Suite Seduction

Immortal Paradise 1

Suite Seduction Julietta LaSalle begrudgingly lets her almost-ex badger her into a weekend getaway at an exclusive Bahamas resort. Sexy personal trainer Collier Blair books a romantic package at the same resort, hoping to determine once and for all whether a future exists for him and his on-again, off-again date mate. Thanks to a hotel room foul-up, Collier and Julietta wind up having the sex of their lives—in each other’s arms. Neither realizes the shocking sex-with-a-stranger “mix up” was no accident. Supernatural strings are pulled behind the scenes by the gods Love and Lust. In the immortals’ contest to prove whose powers are greater, how will Julietta and Collier come to terms with their budding feelings—and the relationship fallout from their “accidental” passion? Genre: Fantasy Length: 28,658 words

SUITE SEDUCTION Immortal Paradise 1

J. Rose Allister

EROTIC ROMANCE

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Erotic Romance SUITE SEDUCTION Copyright © 2010 by J. Rose Allister E-book ISBN: 1-61034-087-6 First E-book Publication: November 2010 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 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 Suite Seduction by J. Rose Allister 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 J. Rose Allister’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Allister’s right to earn a living from her work. Amanda Hilton, Publisher www.SirenPublishing.com www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION This series is dedicated to all those who know love can stir the air like a warm breeze…and to my family, whose love and support is nothing short of supernatural.

SUITE SEDUCTION Immortal Paradise 1 J. ROSE ALLISTER Copyright © 2010

Chapter One The blindfold was a bit over the top, perhaps, considering the room was already pitch black where Julietta lay naked and waiting under the sheets. She opened her eyes behind the satin cloth, seeing nothing in the utter darkness. A heady scent wafted from a nearby window planter of night-blooming jasmine, and she breathed in the intoxicating tang for a moment. Muffled sounds from the next room quickened her pulse. He was coming. The whole thing had been a simple, yet elaborately planned affair. The moment their plane had touched down in the Bahamas, a limousine half the length of the island whisked them through lush and winding roads while Craig plied her with enough bubbly Cristal to almost make her believe his ridiculous idea could work. Then there had been the alcohol in the chocolate-and-brandy fondue, into which they’d dipped perfect mouthfuls of pineapple chunks, sponge cake, and strawberries. By the time they had reached the tropical splendor of the posh Amante del Mar Resort, Julietta had found herself decidedly buzzed. At the polished marble check-in desk, Craig and Julietta LaSalle had each been handed a scarlet envelope. Hers smelled like gardenias,

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her favorite scent. Had they known that? They probably had. She’d heard rumors about the obscene sums of money people paid to experience the sex of their lives in this quasi-fantasy island setting, and the resort no doubt catered to fine details. Her envelope had contained a page of elegantly typed instructions that directed her to head past a roaring indoor waterfall in the lobby to an elevator that deposited her on the fourth floor. Craig’s directions had taken him on some mysterious errand of his own. Once inside the room, she found her side of a double his-and-hers bathroom and her attire for the evening―black silk stockings with a hint of lace circling the upper thigh, a pair of black stiletto heels, and the blindfold. She followed the guide sheet and stripped naked, then soaped herself in a steamy walk-in shower. Thick, plush towels were on hand to dry off with before donning her “costume.” After wiping steam from the floor-length mirror, she regarded the reflection of a tall blonde with hair falling in soft waves just above rosy nipples. Her pale, shower-softened skin was set off in seductive glamour by the black stockings and shoes. A slick of lip gloss applied with a somewhat shaky hand completed the look of pure, ready sex kitten. She read the next instructions out loud. “Leave the lights off and your heels on,” she told the mirror. “Get into bed, put on the blindfold, and wait. Remember, no talking of any kind during your special encounter.” Julietta shivered while she wandered into the dark bedroom, the envelope and blindfold in hand. Even without the blindfold on she could barely see, but somehow she found her way to the giant round bed in the center of the next room. When she turned around to sit down, the bare skin of her ass found a surprise sufficient to elicit a small gasp. The bedspread was soft, like rabbit’s fur. Fake fur, no doubt, since the Amante would not likely risk offending guests with certain sensibilities. Still, it was a convincing enough fur for Julietta to part her legs on a whim and indulge a rub back and forth. She moaned and smiled into the dark, then flipped onto her stomach to

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brush her nipples across the feathery surface until they rose to tingly peaks. Touché, Amante del Mar. After amusing herself for a bit, she set the envelope on the nightstand and slid under the covers already warmed up by her foreplay. The sheets were silky enough for someone to slide right off of, if they weren’t careful. She settled against pillows plump enough to get lost in and tugged the blindfold into place. There, she waited. The sounds of crickets, her own uneven breathing, and the smell of jasmine found her in the darkness. After a few endless minutes, she heard him moving around in the adjoining bathroom, and her stomach tightened. Lord only knew the things his letter would instruct him to do. Her heartbeat joined the room’s orchestra. Such a thought should send a pleasant echo throbbing straight through to her clit, just like the fur blanket had done. It would have, too, had this been a honeymoon or a special occasion. Hell, any other occasion. But this was something else entirely. Something she suddenly realized she couldn't go through with. It had only been after endless begging on Craig’s part that she’d agreed to come here for “one more try.” Sex with the ex, people called it. Something she’d never thought she could agree to. Yet here she was, waiting for the man she’d once thought would be her husband until they were old and gray to sink a penis with a slight left hook into her as far as he could manage. And as she lay there feeling like a centerfold for Tits n’ Bits, she wondered what the blazing Christ she’d been thinking. Things could never be like before, and even then their best hadn’t exactly been mind-blowing. Now, they were divorced. Or they would be as of next week—and with good reason. Craig had cheated on her. She should end this right now. Call the whole thing off. When she started to sit up, however, a clatter hit his bathroom floor, and she froze. Craig had spent a fortune on this weekend, and would be beyond angry if she backed out now. She’d agreed to come, after all.

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It wasn’t like they’d never screwed before. Not often, perhaps, but regularly enough during their three years of wedded non-bliss. Besides, if he were to be believed his affair had been a one-time mistake which ended the night Julietta walked out on him. If he were to be believed. Remember, no talking of any kind during your special encounter. She sighed. Fantasy island or not, no amount of role play or fancy bed linen could turn back time or make Craig’s routine, tepid touch blaze with the fire she longed for. The Amante offered many things, but the hotel was not a magic wand she could use to transform her love life. The air around her stirred, warmer and spicier than the jasmine breeze. The wind that caressed her face and throat now brought with it a heady and erotic sensation that somehow felt both male and amused, as though the very air was rippling around her with laughter. No doubt she felt self-conscious about how ridiculous she must look, lying naked and blindfolded in the dark while waiting for a liaison with a cheating ex. Still, the feeling she was being observed engulfed her in a wave of tension until she had to fight off the urge to shove back the blindfold and flip on the light. Maybe Craig was standing over her, laughing. She held her breath and listened to the room. When long moments brought nothing but the sounds of early evening, she relaxed. She needed to get a grip on herself. This was paradise, after all. Julietta reflected on that for a moment. There were definitely worse places to be than a Bahamas paradise. Who cared if Craig fell a bit short of her fantasy Don Juan? He had hopes that this weekend would change her mind, and that she would cancel the divorce about to become final. She did not share his optimism, but he'd been relentless. She’d come along largely to silence him, but could she really go along for this ride? Behind the silken mask, she scowled. It wasn't like she'd been getting any other action. Maybe the weekend would surprise her. If

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nothing else, at least she’d enjoyed being the center of all her friends’ envy when they'd heard where Craig was taking her. All further thoughts on the matter ceased when the bathroom door creaked open. **** This was it. Three months of planning and several thousand dollars later, and he could already tell this would be worth it. They’d been an on-again-off-again couple and he was determined to see whether a romantic weekend could spark their relationship into a lasting sizzle. If a setting could do it better than this, he couldn’t think of one. The Amante del Mar had a reputation for catering to the carnal desires of those with the three grand per night with which to indulge them. The accommodations were top notch and the cuisine five-star, set in a picturesque oceanfront resort where the special weekend package included sexual accouterments tailored to a couple’s tastes and budget. He’d heard some damn wild stories about the place, including the existence of clothing-optional upper floors. Still, they didn't need anything outrageous. He’d told staff he merely wanted to spice things up a bit. This evening, his mission was simple. After showering, he was to remain naked and take the silver champagne bucket full of ice he’d found in the bathroom out to the bedroom suite. The rest of his instructions he had to commit to memory, since once he left the bathroom it would be too dark to read. And oh, what a memory it promised to be. He clutched the bucket and paper while he reached in front of him to feel his way to the bed. He couldn’t ask her to guide him, as the directions were adamant that there should be no talking. That was an interesting angle. Though he could see nothing, he could hear the babbling of the ocean four floors beneath and the soft intake of her breath when he sat down beside her. The envelope and bucket found

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the adjacent bed table, and he replayed the next instructions in his mind. Begin your lovemaking with the bedspread between you. You’ll see why. He couldn't see, but definitely felt why this made for a tantalizing start. The cover was furry and soft. His hands were suddenly quivering with nerves while he skimmed them over the womanly curves beneath the fur. His touch garnered a soft moan from his partner and a responsive stirring from his cock. God, what would it feel like to have her beneath him this way? Rather than postpone finding out, he rose up and tugged her over to the middle of the bed. He straddled her closed legs, allowing his shaft to rub a crevasse into the soft blanket between her covered thighs. He growled low in his throat. After planting a soft kiss on her forehead, he lowered his lips to her eyelids. To his surprise something satiny covered them, and the thought took a moment to register. She was blindfolded. A smile curved his lips, and his erection now throbbed with full, undivided attention. When he reached out to finger her hair, he gave a nod of approval. She’d left it down. Good. He’d been a bit put out when she’d cut it short, but it seemed to be growing back nicely. As he combed through the silken waves he noted there was still plenty enough to sink his hands into, which he would love to do when he sank into her. He leaned closer and inhaled her clean scent. She smelled different, like desire and tropical secrets. The scent kicked the throbbing in his cock up two notches. Yes, the resort truly knew their business. He pressed himself against her, stroking his torso in long motions back and forth against the decadent fur. The friction was maddeningly erotic, and blood surged through his veins with the hunger of a wolf on a full moon. Despite the delights of feeling hard muscles against soft fur and hearing feminine moans in response to his male attentions, he soon

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grew impatient. There were far too many barriers between them, and he needed bare skin in his hands. Besides, his balls were tight with anticipation over what he was supposed to do to her next.

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Chapter Two Oh, god. Every doubt Julietta had about being here evaporated while she struggled to maintain control. Her instructions were to lie still and let him take them on a “journey,” but her body shivered and writhed of its own accord. After a few minutes of the exquisite torture he was causing by sliding up and down against her, she was ready to rip off the covers and drive him into her pussy with all the restraint of a feline’s first heat. The thought sent a pleasant tickle of shock through her. Their sex had never been this immediate, her need so animal. Craig had been right about this place after all. About the time the torch he’d lit inside her fanned into an inferno, he stopped to fling back the fur spread and expose her to moist tropical air. Sweat prickled her skin, both chilling and firing her. The absence of sight and words made her other senses spike into sexual overdrive, until she bit down on words she longed to say. She wanted nothing more than to beg him to bite her nipples and fuck her until she screamed. The notion shocked her. When he pulled away without warning, her skin tingled with neglect, and she whimpered in disappointment. She heard a rattle she couldn’t quite identify, and then she felt him moving over her again. The soft warmth of his flesh against her lips surprised a little gasp out of her. The velvet hardness and male aroma brought sudden knowledge, and her lips parted automatically. Her willing tongue flicked out to taste a salty-sweet drip of fluid from the tip of his cock, which he was rubbing over her lips. He shuddered when her tongue found him and pulled away, replacing the appendage with his mouth.

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The kiss was gentle but persistent, and his lips and tongue prodded hers until she moaned against them. Licking and nipping her into mindless wonder, she leaned upward into his kiss, determined to deepen it. Again, he pulled away, but her frustrated little yelp was shocked into silence by a sudden moist chill against her lips. Ice. That explained the rattling sound she’d heard. Her pulse quickened with longing as the cube glided over her lips and tongue. After reveling in the burning freeze for a moment, she opened her mouth wider and let him thrust the chip inside. Her teeth grazed his finger when he did, and with a throaty grunt he let her suck on it for a moment before pulling away. The rattle came again, and her heart fluttered. She felt her chin being tipped upward, exposing her throat. His cock smoothed a path there, and then his tongue ignited it. He drew an icy trail down her neck next, and she felt trickles of water sliding around to the back of her hair and pooling in the depressed hollow at the base of her throat. Her pussy throbbed with urgency, and she prayed that his attentions would hurry lower. His shaft slid across her nipples, and she thrust her hips upward, moaning in frustration when she found he was straddled too high up for her pelvis to connect with anything but empty air. Her arms slid up over her head, where she fisted her pillowcase in her hands while his cock traced around the sensitive contours of her breasts. Sweat prickled her forehead as her ragged breathing fell into interspersed moans and near-whimpers. His mouth didn’t follow its usual docking procedure on her breasts, which meant diving in without warning to swallow her nipple whole. Instead, he let his tongue circle her nipple like a cautious predator before darting in to lick the tip. The sensation was heaven incarnate, and she cried out in delighted shock while her nipple hardened. His lips stole over it, and with a whoosh of inhaled breath he sucked it into his mouth. Her body shook with pleasure. Soon he moved to the other nipple, starting the process over with his mouth

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while an ice cube found purchase on the first. A stab of frozen ecstasy shot through her at the chilled sensation. Julietta moaned, her body convulsing with desire while he alternately licked and rubbed ice on both nipples. His touch was electric, sending her soaring far back into a primitive, feral place in her mind. She grabbed the pillow tighter and bit down hard on her lip to stifle a command to give her his cock before she went insane with need. Her clit demanded release, and she pressed her thighs together against the inhuman throb. On the second squeeze of her leg muscles her orgasm ignited, sending a series of shock waves and shameless cries and groans through her. God, he’d just made her come—no, explode— without even having touched her pussy at all. That was a definite first. Hell yes, he’d been right about this place. Yet her body refused to lie still once she’d reached her peak. Still swollen and convulsing, her pounding sex spurred her to action. She thrust her pelvis at him in desperation. His tongue dipped into her navel, and her hands snaked down from the pillow to take hold of his hair. It was still damp from his shower and she dug her fingers deep through it, forcing him down to where her engorged pussy burned for his possession. First, he let another trail of ice slick down her abdomen, watering her navel and points south until it hovered just above her neatly trimmed thatch. He paused there, stroking ice over pubic bone long enough to drive her to near-angry madness at the combination of proximity and inattention where she wanted it most. Her breath came in ragged moans. Her thighs were trembling while she pushed harder on the top of his head. In disobedience he reared back. Then she felt a gentle pressure from ice-chilled fingers, urging her thighs apart. With a sudden need to thank the god of lust, she spread wide open for him. Her heart pounded a tribal beat as he positioned himself between her legs. The first stroke of his prick against her labia caused both of them to suck in a harsh breath. Julietta's hands flew to her breasts, kneading and stroking. She pinched her nipples when he discovered the slick heat of her clit,

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where his tongue and lips did things that drove her to the edge of another orgasm. Seeming to sense her nearness, he drew back. Her urgent moan stilled to the familiar rattle, then returned when ice touched the fire between her legs. Her heat melted the cube into a puddle that streamed down her ass. She reached between her thighs to spread her lips with one hand while the other teased both her nipples in turn. Without warning he drove the frigid sliver deep inside her, fucking her with the ice spear. She bucked hard against him, reveling in the short-lived cold. His other hand was already skimming a fresh piece of ice along her vulva. She didn’t even care when she felt her wild gyrations throw him off balance. Inhibitions and propriety were long past. There was only the nirvana of the second ice phallus when it joined its fallen comrade inside her, and the final flourish of his warm tongue while it flicked her clit and labia with insane pleasure. Finally, it seemed his patience had worn out, and he responded to the silent command she had been screaming in her mind. He put his hot body up over hers, pressing his erection against her pubic bone. She grabbed his shoulders and felt rock-hard, hot muscles. Wow. He’d bragged about stepping up his workouts since they had split up, and he hadn’t been exaggerating. The feel of rippling male incited her to thrust against the cock now pressed to her entrance. He guided himself in slowly at first, stretching her pussy wide with mad delight. He filled her inch by ecstatic inch, and didn’t manage to hit bottom until he gave an impatient thrust. A shocked cry stopped them both, and a tornado of emotions and lust whirled around her as he finally began to withdraw. This was unimaginable sex. Marriage saving sex. Life changing sex. His cock was impossibly erect, on fire for her, and bigger than ever. Much bigger. Clarity hit, and they froze in tandem. Julietta’s eyes flew wide open into pure black, and she broke the code of silence with a single word in the dark.

