One Hot Escape (Hot Brits Book 4)

by Anna Durand

  Yes, that's the reason I decide to undress her. For her health.

  I behave like a perfect gentleman and do not stare at her naked body.

  Well, not for more than ten seconds.

  Once I've got her settled, I undress and join her in the large four-poster bed. The sheets feel so silky that I wonder if they are silk. Dexter clearly has money, lots of it, based on this enormous house and the fact he owns the entire island. The man did win the Nobel Prize for Literature, though that happened decades ago. His novels continue to sell, so I have no doubts he earned most, if not all, of his obvious wealth. Did he inherit more? Invest brilliantly? I have no idea, but it doesn't matter.

  For an hour, I slog through Dexter's new novel. When my eyes get so dry that they start to burn, I give up and crawl under the covers with Maddie. I fall asleep while thinking about her, what we're doing together, how I might feel when it all ends. Does it need to end? I hardly know her, but I already want to spend more than two weeks with the clever, enchanting woman in the blue bikini.

  When I wake up in the morning, Maddie is still sleeping, lying on her side facing me. Her mouth has fallen open. Saliva dribbles from the corner of it while she snores like a snorting pig. Even that enchants me. She's so…lovable, in every way.

  Never in my life have I become enamored of a woman I've known for a few days, but I love the way it feels to let go of my inhibitions, forget about work, and do whatever the bloody hell I want. It's reckless and selfish, but I don't care.

  Today, I plan to have fun with Maddie. Nothing else. Just fun.

  Lying on my side, I watch her sleep. She stops snoring, though her mouth still gapes open. I'd love to kiss her, but I won't disturb her after the night she had. Did she get drunk as a ploy to convince Dexter to tell me about his book? I wondered about that last night. She'd been a touch tipsy before then, but when Dex got cagey about the book, Maddie volunteered to pour cognac down her throat. I suspect she doesn't drink much as a rule, but last night, she made an exception.

  Why? Part of me wants to believe she did it for my sake.

  Maddie sighs and closes her mouth. Her body moves under the covers like she's trying to stretch but hasn't woken up enough to do that. When she yawns and shrugs her shoulders, the sheet slips off them. But when she rolls onto her back and stretches her entire body, arching her spine, the sheet slides down to her waist.

  I get a spectacular view of her tits.

  "Good morning," I say. "Sleep well? You must've done since you passed out the second I set you down on the bed and haven't opened your eyes since."

  "Mm, I did sleep good." She yawns again, bigger than the first time, and aims her beautiful eyes at me. "Good morning, Rick."

  I move to kiss her.

  She throws a hand up between our mouths. "I haven't brushed my teeth yet."

  "Don't care."

  "I do. Morning breath is not attractive, especially when it's coupled with a bender the previous night." She winces. "I acted like a total goofball, didn't I? Ugh. But at least Dexter gave you his book. Have you read it yet?"

  "Started on it, yes. How much do you remember about last night?"

  "All of it. I wasn't totally wasted." She rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands, then looks at me. "Sorry I acted like such an idiot. I was trying to help you."

  "It's all right. You were not an idiot. Quite the contrary. You were the most charming drunk I've ever seen." I kiss her cheek. "And the sexiest."

  She licks her lips, grimaces, and wipes her mouth with the sheet. "God, can this get any more embarrassing? I drooled, didn't it?"

  "Only while you were asleep."

  "Well, I guess that's something to be thankful for." She glances around like she's looking for something until her gaze lands on the old-fashioned wind-up clock on the bedside table. Her eyes go wide. "Is that really the time?"

  "Yes, it's half ten."

  "But I never, ever sleep until ten thirty." She stares at the clock for a few seconds, then her entire body relaxes, melting her shocked expression. "This is amazing. I slept late, and I don't feel even a twinge of guilt."

  "No reason to feel guilty. You're on holiday, after all." I tug the sheet up to cover her breasts. "Why did you pour cognac down your throat to help me with Dexter?"

  "Because I figured he'd like watching me get tipsy, and then he'd be in a better mood and decide to talk business after all."

