Wicked Heat. Kelli Ireland

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      Blinking rapidly, he chastised himself for allowing the distraction, no matter how fine. He had one life to save and another to destroy before he returned to London and resumed the helm of his late father’s empire.

      Trade winds blew with predictable unpredictability, tousling his hair.

      Should have cut the damn mop before flying out. “If there’d been time, I would have,” he groused to no one save the hen who’d taken a liking to the shine of his shoes. “Bloody bird. You’re a barnyard animal, not a magpie.” He scooted her away with his foot, but she returned post haste to continue the burgeoning love affair.

      The one benefit to the breeze was that it kept the temperatures tolerable. For an Englishman who saw the sun roughly every third day, and only if he was able to leave the office before dark, it was bloody warm.

      Searching the tarmac, he found the shuttle to the resort waiting, both side and rear doors open and the driver posted at the back to load passengers’ bags. Liam gathered his bags and briefcase, strode to the van and delivered all but his briefcase into the driver’s care. He rounded the passenger doors, set one foot on the running board and stopped. The woman who’d fascinated him only minutes before was in the far seat and rapidly entering notes on her iPad.

      He wordlessly moved into his seat, all the while keeping watch on his travel companion.

      The driver shut the doors with authority before clambering into his seat. Putting the van in gear, he took off down the road. Less than one hundred yards later, he was looking in the rearview mirror instead of out the windshield and talking to the woman with an easy demeanor. “The roads between here and the resort can be a bit trying, miss, so you may want to forgo typing until arrival.” Then he hit the gas and they shot away at breakneck speed...right through a massive pothole.

      The woman fumbled her iPad, recovered it before it hit the floor and caught the driver’s stare. “A bit trying, huh?”

      He laughed. “Wait until we hit traffic. Here in Bora Bora, traffic includes cars, motorcycles, scooters, and even the occasional cart and donkey.”

      She stuffed her iPad into her bag without further comment, yet Liam couldn’t help but notice the way her shoulders didn’t move with the bus’s motion. The muscles in her neck were visible and appeared rigid. And despite her sunglasses, there were faint lines that radiated from the corner of each eye. Lines that clearly represented both stress and worry.

      He was about to speak, to restart the banter they’d shared on the plane, but she turned away, reaching in to her bag and retrieving a travel pack of ibuprofen. She ripped the package open, retrieved two pills and tossed them into her mouth. Without water available, she struggled to get them down but managed.

       What could be so bad a woman lands in paradise and has to take something for a headache? And why am I obsessing? I have my own issues with this godforsaken trip.

      Still...

      The gentleman’s code Liam lived by demanded he do something to distract her. Leaning toward her, he said, “My travel agent assured me the resort was a guaranteed headache-free zone.”

      The woman whipped her entire upper body toward him, eyes wide as she pushed at a strand of hair that had worked its way out of her chignon. Recognition dawned, and her eyes warmed. “You,” she said, smiling.

      “And you as well.”

      “What are you doing...” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

      “You have impeccable taste in locale as well as accommodation.” He nodded at the driver as the man wove between slower moving traffic as if the ten-seat bus were an IndyCar, their route Le Mans. “The Royal Crescent is a lush resort. If you didn’t reserve a cabana over the water, you should consider upgrading.”

      “I actually have a room in the resort proper.” When he said nothing, only watched her, she shrugged. “It suits my needs.”

      “Sometimes simply meeting one’s needs should be abandoned in favor of obtaining one’s desires, don’t you think?”

      She stared at an indeterminate point over his shoulder, tapping her forefinger against her lower lip as she considered his question. It was only seconds before she shifted her gaze to meet his. The wicked gleam in those impossibly green eyes told him she’d give as well as she got. “Actually, no. I’m of the opinion that a woman shouldn’t leave desire on her wish list. A smart woman places her desires, whatever...whomever...they might be, near the very top of her list of necessities. Wouldn’t you agree?” She arched a dark brow, the wordless gesture a direct challenge.

      He had intended to bait her. Clearly, she knew it. What Liam had never expected, though, was that she’d take the bait. The image of reeling her in had his heart beating a bit faster, breath coming a bit shorter. He liked it, liked her, and found himself hungering for the thrill of the chase.

      He traced his fingers over the tanned skin on her shoulder.

      She drew in a deep breath.

      He smiled, knowing full well that the look he gave her was leonine. How often had he been accused of letting that particular look loose in both boardroom and bedroom when he discovered exactly what he wanted? Today, this second, what he wanted was this woman.

      “Touché,” he murmured, shifting slightly to accommodate his rising desire.

      She laughed then, the sound as sultry and evocative in its richness and depth as the first sip of the finest scotch rolling across the palate. Her laughter whipped through him, muddying his thoughts and fogging his awareness of everything but her.

      “You’re staring,” she murmured.

      “So I am.”

      The woman’s brows rose slightly. “So...stop?”

      “I will.”

      “When?”

      Liam lifted one shoulder in a partial shrug. “When I’m done looking.”

      Turning in her seat, she glanced out the window. “The scenery is beautiful.”

      “It certainly is,” Liam murmured. She twisted back around and drew a breath, certainly to deliver a sharp rebuttal, but Liam wasn’t looking at her—he was staring at the lush jungle landscape outside.

      The faint flush that spread across her exposed décolletage and crept up her neck was quite adorable, though he doubted she’d agree with his assessment. In his experience, few women were keen on being considered cute, and those that favored the more juvenile assessment weren’t the type he desired. But this woman—with her singular focus, quick wit and physical appeal—was exactly the type to pique his interests.

      With her staying at the same resort, their paths were certain to cross.

      Liam smiled.

      Perhaps this trip wouldn’t be such a chore after all.

       CHAPTER TWO

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