Suite Seduction

“Craig?” There was a pause, followed by an unfamiliar voice. “Doreen?”

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Chapter Three What the hell? The voice beneath him sounded like silk and sex, decidedly not the raspy tenor of his some-time girlfriend. Collier struggled to slow his heartbeat, panting in unison with the woman whose body quivered against his own. His prick throbbed―no, raged―at the lapse in motion, and all but screamed at him to finish possession of the white-hot creature beneath him. Whoever the hell she was. Pushing upright with powerful arms, he squinted down through teasing shadows at the stranger. He couldn't see a damn thing in the dark, especially when a blindfold obliterated half her features. She'd made no move to take it off, probably too terrified to move. She must think he was a bellhop trying to rape her or something. Shit. How could this have happened? His mind tried to form logical thought. A god-awful mistake, that’s how. Moving would be a smart idea right about now. So why wasn’t he pulling out of her so he could leap up with a profound apology? He tensed as the woman re-animated herself. What would she do? Pull a knife or can of mace? Scream for help? Then he heard a moan and was surprised to realize it was his own. Her pussy had gripped his cock, drawing him deeper inside her. Collier sucked in a breath while his erection throbbed with gratitude. His balls tightened with the command that he finish taking her. She must want him to, considering the maddening vise grip on his cock. Right? His arms trembled while he tried to maintain control. Fresh sweat beaded along his forehead. He tossed his head back, squeezing his

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eyes shut while he wavered between the sane choice and the raw lust trying to engulf him whole. He felt the slick walls of her heat contracting on him again, and he shivered. God, he wanted her. But if he was wrong about it being mutual... “Don't,” he rasped. "I can't stop if you keep doing that." Without a word, her hands slid over the tight curves of his ass, gripping his cheeks. Her hips began to move. Slowly her pelvis circled up and around, grinding a deliberate figure eight against him until he let out a guttural moan and gave way to nothing but hot wetness and sweat-kissed skin. He pushed his cock deep and the woman shuddered, rewarding this revival by dragging her nails down his ass cheeks. Her need unhinged him. “Sweet Jesus,” he said, and he rose to his knees to drape her legs on his shoulders. Her agonized groan of pleasure prickled goose bumps on his flesh, and he turned his head to lick a teasing tongue down her slender calf. He pulled his erection back to her entrance and held it there while his mouth grazed her left leg. The slightly rough sensation of nylon on his tongue and the prick of her spiked heels against his neck drove pulse after pulse of pleasure through him. There was an eager, desperate thrusting of her hips while she tried to grind against him. Her moan became a half-sob, half-demand, and Collier released her calf. The stranger spawned a hurricane of lust inside of him that he had no hope of controlling. He leaned forward enough to grasp one of her taut, swollen nipples and let the force of his need consume them both. Flexing his buttocks again and again, he fucked her until they both shot into orgasm. They cried out in unison while he spilled hot seed with a force that shocked him and left his lover gasping aloud. When he returned from their astral projection into the sexual universe, Collier found he was still erect. Refusing to be satiated by the fuck of its life, his ungrateful cock wanted him to turn her on all

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fours and see how hard she could buck that ass against him while he slapped it. It wanted him to pinch her nipples while they bounced beneath her. It wanted a lot of things, but reality came crashing down over his prick’s plan for domination. He had no idea who the woman he’d just shot himself into was. Or what the hell had happened to his date for the weekend, for that matter. He pulled out of heaven to sit back on his haunches, feeling a drop of fluid slide off his cock onto his thigh. His eyes had adjusted some, but he still couldn’t tell much about the woman beneath him other than she was still blindfolded—and had just given him the ride of a lifetime. Seconds ticked by with nothing but their panting breaths. Crickets, the wind, and even the sounds of the ocean seemed to have fallen silent. Finally, he spoke softly into the moment. “Okay if I turn on the light?” He felt the woman stiffen. “Oh.” There was a pause. “Of course.” Shifting himself over her, he scooted to the edge of the bed. “Wait,” she said. A few moments of shuffling followed. “Okay.” He’d fingered the lamp switch when his cock reminded him he still had a hard-on. This wasn’t likely going to put her at ease. He pulled covers up over his waist before flipping on the light. When he did, he had to fight to keep his jaw from falling open. The siren beside him left all expectations in the dust. A new sexual goddess had been inducted into the pantheon. She blinked into the sudden brightness with a dazed expression, a pillow clutched to her front and her hair tousled from hasty removal of the blindfold. Corn silk hair brushed like whispers against her collarbones. Her limbs were long and satin, and her face was a porcelain perfection he wished to God he’d had been watching when they'd climaxed together. Her eyes, the same shade as the hematite ring he wore, were making their own appraisal. They widened a fraction more with each new area of his physique she surveyed. Her reaction renewed the

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stiffening in his cock. He reached a hand out. “I suppose the proper thing would be to introduce ourselves.” He flashed a smile. “I'm Collier.” Keeping the pillow pressed against her, she took his hand. “Julietta.” The handshake was polite, but he felt the surge of electricity rush up his arm. He tried to shove aside thoughts of her hand raking nails over his naked ass a few minutes prior. The woman’s very gaze napalmed him with eroticism, and he cleared his throat. “Pleased to meet you.” Pleased barely began to cover it, and he couldn’t quite keep all traces of a smug grin off his face. Humid air thickened around them, and her eyes lowered for a brief moment before grabbing his again with a groin-churning jolt. All things considered, this moment should be damn awkward. But all Collier wanted to do was pull away the pillow clutched to her and find out what secrets lay behind it, secrets he’d groped in the dark and wanted badly to experience again with every light trained on her that he could find. “Well,” she said at last, breaking into his fantasy. “I take it you work for the hotel?” He whooped out a surprised laugh. “What, like a gigolo? Sorry to disappoint you, but I assure you I’m a guest here.” Her eyes flashed. “Who just happens to be in my room by mistake?” He smiled. “Your room?” Her frown in response did nothing to diminish her delicate, lickable features, and when she flicked a glance at the bathroom door he realized she was considering a hasty escape. He jumped in with a change of subject before she could do it. “So, where are you from?” She turned back to him with slight confusion on her face. “Las Vegas. Why?” “Ah. A showgirl?”

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She rolled her eyes. “Why is it that everyone assumes if a woman lives in Vegas she’s either a card shark or a pole dancer?” His grin returned. Maybe because you fuck at Olympian level? Opting against that answer, he shrugged. “Beats me. It’s not like Vegas has a reputation or anything.” Smoldering eyes flashed. “I happen to be an office receptionist. I haven’t set foot in a casino for a year and a half.” He offered an apologetic grin. “Sorry.” She stared for a moment, but then relaxed into a smile that rekindled his interest in snatching away the pillow she brandished like chest armor. “What about you?” “I’m from California. Santa Monica, actually. I’m a personal trainer.” He paused at her raised brow. “Which I just realized makes me the geographic stereotype here.” Her laugh did a pleasant little dance through his abdomen. “I wasn’t going to say it.” “You didn’t have to.” He reached behind him to grab a few ice chips from the silver bucket, his heart skipping a beat upon hearing her breath catch. Her eyes had flown wide when he turned back, and with slower deliberation than he’d intended he popped the cubes into his mouth. A drip splashed on his chest, and when he reached over to brush it off he saw that Julietta’s eyes followed the motion, then lingered a bit too long. Her cheeks pinked when their eyes met. “So,” he said. “One of us is clearly in the wrong room.” Her eyes lit with a hint of challenge. “My paper said to go to Room 416.” “So did mine.” When she didn’t reply, he sighed and rose up to lean over her. God, she smelled good enough to eat. She gasped aloud and clutched her pillow tighter when he reached across her to pluck her envelope from the night stand. Still perched over her, he lowered his lips to hers. He couldn’t help himself. His cock and stomach both jumped at the feel of her luscious lips.

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She stiffened with a little gasp, but her lips were pliant under his and she made no move to pull away. When he opened his eyes, hers were closed with angelic reverence. His hands almost ached with the need to slide over her satiny skin, and he realized he was clutching the paper off her nightstand so hard that he’d crumpled it. He should be reading that paper right now, so they could figure out what the hell was going on before he lost control and fucked her again. He broke off the kiss, leaving them both panting and her eyes glazed. He felt her shocked gaze on him while he still hovered over her, smoothing open the crushed paper and glancing at it. “416,” he read aloud, his voice suddenly hoarse. He barely kept the covers over his waist while he settled back to grab his own paper from his side. It was damp from condensation cascading down the sides of the ice bucket, but he held it up for her to see. She frowned. “416. That’s strange.” Collier dropped his feet over the edge of the bed, yanking the fur cover around him while he rose and crossed the room. He got his first real look at what three grand per night afforded, though he was so preoccupied by the woman in his bed he barely noticed. She lounged on a super-sized round bed. The furnishings around them were carved whitewashed wood, and the window was framed by crushed velvet curtains in a pale champagne color that pooled on the carpet his feet sank into with each step. He passed a mini bar and two massive armoires on his way to the bedroom’s double doors, where he flipped a wall switch to reveal a sitting area outside that was larger than the living room in his condo. The entryway he’d first come in was barely awash in the glow of a diminutive chandelier, set to the lowest setting on a dimmer. His envelope hadn’t allowed him to turn on any other lights in the suite except for the bathroom. He pulled the front door open wide enough to check the room number. A passing bellboy startled Collier, but didn’t give a second

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glance at the half-naked, fur-wrapped guest while he pushed a room service cart down the wide hallway. No doubt staff was used to this sort of thing. The number on the door read 416. He padded back to the master suite, where he'd expected to find that Julietta had raced off to the bathroom the second he was gone. Instead, she was still in bed, waiting. Interesting. She had apparently addressed her hair in the mirror behind the bed. She'd dumped the pillow, too, and now had the creamy top sheet pulled up high enough to tuck under slender arms. The sight of her female curves being caressed by satin sheets prompted some very male thoughts, and his still-aching cock twitched. “So?” she said. He sat on his side of the bed and pushed damp bangs off his forehead. He wondered whether his hair would ever dry in the tropical climate. “This is room 416. We just need to find out which one of us is actually supposed to be here.” He reached for the bedside phone and dialed the front desk. “This is Collier Blair. There seems to be a mistake with my reservation. Can you please confirm my room number?” There was a brief pause, followed by the sound of keys tapping. “Yes sir, I have you right here. Suite 416.” He grunted. “And how about the room for...hang on.” He lowered the phone, pressing it to his chest. “What name is your reservation under?” “LaSalle. Craig LaSalle.” He repeated the information to the clerk, who tapped more keys. “LaSalle. 516, sir.” Collier hung up and turned to his bed mistress with a lazy grin. “You, my lady, are guilty of breaking and entering. Your room is one floor up.” Her face reddened, and she clutched the sheet against her. “Are you sure?”

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“You’re in 516. Where I gather your true prince awaits?” Her head sagged a bit. “My husband.” A lead weight thunked in his gut. He hadn't seen that coming. “Oh, shit.” He glanced at her bare hand. “You don’t wear a ring,” “Craig and I are nearly divorced, actually.” “Nearly?” “It’s final next week.” He gestured at the room. “Strange place to come together to celebrate a divorce.” She shrugged, plucking at the sheet covering her thigh. “It was his idea. To be honest, I was about to back out on the whole thing before he―you, I mean―came in. I'm not even sure why I agreed to come in the first place.” She looked at him, exhaling through love-swollen lips. “Or why I’m telling you all this.” Her sheet slipped enough to show a hint of the round flesh he’d blindly fondled earlier. He shifted to hide a fresh new erection with her name stamped on it. “Well, we did just sort of sleep together. I suppose a few details are justified.” Her brows arched to comical height. “‘Sort of’ slept together? Don’t you mean, sort of cheated on my husband?” “You’re almost divorced. Does it really count?” Her cheeks went aflame. “Of course it counts. I'm sure you're used to sleeping with all sorts of Santa Monica women who like to tramp around on their spouses, but that's not my style.” A lance of anger pierced Collier's stomach. “First you accuse me of being a hired gigolo, now I'm a one night sleazebag just because I'm from Santa Monica? You’re the one who failed to mention a marital commitment when we were tangled in the sheets together.” Her glare dissolved. “I’m sorry.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I’m just so confused.” A surge of tenderness swept over him. “It’s okay. This came as a bit of a surprise for us both. Hopefully it wasn’t too awful for you?” He was fishing, and he knew it. Christ, his feelings were all over

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the map. How could a woman he’d known all of five minutes put him through such emotional gymnastics? She shot him a shy look. “No. It wasn’t awful. It was…” she paused, letting the rest escape in a sigh. “But how it felt isn’t really the issue right now, is it?” Why couldn’t he stop wanting to kiss those pouty lips? “No, I suppose not.” “And I'm not the only one who thought I was doing this with someone else. Are you married, too?” He shook his head. “Not even close. Doreen's...well, I’m not sure what she is. Sometimes she's a girlfriend, other times nothing. Right now she’s somewhere in between. Which is where she'd probably be happy to keep it.” “And you?” “I'm curious to know where she went off to.” Julietta glanced at the bedside clock. “We’ve been here that long? Oh, god. I have to go.” She scooted to the edge of the bed and paused. He realized that with him sitting on the sheet, she couldn’t wrap it around herself. A gentleman would accommodate her, but a thought stopped him. “Why do you suppose he didn’t come looking for you?” She threw a look over her shoulder. “What?” He nodded at the clock. “It’s been well over an hour. Don’t you think one of them would have been here by now?” Julietta stared at him for a moment, her face slackening. “They probably just haven't found us yet.” She sucked in a breath. “Meaning they could show up at any moment. We have to get dressed. Now.” He reached a hand toward her. “What if they’re not looking for us?” She pulled back. “Then their naughty envelopes told them to wait wherever they are and they’ve no idea what’s keeping us. How should I know?” “I think we should go look for them. Together.”

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“No!” The word snapped out, and she started to stand up. When the sheet pulled away under his weight, she paused with her eyes blazing. “I’m not skipping off hand in hand with you with flaunt our tawdry little affair.” Collier felt a vein in his temple pulse. “Affair? Don't flatter yourself. And who said anything about skipping hand in hand?” He sighed. “Did it occur to you I'm concerned for Doreen? She could have wound up in some strange guy’s room. Maybe your room. Someone could be going at her like...” He waved his hand, words escaping him. Her face twisted. “Like what? The way you went at me?” A matchstick of anger scratched its head and flared. “The way I went at you? That took two of us, honey. It’s not like you tripped and landed on my cock two hundred times.” She crossed her arms. “Fine. I’m human. I didn’t scream and claw at you when I realized you weren’t Craig.” His brow rose. “Um, actually,” he said, pausing with a smile to let the rest sink in. “You know what I mean. This isn’t a game. You think I want anyone to know what I’ve just been doing with you? I'm still married, got it? M-A-R-R-I-E-D.” He shook his head. She’d gone from goddess to bitch in less than five minutes. Impressive. “Then maybe you should have acted like it, Mrs. LaSalle. Or at least be honest enough to admit that you can’t. It’s not my fault you aren’t capable of either.” Her gaze sharpened enough to cut steel, but when she opened her mouth to reply he shut her up by throwing off the fur blanket and standing. He whirled on her with everything God and ten years in the gym had bestowed, taking sadistic glee in her shocked gasp and the hungry gaze sliding over every inch. Let her drink it all in. She sure as hell wasn’t ever going to see it again. Collier fisted his hips, clearing his throat to draw her gaze away from his cock. “You can’t stop me from going to look for Doreen. If

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you don’t want me knocking on your hubby’s door while your lips are wrapped around my cock, that's fine. I’ve had my fill of your charms, thanks.” Julietta’s lip curled in an ugly sneer. “You’re disgusting.” “Yeah? I’m not the adulterer here.” “I wonder what your girlfriend would have to say about that.” “She’s not my girlfriend.” He turned and headed for the bathroom. “Collier, wait,” she said. He halted at her desperate tone. “I suppose you’ll tell him everything.” He leveled her with a smoldering stare. “That would really screw things up for you, wouldn’t it?” She shook her head, her voice regaining an edge. “Don’t.” “Guess you’ll have to hope the stranger you wanted to fuck isn’t as disgusting as you apparently think.” Well aware of her eyes glued to his ass, he turned and sauntered to the bathroom.

