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    Summer Heat
    Summer Heat
    Summer Heat
    Ebook99 pages1 hour

    Summer Heat

    By Lisa Worrall

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    After a car accident which left him scarred and his best friend dead, Mitch Spencer retreats to his family’s vacation home to heal. He has no idea the turn his life is about to take when there’s a knock at the door.
    Kade Lewis is good at one thing, and one thing only, theft. The Spencer house was supposed to be empty so now he needs to rethink his game plan. After years of keeping others out, it’s Mother Nature herself who throws an unexpected obstacle in his way; in the shape of Mitch Spencer.
    Forced to spend time together when they’re cut off by flash floods, will the two men be able to vanquish their inner demons and find each other? Or will their pasts be too much to overcome?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLisa Worrall
    Release dateSep 1, 2012
    ISBN9781476143033
    Summer Heat
    Author

    Lisa Worrall

    I live in Leigh on Sea, a small seaside town just outside London on the coast of Essex, about ten minutes from Southend, which boasts the longest pier in the world. I live with my partner and two ever-growing children, who I let think are the boss of me; along with a dog who actually is. As the wonderful Beatrix Potter said, "There is something delicious about writing the first words of a new story. You never quite know where they'll take you." I know exactly what she means and hope you'll join me for the ride.

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      Book preview

      Summer Heat - Lisa Worrall

      Summer Heat

      by

      Lisa Worrall

      Copyright 2014 by Lisa Worrall

      Smashwords Edition

      Smashwords License Statement 

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Table of Contents

      Trademarks Acknowledgement

      I

      II

      III

      IV

      V

      Epilogue

      About the author

      Trademarks Acknowledgement:

      The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

      Band-aid: Johnson & Johnson Corporation

      JD: Jack Daniel's Properties, Inc.

      Harlequin: Harlequin Enterprises

      I

      The wind whipped at his hair, sending the short strands in all directions around his head, its grabby fingers stealing the very breath from his lungs. He'd been jerked awake by the first deafening crack of thunder and his eyes widened as another flash illuminated the dark. The lightning split the sky in two and the rolling thunder shook the world before he'd even managed one, one thousand—not that one needed to be a genius to know the storm was directly overhead. Mitch's entire body thrummed with the ferocity of Mother Nature in full force as he leaned out of the window in total awe. The lake and rolling hills around his remote home were lit up in stark relief against the velvet sky when another flash of lightning forked across the darkness. Then came the rain. Sheets of water fell from the sky and bounced off the ground, turning the lake into choppy surf. Drenched in seconds, he snatched the cast iron latch and pulled the window closed.

      Great idea, Mitch. Hanging out of the window in a thunderstorm in the middle of the night. One of your best. He turned on the light and padded along the hall to the bathroom and opened the linen closet. He stripped off his T-shirt and grabbed a towel, rubbed it over his face and across his hair before turning his attention to his naked chest. Mitch wandered back into his room and paused, his attention suddenly caught by the creaking sounds of the house under assault by the storm. He yawned widely, nonplussed. He'd spent half his life in this house and knew every moan and groan of its old bones. His parents had bought the house when Mitch and his twin sister were five and they'd vacationed here every summer, reveling in the secluded countryside and beautiful scenery of the Virginian farmhouse, making the old rooms ring with their laughter.

      Not that they rang with much right now, because he was alone. He'd moved to the summer house after the accident six months ago. After quitting the job his firm had held open for him, he had retreated to the one place where he knew he would feel safe, and there would be no reminders of all he'd lost. His parents hadn't been so sure it was a good idea to shut himself away in the middle of nowhere, but they'd acquiesced. He knew they hoped that the familiar comfort of the farmhouse would soothe his soul, although his father had to practically drag his mother to their planned three month vacation in France, stating that the last thing Mitch wanted was her buzzing around him for the entire summer.

      Mitch froze in the midst of pulling a dry T-shirt over his head and listened intently. He was sure he'd heard something, but now all he could catch was the incessant moan of the wind. Shrugging he smoothed the material down over his stomach—there it was again. Faint, but definite. A banging at the front door.

      Frowning, Mitch crossed to his bedroom window and pulled back the curtain. He couldn't see anything past the rain the wind threw against the glass. Damn it. Mitch squinted into the darkness but there were no vehicles at the front of the house. The knocking must have been his imagination. The house was miles from anywhere and only accessible by car. The nearest neighbors were the Hendersons and they were eleven miles away on foot. He was obviously still half asleep. How could there possibly be anyone out there?

      The knocking was louder this time, as if whoever held the brass ring firmly ensconced in the mouth of the lion's head door knocker, was getting angrier with each bang. What the fuck? he mumbled, picking up his cell, though why he wasn't entirely sure, and headed down the stairs. The faint sounds of his bare feet on the rugged and quarry-tiled floor of the hall were smothered by the raging elements outside. He turned on the lights and cautiously approached the door. Rising onto the balls of his feet, Mitch peered through the small stained glass window set into the wood. He cursed softly; all he could see was driving rain and darkness. There’s nobody there, idiot. Mitch ignored the derisive sneer of his inner voice and narrowed his eyes, staring out into the night. Yeah, real genius. Cut down your field of vision. That’ll help you see the monsters better. Mitch shook his head at his wandering imagination and turned away from the door. There was nobody there. It had probably been the wind lifting the knocker and slamming it back down.

      Jesus! The heavy slam of the knocker tightened his bowels and had his balls trying to creep back up inside his body, his heart pounding in his chest and blood rushing in his ears. Pressing his hand against the sleek wood, he swallowed hard.

      Who's there? He cursed inwardly, wishing his voice sounded a little more quarterback and a little less band camp. Who's out there? I've got an— He gazed around and grabbed the first thing to hand. Umbrella?

      An umbrella would be good, a deep voice shouted through the letterbox. But inside would be better! Mitch worried at his lower lip and the owner of the voice obviously took the lack of response to mean more information was required, because he added, My car broke down a couple of miles back and my cell died. Do you have a phone?

      Another flash of lightning lit the sky and Mitch gasped as a man's face pressed to the window in the door. All he caught was a glimpse of dark eyes and rain dripping off a straight nose. The thunder rumbled immediately and Mitch sighed heavily, reaching out and sliding back the deadbolt on the door.

      What the fuck are you doing? his inner voice screamed in his ear. He could be the poster boy for Axe Murderers ‘R Us, you moron. You can’t let him in. You want your mother to smell your rotting corpse all the way from France? Mitch rolled his eyes and lifted the latch, but left the chain on as he opened the door. The wind was cruel as it whipped around the hall and snapped at his thin cotton pajama pants. The man at the door peered through the opening and Mitch was confronted by a row of white teeth revealed by a relieved smile.

      Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.

      Mitch nodded, letting his gaze roam one more time over the man's face. He looked friendly enough, although he couldn't see much more of him than before; the hood on his jacket was pulled down low over his forehead. For God’s sake open the door, you ass. The poor guy is gonna freeze to death while you make up your mind. Mitch slid the

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