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Deep Focus
Erin McCarthy
Her rebound resolutionThis is so not the romantic vacation she planned! Instead of a let's-rekindle-this-relationship getaway, PR rep Melanie Ambrose is en route to Cancún with a Dear Jane letter and Hunter Ryan, her smoking-hot new bodyguard. To make matters worse, there's only one available room at the hotel she booked…with one bed!The truth is, Melanie has been so career-focused that she's ignored what she wants. And faced with sun, sand and an incredibly sexy companion, a deliciously hot and naughty fling seems the exact thing to help her reset her focus. But as the days pass, Melanie wants to change their arrangement so this doesn't end when they get back on the plane…
Her rebound resolution
This is so not the romantic vacation she planned! Instead of a let’s-rekindle-this-relationship getaway, PR rep Melanie Ambrose is en route to Cancún with a Dear Jane letter and Hunter Ryan, her smoking-hot new bodyguard. To make matters worse, there’s only one available room at the hotel she booked...with one bed!
The truth is, Melanie has been so career-focused that she’s ignored what she wants. And faced with sun, sand and an incredibly sexy companion, a deliciously hot and naughty fling seems the exact thing to help her reset her focus. But as the days pass, Melanie wants to change their arrangement so this doesn’t end when they get back on the plane...
“Are you saying you don’t find me physically attractive?”
“I find you physically attractive.” Hunter’s comment was an understatement. Melanie was actually his ideal woman, the kind of woman he wanted to both protect from harm and push up against a wall and make scream with pleasure. But telling her that would be completely unprofessional. He was still on a job. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
She sighed again. “I don’t feel beautiful. I feel foolish. And a little airsick.”
“Here. Lie down and close your eyes.” Hunter patted his legs, indicating she should stretch out.
He was attracted to her, yes, but he also felt...interest. That tug of desire, in both his groin and his chest. Not good. Not good at all.
Which made offering for her to sprawl across his lap incredibly stupid.
She glanced up at him with big brown eyes. “You’re very hard.”
“Excuse me?” He was working on it, but not there yet. If she kept shifting around like that, he would be, though, and she would get an earful.
“Your legs. They’re very muscular. Not the best pillow.”
Right.
She smiled up at him. “But thank you. I appreciate it.” Squeezing his knee she added, “You’re very sweet.”
Now, that was a word no one had ever used to describe him.
And with that, his job got a whole hell of a lot harder.
Dear Reader (#ulink_123c3935-505d-5dc2-b45c-0815655859d3),
As a Northern girl, my favorite thing to do in the winter is to escape it. Unlike those who revel in skiing and ice-skating, I spend the winter running from building to car to my house wearing seven layers of fleece. Aside from not moving because of family, I swear half the reason I continue to live in the North is for the excuse to head to Mexico every chance I get!
So my heroine, Melanie’s, desire to experience the triple play of sun, sand and sexy times was easy to channel. While I’ve never had a hot bodyguard like Hunter accompany me on vacation, I did once lose sleep in Cancún due to a couple of amorous dolphins right outside my room. Sometimes truth is stranger—or funnier—than fiction!
I hope you’ll enjoy this final installment of my From Every Angle trilogy with an unlikely pair forced together and finding love.
Happy reading,
Erin McCarthy
New York Times Bestselling Author
Deep Focus
Erin McCarthy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
USA TODAY and New York Times bestselling author ERIN McCARTHY was first published in 2002 and has since written over fifty novels and novellas in teen fiction, new adult and adult romance. Erin is a RITA® Award finalist and the recipient of an ALA Quick Picks for Reluctant Young Adult Readers Award. When she’s not writing she can be found sipping martinis in high heels or eating ice cream in fleece pajamas depending on the day, and managing the lives of her two teens, two cats and her codependent dog. You can find Erin online at erinmccarthy.net (http://www.erinmccarthy.net) or follow her on Twitter: @authorerin (https://twitter.com/authorerin).
Muchas gracias to Celso, Danny, Gil and Cuauhtemoc and the other guys at Fly High Adventures for always making my zip-line excursions and pit stops at the Three Amigos in Cozumel a blast.
