His Southern Sweetheart

Seduction, Southern style!

Reality show producer Amelia Marlow has a score to settle with sexy Nate Reyes—and buying him at a bachelor auction promises sweet satisfaction. After all, it’s thanks to him that workaholic Amelia is on temporary leave in her sleepy Georgia hometown. The least he can do is help her while she’s stuck there! But the forty hours of community service Nate owes soon turn into sensual and sizzling overtime...

Nate wants to make things right with the gorgeous Amelia. Through sultry days and even hotter nights, Nate’s surprised to find she’s slowly turning his “no complications wanted” attitude into intense attraction. And he soon discovers that he’ll do anything to prove that there’s only one perfect place for Amelia—in his arms!

“What are you doing here?”

“Getting a start on whatever it is you want me to do to you.” The light in her car died off, leaving them alone in the night air. An owl hooted off in the distance over the sound of a diesel truck entering one of the back roads. With all the nighttime orchestra, Nate still heard her gulp, not in fear but uncertainty. Had she bitten off more than she could chew by bidding on him tonight?

“Are you going to tell me what you have in store for me now?” Nate asked. His eyes focused on her plump lips. She’d reapplied a layer of gloss during the ride over here because he knew he’d kissed off the strawberry flavor back at the club.

“In a rush to get back to Brittany?” Amelia countered. She pressed her manicured hand against his chest in a seeming attempt to put some space between them, but he felt the way her fingers lingered against his pecs.

Nate cocked his head to the side to study her face for a moment under the half-moon’s light. “Babe, you’ve got me for a full week.”

“And then?”

He grinned.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Southwood, Georgia. These are a few words Amelia Marlow never thought she’d hear.

R & R means something a little different in His Southern Sweetheart. For Amelia it stands for Reyes & Revenge. How can anyone want to seek revenge on such a hottie like Nate Reyes? Every time he did something sweet for Amelia, I just wanted to scream at her for being so mean.

Have I mentioned how I can take any situation and turn it into a love story? Combine this gift (as my friends and family validate this with a begrudging sigh) and my love for reality TV, and I thought I’d stir up a little romance for those who work behind the scenes.

His Southern Sweetheart came out of my love for reality TV and the unsung heroes—the television crew.

Carolyn Hector

Having your story read out loud as a teen by your brother in Julia Child’s voice might scare some folks from ever sharing their work. But CAROLYN HECTOR rose above her fear. She currently resides in Tallahassee, Florida, where there is never a dull moment. School functions, politics, football, Southern charm and sizzling heat help fuel her knack for putting a romantic spin on everything she comes across. Find out what she’s up to on Twitter: @Carolyn32303.

His Southern Sweetheart

Carolyn Hector

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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I would like to dedicate this book to my one and only daughter, Haley, who binge-watches all of my inspirational reality shows with me. Thanks, Schmoopie!

Acknowledgments

Without the peace and quiet given to me by my son and four nephews (coordinated by my husband), I must acknowledge that without their cooperation, I wouldn’t get any writing done!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Acknowledgments

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

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

With the four-hundred-thread-count eggshell-colored Egyptian cotton sheets tangled around her feet, Amelia Marlow kicked the material off the edge of the bed and wrapped her legs around the muscular calves of her partner. Their chests rose and fell in unison in the afterglow of their phenomenal evening of marathon lovemaking.

“So,” they both breathed at the same time.

A sly grin spread across her face at the way the two of them had hit it off, from the time they met at the bar to the last wave of their orgasms. If she didn’t know any better, she would have expected their first meeting to have been scripted. Six-foot-two with golden-bronze skin poured over steel muscles that no T-shirt could hide. His eyes were emerald green and had been focused on her the moment he filled the bar doorway. Hot didn’t even begin to describe this man. Like every woman there, he’d caught her attention the minute he walked in. Who knew a couple of hours ago, when he’d walked directly over to her and offered to buy her a drink, that they’d end up with a nightcap in her hotel room? The first few moments, their conversation had been a string of flirty awkwardness and now here they were, speaking at the same time.

