Hot & Humid Read online

  Hot & Humid

  Journalist Brine Torin has just made the biggest mistake of her career. In a moment of desperation and inebriation, she chains herself to a redwood in order to get the attention of a reluctant source, logger Thane Elam. What she gets instead is the attention of local law enforcement and Thane’s entire work crew.

  Brine’s been preparing for this confrontation for weeks and isn’t prepared to leave until she gets her interview and her way. She quickly discovers that the only thing Thane is interested in is teaching her a few lessons. Stubborn and fiercely independent, Brine doesn’t plan on submitting to Thane’s demands to leave anytime soon.

  Caught by Thane and the scars of her past, Brine knows the only thing she can do is walk away from the man she's just met and fallen hard for. Can she convince Thane it's the right thing for both of them?

  Genre: Contemporary

  Length: 45,268 words

  HOT & HUMID

  Tatum Throne

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  HOT & HUMID

  Copyright © 2012 by Tatum Throne

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-762-6

  First E-book Publication: July 2012

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Hot & Humid by Tatum Throne from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Tatum Throne’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Throne’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  I dedicate this book to my family. I love you very much.

  A special thank-you goes to Melissa, for your unwavering support of my writing, for going on all of my research ventures to the fire station, and for being there for everything else...we both know that’s a really long list. I love you!

  A special thank-you goes out to Cathy, for your extensive knowledge on the current research on Eosinophilic disorders! I’d be lost without you! Love you too, girlie!

  HOT & HUMID

  TATUM THRONE

  Copyright © 2012

  Chapter One

  She wanted the man’s attention but not like this.

  Brine Torin just made the biggest mistake of her life and there was nothing she could do to take it back. Cold wind rippled through the tree line, causing her to shiver. The chains that locked her down to the giant sequoia rattled.

  She’d been desperately foolish. Desperation could make a woman do some pretty reckless things. Strong, independent women didn’t do this type of thing. Not when they were thinking with the rational part of their brain, she reminded herself.

  Oh, she was starting to feel the consequences of this bad decision. The jagged bark of the sequoia dug hard lines into Brine’s backside. She couldn’t remember the last time she had such a rough ride. She tried to get comfortable but the chain that held her wrists out to her sides had little give.

  Lights flashed from the cop car in the hazy mist. She was about to be arrested. She was sure of it. She hadn’t planned on the cops being called in so soon.

  She’d wanted a chance to talk to Thane Elam first. Flatbed semis snaked down the access road with tree remains stacked five high. The logger lifted his binoculars to the redwood and adjusted the scope. She blew him a taunting kiss.

  The man had dodged her calls, e-mails and stalking visits to his office for weeks. It was now a matter of professional pride that she get this story to bed. The logger lowered the binoculars, for a second, to say something to the man next to him. Brine caught his profile and her heart did a nervous flip.

  It was him.

  Brine wrapped the cold chains around each wrist and set her long legs wide, ready for round one of the fight that was about to begin. She needed this story. She wanted it so bad she could taste it.

  Bring. It. On.

  Brine turned her gaze upward to the Oregon thunderstorm pushing through. It was a cold, tedious rain drizzling through the redwoods. Brine’s dark-blonde hair was plastered to her face. She had that Audrey Hepburn thing going on with her bangs today but that was where the resemblance ended. Brine was more voluptuous in ways that Hepburn never was.

  She could just make out Thane’s sneer as he lifted the binoculars again. Too bad she had to ruin his day. Too bad he was ruining hers.

  Brine wasn’t about to let the tyrant known as Elam Industries bully her around. Not when she had them by the chainsaw. For now.

  She was going to get this story, even if she made a few mistakes to get it. This was probably by far the biggest, most impulsive mistake of her career. Investigative journalists didn’t chain themselves to redwoods to get the attention of a reluctant source. She knew things would never be the same. Now, there was nothing she could do to go back to change the last few hours of drunken irresponsibility that would ultimately tarnish her reputation.

  Elam leaned his thick forearms onto the truck as though he had all the time in the world. Maybe he did but so did she. She could just imagine all the nasty things he was saying. He brought up his binoculars again and she flicked him off with both hands. The cop didn’t look too happy about that one. What could she say? She had an attitude problem today. She was under a deadline. Elam said something to the logger who shook his head no.

