Arizona Heat Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  ARIZONA HEAT

  First edition. May 14, 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 Lori Wilde and Pam Andrews Hanson.

  ISBN: 978-1393413035

  Written by Lori Wilde and Pam Andrews Hanson.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Further Reading: Texas Sizzle

  Also By Lori Wilde

  Also By Pam Andrews Hanson

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  She had to be hallucinating.

  Blame the hot desert sun in August.

  For indeed, there couldn’t be a naked man in a straw cowboy hat standing under the cascade of sparkling water. The fountain was in front of the Phoenix headquarters of the sporting goods company where Jane worked as administrative assistant to the CEO’s executive assistant.

  Jane Grant stopped and rubbed her eyes.

  No way. That couldn’t be a real guy. Too perfect. Had her boss’ boss, the ostentatious Rupert Cox, added a statue of a nude cowboy to promote his new line of western-themed camping gear?

  If that was the case, then she appreciated the spectacular eye candy. Grinning, she let out a low whistle.

  She already loved the high-pressure jet of water, glowing like liquid gold as it caught the early-morning sun and fell into the surrounding pool. A cowboy was the perfect touch on this sweltering morning, his face raised as gleaming water splashed over a body so perfect that she let out a wistful sigh. Even from a distance, she saw the power in the statue’s arms raised to clutch his thrown-back head and the chiseled grace of the golden torso.

  If only real men looked like that!

  She hurried toward the statue, eager to inspect the stunning piece of artwork before she rushed up to the penthouse offices where she worked. She did love art. At times like this, it wasn’t so bad being a well-paid lackey. Even if the eccentric boss did begin his workday at the crack of dawn, often prompting her boss, Ms. Polk, to ask Jane to come in extra early, too.

  Like today.

  Suddenly, the statue moved.

  Whoa!

  Jane stumbled backward, pressing a hand against her heart. No, not a statue, after all. A random weirdo had indeed crawled into the fountain.

  Alarmed, she glanced around. There wasn’t a security guard in sight, and no other employees were here this early.

  The interloper turned his back to the spray and brushed water from his face with the edges of his hands, doffed his straw cowboy hat, and slicked back a mane of wet hair. That’s when she saw he wasn’t naked and wore a pair of boxer briefs the same color as his golden flesh.

  He was taking a shower in Rupert Cox’s prized fountain. How dare he? Didn’t he care if he got arrested for trespassing? She couldn’t imagine being so cavalier, so bold, flaunting manners and convention.

  “Oh, this is too much.” She snorted. Jane followed the rules and expected others to do the same.

  Too agitated to be afraid, she charged forward. Where did this guy get the nerve to use a beautiful ornamental fountain as his bathroom? If Mr. Cox saw him... She didn’t even want to think of the CEO flipping his lid. What if he had another heart attack? She charged toward the trespasser, knowing she had to do something but not sure what.

  “Hey, cowboy!”

  He didn’t answer. He probably couldn’t hear her over the water.

  “You can’t do that here!” she shouted from the edge of the fountain.

  She raised her voice, upping the volume to an attention-getting yell. "You can’t take a shower here! Get out."

  Slowly, he turned and spotted her, and his eyes lit up. He drilled her with his sultry stare.

  Her heart flipped. She was unaccustomed to raw, primal men like him.

  He settled the Stetson back on his head and came toward her, rippling bare muscles on full display, and she found herself wishing, ridiculously, that he’d turn around so she could see his backside. Water dripped down his flat, hard belly and his burnished bronze skin. A water droplet beaded on one chocolate-drop nipple as he raised his arms to squeeze more water from his hair.

  Her womb contracted. What devilish sensation was this?

  “This fountain belongs to the Cox Corporation. You can’t bathe in it,” she lectured, trying to sound as intimidating as Ms. Polk.

  “I’m not bathing. See, no soap.” The cowboy held out empty palms and gave her a head-to-toe ogle, not even trying to be subtle.

  She squirmed, his steady gaze making her feel as exposed as he was. Worse, she felt like an idiot. It wasn’t fair. He was a nearly naked trespasser, and she was doing him a favor by giving him a chance to vacate before she called the cops.

  He started toward her, moving with unhurried insolence, his long, tanned feet visible now on the slippery aqua tiles lining the bottom of the pool.

  “Look, if you’re homeless, if you need a place to stay, I have a little money you can have, and a friend of mine volunteers at a mission—"

  Good grief, Jane. There you go, tromping on boundaries; back off the caring nurturer instincts. He’s not a lost puppy. He’s not yours to save.

  “Thanks, anyway. A bedroll is enough for me.” He gestured toward a knapsack and rumpled sleeping bag on the other side of the pavement, flanked by a pair of workworn cowboy boots, jeans, and a western shirt.

  “You don’t understand. You can’t camp out on Cox property.”

  “Oh?” He stopped a few feet away and looked her over again with deep-set blue eyes that shattered the last of her poise.

  “You have to leave now.”

  “So, this Cox fellow... he’s a hard-ass?” he asked.

  “Yes—no... Not exactly...” Jane tried to back off the rim of the pool, not realizing how treacherous the wet marble could be until it was too late. She slipped, and her feet went out from under her.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, arms flailing.

