ROMANCE: MY ALIEN KING: Scifi Alien Invasion Abduction Contemporary Romance (Paranormal Fantasy BBW Alien Contact Anthologies & Collections Book 1) (86 page)

Both gasping for air, they smiled happily at each other and kissed again, and then heard a slow hand clap from the galley doorway. Shocked, they turned as one to see Azure leaning against the wall, mock-applauding them.

I hate when she does that!
thought Page automatically, before they sprang apart and tried to recover themselves. Page was about to say something, but the tiny, silent girl vanished down the hallway without a word.

“Goddammit,” swore Page. “You know she’s off to tell the captain, and probably Anna too.”

“And so, Valentina,” muttered Brett.

“Huh?” asked Page.

“Nothing,” he replied. “And so what? It’s no big deal, we’re consenting adults.”

“But I will be fired.” Page made it a statement.

Nothing would be said before tomorrow. Samson would never embarrass a guest by admonishing a crew member in their presence so Brett and Page opted to spend the night in one of the small berths of the twin room. They made love many more times in those cramped quarters, and even as the crew called down that breakfast was served about mid-morning they were still lost in one another. They were due to cruise for another two nights, but the captain thought it prudent to return to shore, at least for the day, until his charter decided what they wanted to do. As the
Persephone
neared the docks, the call came over the radio for Page to come to the wheelhouse. Brett told her not to go, to just leave with him when they landed. She said she wanted to tough it out, and thank the captain for his kindness. She also wanted to say goodbye to the crew. “Plus,” she said as she lay on top of him, “leaving with you would seem a little seedy, don’t you think? Like, bye guys, I got what I wanted, now I’m off to spend his money!”

“You mean you won’t be?” smiled Brett, and she bit him playfully on the nipple. She got up and dressed, kissed Brett goodbye and headed off to the top of the boat.

Well, that’s that
, she thought to herself as she walked,
there goes your job and you’re fooling yourself if you think you’ll ever see him again. He won’t leave the boat, and he’ll have everything patched up with Anna before the charter’s over. Just forget it, Page, you don’t belong in each other’s worlds. Not anymore.
She knocked and entered the wheelhouse. As she suspected, Captain Samson reminded her of the rules and said he had no choice but to let her go.

“Off the record,” he said, “I know a little something about the heart wanting what the heart wants. And I think you’ll be okay, my dear.” He winked at her and Page hugged him, a tear in her eye.

Page was thankful she did not see any guests as she disembarked, particularly Anna. She figured they were all laying low because of the uncomfortable situation. The whole crew gathered to say goodbye, though, and she cried as she hugged them all, even Azure.

“I’m so sorry, Page,” said the young female deckhand. “I didn’t think you would actually get fired, and it looks like you actually like this guy. I feel terrible.” Page waved away the apologies and pulled her close.

She was almost balling as she kissed Lisa and Paul, so before she lost control she turned and strode off with her bags as they called after her about keeping in touch.

Page sought refuge about as far north as the little island of Aruba would let her. She took a job in a bar in Malmok Beach that offered a shared room to stay in while she worked there. She needed to be nowhere near Oranjestad when the
Persephone
finished her charter. She did not want to bump into Anna, or worse, Anna and Brett as they left the boat. On her fourth day there, the day after Brett’s charter had ended, she stared at a gin and tonic at the bar before her afternoon shift started and congratulated herself on being right.
Well done, you knew he wouldn’t come. Gold star for Page
, she said to herself, but at that moment a familiar voice sounded behind her:

“You know you’ve already cost me another twenty-five grand?”

She smiled and sipped her drink, but did not turn around. “Really? How so? I was here the whole time.” She sounded cool and confident, but her heart was pounding like it never had before.

“The rest of the trip was so terrible, with Anna being especially mean to the crew, that I had to tip an extra ten thousand to say sorry.” His fingers gently traced along the backs of her arms until his hands rested on hers.

“Well, it’s your own fault. You knew I was off limits and, come to think of it, so were you.”

