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  By the Book

  Ravyn Wilde

  A vacation in a tropical paradise seems just what erotic romance author Joey needs to overcome her writer's block. And after he spots her showering naked at her secluded bungalow, sexy neighbor Gray Hawk is more than willing to help her "research" some hot new ideas for her book! Fun in the sun--and in the moonlight, and any other time or place--could inspire her to fill in the "insert sex here" parts of her new story. Joey has every intention of rediscovering her sensual muse…by the book.

  By the Book

  Ravyn Wilde

  Chapter One

  Dazed, Joey stumbled off the plane in Hawaii. The only thing she managed to wrap her mind around was the thought she would finally be able to find some coffee. Real coffee. So not the watered-down crap they gave you on the airplane. Awake for almost twenty-four hours, she’d been sitting in a plane crowded between a mother with a crying baby and a fidgety teenager for the last six of them. Normally a very nice person, she’d crossed into snarling and vicious a few hours ago. At this point, she needed the black gold put straight into her veins with an IV.

  Stretching her tired muscles, she looked with appreciation around the small open-air terminal. The weather was fantastic, in the mid-eighties she thought. The time difference between L.A. and Kauai put her here a little after one in the afternoon.

  It took just a few minutes to get her bags and snag the waiting rental car. Opting for a sexy red convertible, she’d hoped for inspiration and confidence…from a car. She was hopeless. She made one stop on the way out of town at Bad Ass Coffee where she finally took care of her latte craving. Knowing if she planned to make it through the rest of the day, it would have to be the first of many. A girl needed to have some vices.

  With the top down and her hair blowing free in the warm sea breeze, she unwound enough to relax. Just looking at the tropical paradise surrounding her she believed this trip would be good for her. Three weeks. She would be spending three weeks in paradise. She reminded herself to take it easy and to enjoy every new experience as she drove along the coast road heading to Hanalei. The occasional eye-catching and calendar-perfect glimpses of sandy beaches and the rugged coastline provided balm for her soul.

  Joey fondly remembered her two-day side trip to Hanalei while attending a writer’s conference in Hawaii several years ago. In the time she’d spent in the small town, she’d fallen in love. In love with the people, a mixture of old hippies—in one day she’d seen more tie-dyed shirts than in her entire life before. In love with the art and eclectic shops, finding everything from Hawaiian sunset paintings to New Guinea buka baskets and African fertility idols. And she’d fallen in lust with Bubba’s chili cheeseburgers. She’d loved it even before she saw the sunsets…there was just something magical about the vivid red and gold evenings along the Na Pali coast.

  The lush jungle region satisfied many people’s idea of what inspirational backdrops should look like. Hollywood location hunters certainly thought Kauai to be a good choice for movies. South Pacific, Blue Hawaii, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Jurassic Park had all been filmed in the Hanalei area. Not to mention the old TV show, Fantasy Island. Well, she hoped it sparked her own fantasies, as she needed to find some form of mental stimulus.

  Lost in thought, she reached the infamous one-lane bridge. This small wooden structure provided the only way in or out of the Hanalei valley, unless you went by boat. Waiting for her turn to cross, Joey allowed herself some wishful thinking. Too bad I’m in this alone. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have someone share in the sultry romantic ambiance of this place? Sighing, she turned her mind away from that fantasy and drove carefully across the bridge. Sex. She came to Hawaii to write sex.

  An hour after she left the airport, she pulled into the North Shore Properties office to collect her key and more directions. She walked out laden with pamphlets on guided tours and additional information on the area to use as research for a new book. She decided to do a little shopping before she drove the additional fifteen minutes to the house.

  Stopping at the local supermarket to and pick up a few groceries, she added a large bouquet of exotic flowers to enjoy during her stay.

