Bring the Heat Read online

  Margot Radcliffe lives in Columbus, Ohio, right now, but surrenders to wanderlust every couple of years, so it’s hard to say where she’ll end up next. Regardless of location, her apricot dog will be by her side while she writes fun romances that hopefully make readers laugh and space out for a bit. With heroines who aren’t afraid to take what they want and confident heroes who are up to a challenge, she loves creating complicated, modern love stories. She can be found @margotradcliffe on Twitter and @margot_radcliffe on Instagram.

  If you liked Bring the Heat, why not try

  The Pleasure Contract by Caitlin Crews

  Exposed by Cathryn Fox

  Enemies with Benefits by Zara Cox

  Also by Margot Radcliffe

  Friends with Benefits

  Sin City Seduction

  Sinfully Yours

  Discover more at Harlequin.com

  BRING THE HEAT

  MARGOT RADCLIFFE

  To Andy

  Because you walk Catfish

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Excerpt from Enemies with Benefits by Zara Cox

  CHAPTER ONE

  AFTER A QUICK flight from New York to Miami, Oliver Kent crossed the ramp from the marina’s dock onto his yacht, Chance. Sliding off his favorite leather Tom Ford boots, he set his bare feet down on the familiar teak with a deep sigh of relief. The simple action felt like he was not just shedding his shoes, but a part of his life he’d been waiting to jettison a long time ago, finally leaving the cold November weather behind for an endless summer.

  He padded across the spacious aft deck, the wood sun-warmed under his feet and the salty breeze off the water sifting through the hair he’d let air-dry in the limo he’d taken from his condo to the airport, the first careless act of a man set on a new path.

  Grinning to himself, he opened the glass doors to the aft cabin, smelling sweet, crisp air and happy that the air conditioner that he’d sprung an obscene amount of money for was doing its double duty of keeping the boat cool but also dehumidifying the air. When he’d worked on yachts after graduating from college, he’d always hated that inside the cabins inevitably had a stale smell to them, and he’d been hell-bent on making sure his own didn’t. Why would he pay millions of dollars for a yacht and yet have to put up with it smelling like a musty sewer?

  He traversed the thickly carpeted saloon that functioned as the main living space before continuing down the hallway that led to the front, or bow, of the boat. He took in the rest of the improvements and upgrades he’d made to the interior, his thoughts drifting back to his air-conditioning unit and the person who’d recommended the system to him in the first place. The one he was essentially waiting for and had been waiting for for a long time. A smile tugging his lips, he glanced back to the men following behind him with his luggage and opened a door. “This is my room,” he informed them. He took a peek into the master suite he’d designed and found it perfect, but he truly had one destination and one destination only in mind.

  Moving through the bowels of the boat, he saw the luxury guest rooms with digital toilets and silk duvets and the hallways lined with deep mahogany wood paneling polished to a high shine. He’d spared no expense in restoring the broken-down motor yacht he’d purchased two years ago on a whim and was loving seeing the final product after all this time. Loping up the stairs to the second floor, electricity sizzled in his veins as he crested the top step into the sky lounge, a place he anticipated spending a lot of time during the upcoming months, before heading farther toward the front of the boat to the bridge.

  The smell here was a little different from the rest of the boat, like oiled leather and polished steel from the control board where the captain—him—operated the ship. It smelled, in short, like his freedom. The one place where he was solely in charge of where he went and when. Standing in front of the wall of windows looking out onto the open water of the Atlantic Ocean, he blew out the breath he’d been holding since, hell, he was born if he were to be technical about it. He ran his hand over the glossy steel of the wheel, the high afternoon sun glinting off the perfect circle of deluxe craftsmanship. Christ, he loved sailing.

  For years, he’d waited for this moment, to be at the helm of his own ship, in charge of his destiny, to put the years of following the upper-crust edicts of his parents behind. No more stiff dinner parties with toothless smiles, no more manipulative dates set up by his scheming mother, no more endless hours on a grossly manicured golf course schmoozing with men who’d stab him in the back as soon as shake his hand. And in the space of the twenty minutes he’d been on board, it felt like that life was already thousands of miles away. Finally.

  Here on the water, life was uncomplicated. Just the way he wanted it.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” a soft, warm voice laughed from behind him.

  He turned to find Molly Madix standing in the doorway, sandy-blond hair pulled up into a ponytail that had already been blown this way and that by the wind off the water. The woman he’d loved once upon a time and had let go in an effort to protect her from the same life from which he’d only just now managed to shake loose.

  Stiffening his arms straight down at his sides, he then brought his left hand up to his forehead for a dramatic salute and grinned stupidly at her. “Did I hear the words, ‘o captain, my captain’?” he teased. “Since that’s what you have to call me now. I’m in charge of this fine vessel, Molly, and deserve your respect when you enter my control room.”

  “Um, you do know that the captain dies at the end of that poem, right?” she asked, quirking a light brow.

