Sunset Seduction

By Heidi Lynn Anderson

When Rachel Mills finds her husband in bed with a pair of younger women, she leaves the cheating ass in the dust. Haagen-Daze and chocolate are the only happily ever after she needs. They've never bruised her ego or squashed her self-esteem. But her free-spirited Grandmother all but shoves Rachel on a vacation that was meant for two. On her trip to self-discovery, Rachel meets a reluctant resort owner. Josh may look like Superman (if Superman had a hotter twin brother that is) Will Rachel be his Kryptonite? or will each of then be what the other needs?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heidi Lynn Anderson
• Release date: Apr 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393626237

Heidi Lynn Anderson

As a child, Heidi Lynn Anderson played with imaginary friends. When her mother, asked the doctor if this was normal, he assured her mother Heidi was fine, and told her Heidi was just creative. As an adult, Heidi became a huge fan of romance novels. She loved to take what she calls book vacations. With over a thousand of novels in her library, she decided to sit down and write her own vacation. In the process she fell in love with writing. Now Heidi puts her imaginary friends in steamy stories.

Book preview

Chapter One

Step One

When suffering from a bruised heart, sit on the beach and have a stiff cocktail with an umbrella and a cherry on top. It will fix what ails you in no time.

~ Grammy Mills, Ten Steps to a Better Life

Rachel Mills stared at the finest backside she’d ever seen in red boardshorts and considered the paper in her hand. The man attached to the great ass stood not twenty feet away, a matching red towel slung over a well-defined shoulder. If she squinted he looked like Superman’s hotter twin.

Palm fronds from overhead fluttered like angel wings, fanning her sun-heated skin. Why was she even thinking about doing the silly things on the list? She should’ve tossed it back at her grandmother when she had the chance. The title alone screamed RUN, but she loved her grandmother and hadn’t wanted to make a scene, so she’d let Gram shove the list in her carry-on.

Ten Steps to a Better Life was too self-helpy, even for Grammy Mills. She shouldn’t have let her grandmother talk her into this vacation in the first place. Rachel slipped the rose-printed stationery with the list back into her L.L. Bean tote and ignored the hot guy.

Grammy Mills was the wild one. Why couldn’t her grandmother accept that Rachel was not? What good was the list going to do her, anyway? She’d been on this beach for two days, committed to Step One. And drinking herself silly wasn’t making her feel any better. 

Rubbing at the knot of irritation burning in her chest, she sank into the lounge chair. She’d tried having a good time. Since arriving at Sunset Bay, she’d given Operation Get Over Him everything she had. Rachel had boiled like a lobster in the hot tub, attended shows the resort offered in the evening and even took a kayak tour of the mangroves. Which, if she was honest with herself, none of these things were a bad time. She just didn’t feel like having fun. But hadn’t she forced herself to smile and laugh as if she actually wanted to be here every step of the way? Rachel was doing her best to fake it until she made it in the happiness department.

Misery sucked her in like quicksand. Every time she felt the tiniest bit better, thoughts of her ex filled her head and destroyed her progress. Rachel lifted the coconut filled with rum punch. Screw the list, she thought. She would go back to the three feet of snow and ice and the sub-zero temps in Maine with a tan and a hangover and forget about step four.

Gulping down a mouthful of spiked fruity goodness, she adjusted the shoulder strap of her tank-style bathing suit top. Her grandmother had smoked one too many joints and been to one too many enlightenment circles and now Rachel was paying the price.

She rubbed the tension at the back of her neck and willed herself to relax. Rachel focused on the warmth of the tropical sun until her tankini rolled up the muffin top she’d developed since her divorce, reminding her of all the chocolate she’d consumed after kicking Rick out. How many pounds of candy and rum-filled coconuts did it take to get over being cheated on, anyhow? She sure as hell would like to know before her ass got any bigger.

Gram probably had a list for that too. Deep in her heart, Rachel knew her grandmother wanted what was best for her. But doing ten silly things on a list wasn’t going to help her find a better life. She needed time to discover a happier place. Wasn’t she entitled to be off her game and maybe even a little bitchy right now?

She’d spent fifteen years building a life with someone and all she had to show for it was a pile of divorce papers that said he got most of their possessions and almost all their savings. Tilting her head, she sighed as the warm breeze blew over her.

Rachel conceded to the asshole’s demands for money and the possessions they had accumulated over the years in order to keep her corporate consulting firm she’d poured her blood, sweat and tears into and the small house her grandmother had given them when they’d moved back to Rachel’s home town after college.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the warm sea air filling her lungs. The money and the things didn’t matter. Rachel could make more money and buy more things, but she couldn’t get back the time she’d wasted on him.

