His Heated Caress - Celia Kyle Page 0,1

grown used to fielding his son’s questions about his late mother. He’d had a long time to work through the special brand of grief of losing a spouse, but the pain never really left him.

“It was her idea to have this pool put in. I couldn’t keep her out of the water. Just like you. In fact, she taught you to swim when you were just a baby.”

Blaise smiled at him, warming his heart while simultaneously filling him with sadness. Their son looked more like her than him, though his red-brown hair was darker than her fiery mane. His brown eyes were identical to hers, though, and sometimes Stark thought he was looking at her when their gazes met. Unfortunately, with a human father and a half-fox shifter, half-human for a mom, the poor kid probably would never learn to fully shift. The best he could manage to was to make his nose turn dark when he concentrated really hard. Even so, the other kids at Benningford Preparatory Academy—the elite shifter school Blaise attended—didn’t bother him too much about it. He was well-liked and got good grades, which was all Stark could ask for.

The faint sound of the doorbell echoed through the house and filtered out to them in the pool. Stark ignored it at first but then remembered he’d given his housekeeper the day off so he could hang with Blaise uninterrupted.

“Oops, Hilde’s off today, sport,” he said, dragging Blaise toward the steps. “Gotta go answer the door, which means—”

“I know, I know,” the kid groaned. “I gotta sit on the sidelines till you come back.”

Stark unceremoniously deposited his son onto a lounge chair in the shade. “Smart kid. Be right back.”

Hurrying into the house, he shouted, “Coming!” to whomever was bothering him on his day off. The tile floors were slippery under his dripping wet feet and he suddenly regretted not grabbing a towel. By some minor miracle, he made it to the front doors without falling and breaking his damn neck.

“Can I help…” He trailed off once the door opened fully and he got a good look at the woman standing on his doorstep.

She was simply stunning. She was on the taller side—maybe five-eight in bare feet—though still several inches shorter than his six feet, with a voluptuous figure that reminded him of Marilyn Monroe. Her long blonde hair was perfectly styled and framed her heart-shaped face, which was made up better than his co-star’s when they were filming. She was dressed in a cream-colored sleeveless cashmere sweater cut in a deep vee that showed off her assets and form-hugging dusty pink pants with matching heels. A cream leather Louis Vuitton handbag swung from her crooked arm as her pink-tipped fingers slid her Ray-Bans from her face. The greyest eyes Stark had ever seen stared back at him.

Her profound beauty nearly made his knees buckle out from under him, and that was saying something. Stark had worked with the most beautiful women in the world, and none of them compared to the vision on his doorstep. Swallowing hard, he pulled himself together and gave her his patented megawatt smile.

“Well, good morning,” he growled, raising a curious eyebrow. “I wasn’t expecting company today, but what’s life without a few surprises? How can I help you?”

He enjoyed watching her gaze drift down his glistening chest—the one countless personal trainers had helped sculpt to perfection—to the waistband of his wet, low-slung board shorts. She seemed as lost in him as he’d just been in her, and he didn’t mind one tiny bit. After all, he’d spent a small fortune on trainers and nutritionists and personal chefs to get him looking like the movie star he was. It felt nice to be appreciated by a beautiful woman. He couldn’t deny that.

She didn’t need to know that if it were up to him, he’d spend the rest of his life lying around watching reruns of Gilligan’s Island with Blaise while gorging on Cheetos and Ho-Hos. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to get away with that for very long if he wanted to keep getting high-paying acting gigs.

“Um…” she managed, giving her head a light shake to regain her senses. “Sorry, I, uh…I’m Wyntir Ignis from Wildridge Security.”

His excitement faded. Wildridge had set up a state-of-the-art security system in his house after a recent break-in, and she was probably there to discuss something important with him, not just boost his ego.

“Oh. Is there a problem? I don’t recall having an appointment.”

“I don’t