Wicked Heat Read Online Free Page A

Hollywood marriage made in heaven.
    But that kiss with Jett had proved she’d been delusional, her tingling skin from rubbing
     against Jett’s deliciously hard body taunting her to admit the truth: that putting
     her business first may be financially and professionally rewarding, but it made for
     a lousy bedfellow.
    What she wouldn’t have given to have half an hour in bed with Jett…
    Maybe she should’ve given him her number for a little of that phone sex action he’d
     mentioned after all?
    She downed the rest of her champagne in three gulps at the thought.
    This crazy, out-of-control feeling had to be a result of stress, and as she glanced
     at the empty first-class seat in the exclusive cabin Flint had booked, guilt pierced
     her faint alcohol buzz.
    She should be more upset their wedding had been called off. She shouldn’t be lusting
     after a stranger she’d had a chance encounter with. Yet here she was, not particularly
     heartbroken that her ex-fiancé wasn’t accompanying her to the luxurious Palm Bay,
     and still unable to get Jett out of her head.
    Had her priorities been so screwed up that even at this point, she was more concerned
     about scoring an opportunity to present her pitch to Kai Kaluna than what her friends
     and family would think about her aborted wedding?
    Flint had said he’d take care of everything. And he had, issuing a press release to
     all the major Hollywood gossip mags this morning, accompanied by a trumped-up photo
     of him and a voluptuous brunette cozying up at a recent film premiere. Along with
     a brief statement that his engagement to prominent, successful advertising guru Allegra Wilks was over.
    The paparazzi had gone wild.
    “Hollywood Heartbreak” and “Producer on the Prowl” had been some of the tamer headlines.
     Flint had laughed over the wildly inaccurate speculation in the press when they’d
     chatted on the phone and she’d berated him for deliberately taking the fall.
    It shouldn’t have surprised her. Flint was old-school Hollywood, a gentleman through
     and through. The only people who knew the truth were her parents. No way would she
     be responsible for their long-standing friendship suffering, so she’d sat down with
     them and Flint an hour after he’d called off the wedding and explained.
    Daphne and Ross Wilks, Beverly Hills royalty, hadn’t been impressed. Yet they’d cheered
     up pretty damn quick when they heard Flint would foot the exorbitant cancellation
     fees and take care of everything else.
    Not once did her parents ask how she was feeling. Not once did her mom commiserate
     or offer chocolate or a hug. Not once did they ask if she needed anything.
    When was the last time they acknowledged her anyway? At birth? When she was a five-year-old
     being shipped off to boarding school? When they air-kissed her at graduation before
     leaving immediately after the ceremony to attend some gallery opening? Not surprising
     she overcompensated by offering assistance to everyone, whether they needed it or
     not.
    She’d accepted their narcissistic parenting a long time ago, had learned to don a
     nonchalant mask as if nothing they did or said bothered her. But it did, and her blasé
     attitude soon spilled into all areas of her life. She’d heard what employees said
     about her behind her back: detached, cool, Ice Queen.
    She didn’t care. Being a boss—and a damn generous one at that—demanded that she maintain
     a distance from her workers. Made for better production, rather than being buddy-buddy,
     knowing their firstborn’s name or which basketball team they supported.
    Oddly enough, it was the descriptions of her in the media during her engagement that
     bothered her most: indifferent, dispassionate, apathetic.
    They’d made her sound cold and heartless, criticizing everything from her clothes
     to her hair, when all she’d ever done was try to appear elegant and cool in public
     because of Flint’s high profile. Flint had insisted