Downunder Heat
Downunder Heat
ISBN #
978-1-78430-839-1
©Copyright Alysha Ellis 2015
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright October 2015
Edited by
Stacey Birkel and Jennifer Douglas
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing,
Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Totally Sizzling
and a
Sexometer
of
2.
DOWNUNDER HEAT
Alysha Ellis
Hot sun, hot sand and a hot, hot man. Who says an older woman can’t have adventure?
Kitty Benson left her home in the UK to find the warmth of the sun ‘Downunder’. She never expected the journey to include a life-threatening experience. A toned, tanned Adonis—Zakk—rescues Kitty from a dangerous rip current her first day at the beach. Alive and sun-kissed by the downunder heat, when Kitty meets her rescuer again, the spark that piqued her interest turns to flames…
Dedication
To the real Kitty. Thanks for the inspiration, Caroline.
Trademarks Acknowledgment
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Neighbors:
Network Ten Australia
Jaws:
Universal Studios
Skype: Skype, Inc.
British Airways: International Consolidated Airlines Group, S.A.
Chapter One
Kitty dropped her bag on the hot concrete of the platform, spread her arms and took a deep breath. Even here, inside the railway station, the salty scent of the sea wafted in on the warm breeze. “All you doom and gloom naysayers are missing out on this,” she crowed to herself. “Tell me I’m mad now, Aunty Joyce.” Who cared if she’d chucked in a perfectly good job? It was totally worth it already.
The sun etched sharp lines of light and shadow on the city streets, and even at six p.m. on an Australian summer evening, the heat felt solid, like walking into a wall. Twenty-four—or was it thirty-six—hours ago? The fatigue clogging her brain left her way too tired to compute the changes in time zones—she’d been wrapped in a heavy woolen coat, shivering her way to Heathrow. Now a thin film of sweat stuck her shirt to her skin.
The slight discomfort didn’t matter. Kitty was gloriously, delightfully
warm
.
Even the effort of dragging her case along behind her as she set off to find her new apartment didn’t dim her spirits. An avenue of exotic, red-flowered trees, their branches linked overhead, created a cool, shaded tunnel. People in sleeveless shirts and shorts strolled past, smiling and talking. Even the sparrows hopping about stealing crumbs looked happier here than they did at home.
The real estate agent’s instructions were easy to follow—the envelope containing the key sat in the letterbox, right where the agent had promised it would be. Kitty grinned. Everything was perfect. “Kitty, my girl, this was the best decision you have
ever
made.”
The apartment was more than big enough for her needs, with a living room, a separate galley kitchen, a bathroom and a bedroom, all fully furnished. Throwing open the windows let in a fresh sea breeze that blew away the stuffiness from the room. A cool shower did the same for her. She dried herself on a fluffy white towel from the pile of supplied linen, threw a sheet onto the bed, fell face first onto it and slept.
* * * *
Thirteen hours later, she opened her eyes and stared grittily at the unfamiliar walls. Memory rushed back. Australia. Adventure. Definitely
not
sleep. The beach was only four blocks away. There were things she needed to buy, but not when crystal clear water, golden sand and sunshine beckoned. The shopping could wait. Kitty couldn’t.
Getting out of bed and dressed took only minutes. Her pace didn’t slow until she reached the steps that led down to the shore. The sun shone, the ocean sparkled, tiny waves whispered against the shore and a cool breeze barely ruffled her hair. The sigh that escaped her lips was pure contentment.
A crowd of teenagers swept past her, each one of them bending to pull the shoes from their feet in order to squeak barefoot across the sand.
Assuming that was how it was done, Kitty bent from the knees—because there was no way she was going to shove her middle-aged bum up in the air for people to snigger at—kicked off her leather sandals and put them in her bag. She plodded down the stairs to take her first step onto an Australian beach…
“Ouch!” The sand was so hot it burned! Her feet did an insane little dance, lifting up, one after another, apparently trying to perfect the art of levitation. “Move, woman,” she ordered herself. “While you still have some skin left.”
