San Antonio's Finest Eligibles

by Tee, Marian

  And so she did.

  Isla’s hand instinctively went to her throat when her gaze clashed with the stranger’s. She was no shy wallflower when it came to men; that would’ve been impossible considering 90% of the workforce in her father’s law firm were men.

  But this stranger...he wasn’t like any of the men she knew. Something about him felt so inexplicably different – threatening even. For one thing, he was too gorgeous than a mortal had any right to be. Silky chestnut brown hair that could’ve been the subject of a men’s shampoo commercial, deeply tanned skin, and a body that was so obviously muscular not even the fact he wore layers of clothes (a buffalo check barn jacket thrown over a gray round-neck shirt and jeans) could hide how formidably built it was.

  To put it simply, he wasn’t the kind of man someone like her could ever attract, thus making Isla glance curiously over her shoulder. She was certain he had to be staring at someone behind her – but no one else was there except Willy.

  Her brows furrowed. Did that mean he was looking at her? She glanced back at the stranger, and it was as if he had heard her question, with a smirk slowly unfolding on his lips.

  It’s you I’m looking at, the smirk said – but it didn’t end there, and her disbelief only grew as she saw his arrogant gaze dip to her mouth.

  And there it stayed until she had no choice but to read the message – no, the command – in his gaze. I’m going to take your mouth, drive my tongue inside –

  Her cheeks heated, and Isla turned away with clumsy haste, desperate for some reason not to let him see her blush. How hot she felt right now! So much so that she had to clench her fists against the urge to fan her face. Dear Lord. What was happening to her?

  A smile of pure sexual interest slowly unfolded over the man’s lips at the way his redheaded goddess suddenly spun, her back to him. He would have suspected her manner coy if it had been any other woman, but not her. Never her. He was damn certain of it.

  “Thank you for your patience, Ms. Bouchard.”

  The receptionist’s words had Isla breathing a sigh of relief. Thank God. The sooner she could put distance between her and Mr. Shameless, the better. Thanking the other woman as she handed Isla her card key, she added, “I hope I didn’t put you through too much trouble?”

  “Not at all, Ms. Bouchard.” The receptionist shook her head with a smile. “We hope you have a pleasant stay with us.”

  “I’m sure I will.” She handed the card key to Willy, who had insisted on escorting her to her room, and did her best to resist the urge to run. She could still feel his gaze on her as she and Willy headed towards the elevator, and her throat tightened in involuntary response. Why was she acting like this? Was it because he was the most handsome man she had ever met or was this some weird, late after-effect of the breakup?

  Isla was only able to breathe normally when they made it inside the elevator and she was finally free from the stranger’s compelling gaze. She might have come here to forget, but she wanted it done by her rules. She wanted it done in an orderly, peaceful fashion – and that wasn’t going to happen if she became involved with the stranger in any way.

  Upon reaching her hotel room, Willy tapped the reader with her card key to unlock the doors. “Here we are, Ms. Bouchard.”

  A smile broke over Isla’s face as she stepped inside her room and took in her surroundings. “It’s so pretty!” The room was spacious but cozy at the same time, with elegant stone-cladded corner posts, rich wood furniture, and thick drapes that matched the warm colors of the room’s plush carpeting.

  “I’m glad you like it, Ms. Bouchard.” Privately, however, Willy felt bad as this was the cheapest type of accommodation offered by the hotel, and when Ms. Bouchard insisted on giving him a tip (one far larger than what he received from the millionaires he regularly assisted), he thanked Isla fervently and promised to do his very best to score her a free upgrade if the opportunity ever arose.

  “In fact, Ms. Bouchard, I think I have an idea of how you can get upgraded to the suite class right this very moment,” he shared eagerly. “You just have to pretend something in here made you have a small accident, and I could—-”

  “Stop it,” Isla protested laughingly. “Don’t you know you could get fired for something like that?”

