More Than Pleasure You: A More Than Words Novella Page 2

  Some of the songs I’ve selected will be familiar. Some are old. Some are newer. Some popular. Some even obscure. They all just fit (in my opinion) and came straight from the heart. I listened to many of these songs as I wrote the book.

  For maximum understanding (and feels), I seriously recommend becoming familiar with these songs and either playing them or rolling them around in your head as you read. Due to copyright laws, I can’t use exact lyrics, but where needed I tried to give you the gist of those most meaningful to this story. I’ve even made it simple for you to give these songs a listen by creating a Spotify playlist. Click here for all the enjoyment.

  Hugs and happy reading!

  The Approaching Night - Philip Wesley

  Embraced - Paul Cardall

  My Immortal - Evanescence

  Shut Up and Dance - Walk The Moon

  Isn’t She Lovely - Stevie Wonder

  Marry You - Bruno Mars

  Additionally, the events of More Than Pleasure you coincide with the gap in time toward the end of More Than Tempt You. If you’ve read that book, you may recognize those references. If you haven’t read More Than Tempt You, don’t worry. You don’t need to read that story to understand this one. Hope you enjoy!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Tuesday, January 9

  Maui

  Stephen

  “What were you thinking? I can’t conjure up a hot fiancé out of thin air.”

  Who the hell is that?

  Despite the fact my head hurts like a bitch, I look away from the calm blue ocean, glancing over my shoulder and above the rim of my sunglasses at whoever invaded my rented vacation house uninvited. The source of the unfamiliar female voice isn’t hard to find. The blonde bustling around the living room fluffing pillows on the sofa has a cell phone pressed to her ear—and a really nice ass.

  “You’re not supposed to ask who I’m dating now,” she insists. “We broke up.”

  Is her ex sniffing around? I can’t see the blonde’s face, but the language of her very fine body tells me she’s annoyed.

  “I know you’re in a rough spot, Finn. And I know your wedding is this weekend. But you can’t ask me to fake-date any of your friends, even for a night. I know them all way too well. More importantly, so do your parents.”

  The douchecanoe really just asked her to lie to everyone at his wedding by faking an engagement with some guy she doesn’t like? I haven’t caught a glimpse of the blonde’s face, but nothing I’ve seen leads me to believe she needs help finding someone new.

  Yeah, I shouldn’t eavesdrop, and she clearly has no idea I’m sitting on the lanai, but even if I had the energy to get up, I couldn’t manage it clandestinely now.

  She tosses her hand in the air. “It’s not like I hang out in a singles mecca where I can pick up someone for the hell of it and decide to get married three weeks later.”

  “Sorry.” She pauses, then sighs. “No. I really don’t care how you met Dana. You and I were never going to last, so I’m happy you found someone to spend your life with. I just wish you hadn’t told your parents I’d be bringing my nonexistent new fiancé.”

  He did what?

  As she paces the room, she listens, shaking her head. “I get that, but it’s not my fault they like me better than Dana.”

  Suddenly, she holds the phone away from her ear. “Don’t yell. I know. Apology accepted, but I’m working today. We have a guest arriving tomorrow. I’ll see what I can do once I’m off tonight, all right? In the meantime, if my Prince Charming just happens to appear, I’ll let you know. Bye.”

  With a sigh, she ends the call, pockets the phone, then pivots for the kitchen.

  Halfway through her turn, she spots me on the lounger through the open door and gasps. “Oh, my god. I didn’t expect anyone here. You overheard my conversation, didn’t you?”

  My first full glimpse of her is a TKO to my solar plexus. Her big brown eyes and her kissable pink mouth compete for the most mesmerizing feature on her stunning, makeup-free face. Disheveled golden hair spills around her slender shoulders, one slim section swaying in a bohemian braid with the breeze, brushing her mouthwatering breasts, which are hugged by a form-fitting white T-shirt. Shapely tanned thighs extend from brief denim cutoffs and end in bare feet decorated with cheery aqua polish and a toe ring.

