One Fantasy Fall: Blue Sky Island Romance

CHAPTER 1

Y ou’re early, Kaitlin said as she opened the door to see a man clad in dusty, formfitting leather, his shaggy caramel-colored hair badly in need of a trim. She stepped back a pace. "Come on in. Let’s see what you look like under that road dust.’’

The stranger stepped past her and into the front hall. "You must be Kaitlin. Steve said⁠—’’

"My brother knows I can’t resist a challenge.’’ Kaitlin circled the man, eyes narrowed as she inspected him from all angles. In the right clothes, this one should clean up quite nicely. And he did have a certain undeniable something.

One good thing. We should be able to fit you off the rack. There’s no time to wait for custom tailoring. Broad shoulders tapered to lean hips, which were hugged by a modern-day version of cowboy chaps in supple-looking black leather.

But those chaps. The look is all wrong unless you’re auditioning for a cowboy commercial. The garment in question sheathed him like an intimate glove, up over snakeskin boots to hug an impossibly long length of leg, before ending in a V of faded denim below his belt. The scrap of exposed denim was the exact same shade as his eyes. Realizing where her gaze lingered, she looked away and hoped she wasn’t blushing.

She strove to make her tone professional. First off is a haircut and a shave.

He rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms over his impressive chest. One side of his mouth quirked up in an endearing half-smile. I wasn’t expecting an audition.

This is only the beginning. Tomorrow is your photo shoot and Bethany, from the modeling agency, needs your portfolio before she meets with the client. She cocked her head. I’d better book you a facial. You look like you haven’t slept in two days. Something in the way he turned those gray-blue eyes on her caused an unsettling flutter in her nether regions.

Good guess. Considering I just drove straight through from California.

Kaitlin’s jaw dropped. California! What were you doing there?

"I live there."

Dead silence hung between them and Kaitlin felt herself flush. Weren’t people supposed to outgrow adolescent blushing? Apparently not her. Even her ears were burning. Somehow, I get the feeling you’re not my brother’s friend/wannabe model I was expecting.

Is that what he told you? The newcomer braced one shoulder against the doorframe as if he had every right to be there, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jacket.

She blew out a breath that didn’t do a thing to help cool her down. I’m sorry. Were you looking for Steve? He’s at work right now.

His half-smile turned into the real thing. The change in expression deepened the grooves in his cheeks and gave him a lazy look that matched his careless pose.

His smile was addictive and Kaitlin caught herself starting to smile back.

How about I introduce myself properly? The name’s Blaze. Lazily his right hand stretched toward her, broad and sun-browned with a faint line of scars visible across the first two knuckles. I’m your date for the weekend.

"What?" In spite of herself, she allowed her hand to be swallowed up in his. He had really big hands.

He smoothed his callused thumb across her palm before releasing her, as if testing the texture of her skin. For Brad’s fundraiser golf tournament this weekend. Steve filled me in about your ex and how you didn’t want to show up alone.

Trust her well-meaning brother. He hadn’t dared tell her what he was up to because he knew she’d say no.

When Steve found out I planned to be here, he asked me to be your date.

Like some sort of charity case!

Months ago, she’d volunteered to help with publicity for a charity event, proceeds from which would help island families with sick children and the costs associated with taking them to the mainland for treatment.

The tournament’s organizer, Brad Taylor, one of the island’s own and now an internationally famous songwriter, pulled in celebrities from all across North America every year for the event. She’d been looking forward to it until she found out her ex-husband would be there with his latest squeeze.

Oh!

Suddenly she knew why the man in front of her looked familiar.

As Hollywood’s favorite stuntman, Blaze had earned an international reputation even before he set out to recreate every high-profile stunt ever performed.

She recalled the TV special and YouTube videos; the horror she’d felt watching the stunt where his chute failed to open after he drove a high-performance sports car over the edge of a ravine. In case anyone missed the stunt live, social media made sure the world could view the failed stunt and its tragic aftermath over and over again.

Speculation had abounded that Blaze might never walk again.

Speculation had obviously been wrong.

Kaitlin doubted there was a man, woman, or child who didn’t know about the accident, and at the time she’d wished the fans and followers would just leave the man alone.

His gaze never left hers, no doubt watching her put it all together. What could she possibly say? ‘It’s good to see you recovered after your devastating accident last year.’

She settled for, "The least I can do is offer you a cup of coffee.’’

His irresistible, heart-stopping smile reappeared. "Best offer I’ve had all day. Okay if I wash up first?’’

Help yourself. It’s at the end of the hall.

Thanks. As he moved past her, the cut-away chaps revealed the loving way ancient jeans clung to his buttocks with his every stride.

