Hotter Than The Caribbean (Building Love Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  HOTTER THAN THE CARIBBEAN

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Table of Contents

  HOTTER THAN THE CARIBBEAN

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  HOTTER THAN THE CARIBBEAN

  Building Love Series, Book Two

  STACY HOFF

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  HOTTER THAN THE CARIBBEAN

  Copyright©2017

  STACY HOFF

  Cover Design by Leah Kaye-Suttle

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN: 978-1-68291-558-5

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  To my family,

  Eyal, Aaron, Ryan, Marilyn, and Michael,

  for exploring the Caribbean with me

  throughout the years.

  Our adventures inspired this book.

  Thanks for giving me your love,

  and wonderful memories I will never forget.

  Acknowledgements

  The following people made this book possible. There is no way I could thank them enough for their time, help, information, and enthusiasm. I will always be grateful.

  Deborah Gilbert — Founder and Senior Editor of Soul Mate Publishing, LLC, for making me a Soul Mate author. I am honored to be a part of Soul Mate.

  Lori Polito — Editor for Soul Mate Publishing, LLC, for helping me tighten this story, and keep the pace moving. (I’m pretty sure readers will be thankful for this, too.)

  Cristina Leonor Basic — professional interior designer, for giving me priceless input about the world of interior design, and checking my first draft for outlandish inaccuracies. (I will never reveal how many there were.)

  Kenia Murillo-Raptopoulos — elementary school Spanish teacher, for proofreading the Spanish phrases in this book, and serving me scrumptious barbeque food at the same time. (Any Spanish language inaccuracies appearing in this book are purely my fault.)

  Amina Connelly — for being my beta reader for the sixth time in a row. She will still be my best friend when she finally wises up and balks at reading book number seven.

  Daniel Spiegel — webmaster (and my brother-in-law) for tirelessly updating my author website www.stacyhoff.com. The desire for him to immediately delete my email requests must be strong.

  Chapter 1

  Melanie “Mel” Merritt filed into the airplane’s crowded aisle, eager to escape. Throughout the bouncy ride she closed her eyes to block out nausea and a mounting headache. With a final swig from a water bottle, she swallowed the last of her headache pills and shoved her dog-eared business notes back into her briefcase.

  The pilot’s voice came through the intercom. “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to San Juan’s Luis Muñoz Marin International Airport. We hope you have enjoyed your flight with us today.”

  Enjoyed? At least she hadn’t barfed. Is Pepto-Bismol sold in Puerto Rican drugstores?

  She would re-read her notes the moment she stopped feeling ill. Otherwise, she would never successfully substitute for her sister Denise. “Denny,” the Creative Director for the family’s hospitality interior design firm, lacked patience. Sisterly love and affection would only go so far in bailing Mel out, should Mel botch the job.

  Mel ambled forward into the airport terminal, briefcase in one hand and oversized portfolio in the other. She hobbled down a corridor, listing to each side with every step from the heavy weight. I’m walking like I’m ninety-five, not twenty-five.

  Lugging the portfolio around was a justified inconvenience. The fragile paintings inside were as precious to her as eggs to a mother hen. The whole purpose of her sneaking in a personal meeting with the San Juan art dealer was to move forward with her ambition of becoming a full-time artist. Staying stuck in an interior design job she disliked, working with family members who she didn’t always get along with, was no longer an option.

  The only thing holding her back from running to the art gallery straight away was completing the lobby work for the damned Condado Beach Resort project. The sooner she could get started, the sooner her schedule would free up.

  She trudged a few steps toward the airport’s baggage claim area when she spotted a handwritten sign held by a bald man wearing a gray uniform. ‘Denny Merritt, Merritt Designs, Inc.’ The man’s moustache cut a solid straight line across his face, a black pencil held by his upper lip.

  Limo service. How nice. Mel grabbed her bag and made her way toward him. “Hi, I’m Melanie Merritt of Merritt Designs.”

  He stared at her for a long minute, eventually shaking his head. “I am sorry, señorita, I am supposed to pick up a man, Denny Merritt. Unless you are traveling with him?”

  Mel stifled a laugh. “Denny is my sister, Denise. She couldn’t make the trip. I’m here to fill in for her.”

  The man’s jaw twitched, like he was clenching down on his teeth. Wit
hout a further word, he took her briefcase and portfolio and escorted her through the airport. When they were about to exit, Mel stopped him. “We can’t leave yet. I need to get my bags.”