  "I understand that bit. But why do that for me? We hardly know each other."

  "Because I like you."

  "I like you too. Very much."

  Her lips curl into a sweet smile.

  Someone knocks on the door.

  "Breakfast," Ilsa calls out to us. "Should I bring it in or leave it at the door?"

  "Leave it, please," I say. "Thank you, Ilsa."

  "You're welcome."

  I crawl out of bed and retrieve the tray of food Ilsa left for us. There's also a folded piece of paper on the tray. Once I've gotten back into bed with Maddie, with the tray over my lap, I open the folded paper.

  "What's that?" Maddie asks, pushing up to sit beside me. "The bill for breakfast?"

  She's smirking, so I know she's joking. Sir Dexter Armstrong-Hill would never make anyone pay for a meal in his house. I deduced that fact after spending a few hours with the man. He might be strange and often frustrating, sometimes even infuriating, but he treats his guests well.

  "No, it's not the bill," I say. "It's a note from Dexter inviting us to join him on the veranda whenever we're ready."

  Maddie leans into me, peering down at the paper in my hand. "He has beautiful handwriting. Mine is terrible."

  "Isn't that a requirement for being a doctor?"

  "Ha-ha. I'm not a medical doctor, anyway. I have a PhD."

  "Yes, I remember. But you save lives all the same, don't you?"

  "Not the way you and Rika make it sound. My job is primarily research." She plucks the silver lid off the plate that sits on the tray. "Ooh, yum. That looks delicious."

  "The end of the note tells us what the food is." I squint at the smaller words at the bottom of the page. "Can't tell what it says without my reading glasses."

  "Allow me." She takes the note. "Blue cheese quiche. Waffle sandwiches with avocado and arugula. Mixed berries with mint leaves. Mimosas made with apple cider instead of champagne." She puckers her lips like she's trying not to smile. "And finally, chocolate coffee for the lovely lady who overindulged last night."

  "I don't see how we can eat all of this."

  "Maybe Dex will give us a doggy bag."

  "He just might." I consider the meal laid out on the tray. "There's only one mimosa and one cup of coffee."

  "We can share." She lifts the coffee cup to my lips. The whipped cream on top grazes my mouth. "Go on, Richard, have the first sip."

  "You can call me Rick all the time if you want. I like the way you say it." I take a sip of the coffee since Maddie is tipping the cup toward my mouth. If I don't drink it, the coffee will wind up dribbling down my chin and onto my chest. "I've never had chocolate coffee before. It's surprisingly good."

  She samples the drink. "Mm, yum. Let's try the mimosa next."

  "Will you call me Rick? More than once, I've said you can."

  Laughing, she grabs a napkin off the tray and wipes my mouth with it, then hers. "Yes, I'll call you Rick. Happy now?"

  "I am. Thank you." I have no idea why it's important to me that she calls me Rick, but I feel relieved when she agrees to do that. It's ridiculous. But I decide I've needed more ridiculousness in my life. And besides, who gives a toss? She's the only one who'll know I practically begged her to use my nickname.

  Maddie spears the quiche with a fork, tears off a piece, and holds it near my mouth.

  I can't resist her, whether she's tempting me with her body or with food, so I eat the mouthful of quiche. "That's good too. You should try it."

  She eats a bite, humming her ap
proval. "How did you like Dex's book?"

  "Ah…it's interesting."

  "That doesn't sound like a rave review."

  "It's all about sex. A clown shags a bearded lady while they're riding the ghost train, then he runs off and shags the bloke who does the magic show. After that, he runs into a complete stranger who turns out to be a hermaphrodite, and they do it several times in ways that seem physically impossible. That's as far as I've gotten." I groan and rub my forehead. "How can I publish this? It's not Dexter Armstrong-Hill material. It's fluff that belongs in an adult magazine."

  "Doesn't sex sell? That's what I've always heard."

  "That's not the point. I can't publish this book. Everyone will expect Dexter to produce another poignant work of literary fiction, not a collection of erotica that has no discernible plot. It's one sex scene after another. The characters barely speak to each other, and all the protagonist thinks about is who he can get a leg over with next."