Contents
Cover (#u971261d1-0609-57d2-847c-ce8c93e256a6)
Back Cover Text (#u47fb8cda-d77f-504f-9341-41ce42d6308d)
Introduction (#u9a01cc74-4eaf-5e53-ad6c-1dff5b6e2812)
Dear Reader (#ulink_19a24526-7578-5e48-812e-700d2076f240)
Title Page (#u491fa12d-6f48-5bf7-a360-abcdb2bf0ce6)
About the Author (#u5b07f6ba-2f24-5810-99dc-48dd4af8e9ea)
Dedication (#u98fff802-24b0-5dd8-87d4-65b7dfa563d2)
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Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
1 (#ulink_3e36fb44-7c13-5163-a61a-731347cb96c4)
SOMETHING WAS WRONG. Nearly everyone in the airport was naked.
Melanie Ambrose glanced around and frowned before rounding on her boyfriend. Dang it, he had broken their deal. “You said you were done working! We’re on vacation, Ian, as of midnight last night. Our flight to Mexico is in an hour.” She flung a finger out to point at the group of men and women sitting bare-assed on the hard plastic chairs in O’Hare’s Concourse B. “This looks like work.”
She shouldn’t have trusted him to get to the airport on his own. She should have swung by his apartment and scooped him up, but it was out of the way and Ian hadn’t wanted to stay at her place because he hated her bed. She’d agreed to arriving separate and now this. So annoying. Absolutely and utterly annoying. The whole reason their relationship was crumbling was because Ian worked all the time. She understood that his photography business was commercially successful beyond his wildest dreams, and that there were responsibilities and expectations, but this vacation was supposed to give him a much-needed rest. And her, a much-needed orgasm.
He held up his hands and gave her an apologetic shrug. “Mel, baby, I couldn’t resist. I’ve not shot at the airport before, and what a perfect opportunity to capture the shuffling of humanity. It’s brilliant. And I owe the idea to you.”
She was not falling for that, or for his sexy New Zealand accent. “Whatever.” She let go of the handle of her carry-on and looked down at her toes. The fifty dollars she’d just spent on a pedicure better not have been wasted. “We’re not missing our flight,” she told him flatly.
“Don’t be so churlish,” he reprimanded, pushing his glasses up. He looked past her, flagging someone down.
She turned and noticed one man in a suit, looking absolutely out of place amongst all this exposed flesh. The poor guy was probably just trying to catch a business flight and had wandered into Art. In the form of breasts and butt cheeks.
Melanie turned her attention back to Ian, giving him a glare. “It’s nine in the morning! Our flight is supposed to leave at ten.” She considered herself incredibly reasonable. She never complained about his schedule or questioned him about the company he kept. She respected his art, and as the PR rep for his company, Bainbridge Studios, she worked hard to make sure his climb up the ladder of success was smooth. But they’d been planning this trip for two months.
Escaping Chicago in December for the beach was bliss enough, but she’d been looking forward to the opportunity to rekindle a bit of romance.
Apparently, he wasn’t in as much of a rush to drink wine and knock boots as she was. It was a bit deflating. A lot deflating.
“I’ll find a later flight. You go ahead as planned. Hunter will go with you.”
Um. “Who the heck is Hunter?” Melanie’s Southern accent was resurfacing as she became agitated. “And why on God’s green earth would I want to fly to Mexico with him?”
“This is Hunter.” Ian gestured behind her. “He’s your new bodyguard.”
Melanie turned and saw the man in the suit standing a discreet distance behind them. He nodded briefly. She was officially confused.
“Ian, why do I need a bodyguard? You’re the one being stalked.” Some woman who had never even met Ian fancied herself in love with him and had been bothering him for over a year. At one point, Savannah the Stalker had been charged and Melanie had thought that would be the end of it, but a jury had found her not guilty and almost immediately she’d gone back to sending alternating love letters and threatening emails. “She doesn’t even know about us. That’s part of why we’ve kept our relationship on the down low.”
Another source of friction between them. It sucked having to pretend you were primarily your boyfriend’s employee in public. She was over it.
Looking uncomfortable, Ian bent closer to her. “It seems she’s found out about you, because I got a disturbing email a few days ago. I didn’t want to tell you and spoil the trip. But I don’t think it’s safe for you to be without some protection.”
