Heatwave

Excerpts from: Heatwave

The Blackout

I was sweating again. We had cranked up the air conditioner when we’d woken up, but it wasn’t working fast enough for me. I had wanted to keep it on all day while we were unconscious, but I was told that that was a waste of energy during the current “weather crisis”. So now I was suffering for listening to that jackass instead of doing what I wanted to do in the first place. That was not going to happen again anytime soon.

“I need a shower before we go to the pub,” I said.

I was standing in the kitchen with my lover, Taryn. We had agreed to meet a friend for drinks tonight, but it was so ungodly hot out that I dreaded leaving the house at all. Though to be honest, it wasn’t much of an improvement over being outside anyway.

“We are supposed to be conserving water. There is a drought going on, Mary Ann.”

“I don’t care. Let the mortals worry about their own damned water. I’m sweaty, and I think I’m starting to smell. And it’s your fault for turning off the damned air this morning. So go to hell.” I smiled then kissed his forehead. “Don’t worry. I will be quick.”

I ran through the shower as fast as I could, though because my hair is almost down to my ass and very curly, it does take a while to wash, condition and rinse, but I did my best to hurry. I dried off quickly, putting my hair up in the towel while I went to get dressed.

I skipped the makeup, knowing it would all just sweat off and leave streaks down my face if I even attempted it. So I just threw on a pair of jeans and a tank top, ran my hands through my hair in lieu of trying to brush the curls straight, then went to find Taryn so we could go.

“What time is Christian meeting us?”

“He’s already there,” he said. “Are you ready, or do you still have to dry your hair before we go?”

“It will probably be dry by time we get to the pub. August around here works better than a blow dryer.” I slung my purse over my shoulder and followed Taryn to the car.

Summer Spice

“Fuck. I swear it gets hotter by the minute.”

Avery Summers picked up the magazine on the little table next to her and fanned herself with it. The early afternoon sun hung like a blistering ball of fire in the sky straight overhead, broiling everything beneath its scorching rays. The magazine barely stirred the air.

They’d fallen in love with this cottage by the Gulf of Mexico, thinking the cool salt water air would help diffuse the heat of summer. Today, it just sat there like a big bath tub, mocking them. The waves rubbed against the shore with a lazy, almost indolent movement. A light summer breeze no more than a hint of moving air whispered over Avery’s smooth, tanned skin and stirred a few tendrils of her thick, raven-black hair, but it did little to cool her body.

“Summer’s supposed to be hot, luv.” Dylan Black sat up on the chaise next to hers, picked up his drink and dribbled it onto her naked, oiled flesh. “See if this cools you off.”

“Hey!” Avery jack-knifed to a sitting position and swatted at Dylan with the magazine. “That’s cold!”

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that always made her body clench. As long as they’d been together, the level of excitement had never dropped. Looking at him now, with the sun reflecting off his golden-streaked light brown hair, mischief dancing in his whiskey-coloured eyes and humour softening the rugged planes of his face, she felt her nipples beading and moisture gathering in her cunt. If she wasn’t careful, she’d leave a little puddle on the canvas of the chaise.

“Make up your mind here.”

“At least give a girl a little warning,” she protested, brushing at the drops with her fingertips.

“Why not take a dip in the water? We’re the only ones here. Nobody to bother us. Come on.” He reached for her hand. “Let’s go play.”

Their cottage, as Dylan called his “let’s get away for a few days and fuck” hideaway, was on a private beach sheltered by huge rock jetties on both sides. There was only one other cottage about five hundred yards away, also owned by Dylan, and the weekend tenant had not yet arrived.

Avery took his hand and rose to her feet, glancing over at the other cottage. “What if Tony shows up? He’s renting for the whole weekend, isn’t he?”

They were both completely nude, their favourite way to sunbathe.

“Let him drool over what a luscious piece I’ve captured. He does anyway.” He tugged at her hand. “Come on. That sand’s hot.”

Beauty on Fire

Sweat ran down Tamia’s skin in rivulets as the hot Australian summer beat down her back. She groaned as her chest ached with the need to take in air. Tamia had pushed herself too hard, run for too long. It was just another weekday morning. Another start to an already endless day.

Still, she ran with all her might, trying to outrun the visions that plagued her as she slept, but the act was useless. The litany of visions thundered through her mind with every step she took.

She couldn’t outrun the dreams…the visions that shook her to her core every night.

She couldn’t outrun him.

Tamia had been visiting him every night for years now. In two weeks she would turn twenty-nine. It would mark the eleventh year that she’d been dreaming of him, going to him as she slept.

The dreams were never the same. Yet, they were all similar. One thing connected every image…the golden man with bright greens eyes who promised to love her for eternity.

She jerked to a stop at the sight of the Now Open sign on the jewellery store’s brightly painted banner. She’d been running down the same city street for more than six months, and she’d never once noticed that there was a store being renovated.

“Damn, I’m getting worse,” Tamia muttered to herself as she wiped one arm across her forehead. Lately she had become more and more oblivious to the world around her. She spent way too much time daydreaming, waiting for the moment when she would fall asleep and return to her lover’s arms.

