PROLOGUE

“Your position here at Plain Talk is secure.”

Shadoe Donovan stood in front of the large office window overlooking the bay of Lake Monona. His six foot, two inch muscular frame cast a shadow over the thirty-something man sitting in disbelief behind an oak desk.

“When did all this happen?” The voice came from somewhere close behind him.

“Officially, last night the deal was signed.” Although it was a relatively calm day on the lake, Shadoe knew things could get stormy in this office at any moment. Hell, if someone walked in off the streets and bought the company he worked for, he’d want to know exactly where he stood.

“Why this magazine?”

“It’s small, virtually unknown...exactly what I was looking for.” Watching the local ski team practice their routine to perfection, Shadoe felt their aches and pains in getting each move precise.

“For what? A tax write-off after you’ve driven it into the ground?” The voice came again, this time edged with sarcasm and irritation.

“Look here, Scott...”

“My name is Ric, damn it!”

“All I’m looking for is someone to write a story.” Shadoe turned from the window as one of the skiers completed a jump.

“I want a fresh, unbiased, unknown for this. Someone with the drive, and desire to tell the truth as they see it, who’s not afraid of a little bit of controversy.”

“Controversy?” Ric Scott turned away from the files he’d been asked to get. “Just what the hell is this story about anyway?”

Shadoe observed the man who was now under his employ. Ric Scott was going to be just the person he needed to keep things under control while he was away on other business. Not a tall man, five foot eight and stocky, he was dynamic in what he did for a living. So far, everything he’d heard about the editor-in-chief was right on the money.

“Pro-wrestling.” A smile on his face, Shadoe watched closely for the normal reaction to the game he loved so much. A game many people considered a circus of highly paid performers.

“Are you nuts? Controversy is right.” Tossing down a pencil, Ric pushed away from his desk.

“I’ll be damned if I’ll let you bring this magazine down with that kind of cover-up story,” he continued. “We write the truth, not some sugar coated soap!”

“Take it easy, Scott.” Shadoe walked to the front of the desk. “I’m not about to change the format. I just want a writer to do the exposé is all.”

Standing over the desk, Shadoe knew under usual circumstances his size and attitude could be intimidating, but this wasn’t the case here. Ric Scott wasn’t about to back down from him and he liked that fact very much.

“I have a plane to catch and don’t have time to pull rank with you. Let’s see who’s on staff and go from there.” Shadoe pulled up one of the large winged-back leather chairs.

Shadoe listened to Ric as he read each staff member’s credentials. Sitting back in the chair, Shadoe knew halfway through the files that not one of the staff would fit what he was looking for.

“Look, Scott,” he began, sitting forward, “everyone so far has experience. If the rest of them do too, I can’t use them for this assignment.”

“Alright, Donovan, just why do you want a virtual unknown?” Scott sighed deeply. “Unless you’re ready for a lawsuit, which by the way would destroy the magazine, an experienced journalist would be best.”

“As for the legal and financial condition of this magazine it’s of no concern to you.” Shadoe liked the directness and aggression of Scott. The fact that this man was so protective of the magazine and its staff was a welcomed relief.

“This company can handle anything thrown at it from now on. As for the why, it’s time for the fans to know how hard pro-wrestlers train everyday of the year. How difficult it is on their families when they’re on the road ninety percent of the time,” he continued, walking back over to the window, gazing at the lake and the lone boater drifting out on the water. He felt much of his life was like that boat, just going with the flow, never really coming to rest for a long time.

“Besides, I’m the boss and I said so.” Returning to the desk, he once again stood over Scott with natural authority and intimidation. “Because it’s the sport that’s enabled me to follow the career I love and cherish more than any thing or any one. I owe it to the wrestlers who have been disabled for life or even given their life in the ring for the love of the game.”

Shadoe watched the reasoning register deep in Scott’s mind as he let him think. The cockiness diminished slightly with each passing moment until at last Scott sighed deeply in a small surrender.

“Okay, I get the picture. I may just have the person you’re looking for.” Scott ran his hands through his short dark hair, hesitation flashing through his face.

