Isle of Sensuality Read online

  Isle of Sensuality

  by

  Aimée Duffy

  Isle of Sensuality

  Copyright © 2013, Aimée Duffy

  ISBN: 9781937325503

  Publisher: Beachwalk Press, Inc.

  Electronic Publication: January, 2013

  Editor: Antonia Tiranth

  Cover: Fantasia Frog Designs

  eBooks are not transferable. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Back Cover Copy

  Who knew being with Mr. Wrong could be so right?

  Caitlyn Hart is shooting her first movie, and she doesn’t want to screw it up. Still, she’s on a deadline and when her co-star, Mr. Hot Shot Campbell, holds filming up, he’s immediately on her shit list. But she can’t ignore his charms for long or the overpowering want she feels for him. Even though she knows he’s her Mr. Wrong, she doesn’t mind him being her Mr. Right Now. If only her silly heart would stay immune.

  Having been burned once, Jake Campbell doesn’t have the capacity to love, but that doesn’t mean relationships of a purely sexual nature are off limits. After all, a man has needs. His sexy co-star with fire red hair and a passion to match ignites his own desire and he sets out to convince her a fling is the only way to scratch the proverbial itch. Little did he figure that she’d be the one to penetrate the thick scars on his heart and make him feel.

  Dedication

  I’d like to dedicate this one to the Dashing 100 Ladies for all the giggles, support, entertainment, and priceless advice. Thank you for making my Thursdays better than Fridays.

  Acknowledgements

  There are so many people I want to thank, I hope I don’t forget anyone! First of all, Andrea, Elpi, and Michelle S who helped me with this story through many re-writes. I’d also like to thank Janet, Amy, and Melissa for your unending patience and fabulous advice. Tonie, the rock star of editors, Pamela Tyner for making my dreams come true, and Tara at Fantasia Frog Designs for creating the perfect cover.

  Author’s Forward

  Dear Reader,

  Caitlyn and Jake’s story was the first book I ever penned. Isle of Sensuality has come a long way since then—and faced several re-writes—but I couldn’t let go of these two. I fell in love with them both. Their journey together isn’t an easy one. They’ve caused me many hot flushes, smiles, and tears, but I’d happily do it all over again. I hope you enjoy their story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  Take care.

  Aimee xoxo

  Chapter 1

  Location: Beach. Action: Frantic lovemaking.

  Caitlyn Hart’s cheeks warmed and her pulse thumped in her veins. The bound script slipped from her fingers, landing with a thud on the coffee table. No matter how many times she read the words they still came as a shock.

  Pull it together, Cait. You’re an actress. Act.

  The only problem was she had no idea how she was supposed to. Short of picking up a stack of blue movies the next time she was in Rio, there was no way to learn how she was meant to act in that particular scene.

  Thrumming her fingers against the wooden tabletop, Caitlyn glared at the glass wall. Rain pattered against the small villa in a soothing rhythm. She tried to relax, but couldn’t quite alleviate her temper enough to do so.

  It was bad enough filming had been delayed a week already, now they would have to wait until the rain passed before they could begin. This, however, was all dependant on whether or not her co-star would actually show up. Jake Campbell, movie star and playboy alike, was the only true star in the low budget movie, Caught in Action.

  Caitlyn’s phone vibrated on the table, and she slid her finger over the screen to read the text.

  Hey, Cait. God, I’m terrified about the show. Wish you were here already! How’s filming going? xxx

  Amanda’s text kicked her anger up a notch. Her younger sister looked to Caitlyn as a mother figure at times. In three months, Amanda was doing her first fashion show and her twenty-two year old sister wasn’t strong. Amanda needed support, and Caitlyn was the only one who had been there to provide it. Not that she would have ever done anything differently, but sometimes she wished she had someone she could rely on.

  She sent a quick reply to Amanda promising she would try and be there. She had to be there. Rather than spend the week sulking or worrying she wouldn’t be finished filming in time, Caitlyn had spent most of it learning as many of her lines as possible.

