Serena Bell - Still So Hot!

“You need to get yourself on the next flight out of here …”

Elisa had known Brett was going to kiss her before it happened, and still, it was a shock. The heat and possessiveness of his mouth and the way her hands reached for him against her better judgment.

His mouth was so soft, so demanding, so giving. It made her cells sing with pleasure.

She was aware of her body, like a chant. Want. More.

His tongue urged her lips to open, and she let him in. The stroke of his tongue against all the tender bits of her mouth made her sigh. He groaned in response. That sound undid all her resistance, and she pulled his head down to get more of him. He tasted so good, of whiskey and wine and Brett. She knew this kiss, knew it inside and out, knew that he was going to bite her lower lip before he did, knew that he wanted her to meet his thrusts and that when she did she’d feel it down to her toes, that slide and urgency.

Want. More.

She did. She wanted him to pick her up and carry her into the room where—

Reason rushed in like an unwanted rainstorm. This could not happen.

She let go of his head and gently shoved his shoulder.

He looked back at her with lust-glazed eyes.

“Are you crazy?” she demanded.

Of course what she meant was, Am I crazy? Which clearly she was …

Still So Hot!

Serena Bell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SERENA BELLwrites stories about how sex messes with your head, why smart people do stupid things sometimes and how love can make it all better. She wrote her first steamy romance before she was old enough to understand what all the words meant and has been perfecting the art of hiding pages and screens from curious eyes ever since—a skill that’s particularly useful now that she’s a mother of two avid readers. When she’s not scribbling stories or getting her butt kicked at Scrabble by her kids, she’s practicing modern dance improv in the kitchen, swimming laps, needlepointing, hiking or reading on one of her large collection of electronic devices. Serena blogs regularly about writing and reading romance at www.serenabell.com and www.wonkomance.com. She also tweets like a madwoman as @serenabellbooks. You can reach her at serena@serenabell.com.

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I’m thrilled to be working with awesome Agent Emily, aka Emily Sylvan Kim of Prospect Agent, and excellent Editor Dana, aka Harlequin’s Dana Hopkins, along with Copyeditor Ingrid Dolan and Cover Designer Tony Horvath.

And none of this would be possible without the unending support and love of Mr Bell and the two little Bells. *Hugs.*

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

Excerpt

1

ELISA HENDERSON HAD imagined worst-case-scenario headlines even before her plane took off.

Dating Coach Misplaces Client.

Client Goes AWOL from Dating Boot Camp in Caribbean.

God, this was not comforting. She needed to get up. She needed to move. Most of all, she needed to find out whether Celine Carr had made the flight. But she couldn’t do that until the Fasten Seat Belt sign blinked off.

She’d gotten Celine’s text just as Elisa had arrived at the gate. Thru security. Gotta pee. Board without me. She’d taken her seat in coach—alone, since Celine had claimed the last available in first class. Elisa tried to catch a glimpse of Celine, but the aisles were filled with other passengers. By the time Elisa had realized they were about to take off, she still didn’t know if Celine was on the plane, and the flight attendants wouldn’t let Elisa up. She’d tried to call and text Celine a million times, until a redheaded flight attendant pleaded with Elisa to put the cell phone away before she got them both in trouble.

Now all she could do was cross her fingers and try not to fidget.

Think positive. She’s on the plane. She’s raring to go.

This is the weekend you teach her that she calls the shots. That she controls her dating destiny.

This is the weekend you make hiring a dating coach the new black.

She took a few deep breaths and focused on positive visualization, which always helped her beat stress: Celine, sitting in first class, smiling and signing autographs, ready to make the best promo video ever. Celine, strolling the white-sand beach at the edge of the aquamarine Caribbean, hair blowing in the breeze, beside a handsome, attentive man. Celine, confident and competent, beaming her appreciation as she said to Elisa, Thank you. You helped me see that I didn’t have to keep making the same dating mistakes. The right man was out there. Imaginary Celine tossed her hair, gave her guy a sidelong glance and linked her fingers through his. Thank you for this wonderful man.

Elisa loved the thrill of the match, the click of satisfaction she felt when she fit two people together like puzzle pieces. Plus, she loved running boot camps, intensive one-on-one weekends where she observed her clients in real-world dating situations and taught them new strategies. These weekends were a great chance to get to know a client well, learn her quirks and boost her self-esteem. And who could argue with a weekend in the Caribbean? Elisa was lucky that her sister’s friend knew Celine’s publicist, Haven, and had been willing to put them in touch. And maybe a little bit lucky, too, that Celine was already undergoing a major image revamp as Haven tried to halt her slide toward celebrity train wreck. It hadn’t been too hard to convince Haven that a high-profile boot camp could turn Celine into a dating role model instead of someone whose antics reporters mocked. And if Elisa could make that happen for a rising star like Celine Carr, she’d have the added bonus of building her business’s brand in a big way.

On the other hand, if Celine had missed the flight, Elisa would step off this plane into a barrage of firing flashbulbs and mocking voices calling out, “Where is she?”

Rendezvous Dating? Isn’t that the business run by Elisa Henderson? The one who lost Celine Carr on the way to St. Barts?

She knocked her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes.

The seat belt chime sounded. She unbuckled herself and hurried down the aisle.

“Whoa,” said a deep voice, very close. She drew up abruptly to avoid a collision, and, for a moment, her mind was overwhelmed by a confusion of hands steadying her, a broad chest blocking her view and the smell of soap.

Then the voice said, “Lise?”

No. No. It wasn’t possible. She knew that voice. Way too well. That voice represented a years-old friendship and B-grade movies and Chinese takeout and Scrabble games and that bar they’d gone to so often, the Aquarium...

The eerie light of that bar, a blue-tinged drunken haze, the stumbling walk home, her couch, his fingers in her hair, the taste of a mouth she’d longed for so badly she hadn’t admitted it to herself, his tongue stroking hers, waking up every nerve ending in her entire body...