Someone moved beside her, drawing her attention. Tamia squinted at the blinding summer sun as she tried to move out the man’s way. Waves of heat swam across her vision splintered by the bright rays of the morning sun. She turned away, trying to avoid the bright lighting. It was then that she noticed the opals in the store’s front window.

Vampire's Captive

The moon bathed the ocean and the dilapidated carnival on the pier with its silvery glow and cast the forlorn woman in her long wedding gown in breathy, expectant shadows. Brett’s guilt washed over him for the hundredth time since seeing his ex-wife step out of her fancy, expensive heels and, without giving them a backward glance, stroll dejectedly onto the beach, her shoulders slumped and her back hunched forward. He’d wondered for a year, five months, two days, and five and a half hours—give or take a couple of minutes—if he’d done the right thing in divorcing Sierra.

He was an eternal vampire and she was a mortal, although a devastatingly lovely mortal with sleek dark hair that swept her waist and an innocent, beguiling expression that lured jaded, hardened men from their complacency about the fair sex. And yet the man she now loved hadn’t even bothered to make it to the altar today. He’d left her standing in the annex holding a wilting bouquet of pale pink roses and baby’s breath and a heart that had been hurt far too many times. Brett didn’t believe in God, but he tossed a short prayer into the air asking that Sierra forgive him for what he was about to do.

He spoke her name softly, like a dry leaf scudding along the sidewalk. “Sierra.”

She didn’t jump as he’d expected. She merely turned to gaze at him over her shoulder, then, without a spark of recognition, returned to her survey of the pounding waves and the invisible horizon darkness had obliterated. He knew he shouldn’t have come, should have stayed away from her, but how could he when she felt betrayed, as if her whole world had collapsed? First him and then this man with whom she’d thought she could spend the rest of her life.

He took a deep breath, seized her wrist, and spun her around to face him. “Look at me.”

She was exquisite in the off-the-shoulder gown. Bare neck, bare shoulders. She blinked several times. “What do you want, Brett?” she asked in resignation.

He heard the unspoken accusation, wanted to take her in his arms and make her promises of forever, but the tears rolling down her cheeks, one by lonely one, stopped him.

Summer Bliss

Phil had never seen him before. Every morning at seven and every afternoon at five, Phil walked his dog Charlie through San Diego’s Balboa Park. Charlie was a Scottish terrier, five years old and full of himself, so Phil was generally careful about letting him get too close to other dogs. He could be cantankerous at times, regardless of the other dog’s size or temperament. Invariably, however, he would run across the same people on a fairly regular basis. Sometimes they’d stop and say hello and pass the time of day for a few minutes while Charlie stuck his nose where he liked it. Other times, it was just a friendly nod or wave.

Phil loved the summertime in San Diego. The temperatures never got uncomfortable, coasting around the high seventies, and there was something warm and sensual about the gentle breezes that blew in from the bay. Perfect weather for wearing shorts and going shirtless through the park, enjoying the sight of so many young men similarly attired as they jogged by or lay tanning on the grassy knolls.

On this particular warm and balmy day, Phil saw a slim, blond haired man charging towards him, being led by a dog as big as a small horse. The man’s expression was one of fixed dismay as he approached Phil and Charlie, waving like mad, no doubt trying to signal his total lack of control over the animal that was practically pulling his arms out of their sockets.

“Shit,” Phil muttered, steering Charlie out of the way. Charlie, of course, had other ideas, such as going for the giant dog’s jugular.

“Charlie, stop!” Phil bent down to grab Charlie and lift him out of the danger zone when the other dog leapt on him, knocking him flat on his back. Charlie yelped, Phil swore, the big dog straddled him, leaking drool onto his bare chest, while the other man hauled on the leash, trying to pull off the mutt.

Liquid Heat

Dawn broke over the mountains in a breathtaking array of pastels as Paul Norris rounded a hairpin turn in the mountain road. Straight ahead, a mangled car wrapped around the carcass of a bloody deer. His adrenalin pumping, he swore and stomped on the breaks. His tires squealed and the acrid odour of rubber burnt his nostrils as his car skidded to a stop a few short feet from the vehicle. Jolted, he almost choked on the Tootsie Roll Pop on which he’d been sucking.

Spluttering, his throat raw, he spit the candy out the window and struggled to catch his breath. Scared a car would speed around the bend, he pulled over to the shoulder before cutting the engine. He dialled the sheriff, while praying the people inside were okay.

He peered through the window, and to his relief, he spied a lone man who appeared to be in one piece and stirring. Paul rapped his knuckles across the glass and raised his voice. “Hey, buddy, are you okay in there? Do you need help?”

The door groaned, but finally, the guy squeezed out. When a blue eyed, blond giant faced him, Paul sucked in a ragged breath, and his heart did several flips. His knees went weak. His stomach clenched. His throat constricted. Never before had he seen such a drop-dead gorgeous man.

