His Heated Caress: Real Men of Wildridge, page 1
His Heated Caress
Real Men of Wildridge
Celia Kyle
Marina Maddix
Contents
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About the Authors
Blurb
A star bright enough to light up the big screen. A dragon strong enough to light up the sky.
Wyntir Ignis may look like a movie star, but this fashion-forward dragon shifter actually protects them. As a personal security specialist for Wildridge Security, her job is to ensure the safety of the firm's clients. Including one particular A-lister who makes the mistake of laughing in her face when she introduces herself as his new bodyguard. Jerk. A sexy jerk, but still a jerk.
World-famous action film star and single dad Stark Bradford has a reputation to maintain. It's not that he thinks a woman can't be an effective bodyguard—especially a dragon shifter—but the celebrity gossip sites would chew him up and spit him out if someone as feminine as Wyntir "protected" him. The only problem is that his shifter son does need a guard so he accepts, under one condition...
When Stark's first plan to explain Wyntir's constant presence backfires, his son comes up with a perfect alternative: a fake relationship. Stark thinks it's awesome. Wyntir...not so much. Between putting on a show for the paparazzi and dealing with his "biggest fan”—and despite their rocky start—they find themselves growing closer.
Will they figure out how to survive in the Hollywood jungle, or will a surprise threat destroy any chance they have for a future?
Chapter One
“Catch me, Daddy!”
“Hey, no running, young ma—”
Stark Bradford tried to stop his seven-year-old son, but it was useless. Blaise sprinted down the diving board and sprang high into the air, levitating for the briefest moment before hurtling toward the clear blue water of the pool. Stark experienced that heart-stopping moment of tension every parent endured when their kid careened too close to danger. Just like always, his instincts kicked in almost at the same time as his heartbeat stuttered.
Reaching up as if his arms were a magnet to the kid-shaped meteor headed for him, he caught Blaise, letting him crash into the water with a satisfying splash. They both laughed as Stark shook the chlorine-rich water from his wavy blond hair. Still holding Blaise under the arms, he dragged the boy’s legs through the water and tossed him up into the air again, smiling widely with his child’s utter delight.
Spending time with Blaise was Stark’s happy place. His fans would probably never believe it, considering he was a household name. Actors were soulless heathens who didn’t deserve an iota of privacy. And those were the ones who liked him. But the truth was he found so much more joy in fatherhood than acting that it surprised him. And why wouldn’t it? Ten years ago, that would have been unheard of.
Ten years ago, he’d been a very different man.
Stark tossed his son back a few feet, watching him squeal and squirm in the air before splashing into the water. When he bobbed to the top for oxygen, Stark swam over to him and pulled him into his arms.
“Is this how you do it in your movie, Daddy?” Blaise’s intelligent eyes held genuine curiosity.
Stark laughed softly as he hugged his son and swam with him toward the shallow end so he could relax and take his eyes off the boy for more than a few seconds at a time.
“Absolutely,” Stark lied good-naturedly, grinning. “You could play my part in the remake in a few years, I bet.”
That gave Blaise endless satisfaction. The moment Stark set him on the edge of the pool, he promptly jumped back in like an action hero taking a bullet meant for someone else, legs and arms splayed. Stark couldn’t help encouraging the kid when he wanted to be like his dad. He’d never seen himself as the kind of guy who’d have a kid to begin with, much less be so obsessed with him. There wasn’t a father on earth who didn’t want their boy to at least want to follow in his footsteps, even if Stark wouldn’t wish the film industry on his worst enemy, much less his son. But he couldn’t lie to himself that he felt proud that his son admired him.
The industry was brutal and competitive and totally unforgiving. Sure, he had riches and fame beyond compare now, but the early days had been harder than he’d ever imagined. Picking up paying work where he could—usually as a waiter, construction work, or security guard—and auditioning his ass off had led him to an incredible career. That and a truckload of luck. He was an outlier and he knew it, which made lazing around the pool with his kid on a rare day off from filming even better.
Getting a running start, he performed a perfect cannonball next to Blaise, drawing peals of laughter. He dreaded having to leave his son to go back to the set of his latest film the next day, so he wanted to enjoy his day off as much as possible. He had a full day planned, and none of it involved leaving their Malibu mansion. Tomorrow he could be the womanizing, combat-trained, stunt-double-free action hero whose smile lit up movie screens around the world. Today, he was just a dad who loved his kid more than life itself.
Blaise swam toward him underwater, no doubt pretending to be an action hero swimming through underground lakes to avoid the bullets of a criminal kingpin during a firefight, and then burst out of the water next to him.
“Boo!” he cried.
Stark raised his hands and gasped dramatically. “I surrender!” Then he scooped a squirming Blaise into his arm and peppered his face with dripping wet kisses. They finally settled into floating on their backs, arms linked like sea otters as they drifted across the surface and stared into the rich blue Southern California sky.
“Did Mommy like swimming as much as you, Daddy?” Blaise asked softly.
Stark’s heart clenched for a split second, but he’d 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 w
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 have one,” she said crisply, her eyes laser-focused on his—and not his dripping chest. “My apologies if this is a bad time, but I’m here on behalf of my boss, Charlie Volant. The recent kidnapping attempt at your son’s school prompted him to decide you and your son should have a bodyguard.”
Stark’s smile broadened as he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, letting his muscles bulge impressively. “That’s nice of Charlie but totally unnecessary. Those guys were after Blaise’s best friend, Trystin, so really, we’ll be fine.”
He moved to close the door, but she stepped forward, blocking him. “We are aware of that, but Charlie is acting out of an abundance of caution for our highest-profile client.”
