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Baring It All
Rebecca Hunter
“Let me see you strip…” First their clothes—then their inhibitions.. Scientist Natasha Petrova knows there's nothing logical about the raw lust she feels for bodyguard Max Jensen. A sexperiment on a secluded, tropical island in the Great Barrier Reef might be the perfect place to explore the attraction crackling between them. It was supposed to be about indulging their desires. But for Natasha, exposing her heart just might be the most dangerous conclusion of all…
She’s single. On holiday. And about to embark on a wicked sexperiment!
Normally, scientist Natasha Petrova follows the rules of logic. But there’s nothing remotely logical about her sister’s gorgeous bodyguard, Max Jensen—or the zing of raw lust that hits whenever he’s near. So sexy. So tempting. Soooo not a good idea. Only, now Natasha is single again...and Max has made it clear that for their trip to the secluded, tropical beauty of Green Island, he’s all hers for the taking.
A sexperiment with the hottest man ever. No strings. It sounds so...simple.
But Max and Natasha’s plan isn’t without risks. Natasha has a history of falling for the wrong men. And Max’s family is practically Aussie royalty, which means that Max’s playboy naughtiness always ends up in the tabloids—the last place Natasha wants to be.
This tiny island in the Great Barrier Reef might be the safest place to indulge in the attraction crackling between them. Exposing their bodies to pleasure is one thing. But for Natasha, exposing her heart just might be the most dangerous conclusion of all...
Sexy. Passionate. Bold. Discover Harlequin DARE, a new line of fun, edgy and sexually explicit romances for the fearless female.
Award-winning author of sensual, emotional adventures of the heart, REBECCA HUNTER writes sexy stories about alpha men and spirited women set in Australia for Dare. She lives with her family in the San Francisco Bay Area.
Baring It All
Rebecca Hunter
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08700-1
BARING IT ALL
© 2019 Rebecca Hunter
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my parents, who took our family on a trip to
Green Island long ago.
And to Adam Summers (the Fish Guy) and
Mike O’Donnell, who both generously offered marine
biology insight. Among other helpful pointers, Adam
made sure Natasha wore a dive suit over her bikini,
saving her from harm by painful stingers, which I
might have otherwise subjected her to.
Of course, all mistakes are my own.
Contents
Cover (#udfea00df-90f8-5a78-b9f0-45672f6d0b98)
Back Cover Text (#uc4a4643b-475d-5082-8a63-e6d3fdff3db0)
About the Author (#ue3ced018-2301-5d32-b037-963fd074a747)
Title Page (#u8a4ad7a0-e886-5180-a02b-68ce87f16793)
Copyright (#uf5180673-757d-5c92-9f0a-fe32b8e38845)
Dedication (#u0f48f020-7e32-529b-895b-0960928ca53c)
CHAPTER ONE (#u2df12484-246b-5282-974a-80140572f22e)
CHAPTER TWO (#uf998ad2a-f59a-5a27-948f-853175f3fbaf)
CHAPTER THREE (#u791c64d7-47a2-5420-a215-851cc0bc6706)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uc2ce068f-04cc-55e1-a1c4-5f74669298e2)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ubfd3fd9d-c5fe-52e8-96d4-d33ba8d7747e)
CHAPTER SIX (#u7723f407-d1c1-5fd6-a410-3495e8c3bc2d)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u1f0a3608-3d97-5c6c-9631-9559c5e569e4)
IF THERE WAS anything Max Jensen hated more than thinking with his schlong, it was doing it in front of an audience. Natasha was late coming home, and instead of focusing on her sister, Alya, who happened to be Max’s assignment, all he could think about was Natasha and what kind of trouble she was getting herself into. Alya’s curvy younger sibling was a powerful distraction...but that wasn’t the only reason his mind kept wandering back to her. Max was in security, for fuck’s sake. Of course he was worried when she didn’t show up on time. He just also happened to want to get in her pants.
Max glanced at his watch, then back at his client. “Shouldn’t Natasha be home by now?”
Alya looked up from the papers she was reading and shrugged. “She probably walked.”
Alone? It was none of his business. His business was laid out on the table in front of him—going over the schedule for Alya’s weekend photoshoot on the Great Barrier Reef. He’d been the fashion model’s bodyguard for years now and had gotten to know both sisters in the process.
“It’s getting dark,” he said, keeping his voice businesslike, as if he was talking about any other client. “And you said she sounded upset.”
Alya leaned back in her chair and met his gaze. “If she doesn’t come home soon, I’ll call.”
She set down her pen, and it rolled across the sleek table, echoing in the silence of the enormous kitchen of her downtown Sydney apartment. She was eyeing Max carefully, like she had read into his question and was coming to her own conclusions, so he looked right back. He had mastered this easygoing I-have-nothing-to-hide expression back in high school after a few years of practice on his hard-edged father.
Preparing me for life, my ass. Sure, Max had learned to dodge trouble—he even got paid to use those skills with the elite private security firm Blackmore Inc. But nothing about Max’s life was what his father had intended.
He and Alya exchanged another silent moment, and then she gave a little nod.
“Natasha and Wayne were supposed to be celebrating her new research grant. All she said was that he wasn’t quite as positive about it as she had hoped.” Alya rolled her eyes and added, “Probably because she’ll have less time for helping with his articles.”
Natasha’s boyfriend was a real wanker. He was much older than she was and self-important as hell. Max had crossed paths with him once in this very kitchen, and the asshole had droned on like the future of the world depended on his research. Natasha couldn’t be serious about this guy, could she?
