Kabana Heat

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Kabana Heat

  Copyright © 2008 by Titania Ladley

  ISBN: 1-60504-128-9

  Edited by Laurie Rauch

  Cover by Scott Carpenter

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: August 2008

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Kabana Heat

  Titania Ladley

  Dedication

  To all my readers and fans…what can I say? Without you, none of this would be possible. Mahalo! Thank you for always believing in my stories and loving them enough to keep supporting me. I’m humbled and grateful beyond words.

  Dear Reader,

  To enrich the story and add more of a Polynesian feel to Kabana Heat, you’ll find various Hawaiian words and phrases throughout. For your enjoyment and convenience, I’ve provided a Hawaiian glossary at the end of the book. I hope you enjoy Kabana Heat!

  ~ Titania Ladley

  Chapter One

  Kabana Island, Hawaii

  “Aloha.”

  At the sound of the sultry voice, Mitch Wulfrum jolted out of his lazy beach nap. His eyes flew open and he beheld what could only be described as the outline of an angel against the blazing ball of the afternoon sun. With the remnants of sleep, and now the sun’s strong rays blinding him, her face registered as nothing more than a shadow. But everything else about her, damn it, transmitted straight to his otherwise latent libido.

  “You didn’t answer your door, so I took the liberty of coming down to the beach to look for you.”

  “What…who are you?” Stumbling to his feet, he drew himself up to tower a good five inches over her. At six-three, he generally looked down on most women. This one wasn’t quite as small. With her long, fluid limbs and voluptuous curves, she stood much taller than he’d become accustomed to.

  “I’m Kiona ’Alohi.”

  Kiona. The name had some sort of aphrodisiacal affect on him, washing through his bloodstream like that first alcoholic buzz after slamming a stiff cocktail. And it certainly had a ring of familiarity to it. But with his brain suddenly hijacked into a state of sexual inebriation, he couldn’t quite place it.

  She held out a slim hand, her bronzed, island-girl tan making the red-painted nails look as appetizing and ripe as berries. His gaze trekked up her bare arm to narrow, feminine shoulders glistening gold beneath the sun. She wore a snow-white halter dress with a plunging neckline, the narrow strips clinging to bulging breasts. Mitch let out a low whistle when the faint outline of her brown nipples perked under his scrutiny and pressed like rock-hard pebbles against the cotton fabric.

  Even though his loins began a steady, painful ache, he tortured himself by continuing his blatant inspection. His stare traveled down over her flat abdomen and rounded hips, to long, brown, lean legs. An image flickered in his mind of toned thighs clamped on either side of his head. Gulp. He circled his watering tongue around in his mouth at the erotic image. For a moment, he could swear he tasted pussy, smelled its musky, sweet aroma. His hearing became muffled as if he’d become lost in the heaven between her legs.

  “Okay…so you don’t have to shake my hand if you don’t want to.”

  He’d just spied the scarlet-painted toenails peeking from beneath the straps of leather sandals when her clipped, Hawaiian-accented tone jolted him from his gawking.

  “Oh, sorry.” It wasn’t a full-on handshake, but he took what he could, closing his fingers around hers just before she withdrew. Heat warmed his clammy digits as he held tight to soft female ones, their slim length melding into his firm grip.

  “Mitch Wulfrum,” he provided as she removed her hand from his with a solid jerk.

  “Yes, I know.” When she spoke again, his stare finally popped up to the heart-shaped face. She wore dark sunglasses perched on a small, feminine nose. He studied the lenses, delving deep—what shade would her eyes be?—when a sudden need to penetrate the hidden orbs overtook him. But all he could see was his own reflection.

  “You know me?” Shit, why couldn’t he get out more than a two- or three-word intelligible sentence with this woman?

