Feel the Heat: A Contemporary Romance Anthology (73 page)

D
ay Four

The boat arrived for us just after noon. We sat in the back, side by side, hand in hand, facing the wake, as we watched the beach house disappear.

Eli handed me a brown cardboard package that had been sitting next to him.

"What's this?" I asked as I took it from him.

"Open it and find out." His eyes danced. He was up to something.

I tore open the seal to find a boxful of Hott's Socks in a variety of patterns and colors. "Men's socks. Just what I always wanted."

"Samples for you to pick from for our event with Flash. As I promised, I'm handing you my account."

I kissed him and looked through the box. His socks really were hot. I actually picked a pair and tried them on. "Comfy. We have a deal."

"Britt." His voice cracked. "This is only the beginning for us. We're not going to let this slip away."

I sighed happily and took his hand, rubbing the back of it with my thumb. Staring at it because I couldn't meet his eyes. "How do you know this isn't just a summer fling? A vacation romance? What if we get home and find out our everyday selves aren't the same people? And we don't like them as well."

"I believe the everyday you will be just as fantastic. We weathered the summer storm of the century together, as the news is calling it. We can weather anything." He kissed me.

T
hanks for reading
The Billionaire's Beach House
! I hope you enjoyed it!

If you liked it, you may want to pick up more books in the Jet City Billionaire Series.

J
et City Billionaire
books by Gina Robinson:

T
he Billionaire Duke Series

The American Heir

The Switched at Marriage Series

To Love and To Cherish

The Billionaire’s Christmas Vows

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ant to know
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“
C
rap
!” I staggered and sprayed sand all over the empty towel next to me. My near fall had broken the strap of my sandal, leaving a limp piece of rubbery plastic dangling uselessly from my foot. Tentatively, I slipped out of the traitorous footwear and stood barefoot on the scorching sand.

As expected, pain radiated up my foot within seconds.

“Shoot.” I glanced up at the distant snack station and neighboring bar—pretty far—then back toward my empty towel near the ocean. Quite a bit closer.

Decisions.

Oh, who was I kidding? How could I possibly drown my anxiety over my upcoming presentation if I didn’t have a fruity cocktail?

I thoroughly analyzed the offending sandal. No way was it getting fixed. I’d need Duct tape and bubblegum at the very least.

I judged the distance again. Half a beach sprawled before me, speckled in white hotel towels and a few fancy sunshades with corresponding beach chairs.

What was a little pain, anyway? I could handle it.

Onward.

Picking up the broken sandal, I hurried across the Hawaiian sand. The flare of heat turned into a bite. Then into a horrible burn that soaked into the base of my bare foot. An empty white towel caught my eye just up the way. All I had to do was get past another row of sun-tanners…

I staggered for the second time as my intact sandal joined the revolt against drunkenness. Sand sprayed and I tripped onto a crumpled towel before falling against a sun chair.

“Hey!” A man who was reclining recoiled and then sat up, lifting his arm so he could stare down at the sand now coating his glistening skin. My eyes stuck to his deliciously toned muscles for a moment before I got a grip.

“I’m so sorry!” I said, perching on the towel like a woman surrounded by lava. “My sandal broke.”

The man took in my situation as his friend sat forward to gawk.

My friends didn’t call me “Devastating Delilah” because I was quiet and reserved and everything in my life always went according to plan…

“You wouldn’t happen to have two blocks of ice that I could strap to my feet?” I threw them a wink, buying time. My feet were still throbbing painfully.

“Looks like
both
your sandals broke.” The guy closest to me pointed at my feet.

“Just call you Mr. Observation,” I said with a grin.

“You know what Will Rogers said…”

“The cowboy?” I asked in confusion.

“There are three kinds of men. The one that learns by reading. The few who learn by observation.” He pointed at himself. “That’s me. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence for themselves.”

“That’s also you,” his friend said with a laugh.

“That was one time,” the man replied, laughing with him.

I could feel a smile drifting across my face at their banter.

“Right…” I glanced away at the snack bar. It was time to make shapes.

“You need a lift?” the closest man said.

“Like…” I looked around for some sort of transportation equipment. As one might expect of a sectioned-off part of a beach resort, no such luck. “With a sled, or…”

He ducked out from under his umbrella and then spied the towel under my feet.

“Oh. Uh…” I wasn’t really sure how to politely say I wasn’t ready to move because the sand was too hot.

His eyes twinkled as he grabbed his shirt off the back of his chair and wiped away the crust of sand that I, and Banana Boat, had plastered to his arm and his perfectly cut abs. When he was done, he dropped his shirt and turned his broad back to me before looking over his shoulder. “C’mon. I’ll give you a piggyback.”

