Feel the Heat: A Contemporary Romance Anthology (84 page)

T
he original plan
had been to take a taxi to their resort because Stephen hadn’t been interested in exploring the rest of the island. As soon as Logan heard that, he’d gotten on the phone and organized a rental car.

The Miralinda International Airport was so small that once they cleared customs at the small hut on the edge of the tarmac, Logan could go one way to the rental car desk and Tori could go the other to the luggage pick-up, and they never lost sight of each other.

The downside of arriving at a sleepy little island airport was that nothing went quickly. Their suitcases came off the airplane, but then sat on a cart for a while. Tori pulled out her sunglasses and slipped them on to protect her eyes from the bright sun.

A brightly painted sign nearby caught her attention.
Bière
. Oh, yes, a beer sounded
divine
in this heat. Of course, they still had a drive to the resort, where they could get all the beer they wanted, and probably in any and all languages. French. Spanish. English. Jilted-bride-ese.

That would be a hiccuping sniffle if the last twenty-four hours would be any indication.

She wandered over to the sign—and the two men standing behind it, next to an ice-filled cooler. “Two…deux bière, s'il vous plaît.”

They laughed, and one dug into the cooler while the other gave her a lazy wink. “You are American, yes?”

“Yes.” She blushed. “I’m sorry, my French is non-existent.”

“That’s okay. Our English is…very existent.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” She handed over her carefully counted-out money. “Keep the change.”

He flashed her another bright white smile and handed her two bottles of lemonade as well. “For the car ride.”

“The car—?” Her question was cut off as Logan’s arm slid around her shoulders.

With his free hand, he was flipping the rental car keys flipping around his index finger.

She grinned. “Right. Hey, you. I got us some drinks.”

Logan kissed her gently on the temple. “Perfect.”

An unexpected warmth flooded through her. Yes, it was. Not at all what she expected to be doing today, but piling in a car with Logan, heading off on an adventure? She couldn’t think of a better silver lining to the storm of being left at the altar.

* * *

A
s they drove away
from the airport, Logan felt Tori turn into a completely different woman beside him. The high-stress, high-maintenance bride fall away, piece by piece, and when they pulled up at the resort a half-hour later, it was his best friend who bounded out of the car and greeted the valet and the doorman with a cheerful smile.

He passed off the keys, then carried their suitcases through the lobby to the check-in desk.

“Welcome to Le Soleil de Miralinda, how may I help you?” the clerk asked in a light French accent.

“I’m Victoria Fletcher and this is Logan Dwyer. We have a reservation. I called about it yesterday.”

The clerk nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything about the sudden change in the guest names or the request for new accommodations. “Yes, we have a two-bedroom suite ready for you, Ms. Fletcher.” He handed over a map and pointed out their rooms, which were actually in a standalone villa on the edge of the ocean.

Sweet upgrade.

“The restaurants are here, and here, and the bar is in this main building, just around the corner. It’s open until midnight each night, sometimes later, depending on how many guests are still awake. Breakfast is served to your rooms and included in your rate. The rest of the day is yours to do with as you wish. Our chefs are excellent, of course, but we can also recommend a number of smaller cafes in town if you’d prefer something more casual.”

Tori glanced at Logan, and he nodded. “Casual sounds good for tonight, anyway.”

The clerk gave them two recommendations, then handed over their room keys and they headed through the main building and stepped out into a luxuriously landscaped courtyard. In one direction a few larger buildings stood, and in the other, a series of villas. That’s where their rooms were. On the way, they passed a couple swimming pools. The party one with a swim-up bar, an infinity pool that overlooked the ocean and spilled down to another pool on a lower level. And just steps from their villa door, a sunken, secluded hot tub that made Logan think of late night drinks and lopsided smiles. Moonlight and damp strands of hair, clinging to rosy cheeks.

“This place is fantastic,” Tori said, breaking into his suddenly inappropriate thoughts.