For years she’d slaved working twelve-hour days and then coming home to cook and clean. She’d made a business for herself and a home for Rick. Maybe if she weren’t so driven she would’ve seen him for the snake he really was sooner. Oh, fuck it. He’s just an ass.

She scowled and settled back in her chair. "That dick-head bastard can go fuck himself five ways to Sunday for all I care."

Now that would be quite an accomplishment, a sexy male voice said.

Rachel jumped in her seat, splashing her drink. Did I say that out loud? Pink liquid dribbled down her arm as she blinked against the sun.

Placing her dripping coconut on the end table next to her, she turned slowly. Heat flooded her face when she took in the hunk the sexy-as-hell voice had come from. God, just kill me now.

The urge to crawl under her chair and bury herself in the sand was hard to resist.  She straightened and hoped she looked marginally sane. It was one thing to be caught talking to yourself. It was a whole other bowl of crazy to be caught by the object of your earlier drool problem.

I’m sorry. Superman the Sequel handed her his red towel. Here, use this to clean up. I shouldn’t have interrupted your conversation. It was rude of me.

Taking the towel, she dabbed at her arm. That’s okay. The palm trees were probably sick of listening to me.

He rested his hands on his hips. Probably not. I bet they were hanging on every word.

Standing like that, he looked just like a super hero ready to save the day. All the man needed was a skin-tight blue suit with a big red S on the chest. Rachel swallowed. It wouldn't kill her to play along, would it? Rick, and what had happened, was three thousand miles away with the slush and snow that always accompanied February in Maine. 

She had two weeks here in the sun and sand. The least she could do was talk to the guy she’d been undressing with her eyes for more than a quarter of an hour. It wasn’t like she’d ever see him again. Even if he’d been on vacation for a month he was still too tan to live anywhere near Maine. He probably resided somewhere he could take off his shirt all year round and do sit-ups in the sun.

Doing her best shampoo commercial hair-flip, Rachel tossed back her shoulder-length strawberry blonde curls. I’m sorry you had to hear that.

Sinfully-full lips lifted, teasing out his dimples. No worries. I talk to inanimate objects all the time.

The sound of his voice vibrated down her spine like a lover’s touch. Maybe she should rethink the list after all. Her mouth dried and moist heat sparked south of her belly button and north of her knees.

She could do this. So, what if it had been fifteen years and twenty pounds since she flirted with a stranger? With the right underwire bra, her breasts were still in the general vicinity of where they were when she was nineteen and her butt hadn’t gone to Jell-O yet.

Have you talked to someone about that? she asked.

Superman’s hands slid into the pockets of his boardshorts. Yeah, the people in my head say I’m fine.

If she could keep The Rockettes in her stomach from kicking up all the rum punch, Superman the Sequel might be the man to help her forget her troubles. At least this guy looked at her with amusement and tossed her humor back. Rick, the cheating ass, had always scowled at her as if she had six heads and twelve arms when she was being a smart-ass and made sure to tell her she was acting stupid.

So, um. Rachel cleared the nerves from her throat. What brings you to this little slice of heaven?

Work.

She raked her fingers through her hair and bit back a yelp. Ripping through the snarled and tangled curls, she hoped she looked beach-tousled and sexy. That little dream sank like a pirate ship in a hurricane when her hand came away with a small nest of hair clinging to her fingers. Work, so, do you work for the hotel? Rachel discreetly de-haired her hand.

Not exactly.

Could he be any more evasive? If he didn’t want to talk to her he should have stayed where he was yakking it up with the cabana waiter and the bikini-clad woman sitting at the bar.  She hadn’t asked him to come over here. Putting on her best boardroom smile, she straightened her back. "Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to work then."

He grinned and the sun seemed to brighten behind him. Today’s my day off.  The breeze coming from the turquoise water ruffled his surfer-boy, sun-streaked hair and light glinted off his bronzed skin. Do you mind if I sit?

Butterflies bloomed in her belly and mixed with her confusion. She didn’t like this feeling one bit. He made her feel off-kilter and warm at the same time. It wasn’t comfortable—she should tell him to go away, maybe then her insides would settle. She took one last look at his pecs flexing under a sheen of sunscreen and sighed.

If she told him to go she’d have to say good-bye to the sexiest six-pack, or should she say twenty-four pack she had ever seen.  It was probably for the best anyway. Abs like that trailed into sexy man V’s, and sexy man V’s had the power to make any hot-blooded woman stupid.  

Before she could speak he sat in the chair next to her. I’m Josh Connolly. I own this little slice of beach.