  The character she played was so unlike herself that it was exhilarating; Sandra Fell was a kick-ass detective with only one goal—to find the man who killed her family in a drug bust and put him behind bars. Caitlyn was never forthright, nor had she ever confronted anyone in her life.

  Not to mention, it was a vast change from playing a spoiled socialite on an American soap opera. Still, Caitlyn had to admit that while she was enjoying lying in the sun all day—yet still managing to stay surprisingly chalk white—she was eager to get the movie shot and head home. The private island the filmmakers rented was beautiful, but felt crowded with most of the cast. She rapped in a staccato beat on the mahogany table top with her fingers. Was it really too much to ask that someone showed up at a job when he was supposed to?

  The sound of helicopter blades chopping through the air caught Caitlyn’s attention and her fingers froze mid-rap. She knew it must be Jake. Everyone else had taken a speed boat from Rio, facing wind and water spray to get here. It figured a hot shot movie star like him would find that mode of transportation beneath him.

  As she rose from the armchair, its legs scraped the tiled floor. She paced across to the glass wall and cupped a hand over her eyes to see out. The sun had set and the island was in darkness. Of course the ugly black clouds in the sky hadn’t allowed much light through when it had been daylight. It reminded her of English autumns, though she’d never returned to the UK since she left all those years ago.

  About fifteen feet away, she saw a makeshift landing pad, illuminated by spotlights pointing toward the gloomy sky. The beams highlighted the sheets of rain which fell diagonally, hitting the sand with such force that little divots were left behind and the grains scattered at impact.

  After a moment, the chopping sound grew louder and Caitlyn saw the dark outline of a helicopter as it flew into the prism of light created by the spotlights. Once grounded, the pilot practically stumbled out of the aircraft until he had opened the rear door—as if it were a limousine!

  Flabbergasted by the grandiose behavior, Caitlyn squinted so she could see more clearly. A tall, muscular figure stepped out from the helicopter and landed as gracefully as a jungle cat on the sand. Once straightened, the man towered above the pilot. Golden hair glinted in the light and Caitlyn’s tummy flipped.

  It was Jake.

  Her anger at his lack of professionalism and consideration for others’ schedules boiled to the forefront of her mind. The way he casually strolled across the sand—with the air of a Greek god—followed by the pilot and another man, all struggling with his luggage, made her temper flare hotter.

  And that is exactly why actors and actresses are considered high maintenance.

  The lights of the larger villa opposite Caitlyn’s flared on and she ducked into a shadowed corner of the glass wall to continue snooping. Jake at least held the door open for the men as they carried his cases inside. When the two emerged, Jake pulled out a roll of notes from his tight jeans, counted out several bills, and then handed them over as if it we
re nothing. Caitlyn couldn’t see his expression from this far, but his lazy actions suggested he perhaps wore a casual sneer.

  Never having met the man, she really shouldn’t judge. Although anyone who didn’t take their work seriously enough to actually show up on time couldn’t be all that nice. After the door closed and the two men retreated to the heliport, Caitlyn made a decision. Before she could change her mind, she pulled on a crocheted cardigan and headed for the door.

  It was about time Mr. Campbell realized that he couldn’t just arrive when it suited him, especially not when they were on such a tight schedule. Sure, he was absolutely gorgeous in the magazines and films she’d seen him in, but good looks—or even great looks—didn’t excuse poor manners. Caitlyn was new to the film industry, but she’d worked on Days and Nights since she was eighteen, a solid eight years of acting experience.

  As she threw open the door and the wind whipped rain across her face in hard slashes, Caitlyn’s anger grew. To her, work was a way of supporting those she loved—namely her younger sister and her nephew, Kale. Family was everything to Caitlyn, and it was what she’d lived for all her life.

