Summer Heat Wave

Prologue Paradise Island, the Bahamas The waves came rushing along the debris-strewn beach toward Blair Ashworth as the hurricane winds nearly knocked her down. Palm trees bent and whipped beneath the onslaught of the storm. The once pure blue sea was black, and the sand was cold and wet as it dragged her feet down in terrifying suction. Fear seized her heart in its claws, squeezing until she could barely breathe, as another wave surged toward her. They hadn’t seen the storm coming, not this fast . . . Water knocked her off her feet, and she fell, her hands hitting concrete as she collided with the resort sidewalk. Strong arms grasped her body, lifting her up and bracing her against a wall of hot, determined male. The intense warmth she felt had nothing to do with the current danger of the storm and everything to do with the man who’d just saved her. A man who shouldn’t have saved her because he despised her. “Can you walk?” Denver Ramsey’s deep voice rang out crisply across the howling wind, stilling her panic and the rush of chaotic thoughts in her head. His voice demanded that she respond, that she meet the challenge of being brave. “Y-yes . . . I think so.” Blair ignored the stab of pain in her knees and forearms. They had to keep moving and get to safety or risk being pulled out to sea by the next wave. “Let me help you.” An arm gripped her waist, holding her close to the hard male body it belonged to. She lifted her head to stare into the devastatingly perfect face of Denver Ramsey. The man she had been sent to seduce . . . into a business deal. A man who hated her with every breath in his body. Yet here he was, saving her life as a storm ravaged the beautiful island he called home. Wind whipped his dark hair into his hazel eyes, which looked darker as they reflected the stormy skies above them. His once crisp white dress shirt soaked with the rain and surging seawater, clung to his muscled form. “Just a bit farther,” Denver assured her as they trudged down the walkway toward the entrance to the private luxury apartments of the Seven Seas Beach Club. Water swamped the sidewalk, and he held her closer, keeping her on her feet when she might have been knocked down again. The doors opened, and two resort employees in raingear rushed out to help them. “Are you all right, sir?” one of the men asked Denver as he handed him a small towel. “Yes, thank you. Are all of the guests safe?” “Yes, sir. All safe and accounted for. We have implemented the hurricane protection plan. All of the housing is secure as well. The National Weather Service has already downgraded the storm to a category one, and within a few hours we should have clear skies again.” Denver still held Blair close, but she shivered as a chill from the icy ocean settled in her bones. Now aware of her shaking, he looked down at her, and without words he used the towel to dry her face and as much of her as he could manage before the towel was soaked. “Miss Ashworth and I will be in my apartment. Call me if you need me.” He handed the towel back to the employee. “Yes, sir.” The employee returned to the front desk. Blair followed Denver through a hallway decorated with stunning seascapes portraying the many faces of the ocean, from gentle surf to raging waves. Just like everything at the Seven Seas, they were top quality, elegant, and like the club’s owner, the pieces also held a bit of mystery. Denver released his hold on her waist and lifted his right wrist, which bore a silver metal band. He waved the band in front of the electronic door lock, and it clicked open. Then he opened the door and stepped aside, allowing her to enter. It was a bad idea to go anywhere alone with him, though not because he was dangerous. He was dangerous, but not in a way that threatened her. Rather, Denver Ramsey was dangerous to any woman who wanted to keep her head on straight, her heart safe, and her panties on. On his good days, the man looked like a tempting water god, but right then he looked like a vengeful Poseidon. She inwardly flinched, knowing just how deep his dislike of her ran. Hell, one could almost call his cold disdain for her hate. But Denver didn’t know her well enough to truly hate her. No, his true hate was reserved for her father and her uncle. Once she was inside his apartment, he closed the door with a frightening finality. He nodded toward a room beyond her, and she turned to find a wide, open sitting room with thick glass doors that revealed a stunning view of the stormy sea. “Sit down,” he ordered, though his tone was softer than she expected. Blair collapsed onto the nearest armchair and winced at the feel of her wet clothes on the expensive blue-and-white-striped fabric. He disappeared down a hall and returned with two fluffy white bath towels and a first aid kit. He quickly dragged a towel over himself before tossing it on the surface of the coffee table. Then he handed the second one to her. She accepted it and wiped her face, her hair, and her clothes, which were hopelessly ruined. The navy-blue sundress with white polka dots and her cork wedge sandals had been a great choice three hours ago, long before she’d known this tropical storm would sweep their way so quickly. Denver set the first aid kit on the table and pulled another armchair toward her before sitting in it. “Let me see your knees.” He gestured at her skirt, and she lifted the wet fabric up just past her knees. Bloody scratches covered her knees and her forearms. He opened the kit and removed several antiseptic wipes. He wiped at the wounds, and she bit her lip, hiding her reaction to the sting of the antiseptic. “Where were you going? Didn’t you hear the storm siren?” he asked, his voice still dangerously soft. He didn’t look at her as he cleaned her cuts and bandaged them. Then he gestured for her arms, which he saw to next. “I was out scouting for the best location to do photos for the adjustments on the campaign.” “It isn’t worth dying over.” At her gasp, he lifted his gaze to hers, his hazel eyes burning hot. “It could be, since my job depends on it,” she muttered. “I haven’t even agreed to work with you,” he reminded her. “Our bargain only included that I would give it my honest consideration.” “That’s because you haven’t heard my pitch—” she started. “Not a chance,” Denver snapped, cutting her off. Then his voice gentled. “There’s nothing you could show me that could change my mind.” His scowl shouldn’t have made him even more attractive, but it gave her the most wicked fantasies of what he’d do to her ass while he wore that scowl. “Nothing?” A pit formed in her stomach. Blair had been so convinced that she could win him over. The ad campaign she and her team had worked up in the last week was more than solid. It was damn brilliant. Especially now that she’d come here and added her final touches after seeing the magic of his resort and the island through his eyes. “There’s only one thing I told you I truly want from you, and we both know that would be a terrible idea.” He was still facing her, his knees almost touching hers as his gaze held hers. “Terrible,” Blair agreed breathlessly as his focus moved to her mouth. She couldn’t stop staring at his lips. He reached up to cup the back of her neck. His hand was warm, large, and wonderful as he held her neck in a gentle but dominating hold. “Then again, maybe this one little mistake won’t change anything,” he mused. Blair’s heart pounded, ramming against her ribs like the waves outside battered the shore. There was nothing worse than wanting something—someone—she shouldn’t, but she still wanted Denver Ramsey’s kiss more than anything in that moment. Denver closed the distance and captured her lips with his in piratical perfection, like a man who knew he’d conquered her and won. She hated him and loved him for it. Yes, it was a terrible mistake, and it would change everything.