  She let out a derisive chuckle. “Everyone knows who you are.” With that melodious laugh, dimples emerged on her cheeks. Her seductive, warm scent wafted up on the arid breeze to tease his nostrils. The combination of the womanly aroma and the girlish dimples packed a powerful punch to his loins. He concentrated on the sound of swishing palms, the pounding of the surf—anything to keep the blood from rushing to his cock and embarrassing him with a schoolboy hard-on beneath the thin fabric of his swim trunks.

  Mitch sighed, her blunt comment finally sinking in. He was still uncomfortable with the fact that, as the son of a farmer from rural Kansas, he’d made it so quickly to stardom. “I guess everyone here knows me?”

  She drew off the sunglasses and smiled thinly. Velvet. Her eyes were golden, velvety orbs outlined by the black fan of long, seductive lashes. They left him speechless, nearly causing his knees to buckle beneath him. But then he caught the unmistakable glimmer of annoyance in the amber pools, and he regained his balance. The outer edges of her perfectly shaped dark eyebrows angled downward, further emphasizing the cold glare beneath them.

  “Here? You’re being coy, Mr. Wulfrum. Something I find odd and a bit disbelieving coming from a hotshot, box-office-hit movie star such as yourself—one who’s a permanent fixture within the glitz and glamour of that pompous bubble you call Hollywood. You know as well as I do everyone in this whole entire world recognizes Mitch Wulfrum on sight. What game are you playing with me? Didn’t Jager Manning tell you I’d be here to meet you today?”

  At the mention of his publicist, everything fell into place. Through Jager, he’d vaguely known her name…uh, make that, he’d dismissed it like an arrogant bastard. But he wasn’t that insensitive. Somehow, hearing it from her lips had made it sound like an entirely different name. Perhaps because of the accented way she’d pronounced it compared to the way he had read it on paper?

  He groaned. “Ah, you’re that woman. I, uh, wasn’t expecting you until this evening.”

  “That woman?”

  He flinched at her incredulous tone. “Well, yeah. The one Jager set me up with. Right?”

  “Right. That one.” Pursed lips bloomed like a blood-red, dew-dappled rose. The delicate jaw and high cheekbones made him long to cup that exotic face and inhale the bloom of her lips. “I already introduced myself to you. Didn’t Jager provide you with a name?”

  He furrowed his brow. Of course. Jager had briefed him on the minor details in written form. But it hadn’t shown up within the documents in full color like the flesh and blood of her did. Mitch scanned her creamy bronze skin again, his fingers itching to touch the smoothness. Jesus alive, it wasn’t just flesh, it was tempting flesh.

  He’d known—as had she—this wasn’t going to be a true marriage, so why expect him to obsess over the details? Now, had Jager attached a photo with the name, yes, that would have helped brand her into his brain for sure. Mitch frowned. Had he been so insensit
ive as to not want to at least see a picture of the woman he was to marry?

  “Yes, I guess he did.”

  “Guess? Well, that sure is a relief,” she mumbled with a derisive snort. “Me and this cockamamie plan—we must be very memorable. Which means you’re not as dense as I first thought.”

  “Well, gee, thanks.” He ground his teeth together. He deserved to be cut deep by her sarcasm, because somewhere inside the celebrity he’d become, he knew his neglect of her made him appear to be an assuming jerk. It had been a long while since he’d faced that initial fast, hard ride to the top of fame, but he should always remember where he’d come from. As it should, the hot flare of self-irritation that shimmied up his spine doused his ego with a cruel dose of reality.

  She wasn’t the least bit taken by him and his star status.

  The first primal attraction to this island goddess had been real all right—if his rising erection were any indication. But it appeared it was all one-sided…or possibly she was a woman who’d paid little mind to the media’s heavy publicity with his last few hit movies or huge corporate endorsement ads. Despite the fact he deserved her disinterest, something about it gave him the sense of being an annoying gnat buzzing around a blooming hibiscus.

  And Mitch refused to ever go back to that pathetic way of life.