“You first,” he said.

“Didn’t I already?” Amelia replied with a purr.

He turned his head and pressed his lips against her bare shoulder. “I thought we might want to exchange names.”

The point of a one-night stand meant no need to exchange names. She raised her brows. “You first.”

“Nate,” he said, squaring his jaw. “Nate Reyes.”

The roll of his R across his tongue set a ripple of a reminder of his talents a few moments ago. “Amelia, Amelia Marlow.”

Nate Reyes rolled to his right side, rested his head against his propped-up elbow and began to trace a pattern down from her chin to the center between her breasts with his forefinger. Subconsciously Amelia rested her hands against her stomach in attempt to make her breasts perky. The point of her elbow brushed against the hard contours of his ripped abs.

“And may I further say,” she began, despite the heat rising up from her chest across her cheekbones, “this honestly isn’t the type of thing I go around doing.”

His response came in a casual shrug. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad you did. I enjoyed myself this evening.”

“Me, too.”

The last time Amelia took a break from her job was probably never. Ever since the world had become enamored with reality shows, being on top of her game had become a necessity. As a field producer for MET, she’d found that personal relationships dwindled. Right now she was on the fast track for a seat on the throne as one of Multi-Ethnic Television’s future showrunners. Amelia busted her ass as a runner, becoming a field producer, following around the station’s biggest reality celebrities as they tweeted across the globe. Some days her current job seemed more like a glorified babysitter. Reality TV celebrity Natalia Ruiz was becoming bored with being followed 24/7 for her hit show, Azúcar. When a star was bored, so were the viewers. Amelia shook her head to get her job out of her mind. Why think about work when a smoking-hot man lay naked beside her?

“I want to see you again.”

“I am only in Atlanta for the weekend. I’m checking out tomorrow.” Amelia shook her head left to right. Strands of hair brushed against her dewy skin. The cute flip hairstyle she’d gotten done today now flopped. He was worth it.

“So am I.” Nate rolled onto his back. “We need to do this again, soon.”

Amelia shifted to her side and faced him. She wished she hadn’t kicked the sheets to the floor. Instead of hiding her not-so-toned frame with covers, she curled her knees up to her chest as much as her non-yoga-perfected body would allow. Why hadn’t she taken some lessons during the Azúcar episode with Natalia?

“My schedule is demanding,” Amelia began. She had no time for relationships with her jet-setting schedule. The red light of the digital clock on the nightstand on the other side of the bed read sometime after midnight. She was surprised she hadn’t heard from her executive producer or the cameramen. Did she seriously get a few hours to herself? Well, she countered herself, not all by herself.

Nate lifted his almond-shaped eyes to hers. The faint smell of coconut rum lingered on his full lips. He had a low Caesar-style haircut and the most delectable caramel skin. A half sleeve of petroglyphs or a tribal tattoo decorated the length of his muscular bicep. Thanks to interning as a part of the camera crew for MET’s show featuring tattoo artists, she understood the sun design to be part of a Taíno Indian culture. Amelia’s heart fluttered with excitement for remembering the detail.

“So this is seriously going to be a one-night stand?”

“I believe we need to think of tonight as one special moment.” Amelia sighed. “I need to get back to work.”

“It’s after midnight.” Nate propped himself up on his elbow and raised his brows.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, contorting the upper half of her body over the side of the bed. Her hands searched around on the floor for the slacks she’d kicked out of and came across her navy, polka-dot bra and panties. As she tucked the undergarments in, her fingertips brushed across the soft beige carpet, reading it like braille for the pants until she found the hem strewn halfway across her hotel floor. The material of her pants was rolled over a shoe or a heel. She was glad the lamp lights were off. She’d have hated to see clearly what the room looked like. As it was, the full moon’s light spilled from the balcony’s open drapes and offered a view of the wreckage they’d created from tearing off each other’s clothes. She was sure they’d knocked everything off the dresser in their state of passion.