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Chapter Four Room 516. Julietta blew out a breath as she stood in the hallway that was one floor up from the biggest mistake of her life. The second biggest mistake, anyway. The first had been marrying when she’d been too dumb to know she wasn't fated for a wedded life of fiery passion. Not even the witty camaraderie of Mike and Carol Brady. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel torn. How many women would sleep with a sexual Titan and then run back to the man they vowed to divorce? Collier was the anti-Craig LaSalle. He was tall and rippling, with ungodly muscles and sexy hair streaked in shades of root beer and gold. His eyes looked as though they’d been forged in a fiery jade furnace, and they way they’d devoured her! Just the thought of it sent heat to her face. Geographic stereotype? Hell, yes. Collier Blair was a California god. What on earth had she done? She'd shoved a strange man inside of her and writhed on his cock like the star of an X-rated Wild Kingdom episode. Sure, there had been the undeniable heat of the moment. She hadn’t had sex in forever, and had been so horny she was lucky to stop at all when she’d heard the strange voice in the dark. She hadn’t even realized her mistake until the massive cock that couldn't have been Craig's had plunged deep inside her. So incredibly, magically deep. She'd thought the initial explosion of sexual chemistry between them was because the hotel had been doing their job. Now she knew it was because they hadn’t been. In any case, she could have made the right choice then and there, but instead gave into her erotic frenzy.

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She allowed lust to drive her, so she could experience the sex of a lifetime. It had been selfish and stupid and all for the sake of a few moments in heaven. Now she was in hell, because she knew she was no better than her cheating ex-husband. She listened at the door of the suite, aware of how ridiculous she would look eavesdropping on her own room should anyone happen by. The room was silent. With a glance at the key card in her hand, she realized that in her rush to get here she’d neglected to exchange it for the key to 516. She’d have to knock. It was probably just as well. The things she had to say to the front desk staff right now for this unthinkable screw-up wouldn’t be fit for the public. Her arms glued themselves to her sides, refusing to let her knock. She’d already concocted an excuse on the way up, and every minute’s delay invited further trouble. Not to mention the man she’d left behind could still show up and make good on his threat to tell Craig what had happened. Where had his girlfriend gone, anyway? Had she gotten Julietta’s key when she got Doreen’s? What if she was inside now, freaked out about her missing boyfriend? What if she and Craig took one look at Julietta and realized what she’d done? Additional speculation was forestalled by the ding of the elevator a dozen feet away. Panic that Collier was about to burst into the hall launched her frozen arm into action, and she rapped on the door. Thankfully, Craig was there within seconds. “God, there you are.” Julietta shoved her way past him, then closed the door and flipped both locks in what she hoped was a casual manner. **** Love and Lust stood in the hallway, watching with the front desk clerk while the door to room 516 closed behind Julietta. The sarcasm in Lust's tone dripped with sensual overtones. “Game, set, and match.” Love’s eyes rolled. “Not so fast.”

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“Oh, I think that was a personal record for fast.” Lust’s liquid smoke gaze darkened with heat while the males watched a bikini-clad beauty with fiery hair saunter out of the elevator. “For a human coupling, anyway.” They heard the woman’s breath catch when she came into contact with their presence, only in part because two of the three men were almost impossibly attractive. Love’s eyes were the pale blue of shimmering sea glass, and his hair the pale blond of sun-baked corn. Lust’s hair resembled waves of polished ebony, and his eyes like volcanic obsidian that was heated by a mysterious inner fire. Both had sculpted features like a pair of Greek statues, and their fitted black linen attire drew attention to finely honed muscles. Nevertheless, the woman’s gasp was a likely response to the palpable, potent sensation emanating from the pair’s unique energies. Respecting personal space bubbles took on a whole new meaning around demigods. The beings turned to the mortal man in their company. “Excellent work,” Lust said. “I’m impressed.” The desk clerk gave a grim nod, his expression as starched as his white hotel uniform. The lack of conviction in the part he'd just played in the destiny of four people seemed clear. His clouded brown eyes slid with caution to the gods and blinked, probably because of the aberrant aura shimmering around their powerful bodies. Air rippled over Love and Lust's skin like the caress of a desert mirage. Lust favored the man with a smile that lit only one side of his impeccably angled face. The effect painted him with a heightened sense of danger. The games of demigods were not to be taken lightly. He clapped a hand on the clerk’s shoulder, and both gods sensed the shudders of desire coursing through the other male’s body and the warm knot of need curled around his midsection. They sensed that although he was a solid and unwavering heterosexual, one inconsequential touch had flared a spike of supernatural yearning. They saw a flicker of disbelief in his eyes while he tried to discreetly adjust the thickening bulk in his trousers.

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The young man licked his lips, and a slight quiver was evident in his tone. “Will that be all, then?” For a moment Lust's eyes raked over him. The god’s knowing smile stirred more confusing and complicated sensations coming from the clerk, and a bead of sweat broke out on his forehead. Then Love stepped in front of him. His hair and eyes were as pale and reassuring as Lust’s were dangerous and dark. “You’ve done well, Travis,” Love said. “But you feel what you did was wrong.” “At any other hotel, a man would lose his job for this,” Travis said. Lust's grin found sensitive nerve endings in Travis’s groin, and the god’s already-erect cock twitched in response. “Ah, but this isn’t any other hotel, is it?” “It’s my job to help guests, not deceive them.” Love's smile unleashed a reassuring choir of delight in Travis’s chest. “These guests arrived here deceived, friend. Your efforts will help them discover the truth. You may go now.” Travis left without hesitation, no doubt eager to escape their unsettling presence. They watched for a moment and exchanged glances. This latest wager between the two resident servants of Eros and Aphrodite had cost the Amante del Mar’s desk clerk a night’s sleep and more than one headache—not to mention unrelieved erection. No matter. He’d done their bidding as asked, and soon enough they would discover which of them would be declared the victor in a challenge to show which of their powers was greater. Love heard an inhumanly erotic growl from Lust and turned back to find him studying the sultry redhead. She sashayed down the hall, her ass twitching this way and that in a barely-there black bikini. “The room swap was one of my more brilliant ideas,” Lust said. “If I do say so.” “You often do,” Love said. The gods felt a spike of need in the woman’s pulse even as she struggled to feign indifference. “But one

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cannot declare victory while the ball is still in play.” “We’ll see.” Lust's sexual energies magnified into a throbbing glow that overshadowed his normal aura, a visible sign of his arousal whose spectrum was visible only to the other demigod. The other sign, much more obvious to any within eyesight, lay thick and waiting in tight linen trousers. “For now, thus concludeth the lesson.” The bikini beauty stood outside one of the doors making a big show of fumbling for her passkey while throwing hungry glances their way. Love stiffened for a moment, his eyes focusing elsewhere. Then he headed for a nearby stairwell. “Where are you going?” Lust asked. Love kept going. “I’ve been summoned.” The darker god’s eyes were glued to the curved woman like a predator plotting an attack vector. She responded to his siren call by licking her lips. “So have I.” “Athena beckons. I must step through the portal immediately.” Lust gave an exaggerated sigh. “Best that you see to other duties of love, then. Your talents would be wasted here, anyway.” “We’ll see, my friend.” Love paused. “You’re not coming?” The grin splitting Lust's luscious lips showed perfect white teeth. “Oh, I intend to. Several times, in fact.” Liquid black eyes simmering with fire studied the woman for another moment before shifting to meet Love’s. “You could watch. Or join in.” “Perhaps another time.” The door to the redhead’s suite finally popped open, but she made no move to enter. “Have fun doing Athena’s bidding.” Lust turned and walked to her waiting door. “Alert me if anything exciting happens. Then again, excitement is more my department.” ****

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Julietta strolled into a mirror reversal of the suite downstairs with as much calm as she could muster. Up here the color scheme was muddier and more subdued, which matched her mood to perfection. Craig followed, hands on his hips. “Where the hell have you been?” She turned on an apologetic smile and veered past the louvered bedroom doors. “I got lost.” The bed was wrinkled, but still made. A far cry from the total disarray of the bed she’d left behind. She wondered with a small start whether Collier would straighten it up—and the evidence of her presence in the “hers” bathroom—before Doreen saw it. Craig’s reply held suspicion. “You were lost for almost two hours?” She waved the now-useless key at him. “Wonderful hotel you picked. They sent me to the wrong room with instructions to shower, then lie down and wait for you.” She wandered to where the living room curtains were thrown open for a view of the sea. It was too dark now to see much, but the sunset would have been spectacular. “What the hell? So what then?” Julietta wheeled around from the window. “I waited around until I dozed off. When I woke up and you still hadn't shown, I thought maybe you’d ditched me.” A stab of guilt accompanied the lie, but why not turn this back on him? This whole thing was his fault, when one really got down to it. He’d been the one to insist that they come here. “That’s ridiculous.” The hard edge in his voice softened. “I wouldn’t bring you here just to dump you.” True. He’d done that at home for free. “I know.” She paused, and then decided to go ahead with a slight version of the truth. “Someone came by and said the room was theirs. I realized there must have been a mix up.” She shook her head. “I checked with the desk and found out this was our actual room.” He grunted. “For the fortune they charge, you’d think they’d be a

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damn sight more careful.” She shrugged. “So no one came here by mistake?” His jaw tightened. “No.” “Why didn’t you try and find me?” “I did. My instructions were similar to yours. When I got tired of lying around waiting, I went looking for you. That weird desk clerk guy said he hadn’t seen you since we arrived.” He crossed his arms. “I walked the resort a bit and then doubled back. When you still weren’t here I wasn’t sure whether you'd changed your mind and left, or whether I needed to call in the Marines.” Her stomach sank. It hadn’t dawned on her that his worry would be for her safety, not her fidelity. How stupid. In fact, when she ticked off a mental list what had truly happened to her seemed the least likely scenario. Craig moved close, taking hold of both her arms. “I’m glad you found your way back.” She forced herself to meet his gaze through the grit of guilt and fatigue, noting the boyish way his bangs hung down with his head tipped near hers. His rusty brown eyes and hair blended into the walnut tones of the room behind him, making them almost disappear. “I’m sorry I ruined our night together.” She hoped the shaking in her voice didn't betray just how much. “Nothing’s ruined.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and paused. “You smell...different.” Fear caught in her throat. Of course she did. She wore another man’s musk and the scent of sex Craig hadn’t been part of. She tried not to stiffen as he buried his face in her hair, sniffing in further investigation. “Mm. Coconut. Hotel shampoo?” She stifled a sigh of relief and nodded. “Their toiletries are heaven.” “I’ll say. Though the men’s shampoo didn’t smell this good, or I might not have come out of the shower.” He chuckled, running his hands through her hair. His gaze held hers, but failed to penetrate her

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soul way Collier’s had. She shooed the thought like she would a dangerous insect while Craig traced a finger over the arch of her brow. “So,” he said. “Here we are.” “Yes. Here we are.” “We could...I mean, if you’re still up to it,” he murmured. “We don’t have to use the envelopes.” Her heart seemed to flail in her chest while she tried for a light tone. “I have to admit I’m about enveloped out at the moment. I’m pretty tired with jet lag and all.” When she headed into the bedroom, she spotted a familiar piece of gray luggage standing near the armoire. “At least my bag made it to the right room,” she called out. His reply came from right behind her. “I’d rather have had you, thanks.” She turned with a start to find Craig had followed her in, peeling off his shirt to reveal a freckled, hairy chest. “Besides,” he pulled her against him with a need she hadn't seen on their honeymoon, “it’s not like we need much wardrobe this weekend.” His hands wandered beneath her blouse, inching it upward. “We could take a shower together. You remember how I used to like that. I think every inch of you should be foaming in that heavenly scent.” Maybe he was right. That might help wash away some unpleasant memories. Julietta put shaky hands up over her head while Craig pulled off her sleeveless blouse. His gaze took in the sight of skimpy lace clinging to her breasts and smiled hungrily. “God, I’ve missed those.” He reached around to unhook the bra, but her stomach jumped in sudden panic and her throat closed up. She pulled away, trying to remember how to breathe. “I'm sorry. Maybe we could take things a little slower?” Disappointment darkened his expression, but after staring at her a moment he nodded. “Okay. I’m a bit done in from the trip myself.”

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He leaned closer, his breath hot and moist in her ear. “But tomorrow, prepare to have your world rocked.” She swallowed, knowing that event had already come and gone. Forever.

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Chapter Five “I hear the breakfast buffet is to die for,” Doreen said. “I intend to gorge myself until I can barely fit on the plane home.” Collier rolled his eyes while his date power-walked in front of him to a table at the resort’s pier-front dining solution. Gorging herself no doubt meant nibbling a piece of lettuce and a mango wedge, followed by a Bloody Mary chaser. Sunshine carried the urgent cheer of late morning, and palm trees waved them into the restaurant that sat on the pier. Tables were laden with splashes of tropical decadence, flowers and fruits that were mingled in complex centerpieces one could admire and eat at the same time. Expensive china clattered as Doreen sashayed along, her appearance turning male and female heads alike. Plenty of tanned skin was on display through the holes of her lacy white beach cover-up, under which was glued a scrap of thong bikini. Equally tan ass cheeks swished back and forth above toned thighs. Doreen liked to sunbathe in the nude, and brag about it as well. Her glossy chocolate hair swung just above her shoulders, and a giant straw hat and sunglasses completed the look of a movie star incognito. Doreen Toronto was no celebrity, however. She was a leasing agent in Malibu. Her clientele tended toward a certain attention-grabbing look she liked to imitate. Collier breathed in deep, inhaling the anticipation of a full day in paradise. The infectious combo of sea air and sparkling ocean beckoned, and he hoped to get in a sail and perhaps a dive before afternoon winds muddied the undersea view around the reef. Bareboat rentals here meant sailing yachts with staterooms, fresh water showers, and a galley stocked with gourmet food. This was definitely

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the kind of vacation a guy could get used to. Or perhaps he could book them on a sunset dinner cruise, zap the jumper cables of romance that had fizzled out the night before. He’d finally found Doreen in the lobby bar, drunk and flirting with four college lads who were frothing like a pack of rabid dogs fighting over the last bone. Doreen was nothing if not a woman of social talents. With a breathy non-apology she’d gushed out a story of being misdirected to the wrong room, then heading down to the lounge on the assumption Collier would look for her there. Later she conked out with little more than a peck on his cheek, though to be honest he’d been too off-balance from his earlier entanglement to want a comparison romp in the hay. He’d plunked down a mint to see where the weekend would head, and the sex he’d experienced thus far had paid off that investment several times over. The fact that the sex hadn't been with his travel companion did not make for an auspicious start. Today he wondered if things would turn around. He and Doreen would take full advantage of the resort's amenities, which might also help exorcise thoughts of the man-eater he’d accidentally taken to bed. What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn’t been, obviously, at least not with the head that usually steered him away from catastrophe. Doreen was traditionally the one who widened sexual horizons in the “open” relationship she preferred, and it smacked of five kinds of irony that he should fall into just such an encounter himself the very weekend he was planning to pitch his “one-manwoman” speech. Maybe he’d just needed one last hoo-rah before he asked her for monogamy. Too bad he’d wasted it on a chick with all the sense of a warm pretzel. His eyes were still fastened to the derriere in front of him when a partial conversation caught his ear. “Slow down,” a male voice was saying. “Not that I mind you vacuuming up food like you had the best sex of your life last night.” The smirk on Collier’s face collapsed when Doreen stopped in

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front of the remark’s source. “Hey there!” she said. “It’s you again.” Sitting amid platters the size of small UFO’s was a man who took Doreen's hand in greeting. Seated beside him was the woman he'd just been teasing about sex and eating habits. Collier’s heart stopped when he saw her. Liquid silver sunlight danced across Julietta’s steel eyes. Her hair was caught up in a high ponytail, exposing a long, delicate neck. Her exquisitely round breasts rode high above the scoop of a turquoise tank. Shock pounded through his chest, though he supposed he shouldn't be surprised to see her again. They were staying at the same resort, after all. Considering the way she choked on a croissant when she noticed him, it seemed he wasn't the only one unprepared for their reunion. “Hi yourself.” The man beamed at Doreen. “Fantastic morning.” “And getting better,” she said. The man’s freckled hide seemed out of place among varying degrees of tan in the tropical setting. Even Julietta’s peaches-andcream skin was a good shade or two darker than this guy’s pasty glare. Julietta gulped down water to tame her cough and then glanced at Doreen. “You two know each other?” Doreen reached a hand bedecked with rings and bracelets toward her. “I’m Doreen. You must be Craig’s wife.” A slender arm as barren of jewels as Doreen’s was covered in bangles met hers halfway. “Julietta.” “Sorry,” Craig hurried to say. “I should have introduced you.” His gaze shifted to Collier. “And this is?” Doreen prodded him with her elbow and he cleared his throat. “Collier Blair.” His gaze was fastened to Craig’s, but it was the feel of Julietta’s eyes on him that coaxed beads of sweat out along his forehead. Craig's handshake was brief and lacked both grip and conviction. Collier disliked the man immediately. The obvious question hung low over the table, though he could