  The logger pointed and zeroed in on her granddaddy’s gun. The 1640’s Blunderbuss wasn’t loaded but he didn’t need t
o know that. At least, she didn’t think she loaded it. Her memory of last night was a little fuzzy. Yes, she’d needed a drink to stay warm and get the balls to have her coworker, Stephanie, chain her to the redwood. She thought about her granddaddy’s favorite saying about grabbing life by the horns. Well, she could grab bull’s balls and the horns.

  Elam fine-tuned the adjustment. A bottle of Glenlivet was half empty on the ground a few feet away. Now that was a mistake not worth making again. Brine glowered at the handcuff key bobbing in the bottle. She remembered dropping it in at the time, thinking it was the safest place to put it. She’d been wrong when the bottle tipped and rolled away.

  Elam set the binoculars into the back of the truck and traded them for a set of bolt cutters. He headed her way. It was so on.

  She wanted his attention. Now she had it. She could do this.

  “I’ll be right back.” He called over his shoulder.

  “That’s what they all say in the movies right before they bite it!” The logger beside the truck yelled through the ravine.

  Elam spread his arrogant arms wide as though the world was his playground and everyone in it his playthings. “She’s not going to shoot me. The gun is out of reach!”

  Yes it was, to her annoyance. Ancient redwoods towered. They shadowed Elam as he navigated the thick, earthy terrain. He maneuvered around the downed trunks with the athletic edge of a man that worked out. He approached her slowly, the way a man might approach a wild deer.

  An earthy scent of forest and water clung to the ground. Brine inhaled the land deep into her lungs, praying for patience. To her right, the work crew smoked and watched her every move. They wanted to get paid and she was in the way.

  This story was too damn important to fuck up now. This was it. Her only chance to get Elam to talk to the media about the questionable land grabs their company was suddenly gobbling up.

  He stopped several feet away.

  The first thing she noticed about him was his thick thighs and predatory stare. She suspected he could ruin a virgin with a dirty look, and that girl would be willing to be ruined if it meant she had one wild night riding those thighs.

  As he moved in closer, she noticed that Elam was bigger, harder than she expected. His face was rough with a scar slashing over his cheek. The scar knitted around the side of his cheek and disappeared around his neck.

  Jet-black hair and hot-blue eyes whispered of an old-world Irish ancestry. Black eyebrows were bent down. His square jaw flexed in annoyance. He was intense and hard in a raw, manly way that left Brine feeling suddenly breathless.

  He was gorgeous.

  He was more rugged than she ever expected. Had she met him in a darkened alley, she would’ve run the other way in a heartbeat. Brine’s heart was pounding away for no reason. She didn’t understand how and why a man like Thane Elam could make her suddenly so nervous. I have a Master’s degree from Georgetown for the love of Peter Frampton.

  Brine was a woman that loved using words and to her chagrin, she found her mouth suddenly dry.

  Elam glowered. His gaze went from the top of her drenched head to her scuffed boots. Her jade eyes flipped him off. She noticed the way he positioned himself between her and the long barrel of the antique gun. He propped up his hardhat and bounced the bolt cutters off his muscled thigh.

  “Nice dress.”

  Worn, black combat boots came up her calves, laces undone. Lots of cream fabric flowed around her legs and tied at her hip. Yes, she was wearing a turn-of-the-century wedding dress.

  She hadn’t planned this move well at all. The problem was she didn’t drink and she had no tolerance for the one drink she had with Steph.

  The wedding dress was Steph’s idea. She was the one to chain her to the tree and take off as soon as Elam showed. Brine didn’t want Stephanie’s reputation tarnished by this move and had insisted that she hit the road.

  “Nice pants.” His jeans were worn to the point of rips. Her gaze flicked to his button fly and she smirked pretending to be unimpressed.

  “Tell me how you got chained to this tree,” he said.

  “I chained myself.”

  Doubt played over his face. “What are you doing here?”

  “I want to know why you haven’t returned my phone calls.”

  “Excuse me?” He was truly surprised.

  “I’ve left messages. E-mailed. Hell, I even tried to make an appointment. I guess I should’ve sent up smoke signals.”

  He came in close to her face. They were inches apart. The smooth spice of his cologne invaded her space and she had no choice but to inhale the intoxicating scent. She felt suddenly heady from the forbidden aroma.

