Wicked Heat (9 page)

As she watched Jett stride away like he had a demon on his tail, Allegra knew she
hadn’t imagined their connection, and it obviously scared him as much as it did her.

They couldn’t get emotionally involved. It wouldn’t end well.

With an aborted marriage tainting her personally and her business on the skids affecting
her professionally, no way in hell would Allegra complicate her life with an emotional
entanglement she didn’t want or need.

But what if it was too late?

Chapter Six

After a particularly tough day at the office, Jett would head down to Bondi Beach
with Reeve and grab a few beers or hit the surf. It had become a ritual, a way of
celebrating after they scored a new client, and then became their usual Friday afternoon
wind-down. Jett would look forward to it, when the two of them would don wetsuits,
grab their boards, and surf the tensions of the week away.

And there had been tensions. Came with the advertising territory. Clients who approved
layouts then changed their minds at the last minute. Clients who demanded their portfolio
come first, ahead of the rest. Clients who blamed them when their product didn’t sell.

Yet somehow, despite the constant job stresses, working with Reeve had been fun. Their
friendship made working alongside each other easy. Not that they never disagreed,
but they always managed to shelve their differences by the end of the day and move
on the next.

Business-wise, they’d created some serious magic, boosting the profile of hundreds
of Aussie companies and products. It was the reason their agency became sought after
in a glutted market, and how they’d built their profile so quickly.

Their first client, a lucrative Aussie food brand, had launched their name and soon
businesses had been beating down their door. And not once in the ensuing years had
Jett suspected his partner and best friend was screwing him over.

When Reeve’s duplicity had first come to light, he’d refused to believe it. But Jett
had always been nothing if not a realist and once he’d accepted he’d lost almost everything,
he set about rebuilding his business. He’d also surfed for a week straight, but all
the waves in Bondi hadn’t cleared his head.

He hoped he’d have better luck today, as he waded into the ocean and eased onto his
board. Catching a wave or two might soothe the yips. And he had the yips, big time.
Since that run-in with Allegra at the bar a few hours ago, he’d been a mess.

Thankfully, he’d managed to hold it together for his meeting with Kai, who’d wanted
to give him some updated info he’d given the other candidates, and had appeared professionally
logical. But the moment he’d walked out of that meeting and headed to his room, Jett
had lost it.

Stalking from one end to another like a caged feral beast, alternating between swearing
and shaking his head, edgy and uptight and more than a little scared.

Hearing Allegra articulate what their relationship entailed—casual, fleeting, no strings—should’ve
made him feel good. Guilt-free sex with a classy woman who didn’t seem to mind being
at his beck and call. But hearing her say the words and seeing the yearning expression
on her face had been a startling contrast that he was sure mirrored his own confusion.

Hearing her calmly state the obvious terms of their fling hadn’t sat well with him,
not at all, and it had been bugging the shit out of him ever since.

He didn’t want a relationship. Was no good at them. Yet having the option removed
from the equation somehow made it seem more appealing. And that’s what scared him.
He didn’t do emotions. He didn’t do complications. Starting up anything with Allegra:
one giant frigging complication.

Not that he’d ever done it, but long distance would suck. Pointless. A fruitless exercise
in restraint and cold showers and jerking off. Especially when he’d have the memory
of being buried deep in Allegra to taunt him.

Fuck, now he had a hard-on of monumental proportions while lying facedown on his surfboard
waiting to catch a wave. On the upside, he had this stretch of coast to himself, and
as he paddled toward shore, waiting for the perfect moment to leap to his knees and
guide the board with his feet, some of his angst faded and he lost himself in the
moment.

Surfing soothed him. He’d done it as a kid, eager to escape the watchful eye of his
dad who never let up. “Have you finished your homework? Practiced your violin? Shot
hoops? Cleaned your room? Done your chores?”

Man, he’d hated it. Had resented his father because of it. Not that Clive had cared.
The minute he’d finished primary school he’d been shipped off to an exclusive boys’
boarding school and had rarely seen dear old dad.

Any other kid would’ve rebelled, but obedience had been so ingrained in him he’d worked
like a dog, getting good grades so he could prove to his father he didn’t need a stand-over
man to achieve.