Stark frowned. Charlie Volant ran the most respected shifter security team on the West Coast. The dragons in his employ were above reproach and had already paid for themselves by retrieving a stolen videotape of Stark’s late wife. Maybe Charlie knew something, and he didn’t want to alarm Stark. Or maybe he was just being careful. Either way, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect Blaise. Since he couldn’t be with him every minute of the day, a bodyguard for the kid sounded reasonable.
“Fine,” he sighed. “When will he arrive?”
Wyntir raised an immaculate eyebrow at him. “Who?”
“The bodyguard, of course.”
Her eyes narrowed and her head titled to one side before she answered. “You’re looking at her, Mr. Bradford.”
Stark blinked and took her in again—the whole picture, from hair to nails to heels—and without thinking, he burst into laughter.
* * *
The look on Stark Bradford’s face was enough to make Wyntir’s stomach twist, but when he laughed at her, she wanted to throat-punch him. While it certainly wasn’t the first time she’d encountered such prejudice, for some reason this time cut her more deeply than the others.
“I’ll have you know that the last man who laughed at me had a very unpleasant night in the emergency room,” Wyntir hissed, ice dripping from her words.
Any split-second attraction she might have felt for the sexy, dripping-wet human had vanished into thin air. He was just like the rest of them. Typical. People—usually men—often had to be convinced of her bodyguarding prowess. They took one look at her starlet body and silver-screen face and decided she was a poser. A fake. Exaggerating her own skill set. Maybe her employment satisfied a diversity requirement, like someone had taken pity on the silly girl who wanted to be a rough-and-ready bodyguard with the big boys and given her a chance. To do what? Painstakingly work to earn the same respect her male counterparts received without question?
It was bullshit, top to bottom, but Wyntir could handle it. Wyntir could handle anything.
Including Stark Bradford.
“I’m sorry,” he said, trying hard to wipe the smile off his overly handsome face, “but Stark Bradford, action hero extraordinaire, can’t have a tiny little woman acting as his personal security. What would people think?”
Rolling her shoulders back, she gave him a withering glare. “I’m the best personal security specialist Wildridge Security has in its employment, precisely because morons never suspect they’re dealing with a real threat when they see me.”
To her great annoyance, he laughed again, albeit more good-naturedly this time. And what was worse, her nipples stiffened into peaks at the sound of his gentle chuckle and the charming glimmer in his sea-green eyes. Dammit. She could see why he was so successful in his career. Even though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, charisma and self-confidence oozed from his every pore. That was an attractive quality, to an extent. But judging from this first encounter, Wyntir had to assume his ego took up a little too much space.
“In that case, you might as well come on inside.” Stark invited her in with a flourish of his hand.
Immediately, she was confronted by the true net worth of her newest client. His home was beautifully and impeccably furnished in a sharp but eclectic taste. She could tell he put a fair amount of his own flavor into the style, which would have impressed her if she wasn’t so irritated with his sexist attitude. The long hallway he led her down was crammed with framed photos of Stark and his son, who wore the same mischievous, yet disarming, grin his father possessed. They entered the kitchen, where Blaise sat perched at the table in his swim trunks.
“You forgot your towel, Daddy,” the boy said, pointing to a fluffy white towel on the edge of the table.
“Thanks, sport,” Stark said, wiping away the few remaining drops of water from his torso before wrapping the towel around his waist.
“Hi,” Blaise said to her with a beaming smile. “I’m Blaise. Who are you?”
“My name’s Wyntir Ignis, and I’m here to keep you and your father safe.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Like a bodyguard or something?”
She was about to respond when Stark jumped in. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, sport. Maybe she can be your bodyguard, but not mine.”
“Why?”
Wyntir was impressed with the kid’s bluntness. Why, indeed!
Stark’s face reddened and he rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to come up with a plausible explanation that didn’t make him sound like an ass. “Well, you see, people are weird, Blaise. If I’m photographed with Ms. Ignis as my bodyguard, they might not think I’m strong enough to be in the movies.”
Blaise tilted his head inquisitively. “Why?”
“Um…” he said, stalling. Wyntir was curious to hear what he came up with. “Because… Crap, you’re going to make me say it. Aren’t you? Because she’s a…woman. Some people think women wouldn’t be strong enough to protect a man.”
Anger boiled inside of her as she pulled out a chair and sat across from the boy without being asked. She never would have done that under normal conditions, but this guy was pissing her off.
“I’m not just a woman, you know,” she snarled at Stark and then turned a smile on Blaise. “I’m also a dragon.”
She let a little curling wisp of grey smoke drift from her left nostril, much to Blaise’s delight.
“Cool!”
His father must not have been as impressed because he took a faltering step backward, and it wasn’t lost on her when he instinctively reached for his son. To his credit, he let his hands fall to his sides before making an even bigger fool of himself.
“I have some questions I need to ask you two to get started, if that’s okay,” Wyntir announced.
Stark looked hesitant, but he nodded. “Go ahead.”
She pulled out her phone to take notes. “Have you seen anything out of the ordinary in your neighborhood lately? This goes for both of you.”
“Not that I can think of,” Stark said. “Can you think of anything, sport?”
Blaise shook his head. “Not really. Oh, wait! I did see a raccoon in the recycling bin the other night when I took out the trash.”
Wyntir smiled at the boy, impressed that his father had him do household chores. Most men of his status would have several employees to take care of such things.
“Great, I’ll put him on the watchlist,” she said and then turned her attention on Stark. “I’m very familiar with the security system our team installed in your home after the…incident.”
