Margot Radcliffe lives in Columbus, Ohio, right now, but surrenders to wanderlust every couple of years, so it’s hard to say where she’ll end up next. Regardless of location, her apricot dog will be by her side while she writes fun romances that hopefully make readers laugh and space out for a bit. With heroines who aren’t afraid to take what they want and confident heroes who are up to a challenge, she loves creating complicated, modern love stories. She can be found @margotradcliffe on Twitter and @margot_radcliffe on Instagram.
If you liked Bring the Heat, why not try
The Pleasure Contract by Caitlin Crews
Exposed by Cathryn Fox
Enemies with Benefits by Zara Cox
Also by Margot Radcliffe
Friends with Benefits
Sin City Seduction
Sinfully Yours
Discover more at Harlequin.com
BRING THE HEAT
MARGOT RADCLIFFE
To Andy
Because you walk Catfish
Contents
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
Excerpt from Enemies with Benefits by Zara Cox
CHAPTER ONE
AFTER A QUICK flight from New York to Miami, Oliver Kent crossed the ramp from the marina’s dock onto his yacht, Chance. Sliding off his favorite leather Tom Ford boots, he set his bare feet down on the familiar teak with a deep sigh of relief. The simple action felt like he was not just shedding his shoes, but a part of his life he’d been waiting to jettison a long time ago, finally leaving the cold November weather behind for an endless summer.
He padded across the spacious aft deck, the wood sun-warmed under his feet and the salty breeze off the water sifting through the hair he’d let air-dry in the limo he’d taken from his condo to the airport, the first careless act of a man set on a new path.
Grinning to himself, he opened the glass doors to the aft cabin, smelling sweet, crisp air and happy that the air conditioner that he’d sprung an obscene amount of money for was doing its double duty of keeping the boat cool but also dehumidifying the air. When he’d worked on yachts after graduating from college, he’d always hated that inside the cabins inevitably had a stale smell to them, and he’d been hell-bent on making sure his own didn’t. Why would he pay millions of dollars for a yacht and yet have to put up with it smelling like a musty sewer?
He traversed the thickly carpeted saloon that functioned as the main living space before continuing down the hallway that led to the front, or bow, of the boat. He took in the rest of the improvements and upgrades he’d made to the interior, his thoughts drifting back to his air-conditioning unit and the person who’d recommended the system to him in the first place. The one he was essentially waiting for and had been waiting for for a long time. A smile tugging his lips, he glanced back to the men following behind him with his luggage and opened a door. “This is my room,” he informed them. He took a peek into the master suite he’d designed and found it perfect, but he truly had one destination and one destination only in mind.
Moving through the bowels of the boat, he saw the luxury guest rooms with digital toilets and silk duvets and the hallways lined with deep mahogany wood paneling polished to a high shine. He’d spared no expense in restoring the broken-down motor yacht he’d purchased two years ago on a whim and was loving seeing the final product after all this time. Loping up the stairs to the second floor, electricity sizzled in his veins as he crested the top step into the sky lounge, a place he anticipated spending a lot of time during the upcoming months, before heading farther toward the front of the boat to the bridge.
The smell here was a little different from the rest of the boat, like oiled leather and polished steel from the control board where the captain—him—operated the ship. It smelled, in short, like his freedom. The one place where he was solely in charge of where he went and when. Standing in front of the wall of windows looking out onto the open water of the Atlantic Ocean, he blew out the breath he’d been holding since, hell, he was born if he were to be technical about it. He ran his hand over the glossy steel of the wheel, the high afternoon sun glinting off the perfect circle of deluxe craftsmanship. Christ, he loved sailing.
For years, he’d waited for this moment, to be at the helm of his own ship, in charge of his destiny, to put the years of following the upper-crust edicts of his parents behind. No more stiff dinner parties with toothless smiles, no more manipulative dates set up by his scheming mother, no more endless hours on a grossly manicured golf course schmoozing with men who’d stab him in the back as soon as shake his hand. And in the space of the twenty minutes he’d been on board, it felt like that life was already thousands of miles away. Finally.
Here on the water, life was uncomplicated. Just the way he wanted it.
“I thought I’d find you here,” a soft, warm voice laughed from behind him.
He turned to find Molly Madix standing in the doorway, sandy-blond hair pulled up into a ponytail that had already been blown this way and that by the wind off the water. The woman he’d loved once upon a time and had let go in an effort to protect her from the same life from which he’d only just now managed to shake loose.
Stiffening his arms straight down at his sides, he then brought his left hand up to his forehead for a dramatic salute and grinned stupidly at her. “Did I hear the words, ‘o captain, my captain’?” he teased. “Since that’s what you have to call me now. I’m in charge of this fine
