Dawn Atkins - Room...but Not Bored!

Jake wasn’t just a beach bum who lived only to play…

“Taste this, Ariel,” Jake said, holding out a spoon dripping with chocolate, unaware of the swell of hope inside her. He was just going to feed her again, as he’d been doing since the day she arrived, a perfectly innocent gesture.

But this time it would mean more. Ariel gripped his wrist, pulled the spoon to her lips and slowly licked it, holding his gaze, her heart pounding, her pulse racing. What am I doing?

Jake’s eyes flared.

“Mmm,” she said, telling him she wanted more…much, much more. So much more that it would mean tearing down the sheet that acted as a wall between their beds.

“Ariel,” he whispered, then leaned in to kiss her. In the background she heard the phone ring, but this was one time she wasn’t going to answer.

Dear Reader,

This is a story about how love smoothes people’s rough edges, just as the waves polish stones on the beach. And Ariel Adams clearly needs some smoothing—even her name sounds sharp. And Jake Renner, for all his laid-back-beach-bum facade, needs Ariel to show him he’s outgrown looking ahead only as far as the next wave.

I share Ariel’s tendency to be ruled by plans and arrangements. I share her trouble with balancing work and fun, being able to say yes to something spontaneous. Writing about Ariel’s endless lists gave me a good laugh at myself.

And of course I adore Jake—he reminds me of my own husband, who loves water sports, too, and has a keen sense of fun. I love the way Jake nurtures Ariel with food and gives her permission to relax and enjoy life.

I hope you love Ariel and Jake as much as I do.

Best,

Dawn Atkins

P.S. I’d love to hear what you think of this book. Please write me at dawnatkins@cox.net. You can learn about my upcoming books at my Web site, www.dawnatkins.com.

Books by Dawn Atkins

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

871—THE COWBOY FLING

895—LIPSTICK ON HIS COLLAR

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

93—FRIENDLY PERSUASION

HARLEQUIN DUETS

77—ANCHOR THAT MAN!

91—WEDDING FOR ONE

TATTOO FOR TWO

Room…But Not Bored!

Dawn Atkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To David, for making love so easy

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

IN HEELS AND A BUSINESS SUIT, with two monstrous suitcases in her sweaty grip and her computer bag slung over her shoulder, Ariel Adams stood on the stone stairs that led down to the beach cottage she’d just acquired. She blinked against the silver flash of California sun on gentle waves and wondered what she’d done to deserve this hell.

Okay, so most people would consider the rippling ocean and white-sand beach where a man juggled driftwood for a rapt retriever and seagulls dipped and cried, to be picturesque and enticing—perfect for sunset strolls, refreshing swims and building sand castles. But Ariel Adams was not most people.

To her, the beach was too…beachy. A giant cat box with a shifty surface tough to walk on and a fishy smell. The beach meant grit and mildew and sea salt that scoured, stained and bleached everything.

No, Ariel did not like the beach. And now she had to live there. Her left eyelid twitched from exhaustion. Terminally jet-lagged after the flight from London, all she wanted was to sleep for a week. But she couldn’t afford that luxury. She had to figure out how to start her solo consulting business two years earlier than she’d planned. She sagged against the rusted guardrail, demoralized, until she repeated her mother’s motto in her head: Keep on keeping on.

Job one of keeping on was to cross this beach without ruining the high-dollar silk panty hose she’d bought in honor of her new life in London—the life her partner Trudy had thrown out the window. The twenty-seventh-floor office window of their client Paul Foster to be precise. That high up, the windows didn’t even open.

Paul and I are in love, Trudy had breathed, airy as a romance heroine, as if that were enough to explain how a perfectly sensible woman—Ariel’s mentor in this very male business—had turned into a doe-eyed fool.

Ariel had reasoned with her. Give it six months. Be certain your feelings will last. But no. Two days of harangues hadn’t cleared one iota of the sentimental glaze from Trudy’s face. Paul was taking a world tour of his holdings before he retired and Trudy was going with him. When love comes, you accept it, wherever it may lead, Trudy had said in that feminine trill she’d adopted. Had her hormones gone wonky? Had she been hypnotized? Slipped a cog? What?

This was not the plan. And planning was king at Business Advantage, Trudy’s company, into which she’d invited Ariel six months ago. They’d met when Trudy had been hired to assist with a business consolidation and Ariel had been working in-house for one of the merging companies. Trudy had been so impressed by Ariel’s talent that when Paul Foster retained Business Advantage to go to London to help the Foster Corporation make a strategic shift, Trudy had asked Ariel to become her partner in the firm—to help with the project and beyond.

That had suited Ariel just fine. Her plan had been to work with Trudy for two years—or until she felt ready to be on her own. But that plan was all gone. Trashed by Trudy. For love.

Foster had gone weird, too. Falling in love had made him decide to sell the company and live life to the fullest. Double blech. In his defense, he’d also had a cancer scare—a misdiagnosis, as it turned out—that had made him reassess his values. Ariel was all for businessmen reassessing their values—but to advance their businesses, not abandon them.

She’d so looked forward to the London experience. It was the opportunity of a lifetime to be instrumental in a highly visible corporate evolution, and meant a huge leg up for her business reputation. It would give her cachet, to be elegant about it. Not to mention international contacts. And London itself had been amazing.

But now, only three weeks into the adventure, she’d had to catch a flight back to L.A. to start her business with just a name, Trudy’s file of stale leads and her own bravado.

Before Ariel left, Trudy had given her what was left of Business Advantage, which wasn’t much, since Trudy and she had finished with their U.S. clients before the London move.

And now Ariel was on her own. With a sigh, she descended the sand-scrubbed steps to the beach house in Playa Linda, where she would live until she was financially able to move somewhere more appropriate.

Trudy had felt so guilty about abandoning Ariel, she’d practically given her the cottage, asking a ridiculous price, payable over time, that Ariel couldn’t afford to pass up. Even though living there would be like camping, the property was a prize piece of real estate. Lots of people thought beach living was nirvana.

And at least she had a home. Before the move, she’d given up her tidy apartment, contoured precisely to her habits, and put her belongings in storage along with their office equipment.