I stared for a moment, because his offer seemed a little strange. My acute desire to spread chocolate sauce on his lovely muscles before licking it off aside…strangers didn’t generally give strangers piggyback rides.

“I’m good, actually. I need a good sprint. It’ll open up my lungs a little. Thanks, though.” For good measure, I threw him a thumbs-up. Nothing screamed confidence and
I got this
like a good ol’ thumbs-up.

“I can practically feel the heat radiating off the sand,” he said, turning to survey me. “It has to be hot.”

“Just don’t pee on it to see if it steams,” I said. His friend snorted. “But anyway, no thanks. I can make it. It’s not that far.”

“And then what?” he asked.

“I haven’t gotten that far yet…”

He laughed and stepped closer, repeating the stoop. “Get on.”

His back was within patting distance, so I gave him a double tap, followed by a slight push. “Seriously. I’m okay. I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t like accepting help, huh?”

Clearly he wasn’t aware of the strangeness of adults giving random piggybacks. “Seriously, I’ll be fine.” I pat-pushed him again. The man had no give in his back. He could do with a donut. “I’ll be okay, really.”

“When does a man get to help a damsel in distress anymore?” he persisted. “You have to give this to me.”

“He won’t let it go until he gets his way,” his friend said, looking on with a grin. “It’s one of his more annoying character flaws.”

Oh, super. A tag-team effort.

“C’mon.” He backed right up to me and then reached around, corralling me with his large arms.

“I can’t— I mean—” Reluctantly giving in, I shimmied up his back and clutched his meaty shoulders, my face burning hotter than my feet.

No, I probably wouldn’t have taken a ride from just any stranger. An older man? Absolutely not. This guy’s friend? Tempting, but still no. The friend seemed a little douchey, from his frosted hair, which should not have
ever
been trendy, let alone for the second time in memorable history, to his hipster beard.

But this guy?

Well…

“Oh wait, my sandals.” I reached for the discarded footwear. I was way too high up, though, since he was over six feet tall and I was secured to his back like a spider monkey.

“We’ll get them on the way back. Where to?”

“I was just going for a cocktail. But it’s fine. You can just—”

“Okay, here we go.” He launched forward like a panther. I held on for dear life. “Doesn’t the waiter come around to take orders?”

My hand skimmed a sculpted pec. I flinched away. “He does, but it’s like…an hour and a half between visits,” I said.

“Couldn’t wait that long?” His tone was full of suppressed laughter.

“Actually, I wasn’t planning on drinking, so I didn’t stop the waiter the last time I saw him. I changed my mind, but by then he was gone.”

I shrugged, uncomfortably aware of my heels bumping near his crotch. I strained them away, which put tremendous pressure on my legs. I tightened my hold and shimmied a little higher. My calves rubbed against his washboard stomach.

No, I hadn’t tried very hard to resist the piggyback, if someone were keeping track…

“What made you change your mind?” He threaded between two towels before veering around an umbrella.

“It’s just a work thing,” I said. “I’d planned on one approach, but then my boss sided with my idiot coworkers and changed everything at the last minute. It’s all gone tits up.”

He chuckled. “So drinking is your solution?” He stepped onto the concrete and continued down the walkway toward my destination.

“My presentation is about as good as it’s going to get,” I said. “So yes, a little libation is just the ticket.”

He stopped in front of the bar and bent over. His grip loosened and I slid off his back.

I wiped my moist forehead. “So, anyway, thanks.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. Honest.” His sea-foam eyes sparkled with intelligence and fire.

Jesus Christ, but the man was hot. God had beaten the ugly right out of him.

I abruptly turned away. Lust was a bad idea. Especially when I was about to add tequila to the equation. The last time I’d mixed the two, it had ended in a restraining order.

Why the judge had thought I was stalking, I’ll never know. Since when was it illegal to be on the sidewalk? Sure, I’d happened to walk the same sidewalk a few times, in a row, for days at a time, but walking was healthy. It hadn’t become a problem until I saw him hooking up with Milee, the chick he’d
sworn
he wasn’t cheating on me with.

That was when tequila had intervened, and the rocks through his windows seemed like a stellar idea.

I think the whole courtroom agreed that he deserved it…

“What’s your presentation about?” he asked, stepping closer while my drink was being made.

“Oh, just…” I waved my hand. “Just a tech product. It’s a piece of a larger whole, really. Like a widget.”

“A widget…”

“Yeah, like a…” I paused as the bartender put my drink on the bar. “Oh no, sorry. I need it in a plastic cup. It’s for the beach.”

