billowing behind her like a sail. The sun turned her pale skin gold and the water splashed over her feet.
He’d made her happy. Bronx couldn’t remember the last time he’d done such a thing.
All of a sudden she rushed up to him, hands outstretched and reaching for his own. She grabbed his wrists and dragged him toward the water. “I’m not going to be the only one enjoying this. Come out here and walk in the ocean with me.”
Chelsea dragged him along and Bronx followed, shedding a layer of resistance and confusion with every step. By the time the water soaked his pant legs, he’d forgotten everything except that moment.
The setting sun, the sound of the waves, the bright smile of a woman without a care in the world. Bronx leaned toward her body. “Tell me about yourself.”
She glanced up at the sky. “Let’s see. Born in Cleveland, Ohio. Only child. Parents are retired and living in Florida. I like peanut butter and banana sandwiches, old westerns, and walks on the beach. How’s that?”
Bronx raised an eyebrow. “Is that the best you can do?”
She shrugged. “What can I say, I’m a little bit rusty. How about you?”
He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Younger brother of two. Filthy rich, been told I have a bit of an ego. I like a good scotch and beautiful women who drag me onto the beach.”
Chelsea mumbled a response and Bronx leaned closer. Their shoulders brushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”
She glanced up and her eyes shone black in the fading light. “I said you don’t have to pretend to be into me.”
Bronx frowned. “Why would you assume I’m not?”
She waved at his shirt and pants. “Because you’re what, like the top tenth of a percent? I’m just an ordinary girl.”
He stopped walking. “You think you’re ordinary?”
Chelsea toed the sand in front of her. “I know I am.”
The woman was certifiable. How could she think anything about herself was ordinary? Bronx reached out and grabbed her arm. The touch of her skin sent shock waves through him. “Don’t sell yourself short, Chelsea.”
She tried to pull away. He tightened his grip. “You’re just lying to make me feel better. I know you only bought me this trip to look good in the press.”
He reached for her other arm. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m just a charity case. It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend anymore. I can stay on one side of the house, you and Beckett can stay on the other. I’ll have a good time. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Bronx laughed so loud the birds behind them fell silent. “Are you listening to yourself? That has to be the craziest thi
ng I’ve ever heard.”
He couldn’t get over it. A woman so confident and sexy thought she was a charity case? He bent to look her in the eye. “You want the honest truth?”
She nodded.
“I invited you because my brother had the hots for you.”
“What the—”
He let her arm go to put a finger on her lips. “Let me finish. I had gone to the auction to seek you out. To find the woman Beckett couldn’t stop talking about. But when I met you, standing there looking at this place… he wasn’t the only one interested.”
Bronx let his words soak in. “I would have been a gentlemen, Chelsea. I would have let you come here on your own and enjoyed yourself. But when you insisted we come along…”
He wet his lips. “I couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste.”
CHELSEA
The minute his lips landed on hers, Chelsea almost fell over. Men like Bronx Kingston didn’t go for women like her. But there he was and oh my God, could he kiss.
Forget the introductions and suggestions. The stolen glances and hand-holding. Bronx knew what he wanted and he took it with one swipe of his tongue at a time.
A hard press of his lips. A soft feather of his hand up her back. Chelsea hadn’t been with a man who knew what to do in… maybe ever. She reached out, fingers roving over his rippled stomach, up and over the firm press of his chest.
Wow. He didn’t just command attention in the boardroom, Bronx commanded it in the gym too. The bedroom? Without a doubt.
His hands snaked down her back, lower and lower until the hot searing strength of them slipped beneath her dress.
“Mmm.” Bronx broke their kiss and plumped the swell of her ass. “I’ve wanted to do this since the minute I saw you in the ballroom wearing that black dress.” His hands stroked up and down over the seam of her panties. “You have a delectable ass.”
His tongue flicked across her ear. “I can’t wait to watch it bounce as you ride me.”
Chelsea bit back a groan. Every filthy word that poured from his lips sent a shot of pleasure straight to her core. Never in her life had anyone talked to her that way. Like her body was a temple and he was falling at her feet, ready to worship.