  Incredibly, he moved faster than she fell.

  Instead of plunging forward and smashing her face in the shallow water as gravity and momentum intended, she was swept clear of the sharp edge and caught in powerful arms.

  Instinctively, she clutched at shoulders as firm and smooth as well-worn saddle leather. Every nerve ending in her body came to life, shooting electricity through her limbs straight to her heart.

  “Let go of me!” she cried.

  “Steady now, darlin’,” he drawled. “Get your footing. The bottom’s slick as a newborn calf.”

  “I can manage.” Jane tried backing away, but her left foot went out from under her, thrusting her leg awkwardly between the thighs that she was trying to avoid. His knees closed around hers, preventing another tumble but throwing her into a panic.

  “Easy does it. You’re fine. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Maybe it was the drawl. The man’s voice was oddly soothing in a sexy, deep-throated way. For whatever reason, she calmed down. He grabbed underneath her arms and lifted all five-foot-six inches of her over the rim of the pool.

  She stood dumbfounded in the puddle dripping
down her legs, shifting uneasily from one soggy shoe to the other.

  “You can’t sleep here either,” she mumbled, picking back up where she’d left off before she’d fallen.

  She did have a relentless quality that had landed Jane her much-coveted job. Looking over her shoulder at his makeshift bed, Jane gulped. Thinking about his sexy navel tucked in a nest of fine hairs that thickened at the waistband of the briefs.

  Yikes!

  Things like this didn’t happen to Jane Grant, a twenty-six-year-old office worker and substitute mother to her younger sister, Kim. She’d taken over the role after their parents were killed in a plane crash nine years earlier. Her life was mundane with a capital M and would stay that way until Kim finished college in three years and got her teaching certificate.

  Then and only then would Jane’s life be her own.

  “Seems I’m trespassing.” The cowboy chuckled.

  She didn’t need to meet his gaze to know that he was grinning. She heard the humor in his voice. “I need to get to work, so could you please go?”

  Jane glanced down at her neat, two-inch, bone-colored pumps and was pretty sure the discount footwear would dry into stiff, toe-pinching discards. Her calves were soaked, but at least her pastel-green dress had escaped all but a few splashes—and wet handprints where the cowboy had grabbed her.

  “Sorry if I delayed you,” he said. “I didn’t expect anyone to be coming to work so early.”

  “Obviously not.”

  He sounded courteous enough, but she detected a twinge of amusement—maybe even irony—in everything he said. Was he making fun of her?

  "I’m going into that building.” Jane pointed at the large office complex with light-sand-colored walls and ornate cast-iron balconies not intended for use. "You have three minutes to disappear before I send security after you.”

  His grin broadened. He didn’t look the least bit cowed.

  Or contrite.

  "Some of the guards are bigger than you. A lot bigger,” she added.

  “Thanks for the warning.” The cowboy sauntered over to his gear and bent over to roll up the bed. Had he slept here?

  She stared.

  Good grief! The man was a masterpiece. His shoulders and back rippled with muscles under skin as smooth as polished copper. His waist was lean and his hips narrower than the breadth of his chest. She’d always poked fun at her friends when they rhapsodized over men’s backsides, but this cowpoke’s butt was world-class—full, round, muscular, and undulating as he

  walked.

  And his legs!

  She could easily imagine them wrapped around her. Jane moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.

  Holy cattle drive!

  She must be losing her mind. Policing the grounds wasn’t in her job description, and Ms. Polk treated tardiness as one of the seven deadly sins. She had to go—now.

  Ms. Polk was the walking caricature of a career woman from another era: short and scrawny, but big-busted with unfashionable tortoiseshell glasses, sweater sets, and salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a severe bun. She lived in dark skirts and probably owned several dozen white blouses, all of which were starched and ironed. The woman wore sensible stubby-heeled shoes and sometimes pinned a watch on her lapel to compare the time with that on her large wristwatch. She intimidated everyone but Rupert Cox. She would know how to handle a vagrant cowpoke.

  Jane tried to ignore the squishing in her shoes as she hurried toward the building, not even indulging in another peek at the delicious hunk. With a bit of luck, she could slip off her pumps and let them dry while she hid out behind her desk.

  "The clock starts now,” she threatened and headed at a brisk pace toward her building. Behind her, she heard the man laughing.

  Once she was inside, she told the security guard at the front desk about the cowboy and headed for the elevator.

  When Jane reached the office three minutes late, Ms. Polk didn’t even glance at her watch. She looked flushed and flustered. Jane had never seen Ms. Polk look either flushed or flustered. Wow, was the Cox Corporation on the brink of bankruptcy or something?

  “Oh, yes, Jane, I forgot you were coming in early,” the older woman said. “Busy yourself at your desk for a while.”

  Busy herself at her desk? No other instructions?

  Huh?

  For this, she’d gotten up at an unholy hour, steamed her eyes open in a hot shower, and drank three cups of black coffee to keep them that way. Something was radically wrong, but she knew better than to ply Ms. Polk with questions. She didn’t want her head to be the first to fall into a basket under a downsizing guillotine.