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sense Julietta’s gaze was intended to keep him silent. “So,” he said to Craig, “how do you know Doreen?” Doreen broke in. “We met when I was out looking for you yesterday.” “Yeah,” Craig took over. “My wife was missing, too. Doreen and I bumped into each other during the manhunt.” Collier forced his alligator grin into a less threatening shape. “I wasn't missing.” His eyes sought out the less-than-innocent return gaze lurking behind jumbo sunglasses. “I believe that was you.” Her laugh was more of a hiccup. “Well, we didn’t get into particulars.” Julietta sipped from her water glass, the sound of clinking ice stirring heated memories behind Collier's fly. Swallowing a rush of accompanying imagery, he tried to ignore the drip of condensation that abandoned her glass in favor of a perch atop one breast. Doreen gestured to the buffet. “We were just heading in for a bite.” Craig nodded. “You won’t be sorry. The food is phenomenal. Say,” he said, breaking into a wide smile. “Why don’t you two join us?” “That’d be great.” The reply jumped out of Collier’s mouth before his brain had time to lodge a complaint. Why the hell had he said that? “No!” Julietta said, voicing the answer Collier should have given. He saw her wince at her husband's sharp glance in return. “I mean, it might be too much trouble. For them.” Doreen looked pensive. “Well, we wouldn’t want to impose.” “Nonsense,” Craig said. “We’d love to have you. Right, honey?” Julietta dabbed full lips with her cloth napkin, then flung it alongside her plate. “Of course. Except that I’m finished, actually.” A frown creased the pasty forehead. “I thought you said you were going back for another plate?” Her eyes slid away from Collier. “I couldn’t eat another bite. And

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I’m dying to get out for some snorkeling.” She offered Doreen an almost convincing smile. “Maybe later?” Doreen’s smile was only a hair more genuine while her arm snaked through Collier’s. “If we can manage to get out of our room tonight. This place is terribly romantic, isn’t it?” Craig’s arm shot out of nowhere, coming in for a landing around his wife’s shoulders. “Worth every cent.” Julietta shrugged him off and pushed her chair back, looking as though she’d swallowed a bug. Collier challenged her eyes to meet his, but she avoided him while she rose. When she bent over her husband’s chair, her breasts nearly launched free of their Lycra prison. He felt his cock twitch with approval. “I need to use the ladies’ room.” Julietta offered Doreen the gaze she denied Collier. “Nice meeting you. Maybe we’ll see you again?” Doreen nodded. “No doubt. It’s a small resort, after all.” Craig alone laughed at the dim reference. “Let’s not keep these poor people any longer,” Collier said, taking Doreen’s elbow. “Craig, Julietta.” Her eyes jerked to his when he said her name, and he favored her with a polite smile. “It’s been a pleasure. Until later, then.” While he steered Doreen from the table, he couldn’t help but ask. “It’s not like you to shy away from a social invite. Didn’t you like them?” She shrugged. “She seemed a bit less than eager for company. Besides, I figured you’d want us to be alone. This being a special weekend and all.” If her answer hadn’t surprised him, her stopping to kiss him with a fervor that knocked her hat askew did. He found himself glancing back to see whether Julietta had noticed, but she and Craig had already vacated their table. Once he’d managed to secure seating, his thoughts turned to Julietta’s mention of snorkeling. He smiled at his date. “I have a couple ideas on what we could do today.”

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Placing her sunglasses on the table, her brows waggled in suggestive response. “Do you, now?” He smiled. There was that. Oddly, though his cock had been eager enough to come out and visit at Julietta’s table, Doreen’s offer didn’t quite inspire him to abandon thoughts of the beckoning sea. “I thought we might go for a dive.” “A dive? As in scuba?” He nodded. Her eyes went wide. “I’d be terrified to have one of those tank things strapped to me.” “Snorkeling, then? I hear the reef has fish for every color in the rainbow.” Doreen wrinkled her nose. “And sharks to snap me up for dinner? No thanks. I’m not much of a water person.” His heart sank. “You live at the beach.” She shrugged. “I like soaking up rays from the shore, but I’m quite content not knowing what all lurks beneath the waves.” He tried to take this news in stride. “Okay, how about I take you for a sail or a romantic sunset dinner cruise?” A waft of breeze plucked the edge of Doreen’s hat. “The seasickness isn't worth it.” Collier fought off the nagging feeling that these were things he should have known about a woman he’d dated off and on for three years. “You went on a cruise last year.” With another guy she’d been seeing, but that was beside the point. She snorted. “While heavily medicated and in a room far enough below deck to be considered steerage.” Hope dawned. “So medication might help?” “I don’t have my prescription patch here. Didn’t figure I’d need it.” Of course not. Why come to an island resort prepared for water activities? Then again, Doreen’s idea of liquid sports involved more distilled spirits and less actual water.

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“I give up,” he said, offering a patient smile. “What would you like to do?” A manicured nail tapped the table. “I was thinking of bringing my tan up to speed, doing some shopping, having some drinks”—her voice turned throaty and seductive—“and I wonder what antics the hotel package has in store for tonight?” His pulse hammered at the thought of red envelopes. “Now,” she said, rising from her seat. “Shall we go see if all the fuss about this buffet is true?” While they headed for long tables bursting with silver trays, Collier wondered whether Doreen was finally ready to call this a relationship—even though it appeared she’d already made the acquaintance of half the resort’s male guest roster. And he wondered why, after bringing her all the way here for an answer, that he really didn’t seem to care. **** Lust glanced up and arched a brow. “Back so soon? Not another failure, I hope.” Love strolled through a sunny, windswept balcony into their suite on the penthouse floor. “It was a resounding success, actually. Just like my current endeavor here.” “I beg to differ, but while you were gone things regained a rather strained status quo.” Love shrugged. “No matter. Unlike your whirlwind bang ‘em and leave ‘em approach, my powers build gradually, and are in the end far more consuming.” “Sounds incredibly boring and a bit like sour grapes.” “Not at all.” The muscled god crossed the enormous white suite to pick up a house phone. “It’s merely time for a push of my own.” Lust, draped over a deeply upholstered chair, watched with idle curiosity as Love dialed the resort’s five-star restaurant and gave a

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few quick instructions. Lust shook his head. “You really think that cheap trick will work?” The bright glimmer in Love’s stare outshone the gleaming white marble in the room. “Class is again in session.”

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Chapter Six Julietta forced out a breath to expel salt water from the tube of her snorkel. Pulling off her face mask, she turned to look at the beach behind her. From here, dry land seemed alien and out of reach. This was another world, an entity that pulsed and thrived with zero grasp of the dramas consuming two-legged creatures. Under the sea lived a hive mind of ancient knowledge, one from which she never wished to part. Floating face-down along the surface with snorkel in place brought nirvanic contentment. She’d stayed submerged for ages. Though a disturbing amount of the rusty reef had bleached out to whites and grays, the teeming life around it was a virtual Crayola box of brilliant greens, reds, and yellows. Parrotfish, urchins, angelfish, and manta rays spiraled around Julietta and each other in a ballet of harmony few humans could ever hope to understand. By the time lengthening shadows forced her return to land, her worries had tumbled away with the tide and she felt refreshed and jubilant. “I didn’t think I’d ever get you out of the water,” Craig said when she finally slogged back onto the beach, kicking off flippers as she went. He’d come ashore some time earlier, not nearly as entranced with life aquatic. He was still in the navy T-shirt he’d worn while snorkeling, and it was already dry. She held her snorkel gear in one hand while squeezing water from her hair. “Sorry. It was just so mesmerizing, and the water’s so warm I couldn’t bear to leave. What time is it?” “Nearly four o’clock.” Her eyes widened in surprise. She followed Craig’s lead, trudging through white sand to a pair of lounge chairs holding their few

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possessions. Despite the late hour, sunlight jumped off the sands, and Julietta squinted as she reached for her towel. “Looks like you got too much sun,” Craig said. The comment came a moment too late. She’d already given her back a brisk rub with the towel, and after a brief delay came the searing sting. She grimaced and reached behind her to pull the tie of her bikini top away from her back. Hot skin lodged a bitter complaint. “I used sun block,” she said through gritted teeth, her irritation not limited to the raw spots of skin. “I could have used help getting it on my back, though.” He shrugged, stuffing his feet into black rubber thongs. “I told you to wear a T-shirt. Not that watching you kick around in little more than strings and a Band-Aid wasn't a turn-on.” “Yes, but my shirt is the size of a termite tent. I would have gone straight to the bottom.” Sticking her still-wet gear into a straw beach tote, she pushed into flip-flops and pulled a knee-length white tee gingerly over her head. Craig grabbed his own gear and headed for the resort. “I’m beat. I can’t believe you stayed out there so long.” “It was so fun that I lost track of the time.” She puffed a bit as they trudged through the remaining feet of sand and onto the concrete boardwalk leading back to the hotel. After crossing the footbridge over a large koi pond outside the entrance, they stopped to lose some extra sand. Julietta grimaced as she brushed the backs of her thighs. Apparently her shoulders weren’t the only over-baked spots on her anatomy. They made the rest of the trip in silence, parting ways in the suite to their separate bathrooms. Julietta was thankful Craig hadn’t repeated last night's offer of a tandem shower. She stepped into the tingling spray still wearing her bikini, barely allowing water to fall across her back before wincing in pain. Sand and seawater landed at her feet, and after a quick shampoo she stepped out, suit and all, to grab a towel. Before going any farther she needed something to

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soothe the savage sun beast. She knotted a purple sarong around her waist and headed to the bedroom, where Craig stood shirtless while belting on white trousers. He was as pale as ever. He looked up, nodding at the brown D-ring bikini. “Good grief, you’re not going back in the water?” She snorted. “Of course not. Would you mind running to the sundries shop for me? I could use about a gallon of sunburn cream.” Craig put his hands up in surrender. “I’m done in, hon. I wasn’t expecting our dip in the ocean to become a Jacques Cousteau special.” He nodded at the bed. “My agenda is to make it five feet over there for a nap before dinner.” She’d almost forgotten his modus operandi when it came to granting help of any kind, but should have considering his refusal when she’d asked for help getting sun block on in the first place. Then again, she’d stayed half dressed even through her shower. Part of her knew she’d be the one making a first aid run. He caught her look. “You want me up to par for tonight, don’t you? Gotta be sharp for dinner at the best restaurant in the Bahamas.” With that, her white knight flopped onto the bed and crossed his arms behind his head. “Not to mention what comes later. Just get whatever you need and charge it to the room.” She sighed. “Back in a flash.” Her feet found the flip-flops and she shoved them on before heading out of the suite. Chivalry had never been Craig’s style. Getting sunburned was her own fault, anyway. It wasn’t his job to monitor her SPF. One look at her angry back sent sales clerks into a flurry to load Julietta up with a variety of remedies. Soon she was headed back with a plastic-handled shopping bag full of aspirin, aloe gel, vitamin E lotion, hydrocortisone cream, and something they called “Hurricaine spray” to numb the pain. Of course, most of these would be useless if Craig wouldn’t be more cooperative about applying them than he’d

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been about the sunscreen. Perhaps she could hit the massage room and ask them to rub the ointment on her back. Or she could squirt it on the floor, then lie down and roll around. Craig would probably vote for that and have fun watching. She was halfway past the roaring waterfalls when Doreen popped out of the elevator just ahead. Julietta froze, clutching her bag tighter. With a sigh of relief she noted that Collier wasn’t with her. Doreen wore a loose white shift with spaghetti straps, the fabric so sheer even a blind man could tell she wore no undergarments. After a brief hesitation, Julietta decided to head straight for her. Doreen beamed when she saw her. “Hey, there! Jolene, right?” “It’s Julietta. Nice to see you again.” The other woman craned her neck around. “Craig’s not with you?” Naturally she remembered his name. Julietta offered a bright smile. “Nope. I’m just doing some quick shopping.” That met with a nod of approval. “I’m down here for a drink before dinner. Care to tag along?” “Thank you, no. I’m not dressed for it.” Her cheeks warmed as the other woman’s gaze trailed from her bikini top down to the sarong riding low on her hips, then back to Julietta’s breasts. “On the contrary, you’d be the hit of the party. Just a quickie?” Julietta shook her head. “I really should get back. Another time?” Doreen shrugged. “If you change your mind I’ll be in La Isla Taberna, home of the bathtub-sized strawberry margarita. See you later.” Without waiting for a reply she sauntered off. Julietta got on the elevator. Her thoughts turned back to Craig during the short ride. He would not only be sawing logs by now, but probably cutting down the entire forest. She’d be rolling around in lotion on the floor after all. The elevator opened, and she wandered several feet out while digging through her bag. After a few moments she realized something

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was off, and when she glanced around the hallway she recognized the creamy combed wallpaper and champagne carpet from the previous night. Great. She’d been so distracted she'd pressed the button for the fourth floor by mistake. The floor where Collier most likely sat right now. Alone.

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Chapter Seven Julietta twirled around and took three steps back toward the elevator. There, she stopped. Collier had been kind enough to not screw things up for her, and she should seize the quick opportunity to thank him. She wouldn’t likely get another chance. She marched to room 416 and knocked. While she waited, however, doubt jabbed at her already quivering stomach. She turned to leave just as the door opened. “Did you forget your key?” Collier said, and then stopped when he saw her. His face went blank. Julietta tried not to gape at the sight of him. Collier was bronzed and magnificent in nothing but a pair of red swim trunks. Her gaze trailed along rippling muscles to where a line of dark brown hair disappeared into his waistband. The anatomy concealed beneath had been forever burned into her memory, and she swallowed hard to fend off the image. Silence stretched out like a torture rack until she managed to find her voice. “Sorry to drop by unannounced.” His stare was unreadable while she was treated to the same anatomical scrutiny Doreen had bestowed on her moments earlier. She felt her nipples harden through the thin, still damp shimmer of her bikini top. “It's okay,” he said at last. “I just thought you were Doreen.” Her stomach did an odd flip. “I just saw her. She’s down in the bar.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “That’s always a safe bet with her.” He raised an arm near his face and leaned it against the door. “What

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brings you back? Did you forget something?” She shook her head. “I just wanted to say thank you.” He arched a sarcastic brow above eyes the same intoxicating color of the sea she’d been frolicking in earlier. Their intensity might have hypnotized her if they weren’t glittering with a tawdry interpretation of her gratitude. Ugh. Did men think of nothing else? She rolled her eyes. “Not for that. I meant for not saying anything to Craig about us.” “There’s an ‘us’?” Maybe this had been a mistake. “You know what I mean.” The eyes she couldn’t shake loose from narrowed. “I didn’t want to mess up your dearly beloved’s weekend. Besides, my itinerary this trip didn’t include marriage wrecking.” She ignored the jibe and decided to veer off subject. “Did you two have a nice afternoon? The water was perfect.” His eyes glided along her body again, though this time she sensed his attention was directed elsewhere. “Things haven’t exactly gone to plan. I haven’t dipped a toe in the ocean.” He looked up at her. “Sounds like you had fun, though.” The memory of the afternoon washed over her like a wave of peaceful calm. “It was magic. If I could have a snorkel surgically implanted I might never come out of the water.” His laugh sent a shiver of delight through her. “I’ve always found the ocean to be quite an addictive hangout.” Collier nodded to the bag in her hand. “I see you’re as fond of shopping as Doreen.” “Only if she shops at the local pharmacy.” She held the bag out so he could peer inside. He gave a knowing grimace. “Craig got fried, eh? I figured. That pearly skin of his could signal lost ships at night.” She shook her head. “Not him.” She twisted around enough for him to see. Collier sucked in a breath. “Christ. Didn’t you use sunscreen?” Heat flared her cheeks. “Of course I did. I’m not stupid. But it

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isn’t easy to spread it on your own back, you know. I guess I missed some spots.” He cocked his head. “Isn’t that what husbands are for?” “He pleaded other commitments when I asked.” He frowned, and then took her by the hand. “Come on.” She tried to pull back, but he tugged her into the suite and shut the door behind them. Her voice held undisguised panic. “What are you doing?” “You need this attended to. Maybe we can keep it from getting worse.” Julietta swallowed, gripping the bag tighter when he reached for it. With a scowl and a good yank he grabbed it away, then spun around and stalked into the living area. “Come in here.” He rooted through the bag while she followed him, trying not to remember the previous night in this suite. It seemed like ages ago that she’d been in here. The room felt different tonight, maybe because she could actually see. Everything was awash in color, courtesy of curtains thrown open to greet the sunset. She moved to the window, marveling at the way approaching nightfall painted the sky in a blazing herald of orange and maroon just above the blue-green froth of the sea. Yes, the sunsets here truly were spectacular. Despite nature’s brilliant show, memories of her wanton behavior flashed in her mind until she couldn’t see the view anymore. She’d been an idiot to get dragged back in here. She should leave before she did something stupid. Again. “Now,” Collier said, his voice from just over her shoulder causing her heart to jump. “Let’s get some of this lotion on you.” The bag dropped at his feet, and she flinched when she felt fingers brushing near the back of her swimsuit. “Relax,” he said, though his voice sounded anything but. One tug later and the rear string holding the bikini tight to her breasts fell free, leaving the top hanging on by the thin ties around her neck. Her arms crossed over her chest while he pushed her still-wet

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hair around the front of her shoulders. She heard a bottle top snap open, followed by a cold squirt. His touch was as gentle and silken as the cream he was gliding on, instantly cooling the fire on her shoulder blades. She relaxed with a small moan, closing her eyes and dropping her arms to her sides while he worked magic on her skin. Back and forth, up and down he stroked, then in circles to massage heaven into her tender flesh. Julietta’s lips parted and her gaze landed on the fiery sunset. The sea below churned in tune with her emotions. Collier’s stroke grew wider, and soon both hands were stroking her back. Cooling relief soon turned to a tingling heat of an altogether different sort. Another spurt of lotion came, and her breathing grew ragged and heavy while his hands slid out to the narrow sides of her waist. There he paused, then stroked upward. Lifting her arms slightly away from her body allowed him to glide around to the full roundness of her outer breasts. With a groan he pressed against her while his slick hands paid homage to her erect nipples, and a rush of urgent pleasure flooded between her legs. Her knees wobbled, and her head fell back against his hard chest. Collier kissed the top of her hair, pressing his hard, straining cock against her ass. Her hands snaked up around the back of his neck, and she stroked her fingernails through this hair. Turning her head to the side allowed their tongues to meet. Their kiss was frantic, as though they had been parted for months rather than a single day. He spun her toward him with a growl and dropped to his knees in front of her. Rather than tearing the sarong from her he reached beneath it, sliding his hands up the sides of her thighs to the pair of laces riding her hips. Moments later her bikini bottoms were on the floor behind him. Her head fell back when he parted the slit of her skirt away from her naked crotch and leaned in to taste her. His tongue stroked her slit with a tender insistence that unleashed a moan from the back of her throat. He worked back and forth between feathering her clit and dipping inside her pussy, and she gripped his

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shoulders to keep herself upright. This time when she shot into orgasm, words came with utter abandon. “God yes, Collier. Don’t stop. Please.” With that she was off her feet. He swept her up and carried her to the end of the massive round bed. After setting her on the floor he yanked down his own trunks, freeing a massive erection that she longed to taste. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her onto his lap before she could do a thing, and with no further invitation she eased onto his cock until her ass was on his thighs and her sarong was bunched around her waist. Collier groaned into the hollow between her breasts while she sank down, her sex hot and throbbing. “Jesus, you’re wet,” he said. She ignored the protest from the backs of her burned thighs while she grabbed a hold of his shoulders and rode his shaft, rocking and moaning with him while sweat slicked their chests. His hands slid to her ass, pushing her down harder with each stroke. She fucked him in an animal rhythm, her breasts bouncing and his groans of ecstasy firing her lust. With a chorus of moans and gasps and the slaps of skin against skin, orgasm soon crashed over them like the surf pounding the shore outside. While she floated in aftermath, Collier’s lips found hers with a tender kiss that almost brought tears to her eyes. It wasn’t until moments later that the brain function that had ceased the moment his hands had glided over her skin returned. Then, ugly reality hit. Julietta gasped, looking around as though they’d been cast into another world. “Oh, God,” she said. “What are we doing?” She all but jumped off of him, tying her top back into place. The heartbeat that had been pounding with lust moments ago now raced in panic. Her hands and voice quivered as she tried to compose herself. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let this happen. I have to go.” “Julietta...” Her hands went up over her face. “Please. Don’t make me choose

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between my future and a casual one-nighter.” Collier stood. “Technically a two-nighter. Though casual isn’t how I’d describe it.” She made a desperate sweep of the sitting room floor in search of her missing bikini bottoms. “I can’t let a quick fling with some Hollywood hot body color the final decision about a marriage.” A wave of hot guilt hit her as the implication of her words sank in. His joking tone went flat. “Santa Monica hot body.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to silence the headache beginning a dull throb against her temples. Half to herself she whispered, “What kind of woman am I?” He reached down to retrieve the missing scrap of brown fabric, his voice tender as he handed it back. “One who already made the decision about her marriage for reasons having nothing to do with me.” She shook her head while she tied her bikini laces, shame welling tears in her eyes. He pulled her close and tipped her chin up. “What exactly are you torturing yourself over? You’re not seriously planning to take back a guy who can’t spend sixty seconds keeping his wife this side of a second degree burn? One who didn’t even notice you were missing?” She pulled free, his words unlocking a fresh surge of anger. “He did notice. And he looked for me, just like I said last night.” “Yeah? Well, there’s a little problem with last night.” Her laugh was a wild whoop, not at all kind. “I’ll say. I went mental and slept with a stranger.” “No. Doreen lied about last night.” “What’s that got to do with me?” “She’s rather free with her attentions. I think she and Craig may have done something about it.” Julietta raised her hands. “What, we messed around, so now they have to be guilty, too? Craig didn’t do anything wrong here. I did.” “I know Doreen. She was evasive when I questioned her. I

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thought it was because I found her in the bar with a bunch of frat boys. When I saw her with Craig this morning, though”—he shrugged—“I know that look. I think they’ve been friendly.” “And I think you’re being paranoid.” The pounding in her head grew harder to ignore, and she pressed her palm against her forehead. “I’ll tell you exactly what happened. You’re having trouble defining your relationship, so you’re looking for reasons to escape. My husband had an affair, and even though he says it’s over I’m obviously having trouble accepting that. So this”—she waved at the span of distance between them—“is some psychotic need on my part to get even.” Collier’s stare bordered on incredulous. “He says it’s over, and you believe him?” She crossed her arms. “I did. I mean, I do.” He shook his head. “A man who’s willing to visit that neighborhood once will probably drive by again.” She snatched up the bottle of lotion from the floor and stuffed it into the bag. “You should know.” His eyes glittered a warning. “Don’t insult me because your husband is a cheating ass.” “Yeah, well this time I drove by that neighborhood for him, which makes me the cheating ass.” He grabbed her upper arm. “No, it doesn’t. You are practically divorced. You left him because he violated your marriage and you knew you deserved better. Deep down, you still know it.” “So why did I come here with him, then?” His voice grew calmer the more frantic hers became. “Maybe you were clinging to a sinking ship, afraid to lose something familiar in exchange for nothing. Now you’ve allowed yourself to let go of that long enough to see better things are out there.” “Oh, and I’m supposed to believe you’re the better thing? I don’t even know you.” She pulled away and stalked toward the door. Over her shoulder she added, “Better sex doesn’t mean better partner. And

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despite my wild Vegas lifestyle, I’m not looking for the loose singles scene you Santa Monica hot bodies seem to live for. Thanks anyway.” “Julietta, wait.” His voice held enough command to stop her, though she cursed herself for doing it. She turned to see the sky behind Collier lit up like a brilliant flare, yet it wasn’t as intense as his fiery gaze. “You can’t go back like that.” Julietta started to argue, but saw he was nodding at her chest. Frowning, she glanced down. Heat flew to her cheeks. Not only was half the suit twisted inside out, but oily splotches of white lotion clung to it. Obviously she sucked at conducting illicit affairs, considering she’d never had any practice. Had Craig dealt with the panic of eradicating the evidence? God, she hoped so. “Here.” He crossed the room to an assortment of shopping bags stacked against the wall. Pawing through one, he came up with a pale blue tank that had Amante del Mar in flowery script across the front. He tossed it to her. “Wear this. You can wash the suit out later.” Relief washed over her anger. “Thank you.” She dropped her bag long enough to yank still-attached tags from the shirt, then pull it over her head. Despite the soft cotton, she winced when it crossed her shoulders. Collier took a step toward her. “I saw Benzocaine in the bag,” he said. “Let me at least put some on you before you go.” “Look,” she said, “you don’t have to be nice to me. I know I’m the villain of this story. Just let me go.” He crossed his arms over the broad expanse of his chest. “Oh, I get it. The martyr routine. You want to be treated badly. Probably think you don’t deserve better.” The flash exploded. “I don’t deserve better! I’m an adulteress, as you so kindly put it yesterday. Not that you’ve any room to talk, cheating twice on your girlfriend.” Julietta grabbed up the bag, moving top speed for the door. As she pulled it open he said, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

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Laughing, she whirled on him. “No? So you spent a fortune to bring someone you don’t care about all the way to the Bahamas? Boy, personal trainers must be as loaded as their clients.” He snapped his mouth shut and stared at her. She shot him a smug smile. “Right. So either you’re clinging to a drowning ship as much as I am, or you’re just trying to convince yourself you’re not as guilty as she is. Good luck with that.” Then she was gone.

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Chapter Eight Collier’s mouth was set in a grim slash while he stalked down to the lobby. He’d lingered long enough after Julietta’s departure to shower and dress for dinner, and yet Doreen still hadn’t returned from her “quick” drink. Big shock. Moist evening air bonded his skin to his shirt, making him thankful that jackets and ties were not required at the resort’s prime restaurant. He’d opted for lightweight tan slacks and a short-sleeved, hunter green shirt, leaving the top few buttons of the latter open. A quick glance at his watch hastened his step toward the elevator. He hoped Doreen wouldn’t insist on changing clothes before their meal. Reservations at Mira del Sol were highly prized, and missing out because his date never met a drink she didn’t like would be a sore loss. Especially considering this meal was a complimentary apology from the hotel for the “inconvenience” of their room mix up. A free five-star meal didn’t happen every day. Then again, neither did the cataclysmic encounters that had followed the hotel’s faux paus. Gods help him, but the slightest thought of Julietta sent waves of desire from cowlick to toenail. To say he came with explosive force when he made love to this woman was a witless understatement. He’d be willing to testify that his cock actually turned inside out. Her eroticism could introduce science to a whole new pleasure principle. Still, in every happy situation his life stepped up to deliver the universal “but,” which in this case was a chick whose baggage claim outsized the cargo hold on the Titanic. Ironic that someone as selfconcerned as Julietta LaSalle had the personal insight of a potato bug. Then there was Doreen. She and Collier weren’t in love and never

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had been. Neither of them had held any illusions about that from the day they met. They’d both been too involved with careers, friends, and private agendas for an intense courtship, and had been satisfied with a few laughs and gratifying, though not euphoric, sex. At least Doreen wasn’t clingy. She enjoyed her independence and was financially self-sufficient enough to afford a low-rent place in the high-rent town of Malibu. Hell, the woman was attractive, popular, companionable, and downright convenient. If that word left a bad taste in the mouths of romantic idealists, screw them. He owed nobody an apology for being over thirty and single. Even if he did, Doreen was the holdout on commitment. On the other hand, her love of flirtation sometimes left Collier in a lurch. If he’d had strong feelings for her, this would have been a deal breaker. Nevertheless, her free-spiritedness had grown a tad annoying considering he wasn’t one to spread his seed around. Not until he’d come here, anyway. So Collier had parted with a small mint for this getaway, in large part to try and determine whether his path and Doreen’s would ever truly merge. He wondered if Doreen really thought she was making a go of the weekend, considering how much of it they’d spent apart. You’re clinging to a sinking ship as much as I am. He snorted. His situation could hardly be compared to Julietta’s. That woman had issues. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who needed her head adjusted with a pipe wrench, but she was trouble with a capital Married and Doreen was flighty and apathetic to the needs of the male ego. Somehow Collier attracted magnetic female bullets and then pointed them straight at his nuts. What luck. He didn’t need drama in his life. He’d simply gotten his head jacked around where Julietta was concerned. His cock dipped itself in a honey pot where it didn’t belong, then got some crazy ideas. Well, he wasn’t the first man to get spun by great sex, right? He could get over it. A smile breached his pursed lips. Sinking ship indeed. His footfalls were drowned out by the sound of rushing water

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from the waterfall in the lobby while he crossed the high gloss marble floor to where Doreen was undoubtedly holding court. Stepping from the lobby into the dim Isla de Taberna, Collier’s feet zeroed in on his missing chica. Doreen was always the hub of a gathering, the social clitoris of every party she graced. He wasn’t surprised to find her surrounded by laughing male heads, not even when Craig LaSalle turned out to be part of the audience. Breaking through the ranks, Collier swept up to her side. “Hey.” Her smile was genuine. “There you are. You remember Craig.” She nodded to the man seated beside her. He lifted a well-drained glass. “Evening, Collier. Can I get you something?” A pulse pounded in Collier’s throat as the Red Sea of Doreen’s admirers began to part. For a moment he had a wild urge to say, No, thanks. I’ve already had your wife. “No thanks,” he said. “I’ll have wine with dinner.” Then to Doreen, “Speaking of which, we should head over. Our reservation is in ten minutes.” Doe eyes blinked at him in surprised Morse code. “My, is it that late already? Oh, I asked Craig to join us.” Of course. “My wife and I, that is, if you don’t mind a foursome.” Craig tipped the rest of his drink down his throat before plunking the glass on the mahogany bar. Sure. Why would a guy who dropped five figures on a romantic weekend mind party crashers at dinner? Collier held himself in check and shrugged. “I don’t mind at all.” He offered a smile. “Unfortunately, this restaurant gets booked months in advance. I’m not sure a table for two will accommodate four.” Craig’s slippery grin in return outdid his own, seeming to stretch halfway across the room. “We already have a table. Compliments of the hotel, thanks to a screw up with our reservation.”

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“It’s settled then,” Doreen said. She slid off her stool, just a tad unsteady on her feet. “If Julietta ever graces us, that is,” Craig went on. He scowled at his watch. “For a place whose brochure touts, ‘Our love is worldclass,’ my wife sure flies solo a lot.” Collier glanced at his date. He knew the feeling. “Should we wait a bit longer?” Doreen said. Collier shook his head. “The restaurant won’t hold our table.” “You two go on, I guess.” Craig waved in a grand gesture. “I’ll stay for a few and see if she shows up.” “Oh, just come with us,” Doreen said. “We can stop by the desk. They can buzz your room.” Collier frowned. Julietta hadn’t looked all that well when she’d left his suite, come to think of it. She could have swooned with heat stroke while Captain Wonderful here sat around getting sauced at the bar. Collier couldn’t mention his concern, either, since he wasn’t supposed to have seen Julietta since breakfast or know about her sunburn. Craig slapped a ten-dollar tip onto the bar and the trio turned to wade through the swelling crowd. Collier spotted a familiar head of flaxen gold through the smoldering neon lighting. The dress was a dangerous shade of scarlet, with a neckline slashed well below the line of courtesy and fabric that floated like rose petals to just above her shapely knees. Julietta’s hair fell loose, pulled back on one side by a sparkling crystal barrette. A milky gemstone pointed to cleavage that prompted several double takes while she approached. Though Collier was stunned into silence at her arrival, Craig found his voice right away. “Finally. I thought you decided to skip dinner.” He let out a low wolf whistle. “Though I can see why you risked losing our table.” “Thank you.” Her dark eyes slid over Collier long enough to prickle gooseflesh before shifting to Doreen.

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“Told you,” Doreen said to her. “Life of the party.” Doreen’s eyes fell to the pendant with undisguised envy. “Ooh, is that the moonstone I saw in the jewelry store window?” Craig nodded, plucking the stone off Julietta’s bosom. “I thought it would be a nice memento.” Collier actually heard the stone thunk against her breastbone when the man dropped it. Julietta flinched slightly. “I’ll say,” Doreen said. “All Collier bought so far is a pair of matching hotel T-shirts and some flip-flops.” He bristled at barbed tone. She could scratch the matching shirts off the list, anyway. One of them had already been reassigned. “And paid for the trip, and agreed to buy you whatever you want tomorrow before we leave.” He nodded at the gem, willing his glance to remain casual. “I’d worry about keeping things like that in my room, anyway.” His eyes shifted to Julietta’s. “Valuables have a way of walking off.” Her eyes flashed and she looked away. “Anyway,” Craig said, “I’m glad you showed up. We were just leaving.” “So I see,” she replied coolly. “I was a bit surprised to find you gone when I got back upstairs.” She flicked a half-glance at Collier. “From the sundries shop.” “You took longer than I expected.” Craig scratched a mosquito bite on his forearm. “Thought maybe you got lost again, so figured I’d slip down for a look.” “In the bar?” Her voiced edged along sarcasm. “That’s kind of a long shot, considering I don’t drink.” “That’s my fault, I’m afraid,” Doreen gushed. “Craig was wandering around all by his lonesome again, so I waved him over. I hate to party alone, and Collier got a late start himself.” She gave him a sharp look. Julietta’s smile teetered on baring teeth. “Since no one was there to help put on sunburn gel after my shower,” she ignored Collier’s

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glare, “it took me a while to get ready.” Craig snorted. “Another shower?” She flinched, but recovered quick. “To help cool the burn.” Doreen made a pouty face. “Sunburn? Ouch.” “Big time,” Julietta nodded. “Anesthetic spray seems to help, though.” “That won’t heal the skin,” Collier said. “Aloe or Vitamin E is better.” Craig shook his head. “Best to let these things heal naturally. All those products do is line the pharmaceutical industry’s pockets.” “Takes the pain and swelling down,” Collier said. “A little pain is hardly worth it,” Craig answered. Julietta crossed her arms under her chest, pushing her cleavage up to distraction. Her face pinked a bit. “This from the man who was nearly hospitalized with an ingrown toenail.” “Hey, that was real agony,” he said. “A few red splotches on your back won’t stop you from walking. It’s not like you need to lie on your back to get around.” She shot him a look. “No, but there are other things one does on their back you might be unhappy about me missing this trip.” “Not unless you burned your knees, dear.” He waggled his brows. Collier gritted his teeth. Doreen’s laugh lilted like the ice cubes in Craig’s glass. “You two are such a damn riot.” Craig smiled. “Besides, toe infections can be serious.” Collier’s mouth jumped back in. “So can a bad burn.” The pale man thumped his own chest. “Prevention is the only cure for sunburn. Look at me. Irish through and through, out in the same sun as Jules all day. Not so much as a blush.” “Yeah,” Collier agreed. “Wonder how that happened.” Julietta flashed him a warning look. “As thrilling as it would be to discuss my skin problems all night,” she said, “We’ll have to rush to make our reservation as it is.” “She’s right.” Doreen snapped up a margarita glass the size of a

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small tank. The smidgen of frosty pink beverage still sloshing in the bottom was enough to send a lightweight drinker flying. “Dinner for four it is.” Julietta’s eyes widened and landed on Collier, but he just shrugged. A double date with the LaSalles. This would be an interesting evening. The quartet set off for the Mira del Sol with Julietta and Craig in the lead. Craig took her hand when they departed the main hotel, and Collier did the same with Doreen. He tried his best to ignore the pair in front of him by turning his attention to the enchanted tropical evening. Sunset had surrendered itself to night, and crickets mingled with the gentle whoosh of low tide while the foursome wandered the boardwalk fronting the resort’s private cottages. The hour coaxed a glimmer of stars out from hiding, along with a waft of jasmine that tightened his gut with erotic memories of making love to Julietta. Water lapped at the tumbling avalanche of pebbles on the shoreline while a three-quarter moon caught hold of the highlights in Julietta’s baby soft shimmer of hair. Tiki torches dotted the path here and there with flares of orange-gold luminance, and soon after setting out the clatter of dishware and muted conversation alerted the group to their approaching destination. If the Amante del Mar was a crown resting atop the majestic monarch of the Atlantic Ocean, the Mira del Sol was the prime jewel shimmering in its midst. The restaurant was all crystal and silver and candlelight, right down to the beveled coach lanterns flickering along a surrounding half-wall that permitted an al fresco view of the glittering sea. Through leaded glass doors the foursome found aromas as divine as sacred incense, wafting through an opulent dining room done in shades of dusky rose and cream. Their hostess was an Amazon with exotic cat’s eyes and a huge island flower in her raven hair. She showed them to a spot near the center of the room with an almost sensual prowl. Two square tables had been joined to allow the foursome to dine together alongside the

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room's centerpiece―a majestic umbrella tree lifting its massive limbs to the ceiling. The tree’s branches were interwoven with swags of tropical vines, star-shaped flowers, and tiny white twinkle lights. The result was a sort of living chandelier that left Collier awestruck. He shot a quick glance at the others. Only Julietta appeared equally treeenraptured. Yes, the place certainly possessed some sort of magic, for those with the eyes to see it. Everyone was seated so that Craig was sitting opposite Doreen and Collier face to blushing cheeks with Julietta. Menus were passed around while the hostess lilted out a practiced repertoire of the evening’s specials. For a short while, life’s biggest problem became choosing among the vast assortment of mouth-watering delicacies. Stuffed artichokes, French onion soup with fresh Gruyere cheese, rack of lamb, and blackened Ahi were among the many foods on Collier’s hit parade of absolute favorites. Even Doreen seemed engrossed in the sensual, downright literary descriptions of each dish. She waved the rest of the group to go ahead when José, his bow tie and pen at the ready, arrived to take their order. There was fire-roasted lobster for Julietta, king crab for himself, and filet mignon with seared garlic mushrooms for Craig. Collier’s stomach growled more in anticipation with each new order he heard. When it was Doreen’s turn, she pointed to the menu as if the waiter could read it upside down from across the table. “I’ll have a half-portion of Cobb salad—no bacon, no cheese. Hold the dressing. Two lemon wedges on the side, and a white wine spritzer.” She handed the menu to the waiter, who bowed low before vanishing. Collier threw his hands to his cheeks in mock horror. “God, Doreen. You’re really going to eat all that?” She pursed her lips. “Haw, haw. How else do you think I keep everything on this body where it belongs?” Turning to Julietta she added, “We women understand these things. Am I right?” Julietta shrugged. “I confess I’m no diet expert,” she said. “I’m too big a fan of chocolate, for one thing. I’m afraid calorie restriction

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violates my personal mission statement.” Doreen smirked. “That’s easy to say now, but you don’t want to wait until you’re my age. Start now and it’ll be less of a fight when your metabolism starts its descent into Hell.” Julietta tilted her head, giving the other woman a quick up and down assessment. “Actually, I think I’m older than you.” “No way.” Doreen turned to Collier. “Hon, which of us do you think is older?” He raised his hands in surrender. “Oh, no you don’t. That question ranks right up there with, ‘Does this outfit make me look fat?’ There’s no such thing as a diplomatic answer.” Craig barked a laugh. “Damn right. Don’t forget, ‘How many girlfriends did you have before me?’” Julietta shot her husband a look. “I never asked you that.” The man’s brows sailed north. “Pants on fire,” he said. “You asked right before we got married.” She blinked. “I did?” “Yep.” “Irrelevant.” Doreen waved a hand over the conversation. “It doesn’t matter in the least how many there were before you got married. Just after.” She flashed a proud grin at her joke, oblivious to the trio of spines stiffening in response. She sipped from her glass with a slight scowl as the rest fell into silence, all suddenly interested in the scenery and their beverages. Dark gray eyes across the table from Collier ignored his repeated attempts to connect. Instead, Julietta focused on straightening silverware that was lying off kilter by at least a few millimeters. After a couple dozen beats, Doreen had had enough of the social lapse. “So,” she said in a breezy tone, “I was saying that there was no possible way Julietta is older.” A thankful smile cracked the other woman’s face. “Bet me.” Doreen raised her glass in toast. “Loser buys the next round.”

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Collier stifled a laugh. Her twelve-dollar booze for Julietta’s fivedollar iced tea. What a sport. “The men can verify,” Julietta offered. “They know our ages.” Doreen snorted, tucking a strand of cocoa brown behind her ear that broke free again. “Some women are known to embellish their age a bit.” Collier’s head snapped to the right. “What's this? You mean you’ve been a crotchety old hag all along and never told me?” She batted her lashes in faux innocence. “I may splash color on the truth from time to time. Not like you. You’re a paragon of virtue.” Until yesterday, anyway. Julietta appeared to give the matter thought. “Driver’s licenses, then?” The pair whipped out pocketbooks like weapons at a high noon showdown. Chits of plastic were exchanged while the men looked on with mild amusement. A quick glance over Doreen’s shoulder told Collier all he needed to know. Doreen gasped. “You’re thirty-five?” “Told you,” Julietta beamed in triumph. “Three years older.” Doreen appeared duly impressed, with a side order of envy. “You win—and look fabulous.” She turned to him again. “Doesn’t she look fabulous, Collier?” And the no-win questions just keep on coming. His eyes flew to Julietta’s face, where warmth flooded her cheeks. He nodded. “Absolutely.” Craig’s arm shot forth to possess the back of his wife’s chair. “I’d say both ladies at this table are extraordinary credits to their gender.” “Now that,” Collier said, “is diplomacy.” Doreen beamed. “And truer words were never spoken.” Several trays of food arrived, and with great fanfare the waiter and two assistants deposited culinary artwork in front of the group. Every platter was a perfect ecosystem of form and color, and each foodstuff had been sculpted into epicurean origami. Tomatoes became

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rosebuds, and cucumbers were transformed into wide-mouthed salmon. Collier’s crab legs were massive, almost reaching over to the next table. They were nestled on a bed of lemon wheels with a tiny, perfect sprig of parsley centered on each. He and Julietta, whose lobster was the size of a small bus, were given silver shell crackers, drawn garlic butter, and small fluted bowls containing white cloths floating in lemon ice water. Craig grunted in apparent satisfaction at the county-size slab of steak on his platter. Doreen, as always, was the holdout. She gazed in distress at the ornate ballet of salad in front of her, as though she couldn’t quite comprehend what she was seeing. Then she looked up at the waiter and blinked. “I asked for a half-portion.” José gave a single nod. “Yes, ma’am. That is the half-portion.” She picked up her fork, using it to point accusation at her bowl. “This salad could feed a third world country.” Collier rolled his eyes, but to his credit their waiter kept his smile lodged in place. “Shall I bring a side salad instead?” “No, never mind.” She scowled at the offending lettuce. “Pity so much will go to waste, though.” She stabbed her fork into a lemon wedge, signaling that the ceremonial bashing of food was over and dinner could now begin. Conversation dulled as the group dug in. Halfway into the process of plucking succulent strips of tender crab from bright red hiding places, Collier looked up to see that the size of Julietta’s world had shrunk to the plate in front of her. He smiled at her utter concentration while she maneuvered the silver shell crackers to expertly draw out tender white flesh, dip it into drawn butter, and pop the rich delight between her full lips. Every now and then her eyes fluttered closed in epicurean orgasm, much the way she had looked while riding him earlier. This woman knew her way around a lobster shell. He licked his lips when she did the same, barely conscious that he’d done it. Gods help him, but even mealtimes were undeniably erotic when she was around. If there was one thing Collier loved, it was a woman

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who could eat. A woman who could eat and still look as good as Julietta, well... Christ, had the words “love” and “Julietta” just occurred in the same thought? His heart gave a curious skip as he gaped at the woman who seemed oblivious to anything outside her own plate. Shit. Was he ever in trouble.

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Chapter Nine Julietta tucked into her dinner with vigor, a feat for which she deserved a medal considering the emerald laser sights targeting her from across the table. Collier’s five-alarm stare turned her stomach into a butterfly racetrack. A nervous twitch of her fork sent a splat of garlic butter careening into the napkin on her lap, and she sighed as she put a bite of the sinfully delicious meat to her lips. For god’s sake, what the hell was he staring at? Hadn’t he ever seen a woman eat? Did she have parsley stuck up her nose? What? The others seemed somehow immune to the stare of death. Craig was busy adding another pint of butter and sour cream to his baked potato while Doreen spent several minutes chasing the same cherry tomato around her bowl. Now there was a woman who didn’t slop butter on the fine linens at a seventy-dollar-a-plate restaurant. One who surely never gained an ounce, either, because she only ate the garnish at any given meal. “Slow down, honey.” Craig nodded at her plate. “Save room for dessert later.” She smiled at him. “I don’t think I could fit in so much as a Jell-O square after this.” His smile slid into something X-rated. “That’s not the kind of dessert I meant.” Doreen snickered and made a motion that may well have been a kick under the table. “You’re so evil,” she said. “And in mixed company, too.” Craig’s responding flinch seemed to confirm the kick under the table theory. He gave Doreen a smug grin before returning to his slab

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of meat. A loud thrum of music sounded from across the room, and an assortment of singles and pairs responded to the mating call of the Eurythmic’s Sweet Dreams by filing onto the generous dance floor. Collier threw more sharp glances her way while she tried to scoop a pile of rice pilaf onto her fork. She leaned farther over her plate than perhaps was polite, hoping the grains would make it into her mouth before launching off her quivering silverware. It was impossible to eat with him sitting across from her. What was she doing here, having an innocent double date with him and his “not my girlfriend?” A sudden wave of heat swept over her, and she could feel color rising steadily from her neck into her face. When she could take no more she pushed back from the table. “Excuse me,” she mumbled. Perhaps a few minutes in the relative sanctuary of the lavatory would help her gather her wits. To her chagrin, sitting in the stall for several minutes, cooling off with several brisk splashes of water on her face, and staring in the mirror long enough to win some puzzled looks from other women did nothing to wind down her emotional turmoil. Even worse, when she finally ducked out of the bathroom she found Collier leaning lazily against the wall, waiting for her. “Hey,” he said, moving closer to her ear and raising his voice to compete with the music. “Are you all right?” Julietta ignored a shiver in response to his proximity. “You followed me to the bathroom?” she shouted over the din. “That reads kind of desperate, don’t you think?” “I want to show you something.” She snorted. “I’ll bet.” “I’m serious. I excused myself not long after you left in order to see for myself.” “See what?” “Just stand here a minute and watch.” Her hands went to her hips. “What exactly am I watching?” “Them.”

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He nodded out of the darkened hallway. She saw that several more couples had snaked out onto the dance floor, writhing in time to Dirty Dancing. She shrugged. “Yeah, so nobody here would make the second round of The Next Dance Phenomenon. So what?” “Just wait.” She leaned against the wall, hugging her arms around herself while Collier’s body heat and musky aftershave made a valiant attempt to intoxicate her. About the time she was ready to stomp off and end this game, something caught her eye. Craig and Doreen—the former sporting a wicked grin and the latter a bit unsteady on her feet—flung themselves onto the dance floor together. “Huh,” she said. “How’d you know they’d do that?” “I told you. They’re into each other.” “Oh, please.” She pushed off from the wall and turned to face him. “A dance hardly constitutes rabid lust. You said yourself Doreen is friendly. They’re just being polite.” “Trust me, her versions of friendly and polite aren’t that innocent.” She thought about the kick under the table. “Did you catch them playing footsie while I was gone or something?” He shook his head. “I just know that woman out there. And I know a guy who’s cruising.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re just determined to make them guilty of our game, aren’t you? If you ask me, the two of us hiding in the shadows together is worse than what they’re doing.” His fiery gaze broke into a heart-stopping grin. “You don’t like hiding out with me?” “No, I don’t.” “Fine.” He snatched her by the hand and in several long strides had managed to drag her over to the border between the carpet and parquet dance floor. Julietta tried unsuccessfully to pull back, her heels clicking in rapid fire as they went. Dots of color from the

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overhead disco lighting traced whirling patterns along the floor. She gave a final tug that halted their progress and he turned to her. The speckled lights crept up along his shirt and snaked over his face. “What are you doing?” She hissed the demand through gritted teeth. “Dancing.” She drew back. “Not with me.” “Yes. With you.” Collier pulled her against him and started swaying in a smoldering rhythm. While the singer dithered on about having the time of her life, Julietta tried to extricate herself. “Let me go.” He responded by gripping her tighter. Before, she’d only been fighting off his arms. Now there was an aching throb and damp heat between her legs where his pelvis was swaying against her, potent reminders of how they had fit together. Her voice lowered, breathless. “Stop it, Collier. Please. Not here.” His reply was a hot whisper against her ear. “Yes. Here.” “They’ll see us.” The return smile shot through her with all the innocence of a bullet seeking its target. “So? They’re doing the same thing.” His gaze and hard body tingled through her until the hair on her arms stood on end. She swallowed while the music crooned something about what she couldn’t get enough of. She frowned up at him. “Stop looking at me like that.” He held her just far enough away so that his eyes could do the electric slide along the contours of her body. “If you didn't want me to look you should have worn a different dress.” “I didn’t wear it for your benefit.” He snorted and glanced around. “You don’t even realize that half the men in this room have their eyes on you, do you?” He nodded at her exposed cleavage. “It doesn’t much matter who you meant it for. You’re sexy as hell, and men notice. Enjoy it.” Collier moved them through a set of undulating, swirling paces.

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His feet moved with mathematical precision and his arms commanded her without effort. She relaxed and gave in to the motion, her eyelids fluttering over the slight dizzy sensation she felt whenever she was around him. The man had a PhD in dance, among other things, and the beat of the music pounded her pulse into a hypnotic rhythm. Every glance she risked into his eyes pooled heat in her stomach, every sway of his hips brought memories of the way his hard cock had felt thrusting inside of her. The way he cried out when they climaxed together. Their moments of stolen sex overlapped with the dance until she was no longer certain where one ended and the other began. God, was she ever in trouble. Without warning Collier’s motion slowed like a car moving from the freeway to a side street. “Hey there.” Her eyes shot open to find Craig and Doreen swaying next to her in a not entirely respectable fashion. Collier’s grip had loosened considerably, but her husband still gazed at them with curious interest. She swallowed the heart beat pounding in her throat and offered a brave smile while Craig addressed Collier. “Nice moves, buddy. I see you’re not afraid to tear up a dance floor.” “Oh, he’s quite the Fred Astaire,” Doreen said with a laugh. Her hips rode back and forth under the gauzy white fabric of her dress. Her upper half managed to sway in perfect opposition to her hips, giving her the languid appearance of a writhing boa. One of her arms rested loosely over Craig’s right shoulder, the other lifted a brown sheen of hair off the back of her neck. If Collier was Fred, Doreen must be Ginger. Or a lap dancer. Doreen dropped her hair and made a point of fanning her face. “So hot out here.” Craig nodded. “That it is.” There was a tone in his reply that registered on Julietta’s radar. Part of her wanted to do something outrageous to snap them all back to reality—like grab Collier’s tight ass. Surely all of them knew a thin

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line was being tread on? Maybe she was just being paranoid. What was wrong with dancing, even if some slithering was involved? As she watched her ex hang on Doreen, she realized that she honestly no longer cared what Craig did anymore, or who he did it with. Shouldn’t a woman being wooed into canceling a divorce feel somewhat possessive toward her partner? She frowned at the knowledge that she didn’t feel that way about him. She didn’t feel anything. Collier broke off their contact, leaving her with an abrupt void while he held his hands out to Doreen. “May I?” He cut in on Craig just as the jungle beat of American Woman fired up, driving the mass of dancers into a new frenzy. Craig’s hesitation was fleeting, but she spotted it. Collier took hold of Doreen and swayed off, leaving Julietta standing in the midst of writhing bodies. After a moment Craig moved to her and she turned into his arms, pasting on a smile while they moved together in a familiar rhythm. Familiar, except that his stare was more heated and intense than she’d ever seen on him before. He held her in that gaze through the entire song, then another, until she declared exhaustion. As she forced herself to meet that gaze, she wondered wither Collier was wrong about her husband and Doreen. Craig obviously wanted Julietta. A ping-pong match between self-loathing and doubt bounced around her chest as the couples single-filed back to their table in silence. There, a surprise lay waiting that sent bile churning in her stomach. Four red envelopes sat on the table, one at each place setting.

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Chapter Ten Return to your suite and wait in the front room. Your lover will come to you. Do as he asks without question. The directions were simple enough, yet Julietta could not stop shaking when she returned to her suite. When she opened the door, she gasped at the transformation. The sitting room was awash in candlelight. A glow from tiny tea lights housed in cut glass holders illuminated the scene with a fire play of flickering motion. Dozens of candles appeared replicated into hundreds, thanks to the strategic use of mirrors and the reflection from the sliding glass door. Champagne sat chilling in a silver bucket. The set up for this must have begun practically the moment she’d left the suite for dinner. Impressive. She wandered to the slider door. The heavens wore an inky skirt of night and the moon dotted glittering highlights onto the sea. Wanting to be part of it, she cracked the door open just enough for a breeze to toss a few strands of her hair and send nearby candles into an undulating dance. The erotic motion of the candle flames reminded her of the dance performance Doreen had given earlier. Had it really been Julietta that had gotten Craig hot? She wandered back to the settee and kicked off her white sling back pumps before sinking gratefully onto the plush upholstery. Craig would return soon, and would expect the red envelopes to carry them into a night of unbridled passion. They were still married, and though she’d had misgivings from the very start about this trip she’d come to let him try and zap their dying union with a final shot of romantic CPR. She probably owed Craig one final try after everything she’d

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done. Not that he was any the wiser. The soft moan of the tide and mesmerizing flickers of candlelight conspired against her thoughts, descending on her like a velvety blanket. The day’s overdose of sun, fresh air, and sea insisted that she shut her eyes for a much needed rest. She fought the urge, but by the time she heard a soft rap at the door her eyes had fluttered closed. Craig must have forgotten his key. Or perhaps this was part of his envelope’s gimmick. She got to her feet despite protest from cranky muscles and crept to the door. In a moment of reverse déjà vu, she pulled it open to find Collier standing in the hall, looking drop-dead sexy with yet another button on his shirt undone and his hair ruffled from the breeze on the walk back from dinner. At his side he held a bunch of island orchids wrapped in lavender cellophane, pointed down so the flower tops stared at the carpet. She knew the look on her face must be similar to the one he’d worn earlier when she'd been the one standing in his hall. Your lover will come to you. Do as he asks without question. She startled at the thought. “Is this some sort of joke?” she said, propping her hip against the door frame. He frowned. “What are you talking about?” She started to ask if he’d switched envelopes, then changed her mind. “Nothing. What are you doing here?” She lowered her voice. “What if Craig had answered the door?” Collier shrugged. “I know where he is. He’s...getting ready.” Swallowing at the implication, she cocked her head toward the bouquet. “You came bearing gifts?” The flowers jerked upright. “These aren't for you.” “Oh.” Of course not. They were for his red envelope partner. He sighed. “Maybe they are for you.” He glanced around the hall, as if the words he couldn’t seem to find might be spray painted on the walls. She watched emotions flicker over his face. “Why did you come

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here?” He plucked at a velvety orchid petal. “I was downstairs getting flowers for tonight’s sexcapade, but all I could think about was you.” The words clenched her stomach. “Collier...” “I let you talk when you were at my door. Now it’s my turn.” She folded her arms. “All right.” His green eyes bored into her with a primal sort of power, and she had to force herself to hold his gaze. “When we saw the red envelopes at our table,” he said, “it seemed like the four of us barely said goodbye before rushing off to spend the night with our partners. But I think we left with the wrong people. You and I did, at least.” She shook her head. “We left with the people we chose to come here with.” “That doesn’t make them the right people.” He nodded toward the elevator. “Craig will be here any minute to do whatever things to you that it says in his envelope. Do you really, honestly want to be here when he arrives?” Her stomach somersaulted. “He’s my husband. Why wouldn’t I want to be here?” “Ex-husband. And because you know there’s something better.” He took a tiny step closer. “Us.” She cocked her head. “Oh, so now there’s an ‘us’?” “You know there is. You felt it last night when I made love to you.” She swallowed when he moved closer. “And this afternoon in my room.” His final step brought him close to her lips. “And again in my arms on the dance floor.” Despite the panicked flutter of her pulse, she resisted the urge to step back and put space between them. If she did, he might press his advantage and come right inside the room. Her voice creaked when she spoke. “That’s not the issue.” “It’s more than an issue. It’s everything.” He waved the flowers. “Come with me, Julietta. Right now. Be with me tonight.” Her mouth fell open. “Are you serious? You’d do that to your

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girlfriend? Dump her and take off with me, just like that?” “She’s not my girlfriend, and it’s not dumping her. It’s admitting a truth I should have known long before I brought her here.” “Well, that’s not how I work. I can’t just disappear and let Craig come back to a Dear John letter! I’d be no better than he was.” “Even when you know your marriage is a lie? That it can’t work between you?” Her volume spiked. “Who says it can’t?” “You did, when you filed for divorce.” “I came here to try and give the marriage another chance.” “Yes, you did.” Collier crossed his arms, the bouquet wrapper crinkling under his arm. “And you wound up in my bed.” A rush of crimson flooded her cheeks. “By accident!” “No.” He shook his head. “Maybe at first it was, but you stayed with me after you realized the mix up. You made love to me again.” He stroked a finger along the delicate hollow of her throat. “Because deep down, you know it is already over with Craig.” His voice turned as gentle as the touch that was feathering her arousal. “That’s why you want my hands on you over and over. Why I can make you feel like this.” She gritted her teeth against the transmission of pleasure between her collarbone and pelvis when his fingers brushed her skin. “Isn’t it better to admit that now, not after you take him back and realize it was all a huge mistake?” His presumption was infuriating, as was the notion that she was interested in running out on her marriage for a guy into open relationships. “My huge mistake was sleeping with another man.” Her voice climbed another rung on the Richter scale. “You don’t know anything about me. I’m not stupid. I know all I am to you is a conquest so you can keep the playing field level with Doreen.” “That isn’t true. You mean more to me than that.” She ignored the rebuttal. “But despite recent evidence to the contrary, I’m not about notching my bedpost or cheating on my partner. Consider my actions temporary insanity, but I’m as clear as

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crystal now about what happened between you and me. I’m not interested in playing change-your-partner, do-si-do.” His gaze narrowed to a dangerous simmer. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” She waved him away. “Go back to your perfect bachelorhood, Collier. Go back to Doreen. She’s waiting for you. I’m not.” Without awaiting his reply she shut the door, nearly clipping his nose in the process. She leaned heavily on the door and tried to slow the heartbeat pounding war drums in her ears. Just who the hell did he think he was? Hot rage prickled her neck at the thought of the game he was playing. He thought it would be fun to show up to a weekend vacation with one chick and leave with another. Lather, Rinse, Repeat. No thanks. She wandered back to the couch. All the romantic candlelight now felt hot and suffocating. The sort of X-rated round robin Collier and Doreen were into probably happened at places like this all the time, so no doubt he expected Julietta to be game. But she was here for a trial reunification, not a drunken Spring Break fuckfest. Her pulse was still beating out all the angry words she’d never say to Collier when the front door clicked open several minutes later. The tempo of her heart changed to guilt when Craig entered the suite with his arms full of thornless, long-stemmed red roses. Even more surprising was the erection bulging in his trousers. Her heart thudded harder. He must really want this chance with her. She owed it to him—and to her own sense of decency—to go through with this. She rose from the couch and offered a weak smile. “Hi.” He stopped several paces from her. The gleam in his eyes was no mere trick of candlelight. “Take off your dress,” he said. The botanical garden in his arms dropped to the carpet, save for a solitary rose he twirled between his thumb and forefinger with a teasing motion. Then he pointed the rosebud toward the pile on the floor. “Then kneel here.” The insistence that she should tell him the truth hammered at her

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chest while she reached behind her for the dress zipper. Still, to reveal her secret would do more harm than good now. She’d just have to drive Collier out of her head once and for all, and then live with guilty remorse forever. A small grimace of sunburn pain stabbed through her raw skin while she shrugged off her dress. She stood before him wearing only sheer nylons that left nothing shrouded in mystery. He'd seen it all before anyway, but she was still shaking. His next command came as soon as she was on her knees before him. “Close your eyes.” She complied, and soon gave an involuntary shudder when a whisper-light stroke brushed her cheek. The scent was heady with perfume. He was using the tip of the rosebud as an instrument of arousal, a romantic gesture that should have been enough to drive her into doing anything he wanted. Yet her ragged breathing was born out of nagging guilt and the belief that this was owed to him, rather than out of fiery lust he no doubt hoped he was unleashing. All of a sudden his tempo sped up. She felt a firm yank at her pantyhose, then the rose went straight for the kill between her labia while his other hand busied itself twisting one of her nipples. “I’m so hard my cock could dent steel,” he whispered. “Can we skip these instructions and go right to the Jacuzzi? I want to spray your clit with water from the retractable hose while I fuck you from behind.” Well! Panic fluttered through her at the fast-forward. So much for romance. Still, Craig had never shown such a fierce desire to have sex with her before. Maybe things would work out if she’d only let go to allow it. Forget past mistakes. There were worse things than having Jacuzzi bubbles fizz against her entire body while he directed a stream of water right where it counted. Her eyes fluttered open to find him bending toward her, and she wavered with indecision. Could she really let this night roll forward? Then she focused on an odd discoloration dotting his neck and collar. Blood? She frowned at it. No, not blood. Lipstick. A match for

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Doreen’s shade. Craig must have caught the odd look on her face. “What’s wrong?” “You’re screwing around with Doreen.” It wasn’t a question, and she was surprised to note she still felt no emotion while she said it. She was merely making an observation. The pause was little more than a hiccup’s worth, but it was there. “What are you talking about?” She nodded to the evidence. “Is your neck the only part of you wearing streetwalker red, or should I check your cock for lip prints?” His brown eyes widened. “That must have gotten there when I danced with her earlier.” Julietta shook her head. “I danced with you right afterward. That mark wasn’t there.” She eyed him. “Where were you just now?” The sigh that followed was a great deal wearier and more resigned than she’d have liked. “I didn’t fuck Doreen. But the opportunity was presented.” “What do you mean, ‘presented’?” They were both on their feet now, standing among the fallen roses. Julietta’s arms covered her bare breasts. “I saw her downstairs and she suggested we hook up.” He shrugged. “I guess I should say it wasn’t the first time. She did let herself in the suite by mistake our first night here.” “Really. And the lipstick?” He turned and sank down on the nearby couch. “Hey, she’s attractive and put it out there. I’m a guy, and we’d both been drinking.” “So?” “So we kissed a bit, and she put my hands on her. She was naked under her dress, for Christ’s sake! But I didn’t go further. I came to you instead.” This explained the raging hard-on he had walked in with, and his rush to cut to the chase. No doubt he’d wanted to fuck Julietta while

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he still had a clear memory of Doreen to fantasize about. Her heart pistoned against her sternum. He’d groped and kissed another woman, and yet she didn’t feel betrayed. She just felt ridiculous for defending him to Collier. What truly bothered her was that he hadn’t been honest about it. Of course, she hadn’t been honest, either. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she said. “You wouldn’t even admit she was here the night of the mix up.” His laugh was a shrill staccato. “And you’d have believed me, after everything that happened before?” The words sank like granite in her stomach. No matter what his part in this had been, the finger of betrayal-by-omission had to twist around to herself. “I slept with Collier.” The confession hung in the air between them before she realized it had tumbled out. Craig’s mouth fell open as she stuttered to catch up. “Last night, when I was in the wrong room. It was an accident. I thought it was you.” She sighed at the partial truth. “At first.” His eyes flew wide, then they narrowed. A handful of beats went by without an answer, without Craig moving at all. Then he blasted out of his seat like lit dynamite. “I fuckin’ knew it! The way that son of a bitch humped you on that dance floor.” His violent reaction shocked her into defensive mode. “We were just dancing, not having sex. Not like what that tramp Doreen was doing.” “Dancing is sex, darling, if it’s done correctly between the right people.” The accusation struck an ugly mark, and the guilt churning in her stomach morphed into incredulity. “Yeah? Seemed you took a few tips from Collier’s lead on the dance floor yourself.” He snorted. “That steroid-pumped pretty boy? Hardly.” His smile turned feral. “Doreen, on the other hand, is quite the tutor on the subject of dance floor fucking.”

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She leaned over, plucked up her dress, and wriggled into it. One angry tug brought the zipper to half mast. “Don’t forget her PhD in Boozing and Basic Adultery. In fact, I’d say she’s perfect for you.” “This from the bitch who left DNA stains in another room. You want to judge me? I don’t fucking think so. You’re just as guilty as I was when I had my affair.” “Wrong. We were married when you hit another woman’s sheets. We’re separated now—practically divorced. It doesn’t count.” He laughed, brows rising. “Really? We're still married, something I plunked down over ten grand this weekend to try and keep. Instead I spent a fortune so my ex could spread her legs for another guy.” Her fists clenched at her sides. “No, you wasted a fortune for me to realize you’re still an inconsiderate bastard.” “So what are you saying? This is about getting your revenge? Fine. I fucked Doreen the night of the room mix up. Happy? Us being separated and all, I guess you’ve got dick to say about it. Though since you’re keeping a tally I guess that means you win another tumble with Collier.” Was he bluffing? Bile pounded in her throat and she threw up her hands. “It was an accident.” More or less. The first time. She shut her eyes. “Funny, that’s what I kept trying to tell you about my affair.” Turning, he stormed for the door. “Where are you going?” “To have the concierge find me another room and change my flight back.” Before she could spit out another word, the door slammed behind him. She was alone.

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Chapter Eleven From an unobtrusive corner of the lobby, Love and Lust stood watching as rolling luggage tick ticked across the marble tiles. “Guess it’s time for your concession speech.” Lust’s thick arms were folded over his broad chest. He watched with a smile of smug victory as the last of the foursome retreated alone to an airport limo shuttle. Sparkles of silvery gold hair glowed around Love like sunlight. “I can’t say I agree with your assessment.” A perfect ebony brow arched in suspicion. “Why is it so hard to admit you’ve been bested?” He gestured over to where a driver was helping Julietta into the back seat of a limousine. “Look at her haunted expression of defeat. These folks got their fill of lust, and now it’s over. Love lost out.” “I think not. Not for all of them, anyway.” “Your stubborn streak is quite strong for a servant of such a mild emotion.” “Mild?” Now it was Love’s turn to raise the perfect arch of a brow. “Haven't you heard the old adage ‘Love conquers all’? Wars waged and lost for the sake of its grip?” Lust rolled jet black eyes. “I’ve heard it time and again—from you. But love is nothing more than useless platitudes printed on greeting cards by bards and wastrels. But lust― now there is a fiery, potent power.” “With no foundation to lay on when the initial flush of hormones has run its course.” Lust flashed a grin of mischievous delight. “Oh, I lay upon

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whatever I can to run my course. Counter tops, pool tables, chill marble floors―” “You know what I mean.” Love’s glassy blue eyes assessed the other god. “Then again, I forgot to whom I’m speaking. You’ve utterly no idea what I mean.” The limo driver finished loading luggage and clicked the trunk lid shut. Lust shrugged. “You can’t deny it was my power that catalyzed this whole thing. Without the fiery passion for fucking that kept them grazing at the sexual trough like starved hogs, this entire affair would have been nothing more than a doddering fools’ weekend. Once the game was up,” he shot a glance at the sleek white vehicle preparing to depart, “there was nothing left but retreat. That’s lust, my friend.” Love gazed at his companion for a long moment, shifting to the limo when it pulled away from the Amante del Mar. A small, but determined smile sparked and lit into a certain fire. “Care to extend our wager?” Lust unfolded his arms to sit fists upon taut, narrow hips. “As in I win, you forever grovel in the knowledge I wield the superior universal force?” The laugh in reply shattered into a multi-cantered echo that drew some questioning mortal eyes, though no doubt they would categorize the sound and the beings’ almost-shimmering aura as odd tricks of lobby acoustics and light. “As in I win, you come to grips with the fact that Love is an unstoppable force, a bind that ties all energy.” Lust’s snort was flat, lacking the melodic depth of Love’s laughter. “Not bloody likely.” Love sighed. “Fine. Whoever loses grants utter supremacy to the victor until next time.” Lust clapped a hand on Love’s back with a thunderous echo. “Deal. So, it’s to be a bit of long distance recon to see what happens to our Fucktastic Foursome?” “After you.”