  “Always a smart-ass. Come here and give me a hug,” he growled, opening his arms for her.

  Crossing the small room, she stepped into his embrace and the euphoric sense that he’d made the right decision swept over him again, taking any residual doubts with it. He was where he belonged and the final piece of the puzzle was in his arms. It’d been painful all those years ago to end their relationship, but it had been for the best. His parents would have eaten her alive before sending her back home so fast they never would have had a chance. Even now the threat was there, but at least Oliver was out on his own. They no longer had a say in what he did, but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t try.

  “I’m so glad you came,” he told her, his face in her hair, the fresh scents of sun and citrus invading his nostrils.

  “Me, too,” she told him, leaning back to grin up at him.

  Not kissing her right then was hard, but today they were just old friends. Tomorrow and the days following, he hoped to be more, but for now, however, friends. Friends who knew what the other friend looked like naked, yes, but friends, nonetheless.

  He resisted the urge to brush a piece of hair out of her eyes, almost resenting it when she did it herself. “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded and he knew it was automatic, the thing people had to do to make other people feel more comfortable with their pain. “I’ve been better, but I’m managing. Thank you for this opportunity,” she said, shaking her head. “It couldn’t have come at a better time.”

  “Just tell me you’re not going to get back together with that asshole,” he said, trying to lock gazes with hers, but she looked awa
y, unable to hide the sadness in her brown eyes.

  “Of course not,” she laughed, but the sound was forced to his ears.

  “Molly,” Oliver told her, giving her shoulders a squeeze, “he did you dirty, so don’t let a little broken engagement ruin your vacation. Look at me—I’ve avoided three engagements myself and have never been better.”

  “No, I know that,” she said with another little laugh, “but we were together for a long time. It’s just hard.” She met his eyes, a corner of her mouth quirking. “And what do you mean by vacation? You’re putting me to work on this boat!”

  “You know you can work as much or as little as you’d like.” That was his plan, anyway.

  “I knew you were going to be a good boss.”

  “Oh, no, I’m driving the boat, but I’m not managing people. And you’re above deck now, baby,” he reminded her with a grin. “We’re doing this month in style.”

  Shaking her head at him, she planted herself in front of the wheel to gaze out onto the water just like he’d been doing when she’d entered the room.

  “Damn, it’s really beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice hushed as she took in the ocean stretched out in front of them, the sun rippling across the calm surface of the water. “I’ve been landlocked in Denver for so long I’d forgotten.”

  She turned to him then, a free and easy smile on her face that seemed erased of the bad memory of her ex. It had been the thing that inspired him to make this move now. Aimless for years and simply following his parents’ directives, seeing her broken engagement on social media had rattled loose a part of him he’d buried. The part that had bought this yacht in the first place, the one that needed to finally start over on his own terms, and Molly had been the last piece of the liberation. The one who’d gotten away, if he was being honest. The lovely, caring person his family would have obliterated if given the chance.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever be on a yacht again,” she said, her hand brushing over the control panel. “I’m ready to get greasy in the engine room again, though.”

  He laughed. Molly had been the boat engineer of the yachts they’d worked on after college, but he wanted this to be a vacation for her, too. She deserved it after that jerkbag of a fiancé cheated on her. Molly, who was sweet and kind and perfect, was the last person who deserved that kind of shabby treatment.

  “This job will be a piece of cake for you after working on satellites and rockets.”

  She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Why do you think I’m here?”

  Oliver laughed. “Come on,” he urged, motioning for her to follow him out the door. “Let’s check out the rest of the boat and get the provisions ordered. We sail at sunrise.”

  “I assume you’ll be in charge of the provisions,” she queried as he led her outside and back down to the aft deck toward the engine room, “or else we’ll be eating out of a jar of peanut butter with only vodka to drink.”

  “Sounds like a great vacation to me,” he shot back, grinning over his shoulder at her. “But yes, you can’t be trusted with any food items.”

  She shook her head, knowing her reputation preceded her. “So the motor is completely redone?” she asked as he opened the door to the heart of the boat.

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “I did my homework and found the most reliable manufacturer in the world so I don’t expect any problems.”

  “NavalTech?”

  He nodded.

  “Good boy,” she teased, giving him a jovial pat on the back.

  “I’m insulted that you would ever doubt me,” he told her, waving her through the doorway before him.

  The engine room floor was textured metal, cool on his bare feet. Molly whistled in approval when she saw the setup—shiny fuel tanks, fuel pumps, vents, propellers, and tons of other buttons and tubes he hadn’t a clue about but Molly would.

  Her hands drifted over the stainless steel tanks before she checked a couple gauges, then moved on to test levers and run vents, all the things that went along with her job. “We’re just doing a practice run tomorrow to sort out any possible kinks?”

  He’d wanted to just get out on open water, but they weren’t on a real schedule, so he could be flexible. Nodding, he asked, “So what do you think? Did I do okay?”

