Lindsay Evans - Pleasure Under the Sun

Passion is the ultimate seducer

They meet at an invitation-only party in Miami. Desire instantly ignites. Financial advisor Bailey Hughes knows better than to get involved with playboy Seven Carmichael. But the gorgeous, world-renowned sculptor refuses to take no for an answer. And soon Bailey finds herself aboard a private yacht—enjoying days and nights of pleasure beyond her hottest fantasies.

The moment he saw her, Seven was obsessed. From Key West to an intimate Jamaican paradise, he’s embarked on a campaign of seduction to make Bailey his. With a passion the wary businesswoman can’t resist, he’s breaking down all her defenses. What will it take to win what he wants and needs most—Bailey’s carefully guarded heart?

A blush heated her face and she turned abruptly away from him to face the evening beyond the balcony.

She wanted to… She needed… Images of what she wanted came to her. Hot. Clawing. Sweaty. Impossible. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressed a hand over her racing heart. Seven stood just behind her, but she couldn’t face him yet. He could easily see the hunger in her face. See how effortless it would be for her to forget her precious principles and make love with him tonight.

“If it makes you feel better, you can tell yourself that kiss was to seal our new business arrangement.” His breath brushed the back of her neck. “I’ll see you in your office on Monday.”

A hot tremor quaked her thighs. She fought it and straightened, then turned around, determined to reclaim her composure and get back on even footing with Seven. But, except for the whispering girls and the woman smoking her cigar, Bailey was alone. She swallowed her disappointment. Then turned back to the night, hoping it would soothe her riotous mind and overheated body.

LINDSAY EVANS

is a traveler, lover of food and avid café loafer. She’s been reading romances since she was a very young girl and feels touched by a certain amount of surreal magic in that she now gets to write her own love stories. Pleasure Under the Sun is her debut title for the Harlequin Kimani Romance line.

Pleasure Under the Sun

Lindsay Evans

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

What condition would your heart be in if you had a harrowing experience and your young life was a roller-coaster of thrilling adventures you never wanted?

My heroine, Bailey Hughes, is still shell-shocked from childhood trauma and adult romantic misfortunes. She’s far from ready for the gorgeous sculptor with the bedroom eyes eager to sweep her into his arms for nights of intense passion. Join her for this romantic journey into the unknown. I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Lindsay Evans

Many thanks to Kimberly Kaye Terry

for her invaluable help on this journey of mine.

Also to Khaulah Naima Nuruddin, Sheree L. Greer,

Angela Gabriel, Brook Blander, and Keturah Israel—my friends and supporters. The butterflies in my garden.

For Dorothy Lindsay and Cherie Evans Lyon.

Your encouragement and love lift me up, always.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 1

“You are the hottest thing I’ve seen all night,” the woman said.

She looked up to the docked yacht where Seven Carmichael stood, and watched him with a sly smile. She sipped from a glass of Scotch as she stood in the midst of the chaotic swirl of bodies on the back lawn of Marcus Stanfield’s Star Island mansion. High heels. Tight jeans. A sheer white blouse showing off a lacy black bra underneath. She was a gorgeous flash in the night, something Seven could definitely appreciate, although he usually preferred his women a little less obvious. Actually, she wasn’t just gorgeous. She was absolutely stunning.

His lips twitched in response to her compliment while another body part responded in a similar fashion to her sleek and sensuous body. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He’d forgotten how delightfully forward American women could be. He braced his arms against the boat’s railing, watching the woman, who continued to boldly stare, hip cocked to one side, elbow of one arm resting in her palm, the crystal tumbler of Scotch held near her lips. Her gaze devoured his six-and-a-half-foot, muscled, toffee-colored frame.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m just taking in the view. I have no intension of touching the merchandise,” the woman said. “At least not yet.” She smiled again, a suggestive movement of her glistening maroon lips.

“Are you so sure you could handle me?” Seven teased.

She looked him over again, brown eyes sparkling, hair swept up into an elegant pompadour. “I could handle two of you, honey.”

Seven was absolutely tempted to challenge the woman on her boast. The longer he looked down at her statuesque form, with its bold swath of hair and the white silk blouse fluttering in the breeze over her lace-cupped breasts, the more his intrigue and interest grew. But... “Maybe I’ll give you the chance to prove it another time,” he said. “I have a twin.”

The woman laughed, a husky gurgle of sound, and lifted her glass to him in salute. Then she turned on her high heels, treating him to a glimpse of her small but shapely behind in the tight jeans, and strutted down the walkway of the back lawn toward the mansion, where another party was going strong. Seven watched her go with regret, fighting the unfamiliar urge to rush after her and find out more about that heavily implied stamina of hers. He’d never been one for casual hookups, but something about that woman made him want to change his mind.

Seven stood on the deck of the yacht for a moment longer, feeling the minute movements of the Dirty Diana as she swayed in the dock, as much from the gentle undulations of Biscayne Bay as from the activities of the over two dozen partiers on board.

Beautiful women pranced around on the deck in their high heels. Well-dressed men—most with cigars in hand—stalked after them. Everyone was drinking and partying hard to Drake pounding from the speakers, their laughter high and bright. The hors d’oeuvres were plentiful and provided by uniformed waiters making regular trips between the mansion and boat. And at the center of it all stood Marcus Stanfield, Seven’s host and recent acquaintance.

The billionaire playboy’s generosity had come as a surprise to Seven, but he knew well enough from experience the whims and whimsies of the rich. He wouldn’t let himself get too used to Marcus’s hospitality. As quickly as it had been given, it could be taken away.

But at least Marcus’s spur-of-the-moment generosity had brought Seven from the arid deserts of Dubai to a much more appealing climate. When Marcus had come to Seven’s last solo show in the Arabian city, he had taken a liking to Seven’s work, immediately buying two pieces and arranging to have them shipped to Miami. His attention brought Seven to the notice of a few others at the opening, including a B-list British actress whose pants Marcus was trying to get into.