  “Your bags will be handled, señorita. My instructions were to get you to the boss as soon as possible.” The man resumed walking, not bothering to wait for a response.

  The boss. I think he means Luis Serrano. The situation over who exactly was running the Condado Beach Resort project was a bit complicated. From what she understood, the resort owner, Jorge Serrano, was no longer managing the project himself. Instead, her family was to report to Luis Serrano, who was one of Jorge’s sons. Her family knew very little about the reason for the last-minute substitution. To Mel, the change didn’t necessarily matter. As long as Luis wasn’t as difficult as Jorge Serrano was reputed to be, she was fine. God, I hope he won’t give me a hard time.

  Denny had shown Mel pictures of Luis a few hours before Mel boarded the plane. Learning at the last second how good-looking the client was hadn’t calmed Mel’s nerves one bit. One Internet photo, obviously taken by a persistent Paparazzo, showed Luis shirtless on the beach. Denny was captivated by Luis’s black hair, smoky-gray eyes, and chiseled face. More intriguing, the man’s face wasn’t his only chiseled feature. His abs were as sculpted as a Roman statue’s. The rest of his body was equally muscular and taut. His tan skin had a golden undertone kissed by the sun. The warm hues of his flesh made his appearance even more inviting.

  Denny’s moony eyes over the photos made it clear she was already halfway in love with Luis. In fact, Denny had outright said she’d fallen for the businessman who should have been a model. Mel knew this was an overreaction. Regardless of the man’s stunning looks, the person inside was more important. Besides, they’d never met him. Who knew what his personality was like? For all she knew, he could be a cocky jerk. The potential for that was high. Well-known, handsome, men with lots of money tended to be egotistical.

  Mel vowed she would do what was necessary to stay focused on her goals. If Luis’s appearance wound up being better in real life than depicted in the photographs, accomplishing her business in Puerto Rico would admittedly be harder.

  I can always purchase knee braces to prevent myself from swooning. Considering she’d have to face this businessman, with his ‘tougher than nails’ family reputation, she’d no doubt be better off if Luis Serrano remained a two-dimensional photo. Forget the knee braces. I need to brace myself.

  Frowning, she followed the chauffeur outside the terminal. Heat smacked her in the face like a weapon when the glass doors opened. The limousine was parked curbside, much to her relief. The chauffeur gestured for her to get in. The moment she was seated inside, he climbed into the front and wordlessly drove them away.

  Mel assessed the cavernous limousine, evaluating the level of luxury. The passenger area had every amenity anyone could want, from a tiny television screen to a full bar. The passenger section was separated from the driver’s area by a dark-tinted window. Total privacy, if she had wanted it.

  The curls in her normally pin-straight, dirty-blond hair provided proof that August in Puerto Rico was extremely hot and humid. She pressed the button for the window, opening it just wide enough to breathe without further ruining her hair. She scrunched up her nose in displeasure when she caught her reflection in the tinted window. Not a way to impress the owner. She leaned forward and knocked gently on the dark partition glass. “Could you turn the air conditioning up higher, please?”

  The man’s voice came through loud and clear. “I cannot hear you, señorita. Press down on the intercom button, por favor.”

  After a quick search, she found the button and pressed it. “Could you crank the air conditioning up higher, please?”

  “Crank? What does crank mean?” the man asked.

  “Sorry. Can you turn up the air conditioning, please?” In a flash, a stronger current of cool air filled the car. Mel delved into her purse for a brush and a clip. She gathered her hair into a bun, arranging her locks until she modeled a stereotypical librarian.

  Satisfied with her hair-do, she adjusted her knee-length skirt, pulling it down to cover a large tattoo on her left thigh. A third of the design, however, still peeked through. The bottom portion of a miniature version of herself holding a paintbrush could clearly be seen. Frustrated, Mel bit down on her bottom lip. A longer skirt would have been a smarter choice. Who knew if either Jorge or Luis Serrano hated body art? Why risk upsetting potentially conservative clients?

  Tugging harder at her skirt was useless. There was no way to hide the permanent reminder of her attempt, years ago, to defy her parents. Despite the passage of time, they were still plenty pissed. Given her inability to hide the design, she was pissed off at the moment, too. Frustrated, she reached around to pop open the top button of the skirt. This would give her extra space to yank the garment further down. Her fingers traced over the zipper. The zipper’s clasp felt unstable. With a sigh, she re-buttoned the skirt and gave up. What would Luis’s reaction be if I greeted him while my skirt fell to the floor?