  Last on her list of necessary stops was the Old Hanalei coffee shop she’d passed on the town’s single tourist street for the promised neon advertisement of more caffeine and a light take-home dinner. She’d started to not just wear down but to morph into a walking zombie. As she pulled into the parking lot, she caught a glimpse of manly inspiration out of the corner of her eye. Ummm. What a wake-up call. He qualified as definite romance hunk material. Tall. Muscular. Tan. His long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She guessed it would be too forward of her to ask him to pose nude for motivation pictures. Damn! Like she could manage to spit the words out without drooling. Releasing a heavy sigh full of unfulfilled promise, she watched him walk into the coffee shop. Well, she could always hurry in and salivate over his perfect body some more.

  Waiting in line behind tall, dark and extremely fine-looking, she did a little mental exercise and worked on a description of him for one of her books. If she weren’t so tired, she’d pull out a notepad and catalogue every dimple. He had turned a little to one side so she got the best of both worlds. He was to die for. No, too clichéd. He was breathstealing. Ugh! He fulfilled every warm-blooded female’s night fantasy. Better. Not much, but…well, she’d work on it.

  Standing a little over six feet tall, he had broad, muscular shoulders lovingly displayed in a well-worn yellow tank top that clung to each sculpted muscle. His chest appeared to be smooth, no hair to get in the way if you got the chance to oil his body down. Her fingers twitched. The muscles in his arms and legs—damn, the shorts were too long to see much but his calves—were prominent and well defined. His hands looked large, strong. And that butt. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. His butt was tight, flexing with the simplest movement. She started to sweat, her body humming with the need for contact.

  So engrossed in the feast spread before her senses, she missed the first couple of times the clerk tried to get her attention.

  “Can I help you?” the words repeated impatiently by the clerk finally broke through Joey’s lust and sleep-deprived daze.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Jet lag. I’ll have a skinny mocha, no whip, with an extra shot and some of the Thai Chicken Pasta.” Thank God, she’d already decided on her order. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the living embodiment of every capture fantasy she’d ever dreamed, take his coffee to an empty table. All right. Concentrate. Stay vertical long enough to get out of here without melting into a gooey puddle at his feet.

  Surreptitiously she studied his face; she hadn’t seen enough to work on a description before. Oh, lord. His dark black eyebrows raised in dramatic arches above dark…what…mocha eyes? Bedroom eyes. Cliché again. Jeez, she wanted those eyes in her bedroom. Who cared if it was an overused phrase? The sight of all his satiny tan skin and bulging muscles made her wet.

  Joey started. She was wet! She could feel the hot cream trickle from her swollen flesh. Oh, my God, had she ever been this turned on with just visual stimulation? If so, she couldn’t remember when.

  This man fascinated her. He had high cheekbones and a large nose, the combination adding definite character and depth to his face. He looked like he might have some Native American blood flowing in those hot veins. He had to be hot. No one could look like he did and not be hot. It would be a crime against nature.

  Her attention was ripped away from the Indian god by the imposition of her purchases being handed to her. Joey took her things and walked with care, balancing her purse, the latte and a to-go carton in her arms. Sitting at a table by the door, she put everything down and pulled out the map given to her by the rental agent. He told
her it didn’t take long to get to the house but it could be difficult to find if she missed the hidden turnoff. She wanted to make sure she understood where she needed to go. Any directions he’d given her had been wiped clean by thoughts of the man-god sitting at the table next to her. Studying the map carefully for a minute, she sighed in disgust.

  “Can I help you find something?” A voice stroked soft across her skin, the husky tone teased each and every nerve ending in her body and raised little goose bumps of pleasure.

  Glancing up, Joey realized who was talking to her and her mind turned into a blank slate. At this point she didn’t know if she should blame lack of sleep or raging lust for making her an idiot. Find something?

  “You look lost,” he said. “Maybe I can help.”

  “Oh, well, ummm.” Get a grip. “Yes. The rental agent said the house I am staying in might be difficult to find. I just needed to make sure I knew where I was going. I don’t want to get lost, but unfortunately…” She was rambling. Clamping her teeth together in an attempt to stop before it got out of hand, she thrust the map at him.

  With a faint smile he took the map from her out-thrust hands.