  Wet sand flew up around her ankles with sludge-like consistency as she stomped her way across to Jake’s villa. The rain plastered her hair to her scalp and the humidity made her feel sticky, but she didn’t care. She was mad on too many levels to worry about appearances.

  As she neared his house, illuminated with lights shining from every window, the better part of herself was screaming reason at her.

  What on earth are you doing? He’s your co-star, and let’s face it, the only star! Why antagonize him when the movie needs him?

  But the voice of logic was grossly overruled by her newfound temper. After all, it was his job to be there. So why let everyone wait in limbo—no, wait for him—for a whole week before strolling onto the island like nothing was out of sorts? Well, she was about to find out.

  She had to make it back to LA in time for her sister’s fashion show. Ever since Caitlyn had run away from their alcoholic and abusive father, taking her fourteen-year-old sister with her, she’d been there for Amanda every day. The acting—although a way to escape real life, if only for a little while—was for Amanda as much as it was for herself. Caitlyn wanted to support her in every way she could, and now that Amanda had Kale, she needed to help more than ever. Amanda relied on her. Caitlyn took her work, and her family obligations, seriously. After all, Amanda was all she had left. Jake was making that task impossible.

  She climbed the step and reached out a hand to knock. For a split second, Caitlyn wondered if this really was the best idea.

  How about sticking up for yourself for once?

  Decided, Caitlyn knocked once. After a few seconds ticked by, her impatience rose. She turned the handle, pushed the door to the villa open, and gasped at the sight before her.

  * * * *

  Whiskey was exactly what Jake needed.

  After spending the morning at the bank and then the rest of the day and night traveling, he was exhausted. Yet he knew sleep wouldn’t come. Not when his father’s company was in the state it was.

  Disposing of his shirt—the humidity from the storm was stifling—Jake made his way through the coffee colored hallway, heading straight for the kitchen. Sean Brennon, the director and his long time friend, knew Jake’s choice of refreshments and he had no doubt a bottle of the finest Scotch would be in there somewhere.

  And it was. A bottle of malt sat on the center of the metallic breakfast bar. A crystal glass sat next to the whiskey with a white envelope propped against it. Jake lifted the note.

  Hey, man. Hope your day wasn’t too shitty. I really appreciate this. The fridge is stocked with British crap and there’s another bottle of Scotch in the cupboard. Knock yourself out, and give me a call when you’re ready to start filming. The crew’s getting antsy.

  Sean

  Jake dragged his free hand across his face. It had been a hell of a day. Filming this low-budget movie was a risk, and not something he particularly needed at this point in time. All week, he’d been held up in London trying to find a way to keep his father’s business, which was now run by his two brothers, afloat.

  After their parents died, Jake had taken over the business, and while he’d enjoyed the challenge running the UK’s leading engineering supplies procurement company presented, he’d also felt trapped and suffocated.

  For the last seven days, he’d been arguing with his brothers about the best way to proceed. Jake had tried to push them to sell given the recession, but Tom and Sam vehemently disagreed. Knowing he had other commitments, Jake finally invested a chunk of capital into the business to keep the company afloat until filming ceased. When he got back to London, he’d convince them to change their minds. He had to. With his youngest brother Sam’s sole skill being selling, and Tom lacking even basic people skills, they had no chance of running the business without him and there was no way he could face running his father’s company all over again.

  It had been enough to be the sole guardian of his younger brothers after their parents were killed, never mind taking control of the family business as well—and all at the age of eighteen. And then there was Sarah and her ultimatum. Jake poured a two-finger nip of whisky and swallowed it in one burning gulp. The burn helped push away the lingering rage just thinking of Sarah brought. Still, it wasn’t enough.

  Pouring a heftier shot, his mind unconsciously wandered back to the months after his parents had been killed. No one, not the social worker, the principal at his high school, or the counselor wanted him to take over the reins of Campbell Engineers. They’d all tried to persuade him to finish school and let the social department look after his brothers, all so he could go to college.