  “Forget it,” she snarled. It seemed his sarcastic thanks proved to be her final straw. Kiona spun on her sandals in an effort to flounce away. But apparently the low, spiked heels weren’t meant for beach strolling. She gasped and teetered sideways, her shoulder slamming into Mitch’s chest when one heel sank into the grainy shore. Instinctively, he threw his arms around her curvy form, dragging her up to keep her from toppling into the surf.

  She blinked, her mouth a fraction of an inch from his. “Whoa,” she murmured, and he caught her warm exhale on his own lips. He sucked in a surprised breath, starving for more of her, for just one wet taste.

  The annoyance of only moments ago faded, morphing back into total erotic sin. Mitch captured a new edge to her scent, that of unmistakable arousal. Her eyes softened behind a thin layer of determination, determination, he could see now, she’d erected to keep up her façade of indifference. Pleasure burst in his bloodstream, gratification of both the egotistical and the sexual sort. Her curves and cushions molded to his hard body like no other woman’s ever had. He knew by the flare of her eyes and the intake of breath that she could feel his rigid cock against her hot “V”. Though he knew it bordered on arrogance, he thought to use his fame like a weapon, wielding it to tamp down the woman’s sauciness.

  Yet…her exotic beauty and cool resolve to remain unfazed by him…ah, but it had an irresistible power of its own, strong enough to deflect his wretched conceit.

  And that, you dumb bastard, is a first.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered, acutely aware of her nestled against his throbbing shaft.

  Her tongue snaked out to moisten her plump lips. He tortured himself further by imagining it lapping the pre-come from the tip of his granite-hard cock.

  Stupid fucker. Don’t torment yourself with thoughts like that…until you’ve got her head in your lap.

  She winced. “I…I think I sprained my ankle.”

  Mitch sighed wistfully, using all the theatrics of an award-winning actor. “I think I sprained my heart.”

  Kiona’s complexion paled by two shades. Her tawny gaze flitted back and forth between his eyes. “Is that a lame line from one of your movies or something?”

  “Definitely or something. But I’d hoped you’d have watched all of my movies, and would know the answer to that already.”

  She stiffened. “I don’t watch television, or go to the movies. I do, however, read a lot.”

  “Tabloids?” Mitch trailed his fingertips down her bare back, delighted when he elicited a shiver out of her. Her skin was smooth, silky, warm against his flesh. He imagined tasting the length of her spine, wondered if her skin would be salty or sweet on his tongue. He stopped his bold exploration when he reached the zipper at her waist, retraced his path back up and pressed her closer so that her thinly clad breasts smashed against his bare chest. His other arm hooked around her hips and held her up a fraction of an inch off the sand.

  Kiona rolled her eyes, the expressive look making something flutter in his chest. “No, of course not.”

  He raised a skeptical brow.

  “Well, I do flip through them when I’m waiting in line at the market. I don’t buy or subscribe to them, though, that I assure you.” She wiggled, attempting to get her feet back on shore. When he easily prevented her escape, she narrowed her eyes and a gleam of retaliation lit their sparkling depths. “But I couldn’t help noticing the rumor plastered across the front of Stars Gossip. You know, the one about you possibly being…gay?”

  Goddamn those fucking reporters. He shifted his stance, seriously considering dropping her in a heap at his feet. “Well, I assure you I’m not gay.”

  She grinned smugly, again revealing the charming indentations in her cheeks. Sunrays glinted off the rows of perfect white teeth while her rich tresses tossed wildly in the wind. Instead of shoving against him as he assumed she would, she settled her arms around his neck and winked as she dragged the edge of her sunglasses over the back of his shoulder. He shivered, watching as her shadowed dimples twinkled like two onyx gems on the bronzed planes of her cheeks.

  “Yes, something tells me you’re not gay…at least not completely.”

  “Baby, you can bet all of Kabana,” he proclaimed, lowering his gaze to dip into her upthrust cleavage, “I’m one hundred percent straight. But how in the hell do you expect me to convince the billions of people on this planet after one tabloid decides to soil my good name? So what? I went to a party, got a bit wasted. When I sobered up, my head lay in some bisexual man’s lap, and an orgy pumped in high gear all around me. Needless to say, I got the hell out of that place, but the damn paparazzi seemed to have shaped the story into their own version in order to boost sales.”