  Sucking in her breath, Joey squelched a groan. His smile was not conducive to her paying attention to any word he uttered. Maybe if she didn’t look at him when he spoke?

  “You’re going to Kahelelani house?”

  “Ahh, yes.” Brilliant response. But she did remember her rental house had a name—Kahelelani. Heaven sent. Weeelll…it would be heaven sent if he agreed to…

  “You’re in luck, I can help. I live just up the hill from K house and I am on my way home right now. If you want to follow me, I’d be glad to help you get there,” he said. “By the way, my name is Gray Hawk,” he said as he offered her his hand.

  Joey placed her much smaller hand in Gray Hawk’s. She ended up mesmerized by the contrast of their skin tones, his dark caramel while hers was more marshmallow crème. His hand felt warm. Strong. His fingers were long and sensual. She flashed to a vision of the two of them entwined together. Light and dark. Those fingers igniting a slow burning…

  Ruthlessly she yanked her thoughts back to the present and pulled her hand away. She had been right, Native American. And she believed with all her heart and soul that he could help her get several places. Not one of them having anything to do with a house.

  “Ahh…”This was getting ridiculous. Thankfully he misunderstood her.

  “Janice can vouch for me. I promise I won’t run off with you or anything.”

  Darn. And Janice-the-clerk verified he was a pillar of the community.

  “Okay. I’d appreciate the help,” she replied. Hallelujah. Five words. And they were all said in complete sentences…with no blubbering.

  “And may I ask your name?”

  “Devine. I mean Joey. Joey. It’s Joey.” So much for one second of cool, calm conversation.

  He raised his dark eyebrows and looked at her, an obvious question in those mocha sex eyes. Hell, she’d tell him anything.

  “Sorry. Besides being beyond exhausted, I’m an author. Devine is my pen name. Joey is my legal name. I’m so tired, I seem to have forgotten who I am.”

  “Devine what?”

  Oh, sure. Don’t ask for my real last name. “La Fleur.”

  “Well, Joey-Devine. If you’re ready, we can leave. It sounds like you’re pretty whipped,” he commented. “My vehicle is the SUV over there. The black one?” he said, pointing through the window to the vehicle parked next to her rental car.

  “Great. I am driving the red convertible,” she replied in quiet mortification as she followed him out to the parking lot. Just get her out of this embarrassing situation.

  * * * * *

  Gray shook his head in amusement. His very tired, temporary neighbor was gorgeous with those huge sleepy brown eyes and wild curly hair. He assumed it was wild from driving with the top down. But he couldn’t stop from imagining what all that hair would look like after a day spent in bed. Spread over his pillow. Over him. Ouch. It’d been too long since he’d had sex if he was already imagining the temporary neighbor lady in his bed.

  Obviously beat, she tripped over her words whenever she spoke to him. He thought he’d seen a flash of suppressed heat in her eyes when she met his gaze, but he wasn’t interested in a short-term affair. He would do the neighborly thing and get her to her vacation home and then stay far away from her and the temptation she represented. An author. He tried to remember what she told him her pen name was…Devine something? Flower. No, more foreign-sounding. La Fleur. Devine La Fleur. Well, he’d grab a bite to eat and take a quick shower.

  Then maybe he’d see what he could find out about Miss Devine on the Internet.

  Chapter Two

  Hell. He should have waited to take a shower until after he’d found Devine La Fleur on the Web. Actually, he wasn’t sure a shower would do him any good even if he ran the water ice-cold. He’d found her all right. Her website even showed a picture of her, though it looked like it might have been taken several years ago. But there she was. All warm brown hair and big chocolate eyes, stubborn chin and full pink lips. He’d read a few of her excerpts, which intrigued him enough to download one of her e-pubbed books. Leading him to buy another. And then another and another until, hours later, he’d read everything she had available online.

