If You Can't Stand the Heat... (Harlequin Kiss) Read Free

impatience on Jack’s face, caught his tapping foot. The muscles in his arms bulged as he folded them across his chest. Although the feed was in black and white she knew that his eyes were hazel...sometimes brown, sometimes green, gold, always compelling. Right now they were blazing with a combination of frustration, exhaustion and a very healthy dose of annoyance.
    He was different from the twenty-four-year-old she’d met a decade ago. Older, harder, a bit damaged. Ellie felt an unfamiliar buzz in her womb and cocked her head as attraction skittered through her veins and caused her heartbeat to fuzz...
    She tossed her mobile onto her desk and pushed her chair back as she stood up and blew out a breath.
    It didn’t matter that he was tall, built and had a sexy face that could stop traffic, she lectured herself. Crazy came in all packages.
    * * *
    ‘Jack?’
    Jack Chapman, standing in the front section of the bakery—aqua stripes on the walls, black checked floors, white cabinets, a sunshine-yellow surfboard—whirled around at the low, melodious voice and blinked. Then blinked again. He knew he was tired, but this was ridiculous...
    He’d been expecting the awkward, overweight, shy girl from Mitch’s wedding not this... babe ! This tropical, colourful, radiant, riveting, dazzling babe. With a capital B. In bold and italics.
    Waist-length black hair streaked with purple and green stripes, milk-saturated coffee skin, vivid blue eyes and her father’s pugnacious chin.
    And slim, curvy legs that went up to her ears.
    ‘Hi, I’m Ellie. Mitchell has asked me to put you up for the night.’
    His pulse kicked up as he struggled to find his words. He eventually managed to spit a couple out. ‘I’m grateful. Thank you.’
    Whoa! Jack dropped his pack to the floor and resisted the impulse to put his hand on his heart to check if it was okay. With his history...
    You are not having a heart attack, you moron! Major overreaction here, dude, cool your jets!
    So she wasn’t who he’d been expecting? In his line of work little was as expected, so why was his heart jumping and his mouth dry?
    Jack rocked on his heels, looked around and tried not to act like a gauche teenager. ‘This is a really nice place. Do you own it?’
    Ellie looked around and the corners of her mouth tipped up. ‘Yep. My mum and I are partners.’
    ‘Ah...’ He looked at the empty display fridges. ‘Where’s the food? Shouldn’t there be food?’
    Her smile was a fist to his sternum.
    ‘Most of the baked goods are sold out and we put the deli meats away every night.’ She fiddled with the strap of her huge leather tote bag. ‘So, how was your flight?’ she asked politely.
    Sitting on the floor of a cargo plane in turbulence, with bruised ribs and a pounding headache? Just peachy. ‘Fine, thanks.’
    The reality was that he was exhausted, achingly stiff and sore, and his side felt as if he had a red-hot poker lodged inside it. He wanted a shower and to sleep for a week. His glance slid to a fridge filled with soft drinks. And he’d kill someone for a Coke.
    Ellie caught his look and waved to the fridge. ‘Help yourself.’
    Jack grimaced. ‘I can’t pay for it.’
    ‘Pari’s can afford to give you a can on the house,’ Ellie said wryly.
    The words were barely out of her mouth and he was opening the fridge, yanking out a red can and popping the tab. The tart, sugary liquid slid down his throat and he sighed, knowing the sugar and caffeine would give him another hour or two of energy. Maybe...
    He swore under his breath as once again he realised that he was stuck halfway across the world. He couldn’t even pay for a damn soft drink. He silently cursed again. He needed to borrow cash and a bed from Ellie until his replacement bank cards were delivered. He grimaced at the sour taste now in his mouth. Having to ask for help made him feel...out of control, helpless. Powerless.
    He hated to feel beholden, but he reminded himself it would only be