  Pausing, she went to the window to peek at the fountain, but no one was in sight: no security guard or the cowboy.

  He’d gotten away in time.

  Feeling irrationally disappointed that he’d disappeared, she plopped down at her desk and looked for busywork. If this was what it took to ingratiate herself to Ms. Polk, she would do it. The woman held the key to Jane’s future. She couldn’t get her dream promotion to the marketing department without Ms. Polk’s approval.

  Whatever the woman asked of her, she’d do it.

  Jump through hoops? On it. Fetch coffee? You betcha. Sit behind a desk and pretend to work? I’m your woman.

  Chapter Two

  Finally, at ten o’clock, her supervisor stopped in her doorway. "Jane, Mr. Cox wants to see you in his office.”

  “Mr. Cox asked for me?” The CEO rarely exchanged more than cursory greetings and had never asked for her personally.

  Excitement coursed through her. Had Mr. Cox finally noticed her achievements? Could this be her toe in the door for getting that promotion and the much-needed income boost that went with it?

  Ms. Polk didn’t bother replying; she just slipped back through the crack in the door. A crack so small that Jane couldn’t see into the opulent interior of the CEO’s inner sanctum. The massive room was chocked with fat leather furniture, Persian rugs, and expensive Southwestern art.

  Then another thought occurred to her. What if she was being called on the carpet? What if she’d done something wrong?

  Forcing a smile, she hoped her face wouldn’t freeze into an idiotic grin. After squaring her shoulders, she rapped lightly at the door before walking in. All she saw was the vast mahogany desk, the surface as smooth and shiny as glass, and the telescope Mr. Cox used to survey the grounds. Personally, she wondered why he simply didn’t have a monitor installed into his office so he could watch the security cameras live.

  "Join us over here, please, Jane," he boomed.

  If Rupert Cox ever lost his financial empire, he could recoup his losses playing movie villains. He had a deep, compelling Darth Vader voice that gave her goosebumps whenever he directly addressed her, which was blessedly seldom.

  Sprawled on a half-moon-shaped sofa, his feet propped on the surface of a polished ebony table, was the last man she ever expected to see again.

  The naked cowboy.

  Except now, he was fully dressed.

  He caught Jane’s eye and gave her a big wink as if they shared a secret. Panicked, she quickly glanced away. What was he doing in Mr. Cox’s office, and how did his presence here affect her?

  “We won’t need you anymore, Ms. Polk,” Cox told his executive assistant.

  Ms. Polk gave a curt nod and marched toward the door, her spine and upper lip stiff. Jane wanted to beg the woman not to desert her, but Mr. Cox was already on his feet and ushering Jane into a nearby chair with a tight grip on her elbow.

  She wasn’t sure she cared for the high-handedness, but he was decent as far as bosses went. He might be eccentric, but she’d never gotten creepy vibes from him. So, although his pressure on her arm was just a little too firm, she didn’t see it as harmful. He was just a forceful man.

  Or maybe she was making excuses for his arrogance since she really wanted that promotion.

  “Jane,” Mr. Cox said. "I’d like to formally introduce you to my gra
ndson, Luke Black. He grew up in the wilds on a Montana cattle ranch and has since worked in Africa on a mission to end food insecurities in third-world countries.”

  Was it her imagination, or did Luke wince at the introduction?

  “I’m not as high-flautin’ or as untamed as grandfather likes to pretend I am.” Luke stood up, acknowledging Jane with a nod, and staring at her so intently she feared he might have developed X-ray vision.

  He was even more dangerously disturbing with clothes on than without—not that what he was wearing could be called office attire. His Wrangler jeans were skintight and showed off his spectacular muscular thighs, and he’d apparently ripped the sleeves off a western shirt the same blue as his jeans. His feet didn’t look slender now in chunky cowboy boots. His hair had dried to a sandy brown with sun-bleached streaks of gold. And he seemed taller standing here in the office—at least six two.

  "You’re from Montana, then?” she asked because some comment seemed to be expected from her. What was there to say to a handsome stranger after she’d seen him practically naked?

  “I see you’ve dried off quite well.” Luke’s smile was wry. "Sorry to be the cause of your drenching.”

  "Mmm, thank you.”

  Silence. Well, that was awkward. What on earth was she thanking him for?

  “Don’t get uncomfortable on my account.” Luke lowered himself back down on the sofa.

  "Grandfather saw your valiant effort to eject a hinterlands cowboy from his fountain.” He gestured at the high-powered telescope sitting on a tripod overlooking the front grounds.

  "Damn cheeky, Luke,” Mr. Cox said jovially. He seemed to be amused by his grandson’s prank. "Playing in the fountain. Of course, you’ll have to shape up after this. You can’t keep acting like you’re wallowing in some blasted glacier-fed watering hole.”

  His grandson didn’t look intimidated, but Jane felt two inches tall with a feather for a backbone. She wanted out of here.

  Why was she here?

  She sat precariously on the edge of the antique chair. The upholstered leather seat was too slippery, and it rounded to accommodate her bottom. She crossed her legs at the ankle, all too aware of the still-damp shoes pinching her toes.