“What kind of work forces you out after midnight?” asked Nate before choking on a stifled laugh. “Wait, do I want to know?”

From her awkward angle, Amelia playfully tapped her foot against his broad chest. He captured her by the heel and kissed her big toe. Amelia jumped forward, found her cell phone and sat upright in the bed. She swore as the blue light indicating a message flashed furiously. The mattress behind her dipped and the heat from Nate’s body warmed her backside when he pulled her into his arms. As she tried to read her messages on her phone, his arms caressed the swell of her breasts. Amelia sunk into the warmth of him. Perhaps she had a few more minutes to respond to the swelling erection pressed against her backside. A rueful smile crept across her face, knowing she probably needed to stock up on sex. Lord only knew when she’d meet a man like this again.

The trail of kisses he left on her collarbone sizzled against her skin. Desire throbbed through every inch of her body. The shrill of her phone filled the silent room, shocking her system much like a bucket of ice dumped on her.

“Do you need to answer your phone?” he asked, kissing the tip of her earlobe and moving toward the side of her mouth. His large hands moved down her rib cage to the V of her thighs.

“No,” she gasped. The phone stopped ringing. A half second later someone banged on her hotel door. Amelia turned the lights on by the switch beside her bed. “But I must answer that.”

“Should I hide?” he asked, making no move to do so or effort to cover his naked and ready body.

The pounding on the door rattled the frame, the extra lock jingling against the bolt. Amelia jumped into her slacks, sans undergarments, turning her back to him as she zipped and buttoned herself. She cast a glance over her shoulder and raised a brow. “Are you in the habit of finding women who make you hide afterward?”

“Touché.”

Her phone began to ring again and this time when she glanced Natalia’s face appeared on the caller ID. From the other side of the door, her current boss banged and began to yell her name. Amelia’s eyes cringed with embarrassment as William Vickers cursed.

“Oh, hell no.” Nate moved from the bed. Naked, he stormed toward the door with his hand stretched outward for the doorknob. “Boyfriend or not, no man should speak to you this way.”

“Wait!” Partly panicked and partly impressed with Nate’s chivalry, Amelia rolled her eyes and sighed. She missed the gallantry of men these days. In the production world, manners were seriously lacking. “He’s kind of my boss, not my boyfriend, and if you don’t mind, I need you to step into the bathroom.”

“Why?”

Amelia’s eyes drifted to his naked, hard frame. It’d be a shame to have to cover or hide a beautiful body such as his. “Whatever’s going on with my job, I don’t want him thinking it was because of a romp in the hay.”

For half a minute, while William continued to knock, Nate stood in front of her, staring her down. Reluctantly he turned to head toward the bathroom. The view from behind was just as beautiful. “And it’s a bed, not hay,” he mumbled before closing the door.

Once the other door clicked closed, Amelia crossed the room and opened the door just a crack. “Are you crazy?”

William, mobile showrunner of MET, stood stock-still, hand raised in the air. Still dressed in a pin-striped business suit from the editing dinner, he narrowed his dark eyes at Amelia. He craned his neck to try and peer in through the crack she kept open. “What the hell are you up to?” His bulbous nostrils flared with his question.

“Sleeping?”

“You’re a field producer of a reality show where it is your job to follow your star around.”

“And she’s asleep,” Amelia gritted out between her teeth.

Of all the people to come and tell her how to do her job, William standing here irritated her the most. They’d both started out at MET as runners for cable television reality shows, doing errands for the directors, showrunners and field producers. They’d both vied for the same executive producer opening. And while William might have been the mobile showrunner with all the power to make creative and directive decisions, everyone on set listened to Amelia. She and her group of cameramen had their jobs down pat. William wanted this assignment for the chance to work with the Caribbean royal family, the Ruizes. Everyone at MET wanted the chance to head over to the Ruiz compound in San Juan, Puerto Rico, to film footage for Azúcar. Thanks to the quick friendship she and Natalia had forged, Amelia had earned the honors to work with the icon for the commercial.

