FEEL THE HEAT By Rachel Carrington Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.com Published by Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.com 8190 W. Deer Valley Road, Peoria, AZ 85382 U.S.A. First e-published by Triskelion Publishing First e-publishing July 2004 ISBN 1-932866-20-5 Copyright © Rachel Carrington 2004 All rights reserved. Cover art by Triskelion Publishing PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Chapter One Sex arrived at his front door shortly after midnight Rhad looked down at the curvaceous brunette lying across the front steps of his weather-beaten castle. In the lacy slip and stiletto heels, there could be no other reason for the presentation of such a gorgeous offering. His body surged to life, responding to the sight with a joyful leap. He knelt down next to the goddess and pressed his palm to her face. Her cheek was icily cold, her lips blue. Frowning, Rhad scooped her into his arms and carried her over the threshold and into the dimly lit foyer. As he moved down the carpeted corridors, he trained his mind to perform the tasks he needed. Run the bath water. Turn down the blankets in the guest bedroom and dim the lights. The woman weighed no more than a glass of his favorite Merlot and by the time he reached the upstairs bathroom, he hadn’t expended as much energy as it took to walk to the backyard garden. The steam from the hot water coated the mirror and condensation ran in rivulets down the porcelain tiles. Rhad placed the woman on the vanity stool and checked the temperature in the water. She stirred and made a mumbling noise. Rhad turned to look at her and immediately noticed the slip she wore had worked its way up her thigh. Her creamy, smooth thigh. Damn. With more haste than neatness, he disrobed her and muttering ancient prayers below his breath, he lowered her into the water. “Master Valentine!” came the horrified voice of his housekeeper. Rhad stood and whirled around, feeling like he’d just been caught necking behind the schoolhouse. He grinned at the thought. These days, necking had an entirely different connotation. “Mrs. Morgan, I found this woman on the front stoop. She was frozen solid, wearing no more than a scrap of lace.” “And you saved her out of the kindness of your heart,” the portly woman snapped in response, two spots of color riding high on her cheeks. Scuffling into the bathroom, she shooed Rhad out of the way. “I’ll take over from here.” Rhad tossed a longing look over his shoulder and caught a quick, unfulfilled look of full breasts bouncing atop foamy bubbles. He conjured up thoughts of cold showers and icy boxer shorts as he mumbled his way back down the stairs. *** Mischa woke with a start, her heart slamming against her chest and a dry taste in her mouth. Fear engulfed her and she pressed her palms against her temples. Think, Mischa, think. Where are you? What are you doing here? She scanned the room. Paneled walls. Thick, Oriental rugs and dark, masculine furniture gave the room a distinct, manly look. The overhead fan offered a cool breeze on her naked skin. Naked skin? Mischa touched her right shoulder. Her bare, right shoulder. Curses welled up inside her head, but decorum wouldn’t allow her to breathe them aloud even though she was alone. She peeked beneath the blankets. More bare skin. Memory came crashing back. She’d been searching for Riana, her baby sister who’d always been a bit flighty. This wasn’t the first time she’d gone on a wild goose chase for her twenty-two-year-old sister. Riana, though a sweet girl, was high maintenance. The bedroom door creaked open and Mischa dragged the comforter up to the chin and peered over the top. “Who’s there?” He walked into the room and Mischa swore she heard the angels sing. She’d never seen a man like him. She’d heard about him, how beautiful he was, but men weren’t really beautiful. At least, she hadn’t thought so. . .until now. Rhad Valentine had cornered the market on beauty. With raven hair flowing past his shoulders, high cheekbones, and eyes the color of Scotland’s hills, he was an artist’s dream. A dark blue sweater covered broad shoulders and the Levis he wore clung to his masculine hips and hugged him in all the right places. In spite of herself, Mischa’s eyes drifted to those places more than once. Then she shot her gaze back to the perfect face and saw the sensual lips lift in a half-smile. Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you and why am I here?” He strolled toward her and Mischa knew she’d never seen a man move with such grace. Like a panther. Just as dark and dangerous. “You do not remember how you arrived at my front door last evening?” The smoothly cultured voice reminded her of hot, sweaty nights and tangled limbs . . in a room so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Mischa pushed the tangled mass of curls out of her face and shook her head. “I don’t remember much until I woke up in a bedroom I don’t recognize.” She clutched the comforter tighter. “Without my clothes.” The half-smile became a full one. “Then you really do not recall your arrival.” Mischa was sure she didn’t want an answer to her next question, but she asked anyway. “What do you mean?” “You arrived wearing very little. Nothing more than a scrappy piece of lace and high heels.” Her heart increased its rhythm. “”You’re lying.” Dark eyebrows rose. “I assure you, I do not lie.” “Why don’t I believe that?” He seated himself on the edge of the bed. “I have no idea since we have not met before now.” He touched her knee through the thickness of the blankets. “Or have we?” She drew her feet to one side of the bed away from his reach. “No, we have not met and please don’t touch me.” Why did she suddenly feel so hot? She pressed one hand against her cheek and her palm burned. What was happening and why was Rhad Valentine staring at her lips like that? “Look, Mr. Valentine, I don’t know how I ended up on your front step. I can only assume it was an accident.” “An accident. I see.” Rhad pushed himself to his feet. With his impressive height, he towered over her. “And might I ask how you know my name?” Damn. She’d never been good at keeping secrets. “I’m not sure.” He pressed his hands against the mattress too close for comfort. “You are not a very good liar.” His darkness reached out to her and threatened to drag her under. She clenched both hands into the plump, dark comforter. Suddenly, the air grew thicker, making it difficult to breathe. He invaded her personal space without apology. “Please do not sit so close to me,” she whispered. He leaned in even closer. “Do I make you nervous?” She scooted to the opposite edge of the bed. “I’d like my clothes back now and I’d like to leave.” ”As I told you, you did not arrive in proper clothing, but, I have sent my housekeeper to acquire more appropriate attire for you. She should return shortly. In the meantime, breakfast is being prepared and a tray will be brought to you.” “I’m not hungry.” Rhad stood with lithe grace Mischa envied. “Do not be petulant, my darling. You need to eat to build your strength. When I held you in my arms last night, I barely knew you were there.” He strolled to the door. “When you have eaten and Mrs. Morgan has returned with the clothes, you will be shown to the sunroom. I will meet you there.” “I have no intention of staying.” She didn’t draw attention to the endearment he’d used. His hand gripped the doorknob. “We will discuss this later.” Mischa recognized a patronizing tone when she heard one . . . like at that precise moment. Her blood sizzled. “No. We will discuss it now.” Rhad turned his head toward her and red rimmed his beautiful, green eyes. “Do not make the mistake of assuming you make the rules, Mischa.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “How do you know my name?” He gave her a sly wink. “I’m not sure.” He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. Mischa scrambled out of the bed and wrapped the sheet around her toga-style. Her toes sank into the plush carpeting as she raced around the room, looking for something to clothe herself in. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she’d come here. Rhad Valentine had few friends but enemies by the score, none of which had ever gotten the better of him. Swallowing her hysteria, Mischa pulled the drawers out of the antique armoire. She stepped over the fallen pile of wood and ran to the closet, but the emptiness echoed when she opened the door. Nothing hung from the hangers and even the shelves were bare. “Damn,” she whispered and whirled around, clamping her hands on her hips. Then a shadow fell across her path and Mischa gasped. “You left,” she accused. Rhad pushed the door shut with a simple flick of his wrist. “And I came back.” Mischa backed up until her spine connected with the closet door. “Why?” Rhad held up a bag. “My housekeeper brought these clothes for you. I told her I would deliver them.” “On the off chance of seeing me naked?” Mischa shot him a dirty look. “That would have been one of the perks, yes.” “Too bad I’m prepared for men like y...
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