  Putting on a longer skirt wasn’t feasible at the moment. She did whatever else she could think of to appear professional and conservative. A soft pink lipstick, an appropriate choice for a client meeting, was quickly applied. If she had any free time on this island, she would wear the bright-red color she had stashed away in her purse. Somewhere far away from the client. And her problems. Where her bold, artistic side could finally cut loose.

  Chapter 2

  Luis Serrano paced around his makeshift office. An image popped into his head, one of himself as a caged tiger. No, forget the tiger. He closed his eyes and envisioned an animal far more badassed. If the design firm his father hired didn’t show up soon, he would morph into a lion and eat them alive. The notion of a giant golden mane covering his face and shoulders made Luis let out a sharp laugh.

  When this project was complete, which had better be soon, he’d show Puerto Rico its best resort yet. A resort so stunning it would draw in tourists and locals alike. Assuming the lobby’s interior design work ever got done. The new hospitality design company, Merritt Designs, Inc., needed to show up. Immediately.

  Luis breathed in deeply while trying to calm down. He didn’t need to stress out. The architect had recommended Merritt Designs. His father trusted the architect’s judgment, and hired the design firm without hesitation. Not that there was much choice given the tight time-frame to get the project done. According to the architect, one of Merritt Design’s creative leads, Denny Merritt, had a solid reputation for getting work done on time and under budget. These two traits were the most important qualities. Certainly a man as reliable and steadfast as Denny could be counted on to do a good job.

  The sound of an intercom buzzer rang loudly in Luis’s ad-hoc office.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “I’m sorry, Señor Serrano,” his secretary, Olivia replied. “I thought you’d want to know that Mel Merritt from Merritt Designs, Inc., has arrived.”

  “Mel Merritt?” Luis asked, his forehead creasing. “You mean Denny Merritt.”

  “No, señor,” Olivia said, her voice trembling.

  “Send him in. Thanks.” A twinge of guilt made Luis pause. “Sorry to snap at you.”

  Olivia’s sigh of relief was noticeable through the intercom.

  Luis winced. I’ve really got to remember to speak softly to her. He strode over to his leather wingback chair and sat down, making sure to don a stern expression. Best to set the tone with this new design firm early on. Let them know who’s in charge. This Mel guy better be as good as Denny. If not, Merritt Designs, Inc., will be the next design firm to go.

  Olivia tentatively opened his office door, one inch at a time. Her pretty brown skin twitched nervously, from face to fingers. She made a hasty introduction, and retreated as fast as she coul
d.

  The woman left standing in his office caused his eyes to widen in surprise.

  A woman? He blinked a few times. The image didn’t change. “Mel” sure didn’t look like a guy. The dirty-blonde was remarkably beautiful. Luis went from blinking in confusion to staring, wide-eyed, in admiration. Get it together, Luis. This is your meeting. Say something to her, damn it!

  “Where is Denny Merritt?” His tone was harsher than intended. In fact, it sounded like he’d spat the words out. Dios mío.

  The woman stared back at him with a gaping mouth. Her hesitation was painful.

  Given her expression, he wondered whether he should start over. Judging by her frown, she wasn’t happy with him. Although she didn’t seem to be in too much distress. Despite her expression, her face was lovely. Without realizing it, Luis’s gaze traveled down her body. If she were dressed a little more casual, he would have thought she was an academic of some sort. Or even a librarian. She wore pink high heels with a striped pink and white business suit. Her hair wrapped tightly in a bun. The severe style clashed with some crazy tattoo peeking out under the edge of the skirt. An indicator of a wild side?

  Her petite body had sexy curves exactly where he most appreciated. Better still, her heart-shaped face made her seem open and approachable. The color of her bright blue eyes, almost turquoise, mimicked the Caribbean Sea. The azure orbs peered out through oversized red eyeglasses oddly positioned halfway down the bridge of her nose. He felt an overwhelming urge to lean forward and take them off.

  Business, Luis! Stick to business! Who cares what she looks like? It was more important to know her level of professionalism. Stopping his visual assessment, however, was impossible. An errant thought crept into his mind. An image of this woman, with her glasses off and her hair loosely flung around her shoulders, and spread over his body. Stop it! Who needs these thoughts? Not him. If he were as smart as he wanted everyone to believe, he’d never think of her this way again.