Sarah Mayberry - Burning Up

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Somebody get some ice. . . it's steamy in here!Spending a month as personal chef for an overindulged–and mouthwatering–man? Sophie Gallagher is so up for the challenge. She's immune to charm. . . or so she thinks. Because when big-screen star Lucas Grant turns up the temptation, she discovers–up close and personal–he's earned the name hottest man alive.Sophie is fun, vivacious and couldn't be further from Lucas's bimbo bombshell type. Much to his surprise, she's captivated him. But as sizzling as they are between the sheets, once his hiatus is over, the credits will roll on this fling. Saying goodbye, however, isn't as easy as he'd thought.Will this production be The End of the Affair. . . or Love Actually?

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BURNING UP

Sarah Mayberry

TORONTO NEW YORK LONDON AMSTERDAM PARIS SYDNEY HAMBURG STOCKHOLM - фото 1

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

First up, a big thanks to Melbourne chef

George Calombaris, the creator of the crazy,

inspired meal that Sophie cooks in this book.

I will never forget the first time I ate his food.

Also thanks to Chris, for holding my hand through

rewrite hell, and to Sammas for first-chapter

therapy via the Net. And, as always, thanks to

Wanda, for letting me have the freedom to fix

things. What would I do without you?

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

1

“COME ON IN, Lucas, the water’s fine.”

Lucas Grant took another slug of whiskey and squinted at the blonde bobbing in the hot tub at the end of his balcony. Until she’d spoken up, he hadn’t realized anyone had stayed behind when the last guests had stumbled out the door of his Sydney harborside mansion a few minutes earlier.

He’d forgotten this one’s name. Candy? Cindy? Something with a C, he was pretty sure. She was lying back in the water, arms spread wide on the rim behind her, her hair tousled, her eyes heavy-lidded.

A slow grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he registered the trail of clothing she’d left on the way to the tub—a slinky little dress and the few scraps of Lycra and lace she’d obviously been wearing underneath.

Lucas moved toward her, tumbler held loosely in one hand.

“This is a surprise,” he said, even though it wasn’t.

Ever since he’d scored a role in a break-out movie back in his early twenties, his life had been full of moments like these. Blondes in hot tubs, brunettes waiting in his hotel room, redheads lingering outside the sound stage. Fame was the most powerful aphrodisiac known to mankind.

Or should that be womankind?

Whatever. The important thing was that despite the impressive quantity of alcohol he’d managed to guzzle this evening, his body was more than willing to take advantage of what was being so freely and generously offered.

As he stepped up onto the wood deck surrounding the tub, Candy-Cindy rose up out of the water, revealing her toned, tanned, cosmetically enhanced body to him in all its glory. He squelched the minor disappointment he felt at the realization that her generous twin endowments were man-made—did it really matter, at the end of the day?—and admired the way the water slicked down her slim, long-legged body.

“I hope you don’t mind…?” she asked, eyes wide. Tough to pull off the whole innocent Bambi routine when she was standing there naked and perky, but she gave it a shot anyway and he awarded her full points for trying.

His grin widened. “Baby, you are just what the doctor ordered,” he said.

Setting his glass on the tub surround, he pulled her close, one hand sliding down to cup a perfectly sculpted ass cheek, the other honing in on one of her twin assets. She closed her eyes as he moved in for a kiss, her lips opening beneath his with practiced ease. She tasted of wine, and her body was hot and firm against his. Moaning a little in the back of her throat, she slid a hand between their bodies and grabbed his hard-on through the denim of his jeans.

“You are not going to freakin’ believe this,” a male voice said behind them.

Candy-Cindy gave a little gasp of surprise and broke away from Lucas, covering herself with her hands. Lucas closed his eyes in frustration and swore loudly. Not for the first time, he regretted the necessity for his agent-cum-manager, Derek Lambert, to have a key to his house.

“Derek, mate, I’m a little busy, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he said brusquely, turning to frown at Derek.

True to character, Derek was completely unfazed. It didn’t matter to him that it was late on a Saturday night. Deal making was a twenty-four-hour job where he was concerned.

“Check it out. Completely unauthorized. We’re lucky we’ve had any forewarning at all before it hit the shelves.”

For the first time Lucas registered the paperback book his manager was brandishing—and, more importantly, his own image staring at him from the front cover. Big red letters scrawled across the bottom of the photograph—The Man Behind the Golden Eyes: An Unauthorized Biography of Lucas Grant.

Lucas swore again and reached for the book.

“What the hell…? How did we not know about this?” he asked.

“Small publishing house and a sneaky little rat of a muckraking journalist. The only reason we know about it now is because someone owed me a favor.”

Derek’s gaze shifted to Candy-Cindy, who had sunk back into the water, her ears almost visibly flapping as she took in their conversation.

“Hey. I’m Derek. Pleased to meet you,” Derek said, smoothing a hand down the front of his custom-made navy pinstriped suit as he sat on the tub surround. “I’m Lucas’s manager.”

“I’m Camilla. Pleased to meet you.” Lucas didn’t need to look at her to know she was pouting and throwing her shoulders back. Derek might be short, tubby and barely hanging on to the last of his dark hair, but he oozed power and connections. No doubt Camilla wanted to be an actress or a model or maybe just plain old famous, and Derek was never averse to playing the you-scratch-my-back-I’ll-scratch-yours game.

Returning his attention to the book, Lucas noted the crappy paper, the close-set print, the shoddy binding.

“This is a piece of shit,” he said dismissively, ready to toss it to one side. “No one’s going to read it.”

“I don’t care. We’re both going over the damn thing with a fine-tooth comb. If there’s a single factual inaccuracy in there, we can get a court order and kill this thing right off the bat. If there’s anything that burns me up, it’s people squeezing a buck out of you without going through me. We’re going to make these assholes pay.”

“Fine. I’ll take a look at it in the morning,” Lucas said, his thoughts reverting to Camilla as she stretched a long leg out of the water.

“We need to move quickly if we’re going to stop this thing. I’ll hang around while you take a look at it tonight,” Derek said, his own gaze also glued to Camilla’s limbs.

“I have other plans,” Lucas pointed out.

“She’ll wait. Won’t you, sweetheart?” Derek asked.

Camilla nodded eagerly. “Sure. I’ll just amuse myself out here.”

Derek grinned at the suggestive note in her voice. “I’m sure you will. I’m sure you’re a very resourceful woman.”

Lucas shot his manager a look. “Easy, tiger.” Sometimes Derek got off on the whole showbiz lifestyle thing a little too much for Lucas’s personal comfort.

“I don’t mind,” Camilla said, arching her back so that her breasts broke the surface of the water.

Predictably, Derek’s eyes honed in on them like heat-seeking missiles.

Suddenly, Lucas felt an overwhelming need to be done with this situation. Camilla’s avid eagerness, Derek’s willingness to exploit her, even Lucas’s own recent urge to take what was offered and damn the consequences—suddenly it all seemed a little seedy and a lot desperate. The whiskey taste in his mouth soured and he felt bone-weary and more than ready to be alone.

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