“Yeah,” he said, giving his head a shake. “Amazing.”

“We’ll have to try out that hot tub later,” she said as she slid her key into the lock.

Logan choked on a cough. “Mmm.”

“Not your thing?” She pushed the door open and gasped, saving him from answering the question. “Oh. My…Wow.”

Wow was right. The villa was small, but the view was out of this world. Full-length windows—no, full-length slider doors, he realized as they moved closer—led out to a verandah that overlooked a private-ish beach and the clearest turquoise water he’d ever laid eyes on.

And given how many private beaches he’d done an amphibious assault on, that was saying something. Although not being shot at definitely improved the view.

He set the suitcases in front of the two side-by-side bedroom doors and joined her in front of the wall of glass. “What do you want to do first? Swimming? Veg on the verandah and read for a bit? Explore?”

She twirled around. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth and her eyes were bright. She shrugged. “I don’t know. Yes. All of that.”

But Logan knew better than to expect this happy high to last very long. It wouldn’t take long for her sadness to cycle back. This entire week had to be about maintaining a steady, level support for Tori. Whatever she needed, he’d be there for her.

“How about we settle into our rooms, then go for a walk down the beach? And then come back here to regroup before we go find some dinner. Maybe take a nap.”

She squared her shoulders and frowned gently. “You want to take a nap?”

“Uh… Sure.”

“Or are you treating me with kid gloves?”

He laughed. “Well, yeah. That, too.” He paused. “That entirely. No, I don’t need a nap. But at some point, you’re going to crash, and that’s okay.”

“At some point, I’m also going to want to go dancing and get drunk. You’re not going to stop me, are you?”

“Hell, no.” Maybe stand in front of her so no drunken tourists could get too close… “I’m not going to stop you from doing anything you want to do. But I am going to encourage you gently to take a knee from time to time.”

“Is that football? You know I don’t do football references.”

“One of the many things I love about you—zero competition for what we watch on Sundays.” He winked at her. “Yes, it’s a football reference. I’ve never used that on you before? I use it on my troops all the time. It means—”

“Take a break. I get it.” She crossed her arms, clearly offended—albeit not very seriously—by the suggestion that she wasn’t capable of rolling with the punches.

No, he wouldn’t have used it on her before. She was always a force of nature, her energy levels rivaling his even after a hundred hour work week. But this was an exceptional circumstance.

He held up his hand and wiggled his pinky finger at her. “I promise you, no excessive coddling. Let’s unpack, then hit the beach.”

She held her hand up, her fingers sliding against his before her baby finger twisted around his pinky and they shook on it. He ignored the electric spark he always felt when she touched him. He’d given up the right to indulge in that sensation when he joined the Navy and moved across the country.

“You swear?” she asked softly, her eyes extra-big and extra-blue.

In that moment, he’d have promised her absolutely anything she wanted. So that made it just like every other moment together. He nodded. “I swear.”

T
ori was killing
him and she didn’t even know it. She’d come out of her room wearing what looked like a long sleeveless tank top that covered her from collarbone down to her knees, but when they hit the beach, she pulled it off and revealed an electric blue bikini.

It was actually on the conservative side, with a high waist, but there were cutouts along the sides and the top did up with a complicated network of knots in the back that made his fingers itch.

Hottest spandex ever, and mostly because she wore it like it was a dive suit. Totally utilitarian. And she was oblivious to the effect it had on him as she ran into the ocean ahead of him—and then he had to charge past her, because of the effect it had. Hard-ons were best hidden under the surf.

Stifling his desire wasn’t new, so he ran through drill orders in his head as he swam away from shore, hard and fast. Tori kept up nicely, and when he dove underwater and spun around to find her, she wasn’t far behind him.

He resurfaced in her path and she splashed him.

“Another twenty yards and I’ve have caught you,” she teased.

“You always were good at the long distances.” He nodded toward the resort. “Race you back to shore?”