  “You have a gorgeous vessel here, Oliver.” Molly grinned and he felt himself returning it.

  “I knew you’d fall in love with my big vessel,” he teased.

  Shaking her head, she warned, “I hope my sleeping quarters measure up or I’m going to demand repayment like the Hardwicks did before Captain Kilmartin kicked them off the boat.”

  Oliver groaned, shutting the engine room door before following her back across the aft deck and to the guests’ quarters. “I’d blocked those people out, but what a nightmare. I’m so glad our chartering days are behind us.”

  “Same,” Molly confirmed as they entered the main saloon again.

  “It’s just you and me this time,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

  Molly rolled her eyes, but stopped short in the middle of the saloon, doing a three-sixty turn of the open space. “You just poured money into this thing, didn’t you?”

  She ran her hands over the polished cherry bar and he bit the inside of his lip. That was a thing he hadn’t forgotten about Molly Madix, how tactile a person she was. She made a living working with her hands and loved touching things, feeling the way they moved, the way they worked. As a result he felt every brush of her fingers as she worked her way around the space from the leather couches that anchored each side of the room to the polished cherry bar stocked with all manner of bad liquid decisions.

  “I poured a good amount,” he acknowledged. It wasn’t a dent in his net worth, but he’d wanted to make the boat special and he thought he’d done a good job of it. Over the two years he’d spent restoring it, he’d emailed Molly a handful of times about the engine, so when the time came for him to sail, he’d wanted her with him. And if that time happened to be on the heels of her ditching some ball-less fiancé, even better.

  Finally, she grinned at him hugely, wide and open and Molly. “Definitely worth it.”

  He grinned back, not able to help it. Everything just felt right around Molly. “You ready to see your room?”

  “I don’t get my pick?” she asked, raising a playful eyebrow.

  “Of course you can pick another one if you want an inferior room.” She shook her head at him before following him down the hallway to the first guest room. All the guest rooms were on the main floor, two on either side of the hallway with the master suite at the end. “You might also want to consider that they’re identical.”

  Entering the first room, Molly sighed as she took in the pale blue duvet and dark cherry furnishings. He hadn’t been super involved in the guest room decor, leaving it mostly to a trained designer, but he’d approved the final product. The first two bedrooms in the hallway were identical and had two full-size beds on either wall, their own bathroom, and automatic toilets, faucets, and voice command blackout shades for when the nights in the Caribbean got a little out of hand. The rooms had everything a guest might need, but just in case they didn’t, the crew were there to provide any request imaginable.

  When they got to the one he’d chosen for her, fresh hydrangeas and happy daisies (because he knew she liked them) sat in an etched crystal vase on the dresser while a basket of expensive lotions and soaps waited for her in a foil-wrapped gift box on the bathroom counter. A large television was mounted on the wall and a hidden mini fridge was set into a small writing desk stocked with the artisanal liquor from a small spirits company he’d recently invested in. He’d had it delivered to the boat yesterday before he’d arrived, along with the plush robe hanging in the closet that was embroidered with her initials in green.

  Molly let the fridge door close and met his eyes. �
��You’re right, I’ll keep this one.”

  He just shook his head. “The crew will unpack your stuff. Let’s go up to the sky deck and we can start on the provisioning.”

  “Can I not see the master suite?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “My apologies, Ms. Madix,” he drawled, holding his hand out for her to precede him down the hallway. “For not giving you a full tour.”

  “Forgiven, of course.” She smiled. “But it does make me think you’re hiding something in there. Did you bring a lady friend?”

  Oliver raised a brow. “No.” Then he opened the door and Molly inhaled audibly.

  “Whoa,” she breathed, her eyes darting around the room, taking in every inch of the space. The bed was raised up a step with an espresso leather headboard; pristine white carpet and mirrored ceilings enhanced the bright light shining in from the wall of windows that curved around the entire room. In a sitting area off to the side, a window seat was carved into the wall with fitted cushions for reading in front of a built-in bookshelf the same espresso color as his bed. The same pale blue duvet as the guest rooms was spread out over the king mattress, while the bathroom in all white marble felt modern and decadent.

  She sat down on the window seat, her fingers running over the chocolate velvet cushion, and awareness prickled the base of his neck. Molly was beautiful and he wanted her, but it’d only been a month since her breakup; it would be a real douchebag move to go for it with her so soon, but it didn’t mean the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Repeatedly. At least three times since she’d boarded the boat, but here in his bedroom where a box of condoms was stashed in his luggage it was harder to ignore.

  “You like it?”

  She nodded. “We’ve seen a lot of boats, but this window seat is a nice touch, Oliver.”

  She crossed the room and hoisted herself up on the bed, her bare feet dangling off the edge. She sighed and he closed his eyes at the piece of bare skin that appeared between the band of her cropped jeans and plain yellow T-shirt as her arms stretched above her head to fall onto the bed. “This is next-level comfort.”