  "Is it badly written?"

  Shrugging, I grab a waffle sandwich and shove a huge bite of it into my mouth. And I speak while I'm still chewing. "No idea. Can't see past the bizarre sex."

  "How many chapters did you read?"

  I hold up four fingers while I devour the rest of my waffle sandwich. The food is excellent, but I have no ruddy clue what to do about Dexter's book.

  "Let me read it," Maddie says. "I'm sure Dex won't mind, and maybe I can help you figure out what to do."

  "I'm meant to read it. I am the publisher, after all."

  "But you're getting so stressed out about this." She settles her head on my shoulder. "Let me help you. Please. I want to do it."

  "You're volunteering to read about carnival people having sex in bizarre places?"

  "Sure. Why not?"

  I shake my head. "Can't believe Dexter wrote that rubbish."

  "Let me read the rest of it, then we'll decide if he's trying to feed you a load of garbage. Okay?"

  "All right. I should pay you as my consulting editor."

  "I don't want you to pay me. This isn't business. I'm doing it for you, because I like you and want to help."

  "That's very generous, Maddie." I hook an arm around her waist and pull her close. "Let's finish our breakfast, then play silly buggers all day. We can worry about Dex's book later."

  "Play what?" she asks with a laugh.

  "Silly buggers. It means let's behave like silly, annoying fools who don't care about anything except having a jolly good time."

  "I'm all in for that."

  While she feeds me a blackberry with a mint leaf on top, I consider what we should do today. Yesterday, we made a list of the activities we wanted to try, which were all things neither of us has ever done before. It's an exhaustive list. Deciding on a starting point is a hard choice.

  Once we've finished our breakfast, Maddie wants to have a shower. I want to join her, but she issues a command I can't refuse—because she's so adorably convincing. She says I need to ring my father and "rip that scab off." By that, she means I need to inform him of what's going on with the Danisha Davies book.

  I expect him to shout at me. Why, I have no idea. Edward Hunter never shouts or gets boiling mad. But when I ring him, I still expect anger in response. After I've explained the situation, my father stays silent for what feels like an eternity, though it's only a few seconds.

  "That's what you have solicitors for, Rick," he finally says. "You did nothing wrong. Now you know about it, and I'm sure you'll take care of things the best way you can."

  "What if the company folds because of my mistake?"

  "You haven't made a mistake. That woman conned you. Now go enjoy your holiday and worry about this when you're home."

  "But I've let you down."

  "No, you've never done that, and you never will. I'm very proud of the job you've done since taking over as publisher."

  "Thank you for the vote of confidence, but I've only done my job. No more, no less."

  "Hogwash."

  The fact my father is proud of me lifts a weight off my shoulders. Maybe I haven't bollocksed everything up after all.

  We talk for a few more minutes until Maddie walks out of the bathroom, then I say goodbye to my father. Maddie and I help each other get back into our costumes from last night since that's all we have to wear. My clothing proves much easier to reassemble than hers. It has so many strings and clasps or whatever they are that I'm amazed she managed to get into it in the first place. An employee at the costume shop helped her the first time. I clearly lack the expertise to get it done, though, since the task takes me fifteen minutes. At the shop, it took five minutes at most.

  "That was a workout," Maddie says when she's finally dressed. She twirls once, making her skirts flutter. "How do I look?"

  "You're always lovely, even when you're drooling and snoring."

  "Did I really do that? I know I drooled, but the snoring…"

  "Yes, you did that. But it was endearing."

  "Maybe you're full of shit, but I've decided that's part of your appeal." She slips her arms around my waist. "Let's go snorkeling first."

  "Anything you want. We'll need to go back to the resort and change out of these clothes, though."

  My mobile chimes. Reluctantly, I step away from her so I can dig it out to check the new text.

  Have you signed him? my executive assistant asks. Board waiting to hear.

  She's referring to Dexter. I type my response: Working on it. On holiday now.

  Then I stuff the mobile in my pocket.

  "By the way," I tell Maddie, "I took your advice and rang my father. He's not angry. He says he's proud of me."