“You’re right about that,” he said, spinning her to face him, “and when you said you were too hard to handle. Neither of us is off limits now.” Their eyes locked and, when they stared deep into each other’s hearts and souls, they knew they were meant to be together. “But are you still too hard for me to handle?” Brett kissed her long and hard, and Page moaned with the pleasure of it. She leaped up and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“You bet I am!” she laughed.

THE END

Brad Draper is bigger than life and twice as sexy. He plays by his own rules and doesn’t care what anyone thinks. He earned his startup stake in Rogue Enterprises by street racing motorcycles and he’s known for taking chances with his life and money, but never his heart. Until now.

When Brad first met Carrie he saw a plain woman, but then she fastened her big green eyes on his and smiled and he lost his head, and his heart. Finding out she was the daughter of his biggest competitor couldn’t dim the fiery attraction he felt for her either. Brad’s used to risking it all, but being with Carrie is the biggest risk he might ever take because he isn’t playing with power or money, he’s playing for her heart—and his.

Carrie Heeden doesn’t want anything to do with Brad. He’s irritating and far too gorgeous. He’s her father’s biggest competitor. He’s…sexy and charming and a heartbreaker playboy with too much of the player still in him.

She’s sure her father will squash him if she dates him, and she’s equally sure he’ll break her heart to smithereens but no matter how much she tries to stay away from him he just keeps trying, and he’s a man who knows and gets exactly what he wants, and her self-control is always in danger every time he is around.

In a world filled with high stakes business, and higher risks, Carrie and Brad will become players in the most high stakes game of all.

Love.

CHAPTER 1:

The chromed-out custom bike slid to a halt at the curb. The man astride it was a vision of black leather, blonde hair made deliciously messy thanks to the wind, and scruffy sexiness highlighted by a faint stubble of beard on his strong jaw.

Carrie, standing just inside the door of her tiny art studio, took an involuntary step back when he swung one long leg off the bike and headed toward her door. The sun glinted off his hair, and his lean hips, caught in a tight wrapping of denim, moved with an athletic grace that sent her heart into warp speeds.

He opened the door, making the little bell over it tinkle. She gulped and said, “Good morning.”

The aviator sunglasses slid down over his narrow nose. Two bright blue eyes peered at her quizzically. She knew what they saw. A woman who was slightly too tall and too thin; a mop of black hair cut short so its curls hung all around her elfish face; green eyes that were the best feature in an otherwise plain face.

He said, “I need a gift, and the person I need it for adores your work, for some reason.”

Wow. What an asshole. And a terse asshole at that. She forced a smile and told herself a sale was a sale, no matter how much of an asshole the customer was. She asked, “What of my work do they like the most?”

He hooked a finger around the bridge of the glasses and moved them up onto the top of his head. One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I have no idea. They didn’t say.”

Carrie sighed inwardly. He was probably in trouble with his girlfriend and trying to make nice. That was the likeliest scenario. Men like him, sexy and mysterious and obviously dangerous, were always in trouble with their girlfriends. And usually with good reason.

“Are they a regular client?” Her words held a caustic trace.

He said, “I would guess so.” He pointed to a lovely sculpture made of sand that had been turned into glass by a lightning strike and said, “Oh, that. I’ve seen something like that hanging around the office.”

She turned her head, fighting back a rising tide of anger. Her work was important to her, and personal. He’d just managed to reduce it to a
that
, and it made her want to toss him out on the street on his ass.

His tight, firm ass.

Heat stroked her cheeks. Yes, he was definitely having to buy something for a girlfriend he’d pissed off.  “That work is entitled
Storm Chaser
, and it is a natural work, not man-made.”

That was true, to a point. She’d planted the lightning rods on the shingle of beach near her father’s summer home in Rhode Island just to get that sculpture, but she didn’t bother explaining that. It was nature at work, with a little help from her.

“I see. How, precisely, did nature make it?”

He spoke in a low and smoky baritone. It sounded like late nights and too much whiskey, and Carrie guessed that was exactly the cause that roughened the edges of his voice. She cleared her throat, trying to disregard the sudden heat that swept over her body at his words and the piercing stare he leveled at her. “It’s made from lightning and sand.”

