Resisting Romeo (Steamy Weekends Book 3)

by Melanie Shawn

  Resisting Romeo

  by

  MELANIE SHAWN

  Melanie Shawn © 2019

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission in writing from Melanie Shawn. Exceptions are limited to reviewers who may use brief quotations in connection with reviews. No part of this book can be transmitted, scanned, reproduced, or distributed in any written or electronic form without written permission from Melanie Shawn.

  This book is a work of fiction. Places, names, characters and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic content. It is intended only for those aged 18 and older.

  Cover Design by Wildcat Dezigns

  Copyedit by Deanna McDonald

  Book Design by BB eBooks

  Published by Red Hot Reads Publishing

  Rev. 1.0

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Stay tuned for more Steamy Weekends

  A Note From Melanie and Shawna

  Other Titles by Melanie Shawn

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  Juliette

  I’m still a virgin.

  I thought as I sat in my boss’s office and tapped my foot on the ground as I stared blankly at my iPad. I was trying to concentrate on the meeting that would be taking place as soon as he arrived, but my mind was preoccupied with my sexual status. I was two days away from a milestone birthday, which also happened to be the twelve-year anniversary of an epically humiliating attempt at losing my virginity. It seemed to be all I could think about.

  I was going to be a thirty-year-old virgin.

  As crazy as it sounds, it never occurred to me that would be the case. I’d hoped to lose my virginity over a decade ago, and in the dozen years since, I still hadn’t been able to make that happen.

  Being a Type A, perfectionist, germaphobe wasn’t making turning in my V-card any easier, but I’d been working on all of those issues and felt like I’d made great strides in getting them under control. Surely I should’ve been able to have sex with someone during the past decade, plus it had been on my to-do list. And I always finished my to-do lists.

  It wasn’t that I hadn’t tried. My efforts might not be as comical as Steve Carell’s in the comedy classic The 40-Year-Old Virgin but they’d garnered the same results as his failed attempts. I was still a virgin.

  In high school, I hadn’t been all that interested in being de-virginized. I never even had a boyfriend until my senior year of high school. Kevin Murdock was an academic jock, an oxymoron I know. We took several AP classes together and ended up dating for a few months. I’d sort of assumed that my first time was going to be with him on prom night, as cliché as that sounds, but he didn’t even kiss me that night and we broke up a week later.

  I’d dated people in college, but no one had been able to make me forget about the person I’d been in love with since I was six years old. I did my absolute best not to utter or even think his name, like he was Beetlejuice. That was nearly impossible considering he was my older brother’s best friend and also, very, very famous. He was the drummer for Valentine, a band roughly in the same league as Maroon 5 and Coldplay.

  So although for years, I’d done my best to forget that Romeo Whitehall even existed, as Valentine’s fame rose, so did my ability to delete him from my memory.

  His picture would randomly appear with a supermodel or actress in my social media feed or in the tabloids at the grocery store checkout line.

  Not that he wasn’t seared into my soul, regardless.

  I’d fallen in love with Romeo at the tender age of six and my affections for him had only increased over time. I could still remember the first time I ever laid eyes on the blue-eyed, black-haired boy that stole my heart, back before I even knew what my heart was capable of.

  The only things I’d loved up until that point were The Powerpuff Girls and Barney.

  “Are you okay?”

  Those were the first words he’d ever uttered to me.

  I was huddled in a corner of a hay maze because my brother had ditched me so he could be alone with his girlfriend. To do what, I’m not sure since they were only ten. Mainly, I just think that he hadn’t wanted his little sister hanging around.

  When he asked to go to the fair, my grandparents, who we’d moved in with that very summer, told him that he could go if he took me. That was their standard answer. At the time, I never questioned it. I’d just been so happy to hang out with my brother. But looking back, I think it was because Papouli and Yaya just wanted a little peace and quiet.

  I’m sure they hadn’t planned on raising their daughter’s children in their seventies. But after my mom lost her battle with cancer and my dad couldn’t handle the responsibility and took off, that’s exactly what they did. So whenever Jared wanted to go somewhere, he had to take me. Needless to say, he didn’t share my enthusiasm for the arrangement.

  That night, as soon as we entered the maze, he started chasing his girlfriend, Monica, I think her name was. One minute he was there, the next he was gone. I’m not sure how long I’d wandered around, searching and calling his name. But the more I looked the more lost I felt. Eventually I dropped to the ground, pulled my knees to my chest, and cried my eyes out.

  That’s when I heard his voice.

  “Are you okay?”

  I looked up and saw a boy with a baseball cap smiling down at me. He reminded me of Benny from The Sandlot, one of my brother’s favorite movies.