  "That's wonderful. Aren't you glad you ripped that scab off?"

  "Yes, you were right about that."

  She slips her hand into mine. "Let's go downstairs and tell Dexter to bring that chopper back here for us."

  I wrap an arm around Maddie and tug her close. "Thank you for coming here with me. This was intended to be a business trip, but you're making it the best holiday I've ever had."

  "You're doing the same for me. Thank you, Rick."

  While I lead her out of our room and downstairs, I can't help smiling. This woman makes me feel lighter, like all the duties that used to weigh me down have evaporated and all that matters is living life to the fullest.

  About damn time.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maddie

  We find Dexter on the veranda, relaxing on a porch swing and admiring the view from the sheltered peace of this outdoor haven attached to the house. I hadn't really known what a veranda was until today. It's a fancy word for a wraparound porch as far as I can tell. This one stretches the entire length of the house and seems to continue around the backside. While Rick guides me toward Dex, I gaze out at the beach and the blue waters of the inlet. A balmy breeze whispers over my skin. The smell of the ocean surrounds me, and I inhale a deep breath to appreciate that unique scent.

  Will I ever smell that again once I go back to work? I doubt I'll ever feel as relaxed and happy as I do today, here with Rick in this tropical paradise.

  When Dexter spots us, he smiles. "Good morning, young lovers. Did you sleep well?"

  Rick's brows lift slightly. "Young lovers? That might apply to Maddie, but I'm far from young."

  "You're not old," I say. "Forty is young."

  "That's right," Dexter says. "Forty is the new twenty, haven't you heard? Middle age isn't until you're at least seventy."

  I wonder how old Dexter is, but I would never ask him. That would be disrespectful. Instead, I say, "Thank you for letting us stay the night in your beautiful home, and for giving us a wonderful breakfast. You are a gracious and charming host, Dex."

  "And you are a beautiful and enchanting guest, Madeleine." Dexter gets to his feet, stretching and groaning like it feels so good. "You two should explore the island today. Relax on the beach. Or better yet, make love on the bea
ch."

  Rick's mouth drops open, but he just stares at Dex.

  Since he seems incapable of speaking, I tell our host, "We were planning to go back to the resort."

  "Nonsense," Dexter says. "You'll have a much better time here. More privacy too."

  "That's generous, but we don't want to impose."

  "It's not an imposition. I'm enjoying having you two here to breathe new life into this old house." He points at himself. "And this old bloke."

  I glance at Rick. "What do you think? There is a nice, secluded beach."

  "We don't have swimsuits. Or any normal clothing."

  "Tosh," Dex announces. "I have a collection of fresh new clothing on hand for my guests, including swimwear. Ilsa can show you. And besides, you can always swim in the nude."

  Richard makes a noise, but it's not a word. It sounds like a gasp that he tried to swallow.

  I hook my arm under his. "Just think, we could go snorkeling without anybody bothering us."

  Dexter's expression brightens. "Snorkeling? I have the best beach in the Caribbean, with a pristine coral reef and more varieties of fish than you can count. I've owned this island for thirty years, and I've hired the best people to ensure the environment is protected. You won't have a better experience anywhere else."

  "Let's stay," I tell Rick.

  "All right," he agrees. "A private island does sound more appealing than a crowded resort."

  "Definitely." I switch to a whisper that only Rick will hear. "After we have our fun, I'll read Dex's book. Then we can talk about it—and talk to him. Okay?"

  He nods.

  "A secret conversation?" Dexter says. "How titillating. By the way, I'll be popping over to Elusion Island for a video chat with my grandchildren. We don't have internet here since I don't like using it. You may have noticed there is a cellular signal, but it's not strong enough to do that online rubbish. There is satellite telly, of course, though only in my bedroom and only so I can watch cricket matches. Am I prattling on like an old fool? So sorry."

  "Don't apologize," I say. "If babbling is a crime, I'm guilty too."

  "You are such a love, Maddie." He grimaces. "I hope my little darlings haven't invited their grandmother to participate in the chat. My ex-wife loves to commandeer the webcam after the children leave and chastise me for all my old sins."