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**** “Flight 347 will begin pre-boarding shortly. Passengers requiring special assistance may proceed to the gate at this time. Thank you.” The terminal’s air conditioning offered no reprieve from the humidity while Julietta groaned to her feet. The same moisture that had welcomed her to the tropics forty-eight hours earlier now oppressed her, increasing the burden of slinging the strap of her black carry-on bag over her shoulder. She required no special assistance except perhaps a world-class head shrink, but regular boarding would commence soon enough. She might as well be better prepared for leaving the island than she had been for arriving. Craig had made good on his promise to find different lodging the previous night. A contrite bellhop came to retrieve his luggage an hour after his nuclear departure. He’d also failed to check in at the gate, meaning he’d likely gotten another flight. She’d certainly screwed the poodle. Or should she say, the “Steroid-pumped pretty boy”? She frowned, ignoring the angry yowl from her sunburned shoulder as she shifted her bag strap. She’d been guilty and had no one to blame but the puffy-eyed, scowling woman she’d faced in the mirror this morning. Still, Craig’s reaction was rather ironically high on the Richter scale considering his own failures. In the long run, his ill deeds were the catalyst for this whole thing. Maybe he fucked Doreen and maybe he was lying to piss Julietta off, but he had groped, tongued, and fingered the woman despite the fact that he was supposedly desperate to prevent the divorce brought on by his previous infidelity. That didn’t excuse her own shameful actions, but his inability to zip his fly confirmed her misgivings. As much as she hated to admit it, at least some of Collier’s theories about Craig had been right. She glanced along the causeway and frowned. Speak of the Devil. Collier approached the gate, bearing a small leather duffel bag and a

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gaze of iced emerald. Damn, but the man had a knack for materializing when he was in her thoughts. And he found his way into them a hell of a lot more than a man she’d known for two days should. He stopped several tentative paces away. “Hi.” She opted for businesslike calm. “This isn’t your flight, is it?” He shook his head. “I’m two gates over in about an hour.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I just wanted to apologize.” Her arms crossed. “For what?” He shrugged, his massive shoulders tensing under the pleasurable strain of a snug white v-neck. “For the trouble I caused. I heard what happened last night.” “Oh?” “From Doreen.” The name punched at her ego. Not that she cared about Craig’s dalliances any more, but it did sting to think of him running to Doreen to badmouth his wife, then for Doreen to blab it all to Collier. They’d all sat around gossiping while Julietta sat alone in her room, crying. She shrugged. “You were right about the two of them, I hear.” “Doreen admitted they slept together in your suite that first night. ‘Just a bit of fun,’ she called it. She pressed Craig for more, but apparently he was too afraid of being caught with you in the same hotel. However, it might interest you to know that phone numbers were exchanged before he came back to your room last night.” Her voice held a tired edge. “It doesn’t matter anymore. But I’m sorry about Doreen.” Another shrug pitted muscle against cotton. “I came here to see where we were headed, and now I know. I just wished I could have...” he broke off, his eyes meeting hers with a cloud of uncertainty that wrenched her gut. She swallowed. “You wish what?” His jaw tensed and he looked away. “That I hadn’t missed out on

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the ocean. Turned out Doreen lives at the beach, but can’t stand water. Go figure.” Julietta offered a wan smile. “That’s a shame. It was truly wonderful.” “Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I should have stayed away after I knew you were married, and I didn’t. I behaved badly.” She blew a breath upward to deflect the feathery strands of hair falling across her cheeks, but the humidity held them in place. “You didn’t force me, Collier. It wasn’t your fault.” He held his hands in front of him. “I still feel somewhat responsible. I know I made some judgment calls about your relationship, said things I had no right to. I didn’t mean to break up your marriage.” “You didn’t. And some of what you said I needed to hear.” His eyes glinted with unspoken words she was probably just imagining he wanted to say to her. His gaze was unsettling enough for her to shift her stare to the ground. She winced when she shrugged the bag off her shoulder to change sides. “Is that sunburn still pretty bad?” She nodded. “I didn’t think skin could get any redder, but this morning my back looked like a blotchy port wine stain.” The loudspeaker hissed back to life, announcing general boarding. Julietta tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s me.” He reached for her bag. “Let me carry this to the gate, save you a couple minutes’ sunburn pain.” She flushed and handed it over, wondering whether she’d ever be free of pain again. “Thanks.” “Julietta, I...” He was cut off by an ugly voice. “Ain’t this just peach fuckin’ brandy.” Craig’s swagger suggested he had just come from the airport bar. Several of them, perhaps. He came within firing range of Julietta’s

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face and the smell of booze drenched her. “I came to see if we can call things even and move on. Now I see you already have moved on―with him.” Julietta dialed her voice down, praying he’d do the same. “For god’s sake, Craig, I’m not here with Collier.” He spit out a laugh. “Oh, so he’s just a mirage? He’s not standing here with your bag? It’s obvious you’re boarding the flight together.” A few curious eyes swiveled their way. “He’s not getting on the plane with me.” “I’m not an idiot. Or maybe I am, for beating myself up over my mistake when you were no damn better. I suppose you were screwing around while we were married, too.” Her cheeks burned. “Stop it. That’s a lie.” Turning to Collier, Craig’s grin turned nasty. “You here to join the Mile High Club with my wife? Or shall I say, the World’s Biggest Fucking Whore.” Collier’s face went blank for half a beat, and then his fist lashed out of nowhere. Before Julietta realized what happened Craig went down, clutching his nose and crying out in pain and anger. “Shit!” His tone was nasal and whimpering while he knelt on the ground. “My face! You bastard.” “Best to let these things heal naturally,” Collier said. “A little pain’s hardly worth lining the drug companies’ pockets.” He turned to Julietta, who stood frozen. He flexed the fingers he’d probably just bruised on Craig’s face. For several seconds their eyes met, setting loose an endless loop of charged emotion inside of her until a flurry of activity around them suggested security had been summoned. Then without a word, Collier Blair turned and walked out of her life.

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Chapter Twelve Why in the hell was this entire gym gray? Collier scowled at the room as he grabbed a towel abandoned on the back of a rowing machine. Everything in Atlas 24-Hour Fitness was drowning in mundane grays, from the rugged carpet tiles to the high gloss paint on the walls. Even the machines creaked and sighed in tones of gray and black. Staff wore tight black tees emblazoned with the company logo, coupled with tighter black spandex workout shorts. Black counted in his book, too, since it was the far extreme of gray. Hell, even the silvery mirror surfaces counted. Though he’d never even noticed it before, today the dreary color grated on him like coarse sandpaper. Perhaps because it was a perfect match for his mood, one that had him growing steadily less enamored with his life by the day. A redhead sauntered by with a flirty wink. “Hey, handsome. Looking good.” He offered a polite smile. “Thanks. You, too.” She paused to toss her hair back and took a swig off a sport bottle of water. Jill had been after him for weeks, and any guy worth his Gatorade would be jumping her hard by now. No baggy sweats on this chick. Her clingy leotards told him all he needed to know about a well-oiled hourglass figure, aquamarine eyes, and flexible limbs. A quite attractive package, but Collier couldn’t give half a hot damn. What the hell was wrong with him? She took his three word reply as an invitation to chat. “So, working hard, or hardly working?” “Somewhere in between.”

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She dabbed shiny sweat from her chest. “Great workout today.” He nodded, willing her to leave him alone and hit the showers. Collier had slumped around like an empty shell for three months now. Ever since the day he’d left Julietta to fly back to his “perfect bachelorhood,” as she’d called it. He gave a sarcastic snort at the thought, which Jill seemed to interpret as something more personal. With a slight frown she said, “Well, a full day planner calls. Catch ya later.”A tight ass swished every which way while she retreated to the shower room. Perfect bachelorhood. What a contradiction of terms. Since splitting up with Doreen in the Bahamas, Collier had heard from her once. She left a voice mail asking if her Amante del Mar T-shirt wound up in his luggage by mistake. She was fishing, he knew, looking to strap her boy toy back on his long leash so she could throw the words, “I’m seeing a personal trainer on the side,” into certain conversations. He’d never cared before, because he’d done pretty much the same in return. But she wasn’t the one he was hang-dogging over like an idiot. A trio of joggers raced along their treadmills, going nowhere. Tiring of the sight he turned away, groaning inwardly at a new, even more disturbing view. He wasn’t really seeing this, was he? Not again. Collier stalked over to the weight room, where a poser of maybe twenty-two was attempting to lift more than his own body weight with no spotter in sight. Puffs of white dust flew up as the guy grabbed hold of the weight bar. Chalky residue smeared his arms and the loose gold tank top he wore. All the chalk in the world wouldn’t keep the bar from crushing his sternum. Stupid kid. “Hey, Collier.” Frowning, he split his attention between rescuing the soon-to-beflatter wannabe to the wiry blond coworker half-jogging toward him. Chad drew alongside while Collier headed for the not-so-hard body. “There’s a new start for you at the desk.”

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Collier shook a negative. “I’m busy. You take it.” “This one requested you personally. Probably one of your privates recommended you.” The reference to privates meant Collier’s in-home clientele, not anything below his waist. Collier turned in acquiescence, thumbing toward the kid who was blowing out several breaths in preparation for the lift that would never happen. “Fine. Just go spot Macho Man over there before he breaks something.” Running a hand through his hair, he made his way past the cardio room and a row of ellipticals. Probably some old spinster had heard about him and wanted a bit of excitement to jazz up her workout routine. He got a lot of hopeful, ogling seniors. Or not. He froze, his breath catching in his throat over the vision standing at the front desk. Her corn silk hair was caught up high in a casual ponytail. Her skin shimmered with the golden sheen of a recent tan. Somehow, he found his feet and a somewhat astonished version of his voice. “Julietta?” She opened her arms with a meek smile. “Surprise.” His heart jack hammered almost too hard to hear his reply. “What are you doing here?” Her smile wavered a bit. “I live out here now. Near El Segundo.” El Segundo was fifteen miles away. Vegas was better than three hundred. He recovered enough to allow his smile to revive hers. “That is a surprise. But how did you find me? I never mentioned which gym I work at.” Her steel eyes sparkled against the harsh fluorescent lights like gems. Never had gray looked so good. “It wasn’t easy. Hasn’t anyone in this town heard of being listed in the phone book?” He shrugged. “So you just happened to find me here? That’s a pretty amazing coincidence.” “Hardly. I hit loads of gyms until I finally found somebody who

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knew you.” She’d been searching for him. “How long did that take?” “Two months.” A brow went up. “Wow.” She shrugged. “I’ve been through more trial memberships than I can count, but I’ve got gluts to die for now.” His heart tripped over her smile. “You had gluts to die for back in the Bahamas.” Jill wandered by, wearing a hot pink scoop neck tank with an Atlas gym bag slung across one shoulder. She beamed at the sight of his smiling face, until her gaze shifted to the source of his happiness. Then her smile slid. “Nice chatting with you again, Collier,” she said, waggling her fingers in a jaunty wave. “See you tomorrow.” He shifted back to a smirking Julietta. “This all sounds like an awful lot of trouble to go to just for a psychotic need to get even with your husband.” Julietta crossed her arms under breasts even more magnificent than Collier remembered. “Ex husband. It’s official now. That’s part of why I moved, really. Things got awkward, being in the same town with lots of the same friends. I needed a fresh start.” He took a small step closer, his voice softening to drape their conversation in the finest silk he could spin. “Part of why you moved? What’s the other part?” “Why did I come here instead of Alaska, you mean?” “And join every gym in the county?” She blew out a deep breath. “You were right about me, Collier. I was hanging on to something unhealthy in fear that it was better than nothing. But when you left me standing in that airport, I realized I was guilty of something far worse.” His brows knit. “Which was?” “Holding onto nothing in fear of embracing something right.” She pulled the towel off her shoulder and wrung it between her hands. “We were total strangers that night, and what happened was an

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accident. Only, it wasn’t. Part of me knew from the moment you touched me it couldn’t be Craig making me feel so treasured. So valuable.” She dropped her voice to a private whisper. “When you were inside me and I knew for sure it wasn’t him, I still couldn’t stop. Not because I was too gone with mindless passion, but because I wanted the man who could make me feel that way. I wanted you.” Collier’s heart pounded. He pushed his reply through suddenly parched lips. “And that scared you.” “It terrified me, but not because I didn’t wanted to be treated well, like you said. I just hated thinking I’d lowered myself to Craig’s level. I didn’t want to end a marriage for another man.” “Understandable.” She sighed. “In the end, I realized that wasn’t the case. I’d left him for myself. I may have been guilty of a few things that weekend, but Craig was guilty of being the same man I’d married. I knew it the moment we got on the plane together, but stupidly let myself be swept along because I was afraid he’d be upset after all the money he’d spent. Like I deserved it, since I let him wear me down into coming. Maybe I did somehow think it was better to be with a man who didn’t care enough to rub damned sun screen on me than to not matter at all to anyone.” Collier crooked a finger under her chin. “You do matter.” Her smile lit up his heart. “I know. And you knew. Sleeping with you wasn’t my mistake, Collier. Running away was. I’m so sorry.” She sighed, reaching up with two delicate hands to close them over the one he’d tucked under her chin. “I had to try and find you, apologize for my behavior.” She paused to look up from under wispy bangs. “And ask whether I’m too late for another chance.” He reached his other hand out to stroke blonde away from her smooth face. “You want some breakfast?” She shot him a quizzical look. “What?” He shrugged. “You know, breakfast. Most important meal of the

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day?” “Yeah, I’m familiar with the term.” She chuckled. “I had yogurt and mineral water earlier.” Collier made a disgusted face. “No, I mean a platter of fresh fruit, potatoes, eggs, maybe a ham steak. Served with a view of the ocean?” She laughed. “Oh. You mean breakfast.” “I know a perfect spot over on the Coast Highway.” His eyes glittered with mischief. “Humor a guy for old times’ sake? I’ve always loved a woman who can eat.” Her eyes twinkled with a joy that painted over the dreary gray in Collier’s world. “I’ve always loved a man who thinks he can beat me at it.” “You’re on. Wait here.” At light speed Collier raced back to the lockers to peel off his black shirt, putting on a fresh replacement he thought might bring a smile. After grabbing his gym bag and keys, he made his way back to the front counter where Chad was laying out a stack of fresh towels. “I’m going out for a while,” he told him. “I’ll be back before my shift is over.” He glanced at Julietta, whose grin doubled in size when she saw his shirt. His stomach somersaulted. “Or I might not.” Chad’s eyes went supernova. “You can’t leave in the middle of your shift! Where are you going?” “Tell the boss I had an emergency.” He walked up to Julietta’s side, arm circling her waist. A smile breached Chad’s lips. “Yeah? What kind of emergency?” Collier shrugged. “A romantic, fresh air and all-you-can-eat one. Oh”—he waved an arm around to gesture at the room—“did you realize this place is entirely gray? Looks like the inside of a damn battleship. It’s depressing.” Julietta poked a finger at his chest. “I dig your shirt. I have one just like it at home.” “I got it on vacation where I met the most incredible woman.” They walked out into an impossibly bright summer morning. Just

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outside, he stopped. “Wait. I forgot something.” “What?” She tossed her towel back over her shoulder. “Your matching Amante del Mar sun block?” “No.” He whirled her toward him, lowering his face to hers. “This.” She melded her curves to him and he lost himself within the passionate magic of her lips. Take that, perfect bachelorhood. Somewhere over the universe of their kiss, Collier could swear he heard golden laughter rippling around them like sunshine, and a breeze whispering Love wins.

THE END HTTP://JROSEALLISTER.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR J. Rose Allister pens her stories from a desk halfway between Los Angeles and Palm Springs, CA, where she often dreams of magical, tropical getaways. She enjoys gardening, movies, and cooking for her family.

Also by J. Rose Allister Siren PolyAmour: Kata Sutra Siren Classic: Bewitching Love Siren Allure: Sinful Ella and the Wolf

Available at BOOKSTRAND.COM

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com