  She’s not my usual kind of woman, but she’s fucking gorgeous.

  Why would anyone ever think she needs help finding a date?

  “Hard not to,” I admit.

  She closes her eyes. “Are you our next guest, Mr. Lund?”

  I nod, then regret it instantly, holding a hand to my aching head. “Just Stephen.”

  “I’m both very sorry and incredibly embarrassed.” She heads outside, hand outstretched. “I’m Skye.”

  The name fits her—earthy, natural, sun-kissed.

  I slide my palm against hers, loving her so-soft skin. At her touch, something new hits me. I can’t define it. It’s more than a vibe, more than mere interest. Even more than simple lust, though I feel that, too. “Nice to meet you.”

  She ends our handshake and slips into professional mode. “Welcome to the Aloha Rainbow house. I’ll be the property caretaker and your chef during your stay. I’m sorry the place wasn’t ready. I was told you wouldn’t be arriving until tomorrow.”

  “That was the plan…until I got a concussion. A friend of mine called the owners and arranged for me to check in a day early so I could recover in peace.” Bless Bethany for realizing I need some quiet and solitude—and not just to recover from my injury. Plus, my whack on the head buys me an extra day to evaluate whether this property is right for commercial development.

  “Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry to hear that. Can I get you something? Assist you in any way?” Then she winces as if she worries her voice might be too loud and drops to a whisper. “Do you want me to stop talking?”

  I manage a smile. “You’re fine, but I spent last night in the hospital. The mattress was uncomfortable and the food was lousy.”

  “That sounds horrible.” She rushes forward to take my suitcase. “Would you like to go to bed?”

  “Wow, you move fast. I mean, we just met. Normally, I’d at least buy you dinner first, but…” I wink her way.

  Her big eyes slide shut again. “Every time I open my mouth today, I seem to insert my foot.”

  I laugh because she’s fun to tease. “I knew you weren’t hitting me up for sex. Clearly, you’ve already got problems.”

  “Those aren’t important. Let’s get you settled. Should I ready the house for someone else to join you?”

  “Nope. It’s just me. I thought my friend might come.” I tried to persuade Bethany to stay since she and Clint are breaking up...maybe. In truth, she loves him, and I’m beginning to suspect I misjudged the guy and that he genuinely loves her, too. “But no, so I’ve got the place all to myself.”

  “We’ve got thirty-six hundred square feet of interior space and twenty-four hundred dedicated to our waterfront lanais, so it’s a lot of house for one person, but you’ll find it incredibly relaxing. The beach is very private. Besides the property owners and me, no one will have access during your stay. Have you taken a tour of the house and grounds yet?”

  “Just online.”

  “Would you like one now or would you rather I show you upstairs and give you some privacy?”

  I left everything and everyone behind in Manhattan to find some much-needed perspective. Besides the fact this place has amazing oceanfront views, I chose it because I got a phone call from David Chang, an important, long-time client, two days ago. He’s looking for the perfect property on Maui to build skyscraping hotels. This parcel of private land seems to have great potential. I told him I’d check it out and report back. I haven’t clued my dad in about this potential opportunity. I need to decide how to handle that—and everything else—going forward. That’s part of why I’m here. It’s an added bonus that this luxury rental is only ten minutes from my half-sister, w
hom I’m still getting to know.

  But now that I’ve met Skye, I’m not as eager for alone-time to ruminate. She’s hot and her problems are interesting.

  Maybe they only seem that way because you’re avoiding your own?

  “No, thanks.” A tour is irrelevant since none of what’s here will be left if this deal goes through. It’s kind of a shame since this place is amazing, at least what I’ve seen. “But you said something about food?”

  “I cook breakfast, hors d’oeuvres, and dinner every day except Monday. Just name your preferred times. Also let me know if you have any food sensitivities. Are you vegan, gluten-free, lactose-intol—”

  “I’m not picky, just hungry.”

  “All right.” She glances at her phone. “It’s a little after three. How about I make you a snack to tide you over until dinner?”

  “Thank you.”