Great. She was at risk of being attacked by a random crazy person. “You can protect me. Come with me.”
He frowned. “I have this shoot set up.” He briefly touched her hand and kissed her forehead. “Go with Hunter. Go on. For me, so I don’t have to worry about you.”
Melanie felt like a five-year-old being sent off to kindergarten against her will. There was no arguing with him. He wouldn’t change his mind, not with a terminal full of nude volunteers. Sometimes she wondered if she were cut out for the role of Artist’s Girlfriend, because the whole slave-to-the-muse thing got old really quickly. But it was flattering that he was worried about her safety. She sighed. “Call me when you board your flight. Have a good shoot.”
“Thanks, Mel. You’re the best.” He turned and left, going over to Sam, his assistant, and leaving Melanie standing there feeling incredibly defeated.
But there was no sense crying over it. She turned and gave Hunter a smile. “Hi, I’m Melanie. Nice to meet you.”
“Hunter.” He shook her hand. No smile.
Which ticked her off a bit. Sure, he was on the job, but the man was going to Mexico to sit on his butt and watch her splay her body out on a beach towel. It was a cake job—she wasn’t really in danger. That was total paranoia on Ian’s part. Even if Savannah knew who she was, she wasn’t likely to hop a plane to Cancún to track her down. That required cash and a passport, and the average stalker wasn’t going to add international travel to their bag of harassing tricks. So why did Hunter look so sour?
“This might be the most boring assignment you’ve ever had,” she warned him as she retrieved the handle of her carry-on and started walking toward their gate.
“Possibly. But I’ve had a lot of less-than-exciting assignments.”
Excuse me? She shot him a sideways glance. He didn’t look as if he was making a joke, which led her to the conclusion that he might simply be a jerk. A good-looking jerk, mind you, but a jerk nonetheless. What, as if it was her fault she wasn’t a celebrity or a political figure surrounded by pushy paparazzi and people with agendas? She was just a PR rep from Kentucky. Who didn’t need a bodyguard, plain and simple. Then again, the man was just doing his job, and she could respect that. “Well, I hope you packed your trunks, since we’re going to Mexico. It’s better than being stuck here, that’s for sure.”
“I have to agree with you.”
She had a thought. “Do you have a gun on you? Is that legal?”
“I have a license to carry concealed, but no, I did not bring a gun.”
“Good.” That was reassuring. She didn’t want to be detained and body probed by TSA at any point on this trip. That was not the kind of probing she’d had in mind at all. “You do know this is all totally ridiculous, right? My boyfriend is being overly protective.” Ian had never been like that in the past, but it was warming her girl bits now, she had to admit.
Hunter gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. Lord, the man was attractive. If she were single, she’d want a piece of that. He was the very definition of tall, dark and handsome. Smoking hot. Like five-alarm, sweet and spicy Texas barbecue hot. Finger-licking good.
He must hit the gym every day, because the man had muscles that were no accident. He’d gotten those biceps by sweating, hard. Melanie began to perspire just picturing it, which was startling and completely inappropriate. She wasn’t normally one who went for bulked-up manly men, but Hunter’s physique paired with that suit was quite a winning combination. His jaw was strong, his eyes an intriguing shade of green. Not that fake contact-lens green you sometimes saw, but a true mossy shade, with flecks of gold.
Yes, the man had been whacked with a sexy stick, and she could appreciate looking without wanting to touch.
Too bad he had zero personality.
And why did she care anyway? She had a boyfriend. A distracted, moody boyfriend, who had stuck her with this hunk of hotness for the next twelve-plus hours. It was nice to know Ian trusted her, she supposed. She wasn’t sure she would have if their positions were reversed. But then again, he had no reason to be insecure. Melanie frequently worried that maybe she was more into Ian than he was into her. That was a thought she quickly banished, though.
“If you say so,” Hunter told her.
What was that supposed to mean?
He glanced down at his phone, then gestured to their right. “This is our gate. Perfect timing. We’re boarding.”
“Okay.” She started to veer off in the direction of the restroom for a preflight potty break, but squawked when Hunter grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Melanie blinked up at him, giving a pointed glance down at his hand, still holding her arm. “To use the toilet,” she said bluntly, hoping that would make him back off.
It didn’t.