Instead of answering, she tucked her head and rolled into the water, planting her feet against his chest and pushing off into a flip turn. He rocked back, then dove underwater to gain the lost ground.

She was good, but he was better. By the time they reached shallow water again, he was beside her. He could pull past, but he didn’t want to. Landing in the surf at the same time, laughing hysterically, was infinitely superior to winning.

“How long has it been since we did that?” she asked, gasping for air as she rolled onto her back, her elbows planted in the wet sand.

He assumed the same position beside her and crossed his legs, watching the turquoise water turn into white surf around their bodies. Her legs, curvy and distractingly smooth next to his. That electric blue suit right next to his hip. He blinked and refocused his attention on the conversation. “Ten years?”

“At least. Maybe at the lake my first summer of college?”

They’d been on a competitive swim team all the way through high school. Then Logan joined the Navy, all with an eye to eventually joining the SEAL teams, and Tori had gone to university. “Did I come home that first summer? I don’t think so. I was on basic training and then I had leave, but you were at your grandparents’ cottage. I think it was the summer after that. You’d just decided to major in math, remember? And I’d given you such a hard time about that.”

* * *

T
ori tipped
her head back and laughed. Man, she’d forgotten about that. “Yeah. I swore up and down that it would lead me to a real career one day and you couldn’t see how.”

“I was all ready to buy you a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches.”

She’d used that degree nicely, though. Now she was the CFO for a tech start-up in Atlanta. “Most of the time I wear geeky graphic t-shirts under my suit jackets,” she said. “Although I’m not sure that’s better.”

“I like graphic tees,” he said, kind of roughly, and she glanced over at him expecting to see something like gentle understanding on his face because that’s what Logan did so well. But he wasn’t even looking at her, he was staring out at the horizon.

“Hey, you wanna go back to the villa or something?” She rolled toward him and bumped into his arm. “Lying around in the ocean probably isn’t a treat for you.”

He smiled, the curve of his mouth softening the hard, granite lines of his profile. “This is a treat.”

“You still loving it?”

She knew he understood she meant his military service. She asked him the same question every time he came home. He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good.” And it was good. It was great. But it still hurt a little that she’d lost her best friend to a greater good.

Maybe it had been a mistake not to follow him out to the west coast. But he’d never extended that invitation. She’d danced around it, and in the end, decided to stay in Georgia—a decision that had felt right at the time. Hindsight was a different story, and she knew being dumped was playing into that in a big way. After graduating, she’d considered California again, but the cost of living and precarious nature of the high-tech sector had kept her cautious self looking for work closer to home.

Less fancy, more stable. That was Tori’s life motto.

Of course, look where it had dumped her in the end.
Dumped
. Ha. Freudian slip.

There was some important meaning to be found in the fact that the first exotic vacation she’d been able to go on happened because of Stephen, but also without him. That it took a dozen years for her and Logan to finally take a wild adventure together.

And all it cost was a broken heart and a much skinnier savings account.

Damn it. She could feel herself sliding into sadness again. The corners of her mouth tugged down and she ducked her head, hiding her face beside Logan’s shoulder.
Get it together, Fletcher
.

“None of that,” he said quietly, rolling to face her—and taking her hiding spot away from her at the same time. He touched his fingers to her chin and lifted her face gently until she was looking at him. “If you’re going to get sad again, we’ll need ice cream or alcohol to deal.”

She started to laugh, but it died feebly on her lips.

Logan’s normally steady gray eyes were stormy and dark, and something like anger pulsed in their depths.

Enough whining. And as long as she was looking at Logan, that sadness truly wasn’t there. It was only when she let her second-guessing thoughts intrude. But when he held her gaze like she was truly special, like he genuinely wanted to be here with her…nothing else mattered.

Not even her ex-fiancé.

The realization was a splash of cold water on overheated skin. She jerked back and Logan reached for her, but she was already scrambling to her feet.

“Alcohol or ice cream?” he called as he followed her back up the beach toward the villa.

Both. Definitely both.