“Great! Who is he?” Shadoe glanced at his watch. His plane was due to leave in less than forty-five minutes. If things didn’t progress right now, he’d miss his flight to Hawaii.

“It’s not a he,” Scott smiled, “but a she. There’s no real formal training or experience. Just the drive and desire to write. Her name’s Khristen Roberts, but she’s on her way for a long deserved vacation.”

“Perfect. Put her on the assignment as soon as you can reach her.” Shadoe moved toward the door. “I’ve got a plane to try and catch. I’ll be in touch with the details soon.”

“What’s your connection, Donovan?”

Shadoe turned just as he reached for the door. Pausing, he looked Ric Scott straight in the eye, deciding quickly to tell him just how connected he was.

“Ever hear of ‘The Flame’?” 

CHAPTER 1

“Excuse me, but you’re sitting in my seat.”

“Oh?” The casually dressed man made no effort to move from the seat he boldly sprawled his body across. He sat as if he owned this entire section of the plane, especially the two seats he now occupied.

“Listen, if you want the window seat that’s just fine with me. There’ll be nothing to see but water anyway.” Khristen Roberts forced a smile. She stood and waited for the man to move his legs. It was the only empty set left in first class and she wasn’t about to sit in coach. She’d worked too hard and too long for this vacation and that seat.

Not even off the ground yet, this is not going to be a fun flight. Who does this guy think he is anyway? Perturbed, Khristen saw her reflection in his mirrored glasses. Not only was the obnoxious, handsome man sitting in her seat, but his large legs swung over onto her now inherited seat as well. Khristen took matters in her own hands, reached out and pushed the bare, hairy, tanned, muscular legs out of her way.

“Hey!” The soft, deep voice rang out in surprise as he tore the sunglasses away from his, until now, hidden eyes. Eyes the color of clear seawater, brilliant and dangerous. A woman could drown in eyes like that.

“What’s going on here?”

Confusion and disbelief were very much evident in those sea green eyes, as well as in his voice. Even the muscles in his biceps seemed to twitch with surprise. Or was it aggravation? Served him right.

“You, sir, are in my seat.” Khristen fought to control the building irritation as she sat down. “I paid good money for it and don’t intend to share it with you or your legs!”

She snatched a magazine out from the back of the seat and began to flip through it. Not really seeing what each page contained, she wondered what lucky star she had wished on to be stuck next to this despicable hunk all the way to Hawaii. Despicable was the only nice word she could think of to describe him. He was the type who thought muscles and a nice body got them their way. She had dealt with his kind before.

Khristen ignored the confusion as the final passengers boarded the plane. She figured it would be ten minutes or so before they would even begin to taxi out onto the runway, then in line to wait for take off out of the Los Angeles airport.

Khristen fastened her seat belt and prayed that sleep would come for the remainder of her flight to her long awaited tropical vacation. As soon as they were in the air, she would locate a station on the radio, and let her mind tune into some good, hard 1980’s rock music. Maybe some Van Halen, or Journey, or better yet, David Lee Roth, anything to make the four-hour trip go faster. Hopefully, the music would keep her mind from wondering over to the guy who sat next to her. A man who smelled as good as he looked...all male, and dangerous as hell.

“You know you were pretty rude.” The deep male voice pierced into the silence that Khristen tried to plant between them.

So much for solitude.

“Me!” The anger built in her reflected eyes as she glared into the mirrored sunglasses once again present on her unwelcome travel companion.

“You should talk, Mr. My Future’s So Bright I Need Shades. I’m not the seat stealer here.” Khristen’s nerves snapped with aggravation.

In a desperate attempt to calm herself down, Khristen rested her head against the back of her seat. She closed her eyes, hoping to put an end to the unwanted conversation. As entertaining as it may end up, she didn’t want to tempt fate. Been there and done that, as the saying goes, in another place and time. No need to repeat the same mistake.

“That still doesn’t give you the right...”

“Listen. It’s going to be a long flight and if you don’t mind, I’d rather not spend my time bickering with you. You can have the seat, and let’s just pretend that neither one of us is sitting next to the other. Okay? Okay,” she said.