Owner?  Rachel pegged Josh to be about thirty, maybe thirty-five at the most. He seemed a little young to own a place of this size with Sunset Bay’s great reputation. Her businesswoman brain took over and started calculating figures. The main building sat nicely between quaint mom and pop inn and mid-sized hotel, but the grounds, the cabins and all the out buildings made for one massive resort. Never mind the fact Sunset Bay was in the middle of the Bermuda triangle and the cost of hurricane and flood insurance would be insane. Little did people know, it took a lot of straight-up cash for a resort to survive in paradise. She didn’t get the multi-millionaire vibe from Josh.

Rachel studied him closer. He didn’t have the pampered look of someone with a trust fund or the unkempt hair/beard/slouch of a TEC start-up either. His gaze held intelligence and determination, so maybe he made his money in the stock market—but he lacked the ruthlessness of Wall Street. Not that he would be wearing a power suit on the beach. All Rachel knew for sure was the man made her insides mushy and her hands sweaty.

Wiping a damp palm on her tankini, she took his out-stretched hand and shook. A sizzle shot up her arm. Nice to meet you Josh, I’m Rachel Mills. Her words flowed from her mouth in a professional auto-response.

The pleasure is all mine, he said.

Rachel knew she grinned like an idiot. She couldn’t help it. He was just so damn cute, like a new puppy. You know he’s going to piddle on the floor and chew your shoes, but it doesn’t matter because your heart melts when you look at him. So, you own this place? she asked lamely.

Josh’s lips firmed and his dimples disappeared. Yup, it’s all mine.

Her professional Spidey-sense tingled. Something told her he wasn’t happy about that fact.

So, what brings you to Sunset Bay? he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Josh’s question brought back the hurt Rick had caused. She’d all but forgotten about her ex-husband for a minute. She swallowed and turned to face him. Really, you don’t want to know.

Next to her, he propped his elbows onto his knees. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.

She must have had one too many rum punches, because he was coming on strong— and she liked it. Grammy might not be so off the mark after all. How much time do you have?

All the time in the world, for a pretty lady like you.

Rachel couldn’t keep the roll from her eyes or the chuckle out of her throat. Yup, she liked it all right. Five minutes with Josh had done more for her self-esteem than the barrel of rum punch she’d consumed since she’d arrived. She forced her pulse back down to a non-lethal rate. Does that line usually work for you?

You tell me. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

Smooth-talking men were a dime a dozen. She had to keep that in mind if she was going to play this game with him. Wrinkling her nose, she said, I think you could do better.

Is that a challenge?

Smiling her first genuine smile in months, she eyed him. I don’t know if you’re up to it.

His eyebrow lifted. Oh, I’m up for it, but if you want me to back off just say so.

The lusty cobwebs in her head cleared. Was she being too bitchy? Oh, God, what was she thinking? She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t flirt with a hot man. I’m sorry. I’m coming off a divorce and I’m a little out of practice and still a lot pissed.

No worries, I kind of like snarky, pissed off and out-of-practice women. He winked at her. They make life interesting.

Why does everything about this guy turn me into a puddle of lust? She pulled the tankini over the inch of pale skin on her stomach and tried to get herself together.  Well, I guess today is your lucky day.

She picked her sunglasses off the table, slid them on and felt a little more in control.

It’s turning out that way, he said, kindly. I can’t imagine anybody letting you go. What the hell was wrong with this guy anyway?

A better question was, what was wrong with her? New resentment washed over Rachel. She didn’t know who she was madder at—Rick for cheating, or herself for not seeing it. If she looked back, all the signs were there.

The whispered phone calls and email accounts he made sure she didn’t have access to were just the tip of the iceberg in the red flag department. He was a junior JV basketball coach for the University of Maine for God’s sake. How many scouting trips did he really need to go on?

She shrugged off her irritation. He decided I wasn’t his type.

Idiot. How long were you married?

Almost fifteen years. She sighed.

Shock covered his handsome face. What? Were you eight when you guys started dating?

Rachel tugged at the hem of the bathing suit again before it rolled up her belly. Almost. I was eighteen when we met and twenty when we got married.

Josh’s brows creased together. I think this story needs some alcohol. He waved over the cabana waiter in white knee-length shorts and a sea blue polo shirt with the Sunset Bay logo stitched over the chest pocket.

What the hell, she could tell him her life story. What would it hurt? It wasn’t like she would have to see him again after she left this Island anyway. It would feel good to get Rick off her chest. Sounds good to me, she said.

The waiter jogged toward them and stopped. What can I get you, boss?

I’ll take a rum punch. Rachel leaned over and picked up her tote to fish out her room card for payment.

He placed his tingle-igniting hand on her arm.  It’s on the house, Josh said. Mark, can you bring a couple of waters too, please? 