“You sure?” William bared his teeth while his upper lip curled. His puffy hand thrust forward, shoving his cell phone toward her face. Amelia’s already blown-out back ached from the base of her spine as she leaned backward to focus on the picture of Natalia having an intimate dinner with a bearded stranger. The corners of William’s mouth turned upward and his eyes roamed the part of her body visible through the door. Amelia reached for the phone but William pulled it away. “You dropped the ball in order to get your beauty rest.”

“She said she was going to bed and I am allowed some personal time.”

“For as long as you’ve been babysitting her,” William gritted, “when did she say she wanted a quiet evening?”

Jesus, no wonder Natalia had been so sweet this evening. How long had she been planning this rendezvous? And who was this mystery man? Amelia documented Natalia’s life practically twenty-four hours out of the day. She’d never seen the man on the screen. Only the side of his face showed from William’s phone, but Amelia knew if she waited long enough, more pictures would be plastered over the internet. “Where is she now?”

“Hell if I know. Whoever is blogging said the two of them parted and went their separate ways after dinner. Damn shame we didn’t get any of this on film. Do you understand what our ratings would be like? If Natalia’s ready to start dating, we could have a bachelorette spin-off.”

Ratings were not an issue for Amelia as long as Natalia stayed interested in being in the public eye. Lately, however, she hadn’t enjoyed it too much—neither of them. The closer she grew to Natalia, the more Amelia liked her. They were friends. Unlike Natalia, Amelia was a far cry from an heiress.

“Are you even listening to me?” William’s bark snapped Amelia out of her pity party.

She straightened her spine and shook her head while closing her door. “Give me a minute and I’ll go find her.” The door clicked closed, locking William out of her life for a brief moment.

“She’s not in her room,” William shouted from the other side of the door.

Dressed, Nate stepped out from the bathroom. Amelia’s heart sunk with disappointment. She gave him a half smile and inhaled deeply as he crossed the room toward her.

“I take it you’ve got to go?”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her eyes focused on the center of his defined chest. The maroon V-neck T-shirt he wore hugged his pecs and arms. The first thing about him she’d spotted was his bicep when he reached across the bar downstairs to pay for a round of drinks. She’d always adored a man with nice arms.

“Did you at least enjoy yourself?” Nate asked, stopping inches from her. His gaze focused on her lips.

“Hell yeah.” Amelia anticipated his hug and opened her arms. Somehow being in his embrace she felt safe, warm, as if everything was going to be okay—but it wasn’t. Her tryst this evening might come with a cost—her job. Was he worth it? Nate’s arms closed tighter around her waist and he effortlessly lifted her into the air while planting a stream of kisses along her collarbone. Goose bumps began to swarm her forearms. A wicked wave of passion fluttered between her legs. Dear Lord Jesus, yes, this man was worth it.

“I plan on seeing you again,” Nate declared, setting her on her feet.

“I wouldn’t bet the farm.” Amelia half smiled. “I am a pretty busy woman.”

“I like farms.” Nate perked up. His emerald green eyes lit up with curiosity. “What do you know about farms?”

“Boy, please,” she said, pushing at his chest playfully. “We may have just met, but don’t be fooled by the manicure. Trust me, I spent my summers on my grandmamma’s farm in rural Georgia eating peaches straight from the tree.”

“How rural?” Her body moved forward when Nate tugged at the button of her slacks. “I love me a country girl.”

“We’re talking one streetlight downtown, you blink and you miss it.”

“Keep talking.” He stroked his long index finger against her earlobe and down the curve of her jaw. “You’re turning me on.”

“I wish I had the time.”