  “Did you get lost?” the boy asked.

  I nodded and sniffed as tears continued to pour down my face.

  “Do you want me to help you find your mom?”

  He had no idea that the question he was asking was a painful subject.

  “My mom’s dead.” I sobbed harder.

  To his credit, ten-year-old Romeo didn’t blink at my jarring statement or sudden outburst.

  With the maturity of someone twice his age, he calmly asked, “Who are you here with?”

  His serene energy instantly soothed my shattered heart and frayed nerves. “My brother.” I sniffed. “Jared.”

  “Jared Pierce?” he asked. “You’re Jared Pierce’s little sister?”

  I nodded.

  His smile grew wider. “I know Jared. You guys just moved here, right?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Do you want me to help you find him?”

  “Okay.”

  He
reached out his hand and asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Juliette,” I answered as I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet.

  “Juliette?” He got a strange look on his face.

  “Yeah.” He released my hand and I wiped my face.

  His smile grew even larger and he chuckled. “I’m Romeo.”

  At the time, I wasn’t familiar with the Shakespeare classic, so I didn’t get the significance. Later on I did, and boy oh boy did I spin that little factoid into indisputable evidence that we were fated to be together.

  Spoiler alert: we weren’t.

  But that night was definitely what poured the foundation for the fantasy I built up in my head. Romeo offered me his arm and easily navigated us out of the maze. He bought me an ice cream and we walked around the fair until we found Jared and Monica.

  All these years later, my brother maintains that he didn’t ditch me on purpose, which might be more convincing if he’d actually tried looking for me. Instead, we found him in line for the Ferris wheel.

  The four of us hung out the rest of the night. Romeo didn’t treat me like his friend’s bratty little sister who he didn’t want around. He was nice to me. He made sure that I got to vote on whether we were going to go on the Ferris wheel again or if we wanted to get corn dogs.

  He walked home with us and thanked me for hanging out with him. With him. To this day, it was the best date I’ve ever been on.

  Over the years, we’d hung out countless nights. Romeo and my brother quickly became best friends. Besides their shared love of all things baseball, they bonded over music, comics, and girls. Because of their friendship, I’d had a front row seat to all the girls Romeo had dated through middle school, high school, and even college. It was quite a number.

  Still, somehow I’d always felt…special.

  Sure, the other girls were the ones that got to make out (and more) with him. But I was the one who he shared ice cream with, watched movies with, and played scrabble and video games with. I was the one he’d laughed with and talked with. But most importantly, I was the one he played his music for, the one he shared his poetry and dreams with.

  In my head, those other girls had just been placeholders. In my world, Romeo loved me and was only waiting until I was old enough to be his girlfriend. I was sure that he was just passing time with those other chicks until the day that he could finally declare his undying love for me.

  It’s funny, the things one does when they are young and in love. In my case, offering up my virginity on my eighteenth birthday only to be met with a look of both horror and what I can only assume was pity.

  I still can’t quite believe I’d written that letter expressing my deepest feelings for him and actually sealed it with a kiss.

  Who does that?

  Me. That’s who.

  And I definitely can’t believe that I’d waited in his room, wearing lingerie that I’d saved up for three months to buy. I still remembered the sound of his footsteps coming down the hallway, and all of the scenarios that I’d played out in my head. Most of them involved him ripping off my expensive lingerie and declaring his love for me. All of them ended differently than how the real-life scenario played out.

  Now, as I sat in Liam Sullivan’s office, my boss and the owner operator of Oasis Hot Springs Resort and Spa, I heard the door open, and felt my cheeks heat at where my thoughts had been. I didn’t look up, out of some misguided attempt to disguise what I’d been spending my time pondering. I just began the meeting, sans small talk.

  “Aubrey just approved the final details for the rehearsal and wedding, so I’m going to move forward with the kitchen staff and florist. The DJ is all set for tonight, we’re going to have an hour of dancing after the rehearsal dinner because she wants to loosen everyone up.”

  One of Liam’s childhood friends was getting married at the resort that weekend and under normal circumstances, it would barely be a blip on my workload radar. But these weren’t normal circumstances. Liam’s friend had contacted him on Monday and today was Thursday. I’d put the entire wedding together in four days.

  Thankfully, over the nine months the resort had been open we’d built up a relationship with several vendors. When I’d called Halle at The Secret Garden Flower Shop, she immediately agreed to accept the last minute job. When I’d reached out to Dillon at Electric Blue Entertainment, he’d informed me that all of his DJs were booked but he’d make it work. When I’d emailed Randy at Lights, Camera, Action he’d said he would “move some things around” so there’d be a photographer and videographer at the wedding.