“So, glass.”

Her lips compressed. “Yes. Glass, precisely. Only glass that was formed by lightning rather than—”

“I’ll take it.”

She bit her lip. “It’s four thousand dollars.”

“Okay.”

Okay? Wow. He must have done something really terrible. She moved past him. The scent of faded cologne, leather, and wind met her nose. Her body tingled all over. She picked up the heavy piece and said, “The register’s over there.”

She walked toward it, trying not to look back. A new thought surfaced. What if he had just said he would take it to save face and was, at that moment, heading back out the door toward that growling and gritty bike of his?

The bell didn’t tinkle, and when she stepped behind the counter he walked up to it, one hand going to the back pocket of those sinfully tight jeans. She asked, “How do you intend to transport it? I mean…” her eyes went to the bike on the curb.

He sighed. “Shit. Sorry. Hadn’t even considered that. Do you deliver?”

“I do, in a limited area.” Carrie’s eyes scanned along his body again as he turned back to the windows and the bike beyond it. His body was a study in sharp angles and lean muscle. There was real power in his movements, and she had a sudden dizzying vision of him naked and moving, arching and rising again over her body. She looked down to hide the expression on her face and to give herself time to cool down.

“I need it delivered to Rogue Enterprise’s corporate building.”

She looked up quickly. “Rogue Enterprises?”

He asked, “Yes, you know of it?”

Her lips curved upward in a wide smile. “The Four Billionaires of the Apocalypse? Yeah I know of it.”

His lips twisted and then he burst into laughter. His laughter was warm and dark like melted fudge, and twice as seductive. “The Four Billionaires of the Apocalypse? Really?”

Carrie shrugged. “Rogue Enterprises tore down a huge section of the downtown not so long ago. They did it knowing that the area housed a whole lot of artists and creators, who, unfortunately, could not afford the skyrocketing rents those assholes put into place when they bought up the whole street. They’re utterly evil.”

He said, “You do know that they bought it to promote tourism?”

“Tell that to all the people who had to move out and take their wares to a section of town where they are guaranteed to be able to afford the rent, but not make sales.” Her retort was dry. She was shocked at herself. She didn’t usually get so angry, and she didn’t usually talk to men who looked like him so easily either.

He said, affably enough, “Yes, but if Rogue hadn’t bought it, their main competitor Heeden would have, and he’s a real shark.”

She took two long breaths. “I see. So when would you like this delivered?”

“Today. Around noon, if possible.”

Carrie glanced at her watch. It was only nine, she had just opened the shop, and such an early delivery would mean having to close at lunch time. Then again, given how little traffic she’d gotten lately and the price of the sculpture, it was a pretty safe bet that she’d better say yes or risk losing what might be her only sale today. Or that week.

“Fine.” She rang the sculpture and wrote out the receipt for delivery carefully. “Your total is—”

He whipped out a credit card. She said, “I’m going to need some ID and I need to know who I am delivering to as well.”

He pulled out a license and forked both it and the card over.  Carrie looked at the name and went pale. She glanced at it again, just to make sure she hadn’t lost her mind, and then back at his face, which wore a smug expression.

Brad Draper.

One of the four partners of Rogue Enterprises. One of the Four Billionaires of the Apocalypse. And he had just ridden right into her life and her shop on a motorcycle.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

She swiped the card quickly, deciding the worst he could do now was dispute the charges. She handed it back. His fingers met hers, and a slow burning heat ran along her skin. She said, “Thank you, Mr. Draper,” in as cool a voice as she could manage.

His grin got wider. “Thank you, Miss…” He trailed off, his eyes going to her bare fingers and then back to her face. His smile got wider.

“Heeden,” she supplied tightly. “Carrie Heeden.”

It was his turn to go pale. He said, “I see.”

She said, “Who am I delivering to?”

His lips twisted. “Dante Sterling.”

Then he turned around and walked out.