  She nods, then lifts my bag. “I’ll take this upstairs to the master bedroom.”

  “I got it.” The gentleman in me prods me to my feet to take my suitcase from her.

  A wave of dizziness flattens me, and I stumble back on my ass.

  The unexpected weakness rankles my male pride, but the sympathy that crosses her face does other things to me. I’ve never been fascinated by the sheer expressiveness of a woman’s eyes, but hers give me an interesting glimpse into her soul—goodness, intelligence, and a streak of something wild.

  Against my better judgment, I want to explore that.

  “How bad does your head hurt?” she asks.

  “Like someone gave a metal-thrash drummer a double dose of speed, a sturdy hammer, and a steel trash can lid.”

  She winces. “Sounds terrible. Do you have any medications I should give you?”

  “The hospital dosed me with acetaminophen before discharging me. I also have some painkillers I can take with food if my head hurts too much.”

  “Then let’s put something in your stomach.” She sets my suitcase aside and helps me to my feet.

  I feel ridiculous for needing to lean on Skye, but the dizziness is no joke. Besides, I like her petite curves pressed against me. My head might be protesting, but the rest of me is perking up with interest.

  After all, I’m injured, not dead.

  “Do you want me to close the blinds?” she asks as she guides me inside, across the living room. “Make it darker?”

  It would probably be better for me but… “I’d rather not give up this view.”

  She smiles in understanding as she settles me on a barstool at the kitchen peninsula, then rushes to pull out arugula, an herbed cheese, thinly sliced steak, balsamic, and a baguette. “Did you have a car accident?”

  “No. A guy tried to bash in my head with a baseball bat.”

  Her eyes widen as she starts chopping. “Someone attacked you?”

  “I was defending a friend. It didn’t end as well as I’d hoped.” For anyone. But Bethany is all right. That’s what’s important. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m also a licensed massage therapist. If you’d like an hour of my time…”

  The lure of relief—and yeah, her touch—is too much to resist. “How about after whatever you’re making?”

  “Crostini. Sure. I have a table I can set up on the lanai.” She grins as she assembles the food on a baking sheet. “You can have a romantic sunset massage for one.”

  While I’d love to get her naked, too, I’m in no shape to do anything but smile back. “I’ll take it.”

  I watch Skye toss together the small meat-covered slices of bread, then she shoves them under the broiler. “Is your friend okay?”

  “She’s fine.” Or she will be once she realizes that everything that happened last night was for the best. “I’ll call her tomorrow to check in. She’s going through a lot right now.”

  “Are you close?”

  “We’ve known each other since we were kids. Bethany is a good person who’s been dealt a rotten hand.” I hate that she’s leaving the island, but I get why. In her shoes, I’d probably do the same.

  “I’m sure she appreciates you.”

  Bethany isn’t in a place to appreciate anything right now, so I just shrug. “What can I say? I’m an overall good guy. I care about the people around me. So why don’t we talk about your problem?”

  Skye stiffens as she removes the crostini from the broiler. “That’s not necessary.”

  “So you’ve already got a solution?” I challenge, knowing full well she doesn’t.

  She grabs a spatula from a nearby drawer, then plates the crostini, spreading fresh arugula on top and drizzling everything with balsamic while ignoring my question.

  “Finn is your ex, right? His parents don’t like his bride-to-be, Dana.” I frown. “Why would he invite you to his wedding?”

  “He didn’t; his parents did. They’ve been good friends with my mom and dad for years. But since they retired and moved to Florida, I have to go and represent our family.”

  “Ah. So Finn’s folks invited you to the wedding, hoping…what? That he’ll see you and change his mind about marrying the ‘wrong girl.’ But since you’re over each other, he told them you found someone new. And now they’re expecting you to bring your new fiancé. Only you don’t have one. Does that sum up the situation?”

  She pushes the plate toward me. “Eat.”

  I dive in with gusto. Pleasure melts my taste buds. Yes, I’m hungry, but I’ve also dined at my fair share of swanky five-star restaurants, so I know good food when I taste it. “This is amazing.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I’d offer you wine, but in your condition that’s not a good idea. Water?”