While the stewardess instructed them all on safety procedures, Khristen couldn’t help notice that her fellow travel mate, once again, had the silver framed mirrored sunglasses perched on his nose. An unquenchable curiosity surged its way to the surface causing an all too familiar feeling.

Damn hormones, anyway! She felt them start their rampage through her body.

His body fueled her imagination as she tried to look at his facial features, the one’s she could see anyway. Her daddy always warned her about being too curious. It only got a girl going down the wrong path. Too bad she had never taken those words to heart the last time she had taken a trip.

A little hidden inspection couldn’t hurt, could it? Not if she was careful and he didn’t notice her giving him the once over. She was only looking, not touching after all.

On his head sat a well-worn Los Angeles Dodgers baseball cap, covering curly, dark-brown hair that barely peeked out from under the brim. Khristen’s gaze passed over his hidden gaze from the slightly visible eyebrows to a somewhat crooked nose. His mouth seemed to carry a sense of seriousness at the corners of a pair of full lips. The kind that Khristen imagined could kiss a woman with fiery passion, or lash out a thousand whipping strokes.

A quick and unnerving surge passed through her body when her eyes followed the outline of his strong, squared jaw. With the plane ascending, her inspection stopped at the end of his determined chin. A smile hinted to play on his face.

“Like what you see?” His deep, silky voice held a challenge, and a touch of conceit. Her eyes had to be revealing everything she was feeling at that moment.

“Don’t flatter yourself!” She was scarcely aware of her own voice or the warm glow touching her cheeks. What she was aware of was the fact that he had messed up her ecosystem without as much as a touch.

He smiled fully, showing each and every pearl white tooth. “Thanks babe.” He nonchalantly removed the baseball cap.

She muffled the squeak of pleasure when her inspection took in the massive chest with its hair that peeked out the top of the black tank shirt encasing it. A mischievous smile crossed her lips as curiosity took hold of her again. Mmmm, wonder where that leads? She felt herself reaching an uncontrollable level. Her warning bell should have gonged a thousand times by now, but didn’t.

Her body filled with natural female desire as Khristen focused on those muscular tanned thighs that hid snugly under a pair of wild colored spandex shorts. Her heart skipped a beat when his well-toned thigh muscle twitched.

A nervous sigh escaped her. She tried with all her might to subdue the unwanted longing and curiosity that could spell trouble.

Why do I always seem to go after a challenge? She rested her head against the seat and tried in vain to suppress the smile crossing her face. Because, that’s what makes life interesting, and it’s also what gets me in so much trouble.

Khristen pushed the image of herself and the stranger out of her mind until restless sleep finally fell upon her.

* * * *

It was all Shadoe could do to keep from laughing. For the first time in years, here was a woman who didn’t recognize him, or for that matter, even try to be civil toward him. She was hot for him. He knew it by the way her body pinked with embarrassment when she’d been checking him out. Her hot gaze shot boiling lust over him and made him feel as if his clothing had melted from this body, leaving him naked and vulnerable.

The last thing he had expected from her was a flare up. He had always gotten his way with women before. Maybe it was the women who had gotten their way with him. Rachel, his ex-wife, had been a prime example. Regardless, this little piece of female flesh was a regular spitfire.

It had been so long since he’d met a woman who did not crawl all over him that he was not sure of his actions now. Being a professional wrestler offered “companion” opportunities nightly, all one had to do was ask. He would have done that years ago, before the deaths and injuries to some of his buddies woke him to the fact that the public needed to be educated about the game. He felt the only way to guarantee the truth be told to his satisfaction was to have it printed in his own magazine. He owed it to those fallen, and to himself before it all ended for him.

He longed for more than being on the road and it gnawed at him more as the years passed. He watched his fellow wrestlers leave the business for one reason or another. One might say his biological clock was ticking.

Shadoe slipped off his glasses and listened to the even breathing from the woman beside him. Her breath gently raised her breasts. Breasts that made him wonder if they were as firm as they appeared.

Good heavens man, why can’t they all be as challenging as this one? He wanted to trace the outline of her full lips with his fingertips and he ached to calm the storm that had brewed between them just moments ago. The feeling was unlike any he had ever experienced in either his professional or personal life in quite a while.

Shadoe slid the glasses back on and turned to gaze out the window, her window, and wondered if her hair felt as soft as the passing puffs of clouds looked.

* * * *

“...Please return your trays to their upright...”

The words echoed softly in Khristen’s mind, bringing her back through the sleepiness of the last three hours. While stretching to pull her cramped muscles from their stiffness, she opened her eyes and realized she’d fallen asleep with her head against his shoulder.

“Well, she’s back in the world ready to grace me with her presence again.”

“Sorry, forgot you were there.” She set her seat in the upright position. “Out of sight, out of mind.” Who am I kidding? May be out of sight, but he’d firmly planted himself in my dream.

“Are you sure? That was a pretty sensual moan coming from you just before you stretched,” he whispered, leaning toward her so close she felt the warmth of his breath on her skin.

“If it was, which I highly doubt,” she watched the Maui landscape come into view, “rest assured the cause wasn’t you.”

The sensual smirk on his face irritated her. He was ever more pompous than she first thought.

“Or maybe you just didn’t realize it was me,” he said.

The plane’s landing gear bumped the ground. “I think it was you dreaming, not me. After all, you’re the one with the fixation on yourself.”

“Maybe so, only I’m never alone in my dreams.” The sharp and assessing look he gave her sent hot shivers down her spine.

What was it about this guy? Why did she even give him the time of day? Sure, he’s nice looking and seems to have a body that could drive a normal, warm-blooded woman wild. Hell, he did it to her without as much as a touch.

As the plane taxied into its arrival gate, their gazes met causing her blood to race through her veins. Heat flashed through her face and she felt he had read her thoughts. Wanton thoughts that surprised even her.

Khristen shook her head as if to put the marbles back in place. She reached into the overhead compartment for her overnight bag with him standing next to her as the plane taxied into the terminal.

“Let me get that for you.” Shadoe placed his hand over Khristen’s.

“I’m perfectly capable of carrying one small piece of luggage.” Her grip tightened under his.

She wasn’t about to allow him to help her. She was perfectly capable of handling her own little overnight bag.

“At the moment, you don’t look capable of doing anything but taking a cold shower.” He tried to pull the bag from her as the plane jolted to a stop.

“Leave me.” Khristen gave her bag one last tug, causing it to open, spilling the contents onto the floor of the plane.

“Now see what you’ve done!” She stooped to gather her overturned belongings as quickly as she could. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone and let her get on with her life?

“Here, let me.” Shadoe bent and picked up her things, and placed them in the bag. Her lacy panties along with matching bras, mixed with an array of lotions and facial cosmetics. He held her undergarments between his thumb and forefinger for a moment. Dropping them, he picked up the nametag dangling from the inside of the case in his hand.

“I can do it myself.” Khristen grabbed and tossed the tag into the bag with the last of her things. She snapped the bag shut, stood then headed for the departure door wondering what act of God had caused her case to fly open when it had been locked. She had a feeling this was going to be one hell of a vacation.

* * * *

“Khristen Roberts,” Shadoe whispered to himself and watched Khristen make her way to the back of the plane.

There couldn’t be more than one of her, could there? She had snatched the ID tag so fast, but he thought the city and state on it had read “Madison Wisconsin.” He was still stunned by what he read. Was she his Khristen Roberts? Well, maybe not his, but the magazine’s?

Yet, it had to be her. The woman Ric Scott had recommended for the article that would most likely end his career. How many Madison, Wisconsin Khristen Roberts’ could there be in the world?

He counted on only one. The one who sparked something in him he once thought did not have a chance to ignite ever again. The one who for a few hours made him remember he was just a regular Joe. Not the Universal Wrestling World Champion. The very one making her way down the little departure hallway. If he didn’t follow suit he’d lose her in the crowd.

He grabbed his athletic bag and followed her. If he lost her, he would either have to call all over Maui looking for her, or contact Ric Scott to find out where Khristen Roberts from his newly acquired magazine was staying. As he saw it, his only option was the former. He would find her without Scott’s help.