But he’d known the ultimate outcome of their warped father-son relationship when he’d
stated at the end of his final year at school that he’d be doing a marketing and economics
degree.

Clive hadn’t spoken to him for three months, had taken six to come round to the idea
enough to attend a father-son football game at university.

Theirs had been a coolly polite relationship ever since, yet Jett knew Clive would
delight in saying “I told you so” when he learned of his agency’s demise.

Jett hadn’t told him. He hadn’t told anyone when he’d packed up the office, canceled
the lease, and headed to LA to rebuild contacts in the industry.

He’d sent Clive a brief e-mail, stating the basic facts. His dad, one of Sydney’s
top barristers now retired, had responded with few words: “See you when you get back.”

No commiserations, no “how are you?” just a terse answer that could mean anything.
Though Jett knew what it meant: recriminations and gloating. Maybe even “I told you,
you should’ve gone into law, then you wouldn’t have been duped and ended up a loser.”

Not that Clive would use those exact words, but he’d dress it up in his fancy-schmancy
jargon that delivered the same message.

Made it even more imperative that he land the Kaluna deal. Not that his dad’s opinion
mattered much these days, but he’d love to be able to prove that when he was down,
Jett had what it took to come out on top.

It took another seven waves and two wipeouts for Jett to finally relax, his head clear
of topics he’d rather avoid like his father’s approval and Allegra’s casual acceptance
of their sex-only relationship.

But when he paddled back to shore and caught sight of a lone figure standing on the
water’s edge, her blond hair whipping around her cheeks, her lithe body showcased
in a purple bikini, he was catapulted right back to the place he’d been an hour ago.

Befuddled, confused, and wanting Allegra more than ever.

…

Allegra liked to stroll along the beach at dusk every evening. A long-established
habit to clear her head at the end of a hard day’s work. While she loved her stretch
of Malibu, this secluded alcove on Palm Bay surpassed it for sheer beauty and serenity.

The last two evenings she’d come here, mentally refining her pitch, she hadn’t seen
a single soul. Except today. A lone surfer riding the waves like he was at one with
the ocean.

She was a lousy swimmer so she admired anyone who would willingly battle monstrous
waves. And this guy seemed to have a death wish. He waited for the biggest waves and
rode them like a man possessed, seeming to deliberately flout the danger.

Crazy.

On the verge of heading back to the resort, she watched him coast closer to shore
and her heart gave a betraying leap.

She knew that silhouette. Knew the shape of those broad shoulders, the narrow waist,
the long, lean legs. Knew that profile with a certainty that came from studying the
guy in his sleep.

Jett.

Before she could second-guess the wisdom of encroaching on what was obviously his
me-time, she waded into the water and waited, waist-deep.

The waves, calmer now, lapped her shoulders as he closed the gap between them. From
what she could see of his expression, he didn’t look happy to see her.

Damn. Was this too needy? Would he think she’d followed him out here?

Dumb move. Standing here in the water, racked by uncertainty. It sucked not having
a lot of experience with guys, especially worldly guys like Jett, because she had
no idea of protocol. She’d never had a fling before and it showed.

Ducking down to neck-deep to stave off a sudden chill pebbling her skin, she treaded
water, wishing she could dive under and hide until he’d passed by.

“Give me a second,” he said, as he coasted straight past, leaving her with a sensational
view of his back and the way the muscles rippled under the skin as he stood, unclipped
the rope from his ankle, and stuck the board in the sand before diving over a wave
and heading toward her.

She couldn’t read his expression, had no idea if he’d welcome her or not. “I was out
walking when I saw you, so thought it’d be impolite not to say hi—”

He crushed her mouth with his, silencing her babble. Good move. She’d much rather
be devoured than waste time justifying her needy behavior.

And she needed him, there was no doubt. One glance, one touch, one kiss, and she was
mindless with wanting him, ready to do anything to prolong the pleasure that being
with him elicited.

Correction, that being with him
sexually
elicited, but the very fact she had to clarify meant this thing between them had
moved into dangerous territory.