Her bizarre shuffle and accompanying chant continued across the beach. ”Ouch!” Hop. “Ouch!” Hop. “Ouch!”
Closer to the water, where the hard packed surface retained a little moisture, her tortured feet at last found cool relief.
How could Australians stand it? They strolled along as easily as if they were crossing the living room carpet.
They didn’t seem to use sun loungers or chairs either. People lay stretched out on the sand, glistening bodies soaking up the sun. A woman with her two children stopped next to her, pulled three towels out of a bag and arranged them on the sand. So, that was how it was done. It looked easy enough. Strolling across the sand like a local might have defeated her, but dealing with a piece of cloth couldn’t be that hard.
With a flick of the wrist, she tossed her towel onto the sand, but, instead of settling lazily into a long strip like everyone else’s, it bunched up into a sorry-looking bundle. Sighing, Kitty knelt down and smoothed it out with her hands.
Now to spread out and soak up that sun.
Unfortunately, if her head and arms were on the towel, most of the rest of her ended up on the sand. The beach was lovely, but being covered in sticky golden grains…not so much.
A quick glance around pointed out a significant difference between Kitty and the people lying near her. They lay on multi-colored rectangles the size of blankets! Hers was nothing but a small, white, sadly inadequate bath towel.
Around her, people casually stripped down to their bathers as if they did it every day of their lives. Easy to be relaxed about revealing your body when it was long, lean and tanned to a golden brown, Kitty thought bitterly, rather than so white she could almost be considered blue and—she had to be honest—somewhat soft and pudgy.
Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she unzipped her skirt and wriggled it down her hips, then dragged the top off over her head. No one pointed and laughed so she let go the breath she’d been holding.
A quick scurry took her straight down into the water, looking neither right nor left until she was immersed up to her hips.
Like liquid silk, the cool wash of the ocean smoothed over and around her, easing away the heat and the tension. With spread arms, she let her body tumble backwards into the cradling sea.
Yes
,
oh yes
. This was what she had traveled so far to find.
A wave, on its way to spatter on the shore in a spray of foamy ripples, lifted her. The movement was slight, the sea calm. The peaceful rocking soothed her soul.
The distant sound of a whistle and voices vaguely impinged on her consciousness, but she ignored them. Tranquility superseded curiosity, especially today.
A wavelet splashed against her face, pulling her out of her dreamy state.
Time to head back in.
But when she rolled over and took a quick look landwards to orientate herself, her muscles stiffened and she sank. A panicked kick brought her, spluttering and coughing, back to the surface. Her heart raced. How had she drifted so far out in such a short time? There had been no big waves, no undertow.
As she looked, the beach receded farther, the people splashing in the waves appearing smaller and smaller. The strip of sand looked far too narrow and far too distant. Behind her stretched the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean. There were no other swimmers near her. No boats.
“I guess it’s sink or swim,” she told herself. “So swim it is. All those laps of the pool at home can’t have been a total waste of time.” Head down, arms churning, she began the long journey back to shore.
After a few minutes, she raised her head. The beach looked almost as far away as it had when she’d started. Fear gnawed at the edges of her mind and sent a rush of adrenaline racing through her body, giving her the energy to keep fighting.
Her arms grew heavy and her breath came in choppy gasps, salt water rasping into her throat each time she breathed in. From somewhere in her memory came the idea that she should raise her arms above her head to signal distress, but she couldn’t do that without sinking, and in any case no one back on shore would be able to see her. There was nothing to do but swim.
“I…am…not…drowning. I…am…not…drowning,” she said, her words keeping time with the lift, swing, dive and drag of her arms.
“Pleased to hear that,” a deep Australian male voice said. “But I’d like you to climb on board the surf ski anyway.”
A man—a ridiculous red and yellow cap on his head, his legs astride a long, narrow watercraft—held out a hand to her. “Come on, hop on and we’ll get you out of this rip.”
He reached over, hauled her up out of the water and settled her on her stomach in front of him on the bright yellow board. He leaned over her, his chest against her bottom, his strong arms churning the water, propelling the board, not in toward the beach as she’d expected, but parallel to it.