You got it, sir. The waiter’s spotless white sneakers kicked up sand as he rushed back to the tiki hut a few yards away.

She put her bag down. You didn’t have to do that. I could have paid for my drink.

Not as long as I’m sitting here you won’t. A gentleman never lets a lady pay for her drinks if he wants her to spend time with him.

The old-fashioned sensibilities Gram had shoved down her throat while growing up poked their dusty heads out of storage and cheered.  She knew it wasn’t politically correct to get all hot and bothered over a man wanting to buy her drinks, but damn, it was nice. Did guys still pay when you went out on dates? What was the protocol now? It had been the dawn of this century when she last worried about this crap.

Did I say something to upset you? Josh asked.

Warm vibrations tangled deep inside her. She sucked down the last of her rum punch and pulled herself from the past and looked at the present. The view had definitely improved.

No, I’m sorry, she said.

The waiter came back with a full tray. He set down their drinks, water and a bowl of pretzels and took away her empty coconut.

Thank you, Mark, Josh said.

No problem, sir. Anything else?

Josh looked at Rachel in question. Are you all set?

It warmed her cold heart that he was so polite to his employees. She knew very well that not all bosses were so kind. I’m fine, thank you.

Josh flashed his sexy smile up at the other man. I think we’re all good, thanks.

You’re welcome, sir. Mark walked on to a group of sunbathers down the beach.

Lifting her coconut, Rachel watched as a pelican plucked its day’s meal out of the crystal-clear water and flew off, trailed by a half-dozen squawking seagulls hoping for scraps.

So, tell me more about your ex, Josh said as he picked up his beer.

The emotional rollercoaster she was on took her for another ride. Her hormone-fueled longing mixed with her deep-seated anger at Rick. She willed the hurricane of emotions inside her back down to a more manageable tropical storm and pushed out a breath. Are you sure you want to hear this?

Yes, if it means spending more time with you.

Taking a sip of her rum, she studied his earnest face. She had to ask the question racing through her head. Tell me Josh, do you always lay it on so thick?

He lifted a tan shoulder. Only when I see that the woman I’m laying it on likes it.

Embarrassment flooded through her and she felt her lips twitch. He was right—she did like it. Rachel reminded herself that not all men were assholes. There were good guys out in the world. So maybe this one just wanted to get down her pants, but maybe she wanted that too. She’d keep an open mind. How do you know I like it?

Because there’s color in your cheeks and a smile on your lips when I turn on the charm.

That’s the rum punch and the sun, she tossed back.

God help her, she really enjoyed this. This guy and his cheesy lines helped lift the two hundred pounds of baggage she’d carried around with her for far too long.

Oh, I don’t think so, pretty lady.

Rachel chuckled and shook her head. Tired Josh, real tired.

He covered his heart with the hand holding his beer. I’ve been honing my skills for decades and they’ve never failed me.

Feeling bold, she winked. You may have to try something else with me. If you haven’t noticed, I can be a hard woman to please.

Oh, I’ve noticed and I like a challenge. Josh rose. Six-foot-two inches of male perfection loomed over her.

Holy man-gods. Rachel averted her gaze before she did something stupid, like run her tongue along the ridges that made up his abdomen. She gulped and inched back in her chair. What are you doing?

Trying something else. He sat sideways at the foot her lounge chair and gripped her ankles, lifting them into his lap.

She tensed and straightened. Okay, umm. I...

Shit, what should I do now? She knew she should protest but she really couldn’t think of a good reason. It felt way too good to be touched by a man again.

At this point it didn’t matter to her that a man she’d just met was getting up close and personal with her new pedicure. She didn’t really mind at all. Something had to be wrong with her. She should pull her leg free and go back to her room before she made a fool of herself, but she liked his big hands on her. It had been a long time since a man touched her. The man invading her space seduced her into relaxing. Please tell me you don’t have some kind of weird foot fetish, she said.

That would depend on your definition of weird.

His laugh woke up the last of her hibernating girl parts.

I’ve been told I have great hands. His thumb traced the sensitive arch of her foot.

Oh, yes you do.

Gazing over his shoulder, Rachel bit back a sigh and watched the ocean kiss the sand with little lapping waves. This was all fun and games until your hormones did the dance of lust. Hers were rocking it out right now and she loved it.

I don’t know. I think I’ve had better, she teased.

Oh, yeah? Josh pressed his thumb hard into the pad of her heel.

Red-hot desire exploded in her stomach. The need to cry out with pleasure overwhelmed her. The beach around them spun in a swirl of tropical color. Josh twisted his thumb deeper into her heel. Waves of electricity sizzled and snapped in her core. Her head fell against the back of the chair. She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip