Chapter One

Genevieve

Sinking onto a stack of cardboard boxes on my porch, I took a long drink from my water bottle. When my thirst had been satisfied, I set the bottle on the box next to me and swiped at the strands of hair that had come loose from my ponytail and now stuck to my sweaty face.

I'd seriously underestimated how much work moving was going to be. I didn't care if the island started sinking into the sea and took my house with it; I was never moving again.

Although, I had to admit the view was incredible and worth the work—and I wasn't talking about the almost too perfect lawn or the flowering tree-lined street of the cul-de-sac. My gaze drifted back to the men carrying a heavy dresser out of the moving truck. Their muscles bulged under the thin white shirts that clung to their sweaty chests and left little to the imagination.

I really should be paying for a show like this… Oh wait, I already had the day I hired them to pick my things up from Monster Island's shipping dock.

Don't start judging me for being superficial! Until I arrived on the island, I'd only communicated with the movers through email, so I hadn't known or even cared what they looked like. But I wasn't going to claim spending my moving day surrounded by sweaty, sexy, men wasn't an added bonus.

I pretended to tie my shoelace while sneaking another peek at the gorgeous men, especially Charles. He was exactly my type—tall, built like a quarterback, dirty blonde hair that was just long enough to run my fingers through, Romanesque nose, chiseled jawline covered in three-day stubble, and baby blue eyes that could melt the granny panties right off a girl if she wasn't careful.

Yep. He was exactly my type; the type that had landed my poor heart in trouble more times than I wished to remember.

There had been Thomas, who'd used me to cover all the day-to-day expenses while he studied to get his degree, only to dump me the day after his graduation because he wanted to keep his options open as he moved onto the next chapter in his life.

At least Thomas hadn't spent two years stringing me along, like Miles had. After two blissful years, he'd decided he needed to find himself in a cult compound hidden deep in a remote part of the Amazon jungle.

Although, to his credit, Miles had been respectful enough to be completely faithful to me during our time together… unlike Francis. Our relationship had been peachy perfect until I'd decided to surprise him by arriving home from work early.

I'd taken off my dress in the living room and snuck toward our bedroom wearing nothing but skimpy, itchy lingerie. I'd never forget the look of surprise on the naked duo's faces when I opened the door, or worse, the way his eyes lit with hope as he asked, "Threesome?"

The problem was I fell in love too easily, and once I was rocking those rose-tinted glasses, I couldn't see the red flags until it was far too late. My hopelessly romantic heart was so desperate to be in love, but I was tired of picking up the pieces each time it was left broken. As hard as it was, I'd decided it was best for me to stay far, far away from men in order to protect myself.

It was safer this way.

But also lonely. I ignored the twinge of heartache at the thought.

It was better to be a little lonely from time to time, than to be sobbing and broken after giving my all to someone who never offered me the same.

"Where would you like us to put this?" Charles' deep voice broke through my depressing thoughts.

The guys were making their way up the porch steps and I leaped up to hold open the front door that had been closed by the brisk breeze coming off the ocean. "If it's not too much trouble, you can put it in the bedroom on the left side of the hallway."

Charles' blue eyes met mine, and he winked. "Nothing is too much trouble for you, Miss Genevieve."

My heart did a backflip and a set of muscles I hadn't used in well over two years clenched… and I'm not talking about my abs. Although, I haven't really been using them a lot lately, unless you count laughing.

Yep, Charles was definitely going to get me in trouble if I didn't keep a leash on my heart.

Thankfully, before I could accidentally-on-purpose lose my clothes and throw myself at Charles, a Xedef delivery truck rumbled to a stop at the end of my driveway. I expected the driver to hop down and bring the package to the door, but instead, he simply opened the sliding door on the side, and drop kicked the battered box onto the lawn.

Mouth agape, I watched as he quickly put the truck in drive and roared out of the neighborhood. Was this how most packages were delivered on the island? If so, I guess I needed to make sure I only ordered things that could second as a football and had the indestructibility of the plastic batteries came wrapped in.

Shaking my head and making a mental note to call the company and report the driver, I made my way to the sad-looking box. It was covered in red labels that warned the contents were fragile and needed to be handled with care.

Me too, box. Me too.

Based on the two dented corners, the odd stain covering one side, and the golf ball size hole in the top, it was a safe bet that no one bothered to read labels anymore.

It was also a safe bet that whatever was inside the box was damaged far beyond repair. Gently turning the package to read the return address, I was surprised to find my mother's name printed there.

Huh. My mother loved buying gifts for people, but she never remembered to mail them. In fact, I couldn't remember ever getting a package in the mail from her.

"Too bad the first one is a bust," I murmured to myself, carrying the box inside.

Oh well, it was the thought that counted, right?

Once inside, I directed the guys to where I wanted them to place several more pieces of furniture, then headed into the kitchen to grab a pair of scissors. Setting the box on the white quartz countertop, I sliced open the cardboard and lifted a palm-sized bronze oil lamp from the deflated bubble wrap.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing?" I tilted the lamp, smiling as it caught the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window.

Using my sleeve, I wiped the dust from the elegant engravings carved along the sides. I took my time, turning it in my hands and clicking my tongue in disappointment when I discovered a large dent on the opposite side. While I didn't really know what I was looking at and didn't consider myself a collector of antiques, I still hated to see such a beautiful piece of history had been damaged through carelessness.

"Such a pity." I ran my thumb across the dent and gasped as a tiny shock of static electricity zapped me.

"Miss?"

Startled, I spun around and nearly face-planted against Charles' chest. "What?!"

"Whoa! Easy there," he chuckled, reaching out a hand to steady my arm.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment and my temperature spiked, although the latter had nothing to do with feeling stupid and everything to do with the large, calloused palm wrapped around my arm.

"I-Is there something you needed?" I leaned away from him, propping myself up against the counter as I tried to calm my pulse.

The last time it had galloped at this dizzying pace, I'd been failing spectacularly at one of those arcade dance games. My toxic trait was thinking that I could dance, despite having the joints more like those of a wooden tree druid than a bendy ballerina.

Charles' lips curled in a smirk and I wanted to smack myself. Surely he couldn't tell the effect he was having on me, could he? I looked at the ground, offering myself as a willing sacrifice if it would just swallow me real quick.

"I just wanted to let you know we're finished unloading everything. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Yeah, I wish you would lift me onto the counter and press between my thighs so I can wrap my legs around your waist while you kiss the breath from my lungs—

I tightened the leash on my panting heart. This move was a new start, and just because I was stressed about being away from everyone I knew, and slightly depressed at seeing my last unmarried friend post her engagement photos on the book of faces that very morning, wasn't an excuse to fall in love with the next available guy I met.

"No, I think that was all. Your team did such a wonderful job unloading everything. And all without dropping or damaging any of the furniture!" Turning, I pulled three water bottles from the fridge and handed them to Charles. "After seeing how much work moving is, I don't plan to ever do it again. But if I do, you guys will be my first call!"

Charles took the bottles and handed me his card. "Hopefully that means I'll see you around the island then. My personal number is on the back, just in case you ever need a hand around the house or someone to show you around town."

"Oh, thanks," I answered lamely, while fighting an internal battle that involved pulling a burlap sack over my heart and threatening to feed it to the fishes if it didn't chill the fridge out.

Giving me a smile that told me he was well aware of how hot he was, Charles turned and headed out the front door. I watched the moving truck trundle down the street before groaning and gently banging my head on the cupboard door a couple of times. Now that I had a bed and a mattress, maybe I needed to find my sheets and then locate my battery-operated boyfriend to blow off some steam.

I needed to find a new hobby, and quickly, if I was going to stick to my no-man-mandate. Maybe underwater basket weaving? Soap carving? Dirt polishing? Extreme ironing? Or perhaps competitive duck herding? Maybe then I'd learn how to get my ducks in a row… or at least in the same area.

Desperate to do something to distract myself, I picked up the ornate lamp and rubbed hard at the dirt. The lamp coughed and a cloud of sparkling dust filled my kitchen before circling around me like I was the next contestant on a fairy godmother's reality makeover show.

An instant later, the dust took a shape, turning into the hottest blue-skinned man I'd ever laid eyes on, which was saying a lot since I'd experienced a couple of steamy dreams involving blue-skinned aliens after seeing a certain movie franchise.

With his pastel purple eyes, shimmering pale blue skin dusted with turquoise freckles, loose black hair falling around his face, and ripped body, this man was a complete smoke show in every sense of the term.

The gorgeous giant of a man had me on the counter and his broad body spreading my thighs before I could pick my jaw up off the floor. His hands ran down my thighs, gently wrapping my legs around his waist as his lips found mine.

I opened my mouth to— Heck, I don't know if I was going to protest his touch or beg for more, but it didn't matter. Because the instant I parted my lips, the monster in my kitchen used it as his opportunity to deepen the kiss.

My entire adult life, I'd thought I had a talent for picking men who were fantastic kissers, but the way this stranger devoured my mouth made me feel as though I'd never been kissed before. As my mind short-circuited, my body took over, eager to take advantage of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.