“We have to do this again,” he said, leaving a trail of kisses where his fingers had touched moments ago.

Flames of desire flickered in the pit of her stomach. A television pitch popped into her head:

Dear MET executives,

Instead of airing a highlight segment on the best fights of our reality shows, how about the best hookups of seasons past? Better yet, best one-night stands, complete with a where-is-he-now segment.

Sincerely,

Amelia

The phone in her hand began to ring. This time, instead of Natalia’s face, Amelia’s mother’s face appeared. Amelia’s heart thumped against her rib cage. Cynthia Marlow never called after nine. “Maybe. I’ll leave my info at the desk, but right now I’ve got to take this call.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” he teased, leaning forward to brush a kiss against her cheek. Any other given time, Amelia would have extracted her business card, her real one, and encouraged him to definitely use the number. But right now, for her mama to call after midnight, something was up.

“I’ll let you take your call,” he said as he reached behind her to open the door, “and get some coffee for us.”

Amelia half smiled while watching him walk away, appreciating the view. She closed the door behind her and exhaled a deep breath. What on earth had she been thinking tonight?

“Amelia? Amelia, darling, are you there?”

For a moment Amelia had forgotten her mother until she heard her father, Howard Marlow, question whether or not she was on the line. She tapped the speaker button and fanned her face with her free hand. “Hi, Mama, it’s late, what’s going on?”

“Amelia, honey, it’s your grandmamma.”

* * *

Nate Reyes stood by his motto, No complications. Yet, since his encounter with the reality show producer a week ago, his life seemed anything but. He wasn’t supposed to daydream about what she was doing. He wasn’t supposed to stop being interested in other women. Yet she consumed him.

“Can we stop this now, Uncle Nate?”

The words registered in Nate’s brain, but he did not acknowledge them until his niece Kimber exhaled a droll sigh. As he tried not to laugh at Kimber’s irritation, the pink feathers of the boa he wore around his neck flittered and stuck to the pink lip gloss he’d worn at the insistence of his other niece, five-year-old Philly. Nate glanced up from the tiny pink porcelain cup of air-tea in time for the dramatic eye roll. For the last forty minutes, Kimber had refused to partake in the semiformal tea party her sister had set up for them.

“Sorry, Tío Nate,” Kimber corrected herself with a heavy Spanish accent and clearer sarcasm.

In the span of eight months, Nate had uprooted his life to move from Atlanta to settle down in Southwood, Georgia, to raise his two nieces in their childhood home after his brother Ken and sister-in-law, Betty, had passed away. Named legal guardians, Nate and his older brother, Stephen, didn’t have a fight on their hands for custody of their nieces. Betty’s parents were too old to take care of the girls and Nate’s parents lived on Villa San Juan, a small island off the northwest coast of Florida.

Between him and Stephen, they’d seamlessly transitioned themselves into a daily part of the girls’ lives by bringing their real estate and contracting business down South. With the help of Stephen’s soon-to-be fiancée, Lexi Pendergrass, the clan now had a stable touch of femininity. They’d even managed to take Kimber and Philly on an overdue visit to their paternal grandmother when Nate’s mother had noticed the lack of Puerto Rican cultural influence in the way the girls were growing up. And somehow the blame was placed on Nate and Stephen.

“My bad,” Nate said, setting the dainty cup on its matching saucer with a clatter. He shifted in the small pink seat. Truth be told, he wanted to end this activity but he’d promised Philly a tea party if she could spend one full day without wearing her well-earned tiara from her beauty pageant last weekend. People in Southwood thought Philly waltzing around town with her pageant crown was cute, but if she scratched the back windows of his SUV any more he was going to have to replace them. Thanks to the heaviness of the twelve-inch Swarovski tiara, the walls in the house leading up the stairs were scraped. Everyone in the family had scratches on their arms from Philly standing too close and turning her head. Even the wooden headboard of Philly’s twin bed suffered from deep grooves because she slept with the crown.