  Never having read a romance novel before, he’d have said they wouldn’t keep his attention or appeal to him in any way. But her books were similar to the detailed sci-fi novels he liked to read, full of intrigue, interesting characters and developed worlds with the tantalizing addition of sex—steamy, creative sex. After reading her stories, his body ached with sexual hunger, each movement more painful than the next as his clothes brushed against his erection.

  Sleep was out of the question as impatient and on edge he prowled his home looking for something to do. Something to take his mind off the curvaceous woman resting just down the hill from him. After completing several circuits of his living room he gave up and headed for the shower—a cold one this time.

  The water worked to cool his body but the images Joey created with her books continued to play through his mind. Thinking to distract himself by using the telescope he kept on the third-level deck of his sprawling home, he climbed the stairs to his office and stepped outside, hoping to watch whales or anything else he could spy at sea. Sitting in the comfortable chair placed before the scope for long hours of pleasant ocean viewing, he looked through the lens and sighed. There wasn’t enough light yet to see anything in the water, as full dawn remained an hour away. He should go to bed and get some rest.

  Getting to his feet, he glanced in the direction of his new neighbor and caught the low glow of a porch light. Temporary neighbor, he reminded himself. Sitting back down, he adjusted the telescope, his subconscious admonishing him against what amounted to spying on her. He knew she was probably asleep. He firmly tamped down on the guilt by telling his inner voice he’d just take a look to make sure she was all right. Yeah! Good story, he thought.

  * * * * *

  Joey woke up in stages, enjoying the lingering images of her dream. Her body felt swollen and damp with unfulfilled desire. She didn’t remember the last time she’d felt such a strong arousal and it delighted her to realize she still could. Too bad the stimulation came from a dream of her sexy, short-term neighbor, Gray Hawk, and not the real thing.

  She’d followed him to her house last night, waved goodbye, and then unloaded the groceries, eaten her chicken pasta, and passed out with exhaustion. She hadn’t even taken time to unpack her clothes or research materials. She’d just pulled her sleep shirt out of her carryon and changed into it before falling across the bed and into a series of steamy fantasies centered on uncovering and exploring Gray’s body.

  Rolling over, she looked at the clock and groaned—four a.m., it wasn’t even light out yet. Well, with the time difference, her body seemed to think it should be eight in the morning. Time t
o get up.

  Remembering the house she’d barely glanced at the night before, she looked around her. She sure hoped this little adventure worked. Flying to Hawaii might be a little extreme but she desperately needed a change of pace for her peace of mind. The nasty period of time leading up to her divorce seemed to make it impossible for her to write the sensual scenes she needed for her books. The verbal battles with Mike had left her exhausted and she shied away from creating even fantasy sex.

  Even after he moved out of the house and on with his life, he used every possible opportunity to point out her faults. His message on her answering machine a week ago had been a typical example of the man’s insensitivity. He called to ask her for their set of crystal champagne glasses—one of the few possessions she’d wanted to keep. He didn’t just ask for them, he spent several minutes listing her shortcomings as he saw them and ended with his observation that she wouldn’t be using them, as she never entertained or did anything worth commemorating. Then he made sure to give her the long version of how he was moving up in the world and besides the many upcoming celebrations of his success—he wanted to use them to toast his upcoming marriage to his sweetie. Jerk. She didn’t mind him getting married again. Good riddance. But she’d be damned if she gave him those glasses or anything else. She did use one of them anyway, to celebrate each book sale.

  Of course it had been awhile since she’d sold anything. The damn glasses were gathering dust in the cupboard. Let’s be truthful. She could write stories aplenty. But right now she couldn’t write sex. Her reaction to Mike—both in bed and out—directly contributed to the decrease of steam and need she’d been able to transfer to her books. When she thought of sex, she thought of the last time she and Mike made love. Nothing inspiring there! He’d acted like he was doing her a favor, when instead all he’d cared about was his own quick, unimaginative orgasm. A legendary lover in his own mind; the reality turned out to be no foreplay, no heat…just stick it in and out a couple times and move on. He’d left her feeling so used and frustrated she’d been happy to be left alone.