  Jake shook his head at the absurdity of the memory. Like he’d ever let his brothers go into care. Another sip and the warmth of the alcohol spread through him, making it easier to ignore the confused guilt welling up inside.

  Three months, he told himself. After that he could get back to London and work on his brothers. Surely they would see the logic in selling a failing company in today’s economy. They could use the proceeds to start their own small business, maybe even invest in the stock market. After all, share prices were at their lowest in decades.

  Yet, as he relaxed back into a lazy-boy recliner and stared out at the darkness beyond the patio doors, an uneasy feeling swelled in his chest. Was he wrong in asking his brothers to give up on their legacy?

  Before he could convince himself he was being an idiot, Jake heard scuffling coming from the front of the house. A moment later, the sound of flip-flops slapped against the stone stairs leading to the door of the villa and then, a light knock. Jake propelled himself out of the chair, headed for the hallway—picking up the coat rack just in case—and waited. The door swung open and a tiny, dark figure entered the house.

  Jake flicked the light switch and after his eyes adjusted, he raised his brows in surprise at the sight before him. Caitlyn Hart, his co-star whom he’d yet to have the pleasure to meet, stood in his doorway resembling a drowned mouse.

  The rain had turned her fiery red curls a dark cherry shade, enhancing the creamy skin of her face and neck. A familiar burn coursed through his veins as his gaze lowered to her white top, clinging to her like wet, translucent skin. He noticed the twin peaks pointing at him from her chest and swallowed. How had he missed how utterly sexy she was when he’d seen her on television commercials and in magazines?

  Caitlyn cleared her throat in irritation and he realized his gaze was still molded to her breasts. He lifted his head and met her glare head on, resisting the urge to laugh at her expression. Her scowl was adorable.

  “Would you mind getting dressed? I was hoping we could talk.”

  Jake felt his eyebrows pull together before it hit him that he was standing there shirtless, wearing only a pair of jeans. Still, she was the first woman who had ever asked him to cover himself up. His lips curved.
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  “And let you miss all this?” Jake swept a hand across his torso. “I’m not that selfish.”

  Most girls would have giggled at the joke. He waited, but her scowl only deepened. What was her problem? He placed the coat stand down, folded his arms across his chest, and then lounged against the door frame.

  Her gaze darted down to his folded arms and for a moment, the scowl vanished. Her expression was hard to decipher, but before he could figure it out, her attention focused back on his face. He noted the emerald color of her eyes had darkened and a flush glowed in her cheeks.

  Caitlyn wiped her expression—was it lust?—clean of any trace of emotion and glared at him some more. “Since it seems you’d rather do this half naked—” At that he did laugh and her frown deepened. “—then I guess I’ll say what I came to. You may think you’re some big shot movie star who doesn’t need to abide by the rules, but your actions have consequences for others!” Caitlyn’s voice rose as her anger flared.

  He was gobsmacked at her outburst. Falling back on his charm to try to alleviate some of her anger, Jake grinned from ear to ear.

  Her eyes flashed. Caitlyn stomped toward him and poked her finger into his chest. “Some of us have lives,” she continued her angry torrent. “Commitments, things we have to do after work. You know, work? Where you were supposed to be last week? Now filming will run on longer and I have places to be in three months.”

  Jake eyed his co-star with his brows drawn together and his jaw taut. What kind of a woman would come into a man’s house and give him grief just because his timekeeping didn’t suit her? Exactly the same kind of woman Sarah was. He couldn’t marry Sarah quick enough for her liking.

  But Jake wasn’t twenty-one anymore and didn’t let women try to rule him. Plus, he had to work with Caitlyn. If he threw her out now, surely the next three months would be torture. He considered whether to continue to play the dumb, self-centered hot shot movie star she had accused him of being and decided it would be fun. Well, more fun than telling her the truth about the week of hell which made him late. Not that he would ever confide such a thing in someone like her in the first place.