  “Your good name, you say?” She leaned back in the circle of his arms, seeming to ready herself for later flight. Her eyes glittered with dark mischief. “Well, it looks like you’ll be convincing them all right, by having Jager hook you up with a woman like me—a woman dumb enough to hop into your black kettle.”

  “I would say you’re definitely going to be getting something out of it, too.” And maybe while we’re at it, we can turn up the heat and get that kettle to steaming?

  Her gaze wandered out to sea. “Yes, but something much different from you. I’m not gay, nor do I have to worry, as you do, what the world thinks of me. Just one person, one person is all I care to convince…”

  Waves crashed at his feet, the surf roaring as the tide began to move in. The breeze whipped the salty ocean mist around them, and its heady scent became laced with her sinful, sultry essence. She twisted, her heels finally touching the moist beach. Her movement made her briefly grind against his erection. Mitch stifled a groan. God, how he longed to throw her to the sand and bury himself between those long, tanned legs.

  “Mmm, how about convincing me, sweetheart?”

  At her questioning stare, he clarified, “Kiss me. I dare you to be an actress for just this one moment in your life and kiss me. Try to trick me, make me think you’re not only my fiancée, but madly in love with me.”

  Panic burst in her eyes. She shifted her gaze up and down the beach. “No, I don’t think that would be—”

  Before she could finish her retort, he bent his head on impulse and captured her mouth with his. He longed to know what she would taste like, how her mouth would feel on his, if she would surrender or fight him. She sighed into his mouth, indulging him with one moment of capitulation in which her softness melted into him and her pineapple-flavored mouth opened to his hungry one. He gathered her close and dragged her softness up and down so her pussy abraded his cock. Fire ignited in his groin, fueled by her wanton, muffled cries of tortured e
cstasy.

  Mitch was just about to drop to his knees and cover her body with his when she tore her mouth free. She pressed her palms against him, the sunglasses digging into the meat of his chest. “No.”

  “Ah, Kiona, yes. You know the answer’s yes. The moment I opened my eyes, the second your scent filled my lungs, I knew I had to have you.”

  “Now that definitely has to be a line from one of your movies.” She shook her head vehemently. “I said no.”

  Disappointment stabbed at him, an ice pick spearing his ego. Not one woman had turned him down since the release of his first blockbuster movie.

  Until now.

  “I understand.” He bit off a wounded response and slowly released her. She stumbled backward, and one breast all but popped from the halter strip. Her hands shook as she tugged down her dress and swiped her fingertips across her swollen lips.

  “No, you don’t understand.” What was left of the passion in her eyes turned back into that gleam of determination and haughtiness he’d first detected. Her gaze darted around, up the beach again, down the other direction, as if to assure herself they hadn’t been seen.

  Wasn’t he the one who should be worrying about being seen? Ah, but then again, if any reporters had gotten a picture of his lip-lock with her, it would surely help boost the non-gay image he hoped to project. Still, her rejection stung. So to assuage his wounded self-image, his pride returned full-force. Yes, who wouldn’t want to be seen with Mitch Wulfrum?

  “Mr. Wulfrum, I’m telling you right now up front, this can’t happen ever again, even after we seal the agreement.”

  He hadn’t been expecting that. Mitch blinked at the stinging shock of it. “What? Can you repeat—?”

  She spun and marched toward the stairs leading up to the beachside home Mitch had rented from Jager for his stay during the wedding. Sand flew up in clouds behind her as she retreated in snappy strides. Unable to resist, he watched as the muscles in those long legs flexed, disappearing beneath the snug, short dress with each stride. The globes of her ass jiggled as she stalked away from him, and suddenly he found himself fighting off the erotic image of his shaft pummeling what he imagined would be a tight, slick anus.