The bartender gave me an annoyed look before he grudgingly turned back.

The man next to me grimaced and then smiled, watching as the bartender grabbed a plastic cup and unceremoniously upended the drink. Limes and garnish shipwrecked at the bottom with the ice and were then drowned in alcohol.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the drink.

“Seven fifty,” the bartender said.

“Cool.” I paused, waiting for the receipt that would let me charge it to my room. When it didn’t come, I leaned forward and murmured, “I just need to charge it to my room…”

His scowl deepened. “For seven fifty?”

“It’s just…” I patted my boobs as though they were pockets. “I didn’t bring my wallet. I don’t have any cash on me—”

“Here.” The man next to me reached forward with a ten-dollar bill.

“Oh, no,” I said. “Seriously, it’s okay.” I placed my palm on his bicep and then jerked back when a surge of electricity zipped up my arm. “I can just order some food or another drink.”

“It’s fine. He’s not in the mood, I can tell.” The man leaned toward the bar with a shockingly handsome smile. “Keep the change.”

His large palm fell on my shoulder, the touch stutter-stopping my complaints while turning me toward the rolling ocean. “Let me take you back. Here.” He took the drink and then showed me his back again. “Hop on.”

Before I could remind myself why it was a bad idea, I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders and did as he asked. “You shouldn’t be so eager to give out piggybacks, you know,” I said as he started forward. “A nervous rider might squeeze too tight, cutting off your air supply. Then where would you be?”

“Passed out on the hot sand, probably, while you towel-hopped away.”

I laughed. “Probably, yeah.”

“You want a sip for the road?” he asked, holding up the drink.

“I can wait, thanks.”

I tried to ignore the vibration in my core from his heat and movement. I also tried to ignore his smell—coconut, sun, and man. And I
certainly
tried to ignore them all mixed together, which was some kind of tantalizing scent that shouldn’t be wafted around sexually starved single women.

“You can just put me down here,” I said as we reached my broken flip-flops.

His friend smiled up at me. “Got it?”

“Got…what’s that now?” Dawning realization struck me. “Oh! Yes, I got the drink. Thanks.”

“Here.” The man jumped to his feet and grabbed my flip-flops before handing them up.

Another nice body. Good Lord, they probably subsisted on kale and sex to get that sculpted look.

“Thanks—” I took the shoes and saluted with them.

Moments later, we were underway again, and piggyback guy said, “Which towel is yours?”

“Just…” I clutched tighter with one hand so I could point with the other. “The white one.”

The beach was a sea of white towels. Just call me a genius.

“I mean…the…single white one.” I wagged my finger in the air, as if that would help. “With a pile of clothes next to it. I probably should’ve folded them…”

He must’ve understood me, because he cut a path through the sunbathers and stopped next to my messy layout. “No computer?” he asked.

“I just brought the slide printouts. I didn’t want to risk bringing a computer to the beach.” As he released me, my body twisted in such a way that when my front slid down his back, my bikini rode up my chest. The underwire caught at about my nipples, giving me a boob sandwich.

“Oh my God!” I hastily showed him my back as I yanked it down, belatedly remembering the leering old man two towels over. Aghast, I jerked the other way and bowed in on myself, righting the fabric.

“Here,” he said, pushing in close and surrounding me with his body and arms. “I’ll shield you.”

“I got it,” I said in a rush, checking my bottoms. “Thanks.” I took my drink. “For the ride and for the drink.”

“How are you going to get back to the hotel?” he asked, still pushed in close.

I stepped further back on my towel. “Let’s hope I’m too drunk to feel it, huh?” I gave him a cheeky grin. “But seriously, I’ll be fine.”

“Do you want to take my number and text me when you’re ready?”

A fierce tingle arrested me, and a nervous belly laugh threatened to explode out of my mouth. He was too close by half—and too hot for his own good. A random hookup with a guy who would be gone in the morning was the last thing I needed. Thanks to my ex, I was already hanging out on the rock bottom of “awesome.”

“I got it, thanks,” I said, giving him a placating little pat on the shoulder for reasons I couldn’t explain. I lowered down onto my towel.

“Okay, well.” He stared down at me for a moment before taking a step back. “How long are you here?”

“Just the weekend. I go back Monday morning.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around, then.”

I smiled and gave him an noncommittal nod, since politeness demanded it, but the chances were slim to none. Not only had we not exchanged names, but it was only Friday and this was my only furlough day. After this, I’d be chaining myself to conference tables and work events. After those, I’d be in bed. I’d made a rule after defacing the ex’s property—I would take a break from men, bars, and any fun that resulted in breaking my oath on the first two items on the list…