Blaze might have a rough-and-tumble glamour about him, but she preferred men who were tastefully garbed in the latest fashion, crisp summer linen jackets and seductively cool silk shirts. Or cashmere and wool. A look of understated elegance. At least, that was the way she steered the clients who came to her for a makeover.

What had Steve been thinking?

In the kitchen, she moved automatically, fetching cups and pouring coffee. She glanced down as hot liquid sloshed over the rim of the mug she overfilled in her haste. Why was she rushing? She was hardly some impressionable young girl, all aflutter because one of the world’s sexiest stuntmen happened to be in the next room offering to be her escort. Showing up with Blaze ought to prove to Adrian and everyone else in town that she’d moved on from the divorce.

Deliberately slowing her pace, she sliced tomatoes and cheese for sandwiches, reminding herself Blaze was just a man. A friend of Steve’s.

Okay if I come in? Blaze completely filled the doorway of the kitchen as he reached up and grasped the casing over the doorframe, and for one incredulous moment she expected him to do a chin-up. He’d removed his leather jacket and corded muscles tensed and flexed in his arms as he stretched up onto the balls of his feet. His light blue T-shirt came untucked and unconsciously her gaze lingered on the strip of sun-bronzed skin revealed between shirt and waistband. He gave a husky sigh. That loosens things up.

So why did her insides tighten into one giant knot?

It was almost too bad she couldn’t wangle a ‘makeover’ on Blaze. Nothing would get her career rolling faster. For that matter, being seen on his arm this weekend wouldn’t hurt either.

How long were you on the road? Kaitlin busied herself loading coffee and sandwiches onto a serving tray.

He glanced at the face of his watch. A little over twenty hours, counting the ferry. His gaze dropped to the sandwiches. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.

It’s no trouble. She led him to the front room and placed the tray on the table between a pair of leather loveseats that flanked the fireplace, making sure she didn’t spill a drop.

Smells good, Blaze said as he stirred two heaping teaspoons of sugar into the nearest mug. His knees creaked loudly as he sat down and he slanted her a rueful grin. Too many hours in the saddle. A fine network of lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes bore testimony to the years spent coordinating stunts in California’s relentless sun.

My phone’s in the kitchen. I think I’ll just call Steve and let him know you’re here. She stood. He might be able to come home early.

After being kept on hold for nearly five minutes, Steve finally came on the line. His voice had that supercharged sound she was coming to associate with his new job. It meant something exciting was going down and she couldn’t possibly expect to have his full attention. What is it, Kait?

A friend of yours just showed up, she said.

A friend of mine?

Yeah. Blaze. From California. Steve, I wish you’d bothered to⁠—

Oh, heck. Kaitlin could picture her dark-haired brother pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose as they spoke. I thought I told you. Is the guest room presentable?

The guest room? Kaitlin shrilled, then immediately lowered her voice. "Our guest room?"

Hey, everything on the island has been booked up for months. I figured you showing up with Blaze would give old Adrian pause for the way he treated you, Steve said. Listen, I’m up to my eyeballs here. Have fun with Blaze. I’ll see you tonight.

Steven. She lowered her voice an octave into her ‘schoolmarm tone’, but it was a wasted effort. He’d already ended the call.

Pasting what she hoped was a neutral expression on her face, she returned to the front room.

Steve says. ... She stopped midsentence. For in the middle of the loveseat, legs splayed wide in front of him, head thrown back, her fake date was sound asleep.

Blaze stirred and tried to roll over, but the bed had taken on a mind of its own, folding him in half like a pretzel. Probably because it wasn’t a bed. He stifled a groan as he stretched to uncramp punished muscles, and something in his hip pocket jabbed him as he moved. Hoisting himself to his feet he retrieved the offending item and bit back a smile. It was a button that spelled out I’M NOT STUPID. I’M JUST DIFFERENT, and it was the other reason for this trip north.

Blaze knew he couldn’t help every kid like Mikey who wrote to him, yet something inside him insisted he try. He ran a hand through his hair and over his jaw, aware he must look a sight. His physiotherapist ought to have majored in psychology for she had also helped him understand he had more to learn than just how to walk again. She’d pushed and pummeled him mentally as well as physically, making him see for the first time the difference of ‘purpose’ over ‘impulse’. And how he’d spent too many years driven solely by impulse.

Mikey’s situation spelled ‘purpose’. The same with him pretending to be Kaitlin’s date. Purpose. No room for impulse.

Blaze looked at the tray of untouched coffee and sandwiches. Some guest he was! The coffee was cold but he drank it anyway, using it to wash down one of the sandwiches. He chewed the second sandwich more slowly as he circled the room.

He knew enough about construction to appreciate the efforts that had gone