  “Please. Why don’t you drink the wine for me?”

  Skye hesitates. “I’m on the job.”

  “I won’t tell.” When she still looks reluctant, I press on. “Look, I’m not trying to get you tipsy. As you pointed out, I can’t drink tonight, so I’d like to enjoy you enjoying the wine.”

  She cocks her head and studies me. “You’re serious.”

  “I never say things I don’t mean.”

  As I take another hearty bite, she fixes me a glass of water with a lemon wedge. “One glass. What the heck?”

  While I hoover another slab of the savory toasted bread into my mouth, she uncorks the bottle of red, pours some into a stem, and sips with a sigh of satisfaction. “That’s really good.”

  She sounds surprised.

  “You’ve never tasted it?”

  “No. I buy it on Dean and Erma’s behalf for the guests. They’re the owners. But you probably knew that. They must have checked you in.”

  “About ten this morning, yes. And I really hadn’t much moved from that chaise since.”

  “No wonder you were hungry. Can I make you something else before dinner?”

  “This is great for now.”

  I watch her sip more vino. When she moans—unconsciously?—then licks the wine from her lips, I wish like hell my head didn’t feel so close to exploding so I could turn on the charm and see what the night might bring.

  “I’ll go get the massage table.” She disappears, then returns a moment later with a fluffy white robe and helps me to my feet, guiding me to a half bath off the living room. “Change here. I’ll set everything up and come back for you.”

  When Skye shuts the door behind me, I shimmy out of my clothes, holding on to the basin for balance. I’m not used to being physically unable to do anything. I have a voracious gym habit. I play racquetball, run half-marathons, and dabble in triathlons for fun. Not being able to take off my own pants without wobbling is fucking frustrating.

  Finally, I manage to get naked and wrap the robe around me, then open the door. Skye is tucking the last of the soft white sheets around the massage table.

  It takes some doing, but I make my way to her. “That looks like heaven.”

  “I would have helped you.” She tsks at me before taking another sip of wine, then hitting the button on a nearby speaker to
start the spa music.

  “I’m good.” In truth, I’m feeling a little better after food.

  “Go ahead and get on the table, face down. Take your time. I’ll be back in a few.”

  Skye bustles away. My stare glues itself to the golden waves of her hair brushing her back, above the sensual sway of her ass. I didn’t expect to be so intrigued by anyone at this secluded slice of paradise. I especially didn’t expect to meet someone like her. My usual hookups are ballbusters in pencil skirts and stilettos. I enjoy melting women with strong wills into tiny, moaning puddles. But I’m not looking for a fling now. And forget relationships. I’ve got too much going on. Yet…when I lay eyes on this woman, I’m tempted to make an exception.

  Without my sunglasses, I squint against the afternoon sun as I peel off my robe and get supine on the massage table, thankfully managing not to fall and embarrass myself. Finally, I get comfortable face down, under the covers, forehead in the cradle. Ocean waves crash, lulling me to a more relaxed state. A warm breeze skates over me.

  This is another reason I came to Hawaii. In New York, I’d be freezing my balls off in January, cursing the arctic wind coming off the Hudson and counting the days until threats of snow no longer dog the weather forecast. Right now, I’m perfectly comfortable in my birthday suit, shielded only by a sheet and light blanket. It really is paradise.

  “Ready?” Skye asks from a few feet away.

  “Beyond.”

  “Excellent.”

  I don’t know this woman, and yet I hear an audible smile in her voice. It’s a genuine desire to help me. In my cutthroat line of work, assistance always comes with a price.

  “So, Skye, what are you charging me for this?”

  She pauses for the briefest of moments. “Nothing.”

  “I read the materials Erma emailed me. It mentioned that massage was by appointment only and that there was an associated fee.”

  “Normally, but this one is on me since you stepped up to defend a friend. That’s amazing.”

  Skye is giving me this massage when she isn’t even the person I helped? “I just did what any friend would.”