The man squinted and frowned at a bruise growing dark on his arm. “I’ll live.” As if to test his theory, he gingerly rolled his shoulders and stretched his appendages one by one.

Birds cawed and forest animals grunted as Paul strained his ears, but he didn’t hear any signs of approaching traffic. Nervously, he glanced over his shoulder, then back to the Adonis. “We should wait in my car until the sheriff arrives.”

The guy peered beyond him as his gaze narrowed on his car. He swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

Paul’s heart fluttered, and his stomach did a crazy little spin. Doing his best not to tremble after they’d gotten in the vehicle, he thrust out his hand. “I’m Paul Norris. Did anyone warn you that deer have a crazy habit of jumping in front of cars ‘round these parts?”

Exotica

Take a deep breath.

Brooklyn O’Reilly stepped into the Exotica Island Resort lobby and slowly took in her surroundings. A sparkling chandelier hung high from the intricately designed trey ceiling. The walls were olive in colour, complementing the cream coloured marble floors beneath her favourite Jimmy Choos. She lowered her sunglasses and glanced around at the furnishings. A massive water wall sat in the centre of the waiting area, filling the space with tranquillity. Two overstuffed leather couches gave guests a comfortable place to wait though only one guest seemed to take note. Everything about the place looked expensive and rare adding to the exquisite décor.

To the left side was the check-in counter with a few women standing around, chatting with each other. The place really didn’t come across as a sex resort as Molly, her assistant had said it was, but nevertheless it eased her nerves a bit that she wasn’t the only woman visiting for the weekend.

Brooklyn dragged her one suitcase behind her as she stepped into line at the check-in counter. From what she’d gathered, Exotica Island cared most about their clients’ privacy. Reservations were under the strictest of confidence, and Brooklyn had no fear that her encounters might become public.

Encounters. Is that what she was really going to call a no-strings attached sexual weekend? Molly promised it wouldn’t be awkward. There wouldn’t be pressure, and she would have the time of her life if she’d let loose and allowed things to happen naturally. For the money she paid to visit this place, she’d better have the time of her life.

At thirty-five, she lived a prominent life as a high profile reporter, sharing her apartment with her younger sister when she visited Boston. Granted, Carrie-Ann was flight attendant and was hardly ever home, but their apartment was just as much hers as it was Brooklyn’s.

Brooklyn sighed. She’d never married. She didn’t have any kids. And more importantly she barely had time for a relationship. It wasn’t as if she’d wanted her life to turn out this way. She’d planned on having the American Dream with a husband and kids, but her career came first in her life. It always had and now she found herself booking a weekend at a sex resort that promised her every fantasy would become reality.

The woman in front of her moved, stirring Brooklyn’s attention back to the present. She stepped to the counter and smiled at the attendant. “Hi. Reservation for Brooklyn O’Reilly.”

Into the Blue

Samantha Jensen walked to the edge of the diving board. The water in the pool looked impossibly blue. Almost cerulean in colour. It called to her. Begged her to slip into its liquid paradise and escape the record high temperatures of the afternoon. The Santa Ana winds had picked up that morning and, mixed with the mid-summer humidity, made it hotter than usual. Unable to resist, she dove in headfirst. Into the blue.

The surge of water against her breasts gave her instant relief. While far from cool, it offered a momentary respite. She moved her body like a mermaid along the bottom and admired the intricate tile work. Above she watched the water ripple. Gold rays from the sun splashed the surface like splotches of paint. So peaceful. So serene. She’d always felt safe in the blue. It was a place she went in her mind as a child. No one bothered her there. No one made her play favourites. No one else was allowed in.

This place wasn’t her scene. But it was the need for change that had brought her here. Aware she couldn’t stay under any longer, she pumped her legs. Samantha came up for air and treaded water. Her arms and legs looked distorted beneath her as they moved in slow motion. She blinked away the water from her eyes and took in the scene around her. Miles of tanned and toned bodies in barely-there swimsuits. Gorgeous men and women who looked ready for a photo shoot rather than a pool party. With a sigh of envy, she eyed one woman in a pristine white bikini, and couldn’t help but admire her sleek tummy. Sure, she’d love to look that hot in a two-piece, but if it meant hours of excruciating crunches and giving up margaritas, then the effort hardly seemed worth it.

Her gaze averted to a tall, somewhat interesting blond. Not really her type, but he was easy on the eyes. As he moved out of her view, she was met with the sight of a bronze-skinned hottie in a slim-fitting pair of swim trunks. She sucked in her breath and felt the moisture gather between her thighs. Where had he been all her life?

Before she could fully appreciate his rock-solid bod of sin, her gal pal Chelsea swam up beside her.

“Flirt with anyone yet?” Chelsea asked in her sugary voice.

Samantha smiled at her always perky, always horny copper-haired friend.

“Nope, not yet. I’m checking things out first.”

Chelsea slicked back her wet hair and sent a shower of droplets everywhere. “Quite the attractive crowd, don’t you think? The guys look like they stepped right off the pages of a swimsuit calendar.”