His tongue parted her lips and took control as his arms slid around her waist to anchor
her. She clung to him, angling her head for better access to his mouth, giving as
much as she got in a searing kiss that was pure, blinding compulsion.

A wave crashed over them and they spluttered, laughing as they took a few steps toward
the beach.

“I’m not stalking you, you know.” She swiped wet strands of hair out of her eyes.
“I really was out for a stroll when I saw you.”

“I’m not adverse to a bit of stalking, as long as it’s you doing it.” He hugged her
closer, the strength behind his grip surprising her, like he needed her to anchor
him. “I know I said I’d come by when I finished work but I needed to blow off some
steam.”

Uh-oh. Was his pitch going badly? She wanted to ask for purely supportive reasons
but didn’t want to broach anything remotely to do with their rival pitches.

“Everything okay?”

He nodded, but the worry darkening his eyes to emerald was unmistakable. “Yeah, nothing
a good surf won’t fix.”

“You’re a madman going out there with a teensy bit of fiberglass.” She waved out at
the deeper water and shivered. “I prefer you on land, not as shark bait.”

“I don’t know.” The corners of his mouth curved into wickedness. “There’s something
to be said for being in the water.”

His fingers delved beneath the elastic of her bikini bottoms to prove it.

Her breath caught and her fingers dug into his shoulders. “We’re in public and this
water is crystal clear—”

“No one’s around and what the fish see won’t hurt them,” he said, thrusting two fingers
inside her at the same time his thumb grazed her clit.

She groaned, her prudish protests drowned out by the sound of the waves and the breeze
that cooled her skin above the water.

“I love how turned on you are,” he said, watching her with an intensity that made
her self-conscious.

“It’s how you make me feel.” Like she could never get enough of this, of him.

“How’s that?” He slid another finger in, stretching her, filling her, but not nearly
enough.

“Like I’m the sexiest woman in the world.” She arched against him as his thumb picked
up speed along with his fingers.

“You are, babe.” He held her firmly around the waist as his fingers pumped into her,
his thumb repeatedly grazing her clit until she spasmed around his fingers.

Wave after wave of blissful contractions washed over her, leaving her clinging to
him or risk floating away. Not that he’d let that happen. And that was another anomaly
she couldn’t get her head around. For a guy she hardly knew, she trusted him. Trusted
the way he was with her. And she couldn’t say that about many people.

No expectations, no judgment, a freedom to be with him on her terms that made her
feel cherished.

He stared at her for so long, so intently, that she almost squirmed in his arms. “God,
you’re beautiful.”

She expected him to kiss her, to make some wickedly sexy remark to lighten the moment.
So when he hugged her close and buried his face in the crook of her neck, she was
left floundering, unable to do anything but return the hug.

Their quickly developed closeness terrified her. It was one thing to feel safe with
a guy, another to become so used to the feeling that she’d miss it when he left.

They had an
intimacy
she’d never had with another guy, a bond that made her crave more though it was futile.

Allegra had always been a pragmatist, but this jumble of emotion Jett stirred up made
the hidden romantic in her start dreaming crazy dreams.

Yep, this thing between them was getting more complicated by the minute, and Allegra
had no idea what to do about it.

…

They barely made it inside Jett’s room before he had her up against the wall. Ravishing
her mouth. Laving her skin. Touching her everywhere.

That foreplay in the ocean? Tame compared to the sensation drenching her body now.
Her scalp tingled as his fingers delved in her hair, tugging wildly. Her nipples ached,
desperate for his mouth. Her knees wobbled as he deliberately ground his erection
against her, increasing the pulsating need between her legs until it was all she could
focus on.

She needed him. Now.

Exploring her sexuality with Jett had been amazing so far, but he’d been the one calling
the shots. Time for her to demand and dominate.

“I don’t need the seduction right now.”

His hands paused in their leisurely exploration of her ass. “Then what do you need?”

“You. Inside me.” She placed a hand on his chest and shoved, laughing at his shocked
expression. “What’s the matter? Surprised?”

His eyes glowed with admiration. “I like your bossy side in the bedroom.” He held
his arms wide. “Go ahead, sweetheart, do your worst.”

She fiddled with the knotted towel at his waist and whipped it off in response. “Where
are your condoms?”