  “So you take my company hostage?”

  He was angry. She could see that he was a man who normally didn’t get jerked around by anyone. “I have your undivided attention now. Don’t I?”

  “This tree. The land. Is all mine. You’re trespassing, and you’re wasting my time. I don’t like my time wasted.”

  “I’m well aware of that, but I had to do something to get you to talk to me.”

  He paced away. There was more than heat in his glare when their eyes clashed again. “Well the clock’s ticking at fifty thousand dollars an hour.”

  “Bill me.”

  “I plan on it. Now who the hell are you?”

  “I’m a reporter with the Sentinel.”

  Their eyes warred, and understanding filled the depths of his. The man looked over his shoulder at the land in the distance and shook his head.

  “I’ve got no fucking comment. I don’t talk to reporters.”

  The trucks puffed plumes of diesel into the cool morning. The man circled the tree checking for weakness in the links. He yanked the chain, pulling her up close.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  She’d play cool for now. “Brine.”

  “Brine what?”

  “Just Brine.”

  “Well, Just Brine, you’re giving me a headache.”

  The chains scraped the bark as he dropped them and she circled around. He dropped the bolt cutters to the ground. “I wouldn’t have had to do this if you’d just picked up your phone and called me.” Brine growled. “Your company has been grabbing up land like it’s a national pastime. I want to know why.”

  He leaned both palms against the tree, bracing them on either side of her head. His lips were a whisper away. “No. Comment.”

  Her breasts were heaving. She hated the way he noticed. She hated the way he riled her so easily and it felt so good. Goose bumps peppered her pale skin. She shivered when he leaned closer, purposely intimidating her with his size. Tribal tattoos snaked around his right arm. She was desperate to know where those tattoos began and ended. His gaze burned with a serious edge.

  “The access trail was closed. Which way did you come in?”

  “I came up the logging road. What does it matter?”

  He shook his head as though she was failing a test. “Do you know what phytophthora ramorum is?”

  It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t recall. She shook her head. “No.”

  “It’s a water mold commonly known as sudden oak death. It can infect vegetation and soils, spreading easily on hiking boots from place to place.” He kicked the edge of her boot for emphasis. “It’s been detected in Rogue River-Siskiyou National Forest.”

  “I didn’t use the redwood trail.”

  That was practically right around the corner from where she was. The enormity of what he was saying was starting to sink in. He was trying to contain the spread of the plant disease. That was noble but she still needed this story regardless. The relief was evident in his eyes.

  Thane picked up the bolt cutters again and tested the links.

  “Your cutters won’t get through those links without a fight,” she said.

  “Yeah, I know. Do I need to let the nice police officer take care of this situation for me or are you going to be a good little reporter and go become someone else�
�s problem for the day?” he asked.

  He was bluffing. Isn’t he? She had to push this. As long as she was attached to the tree, she had him. This entire situation would’ve been comical had it not been so vitally important. Her job was on the line. She promised she’d get the story and at the end of the day she would.

  Thane leaned in to brush a few strands of wet hair off her cheek. His hand was erotically rough and shockingly warm to her chilled skin. She shivered at the thought of those big hands on her body. Heat simmered in his gaze but she was certain it had nothing to do with the sexual tension suddenly thrumming beneath her skin. Her nipples tightened into hard peaks when he pressed in even closer. Brine felt her pussy clench in seductive anticipation. She could feel his heat seeping through his clothing.

  “Well? What’s it going to be?” he asked.

  “You’ll have to take me kicking and screaming from this tree,” she dared.

  Their dance had taken them to the far side of the tree where no one could see them. He leaned down to touch his lips to her ear. “I’d like to make you scream for other reasons.”

  She shivered at the thought of handing her body over to this man. She wouldn’t. “Kicking and screaming.”

  “Now, I like the sound of that. Fine, we do it your way princess. Enjoy the tree. It’s yours for as long as you’re chained to it.”

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Giving you just what you want,” he said.

  She frowned. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, I believe I am. I’ll be back in a little while. Maybe you’ll just get that interview after all.”

  Brine screamed through her clenched teeth as she dragged the chains around to follow him. Thane reached down and picked up the gun, propping it on his shoulder. She knew he was about to make a statement out of Just Brine.