  Oasis was the first small town I’d ever lived in. I’d grown up in a rather populated suburb of Dallas and had always assumed that I’d end up in a big city, but there was something to be said for the community aspect of living in a place with a population of 4, 000. I’d always assumed that television shows and movies portraying neighbors helping one another were BS, but there I was, benefiting from that very trope all week.

  I honestly loved living in Oasis, New Mexico. It was the first time I’d ever lived somewhere that felt like home.

  I read off Liam’s itinerary and did my absolute best to focus on work. He was a busy man who was a “big picture” thinker. He could be forgetful and little things like details had a tendency to fall through the cracks. Thankfully, I was good at making sure nothing slipped by. I was a meticulous planner and organizer. I was also a bit of a control freak, which worked out well since Liam was the exact opposite. He not only allowed me to take the reins when it came to staffing and scheduling, he encouraged it.

  “I’ve been thinking about the open housekeeping supervisor position and I think we should considered promoting Chester.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “And I spoke with Andrew and he thinks the bonus structure to increase productivity we talked about will be ready to roll out next quarter.”

  “Great.”

  I went through a few other staffing issues that needed his approval before we moved onto his emails. Liam’s correspondence was another area in his life that needed to be managed. He had the best intentions, but his follow-through was seriously lacking. Thankfully, my follow-through game was strong. I loved completing tasks and marking things off to-do lists. Seeing projects through to completion was my greatest joy in life.

  So, a portion of our daily meetings consisted of us going through his emails and delegating who would be handling what. Basically, it was just a way for me to be up to speed on everything he needed to be handling so that I could gently, and not-so-gently, remind him to make sure that everything was handled in a timely manner and ensure nothing was missed.

  After about twenty or so emails, one caught my attention. It was from Jessie Sloan at SPC public relations firm. She’d booked the Oasis Hideaway from Friday to Monday afternoon for a client. The massive villa was a four-bedroom suite that was not attached to the main hotel. Guests of the villa enjoyed their own personal concierge that was on site during the guests stay, a driver, chef, and masseuse, all on call twenty-four hours a day. And it ran ten thousand dollars a night.

  Attached to the email was an NDA and a list of dietary restrictions and requests. It all seemed standard. It wasn’t until I got to section D of the document that I did a double read.

  Artist declines driver, chef, and masseuse services and is requesting Juliette Pierce as his personal concierge. It is requested that she accompany the driver and pick him up at the airport.

  Me?

  Who would do that? What artist? I scanned down the document and got my answer.

  The man that I’d been in love with since I was six. The man that rejected me on my eighteenth birthday. The man that I’d been doing everything in my power not to think about since.

  Romeo Whitehall.

  “Are you seeing this?” I heard Liam ask, but his voice sounded like it was a million miles away.

  The world was spinning around me. My chest constricted and I started seeing stars. My lip
s went numb and my hands tingled.

  “Juliette?!”

  Liam’s voice cut through the fog of disbelief and shock that I’d been floating in. I tore my gaze away from the name that I couldn’t believe I was seeing and lifted my eyes. “What?”

  “Do you know who Romeo Whitehall is? He’s the drummer for the band Valen—.”

  “Valentine,” I finished. “Yes. I’m familiar with him.”

  I hadn’t seen or spoken to him in twelve years. He’d sent flowers when my grandparents passed away ten years ago. And there were the random postcards from cities he was in. But that was it. That was the totality of our relationship for over a decade.

  And now this?

  Now he was showing up at my job and requesting that I spend the weekend with him?

  “Do you know why he’s requesting you? Not that it matters. You’re not a concierge. I’ll respond and tell him that you’re not available.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.” My mind was swimming with questions and I felt as if I was on the verge of hyperventilating. I needed to get out of this office. I needed air. I needed…something.

  “I think it would be better if I responded.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” I repeated as I stood. My legs felt like noodles as I started toward the door. I did my best to remain upright and cover for the fact that I probably resembled a newborn giraffe attempting to walk for the first time. I heard myself rattling off that I’d be comping a room for a woman who’d performed CPR on one of the guests. I was trying to behave as normally as possible so that he wouldn’t notice I was teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

  “Fine. I have a call to make. Thanks,” he snapped.

  I stopped up short, startled by Liam’s clipped response. He was an easy-going, some might even say jovial, person. He’d never taken that tone with me. I turned back to look at him, but he was already picking up the phone to make a call.

  Part of me was still concerned over his unusual response. Although, that was a very small part. The majority of what I was experiencing was relief that he was distracted and had so easily let go of this new development. I made a quick exit and hoped that my boss’s response was not due to the situation appearing to be a bad remake of Indecent Proposal.