“She didn’t sound happy on the phone?” he asked.
Alya shook her head and returned to the documents, and Max’s shoulders came down a bit. Maybe they broke up. Goddamn, he hoped so. It was selfish, and under any other circumstances, hearing that Natasha was upset would be a punch in the gut. But his mind was moving in a totally different direction. Yeah, thinking with your schlong. He went right back to that night a few months ago when they had come so, so close to stepping over the line.
Since then Max had been looking for a chance to test the sexual buzz between them. Before it was too late. Because too late would be coming soon—specifically, at the end of next week, when his father would announce that he was stepping down as head of the Jensen Family Foundation and Max would become president. So, in addition to the photographers who followed him onto the beaches when he surfed or when he took a woman to dinner, Max’s life would also include planned public appearances and board meetings. It was a path he had worked to avoid. And the last thing he wanted to think about tonight.
Thinking about quirky, witty, oh-so-hot Natasha Petrova was a hell of a lot more fun. She was the only woman he knew who could use convoluted biology theories about the rules of attraction to shut him down. Of course, it only made him want her more, though he didn’t understand a damn word half the time. Maybe it was because he had just scraped by in biology class. More likely it was because he was concentrating on her lips. Luscious red lips. Which, all things considered, was better than staring at her breasts.
Over the years, he’d thrown dozens of propositions her way, each one wilder than the last, just to hear her response. Just to see her eyes light up as she laughed. Okay, also on the off chance that she’d forget about Max’s family’s name and his...reputation...and say yes to a little fun.
Max met Alya’s gaze again and raised his eyebrows, daring her to speak her suspicions aloud. He wouldn’t be surprised if Alya had caught on to his semi-obsession with her sister, but he still couldn’t get a read on what Alya thought about it.
His client gave nothing away. Instead, she gathered the papers on the table in front of her and took one more glance at their schedule. “With all these precautions, you’d think I was royalty. But it’s a relief.” She gave him a quick smile. “Stewart should be here soon.” Alya’s boyfriend was picking her up to go back to his place for the night, which meant Max should probably head out...
Keys rattled in the front hall of the apartment as the door creaked open and slammed shut.
“Natasha?” Alya called.
“Yep, it’s me.” Natasha’s voice echoed down the hall.
“Did Wayne properly celebrate your fabulousness at dinner?”
Max froze. He was a selfish enough bastard to hope the answer was no.
“Not even close,” she called.
Max blew out a breath. She didn’t sound upset. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on his part.
Natasha’s keys clanged on the front hall table, and her shoes thumped to the floor, one by one. “Instead, he suggested we see other people. I’m officially free to have a little fun. His words.”
Alya choked on her water, midsip. “What?”
Holy shit.
A better man would make himself known before Natasha spilled any more of the intimate details about her evening. But there was no way in hell Max was taking the high road here.
Natasha’s footsteps clunked down the hall.
“We’re taking a break. So I can have all the time I need for my career.” The last sentence was filled with sarcasm.
The bathroom door closed. Alya stared at the empty doorway to the hall, her attention completely focused on her sister. All the better if she forgot about Max. The toilet flushed, and Natasha’s footsteps came closer.
“This all started when I tried to wake him up with a blow—”
Natasha rounded the corner and froze, her eyes fixed on Max. Oh, fuck, she looked hot. But then again, she always did. The dress was white, classy, and it didn’t show cleavage, but there was no hiding those natural wonders. Her black-rimmed glasses gave her a sexy librarian vibe, a visual he’d come back to later that night.
Natasha watched him from the doorway. Max kept his expression neutral while searching her face for lingering hurt or sadness. He couldn’t find any traces. Just a hint of challenge. Good. If she’d come home in tears, Wayne might have needed a late-night talking-to. The thought was a mild surprise. As it turned out, even in this situation Max couldn’t stand the idea of her getting hurt.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me Max was here?” Natasha muttered to her sister, her eyes still fixed on him.
Alya wrinkled her brow. “Sorry. I was stuck on what you were saying.”
Natasha stared at Max for another beat. Then she let out a sigh. “I suppose I’ll care more about this tomorrow, but right now, I don’t give a shit. Everyone is welcome to hear about my fabulous evening.”
Natasha brushed long, blond wisps of hair off her face and plopped down into the chair next to Max. She gave him another quick glance, as if she was still registering his presence. Her eyes lingered on his biceps for an extra beat before she turned to her sister. He hid a smile behind his hand. A nice guy would stand up and excuse himself, leaving the two sisters alone for a private conversation. Too bad he wasn’t that guy. If Natasha wasn’t kicking him out, he was staying for the rest of the show.
Alya was still shaking her head. “You okay?”
“I can’t believe this happened again. I thought Wayne would understand, that with his own crazy schedule, he’d respect my work.” Natasha gave a huff of frustration. “Dinner a few times a week, sex, support for each other’s work and an occasional holiday—is that too much to ask? Why does dating always lead to other crap expectations?”
Alya snorted. “He didn’t ask you to pick up his dry cleaning again, did he?”
Natasha shook her head. “I think I made my answer clear the last time he asked. Now it’s his department’s barbeque. But, seriously, why is he asking me to make a plate for it?” She turned to Max and pointed her finger at him. “And Wayne already mansplained all the ways medical research is different from other biology research, why his job is so much more important.”