  Willy snorted. “You’d be surprised how often and how many guests do something like that. And most times they’re the ones who can afford to pay a month’s stay here, too.”

  Once Willy was gone, Isla wasted no time unpacking. She liked her things organized, and so she was not the type to keep her clothes in the suitcase and pull something out every time she had to change. Even if it were just for an overnight stay, she liked to have her clothes hung properly, and she always made sure to personally clean out a hotel drawer before using it to tuck away her underwear out of sight.

  Once done indulging her obsessive-compulsive tendencies, she had a quick shower and later on changed into a dark gray turtleneck, jeans, and knee-high boots. On her way out, she paused to glance at her watch and smiled at herself when she saw it was just half-past ten.

  Good.

  They were supposed to meet at eleven, but she would rather be excessively early than a minute late.

  Upon making it back to the lobby, Isla didn’t even spare a glance at the various Michelin-starred restaurants she walked past but instead went straight to the back of the hotel, where its patio-styled bar and grill was located.

  The server behind the counter smiled at her upon Isla’s approach. “Welcome to Alexio’s.”

  “Hello, Sheryl.” Isla got the server’s name after a quick glance at the server’s nameplate. “I was wondering if you have a table for two available?”

  “Absolutely, Ms. Bouchard.”

  Isla was taken aback at the fact that the other woman knew her name but decided not to ask about it. Maybe Mt. Aehrenthal prided itself with its personalized service, she reasoned to herself.

  As she followed Sheryl to her table, Isla eagerly looked about her and tried to take note of every little thing. Staged like a rich man’s picnic ground, Alexio’s boasted of umbrella-shaded tables adorned with fresh water blooms, checkered place mats, and colorful ceramic plates. Patio heaters had also been set up – alongside complimentary shawls folded neatly over the back of each picnic chair – to keep their guests warm and cozy.

  The table Sheryl led her to was at the far end of the restaurant, bordered by white picket fences on one side, and with a breathtaking view of the mountains and the hotel’s busy ski-in, ski-out access area, which made for a rather vibrant scene.

  Sheryl opened the menu book for Isla, saying, “Simply ring this bell if you need any kind of assistance, Ms. Bouchard, and one of our servers will be with you shortly.”

  Isla took her time studying the items on the menu, all of which were so mouthwatering that by the time she reached the dessert section, she couldn’t stop her stomach from making a soft, small growl – and it was at that same moment someone slid gracefully into the bench opposite her, which was then followed by a man’s deep chuckle and a strongly accented voice drawling, “Based on that little sound, I think I came just in time.”

  Chapter Two

  Isla already had a very good (or bad?) idea of who it was seated in front of her, but even so she still couldn’t help sucking in her breath when she finally lifted her gaze and her worst suspicions were confirmed.

  “You,” she said dumbly. It was the too-gorgeous man from the lobby, the one who had stared at her with such blatant interest it had her wanting to hide.

  “Me,” the stranger confirmed with a rakish grin.

  Isla almost shook her head in denial. Why would a man like him need the kind of help Heart’s Match offered? With him just inches away from her, she found herself shamefully struggling to breathe normally. He seemed so much larger than life, his profile devastatingly attractive and –

  Oh! She noticed the gleam in his eyes (a wonderful shade of hazel) and realized he had been enjoyin
g having her stare at him. Cheeks heating up, she quickly dragged her gaze away from him and gave herself a mental slap as she looked down at his phone. Snap out of it, Isla!

  Amused at the way Isla’s expression remained dubious, Sean politely offered to show her the digital copy of the agency contract they had both signed, and he was even more amused when she actually took him up on it.

  He took his iPhone out and clicked on the app he used for storing digital documents. “Here you go, ma’am.”

  “Thanks,” Isla muttered. She wasn’t buying his meek tone at all, but she had a feeling that his rich Texan drawl was all too real.

  Sean watched with quiet amusement as Isla read Heart’s Match’s contract on his phone. The myriad of emotions that crossed her face was entertaining. First, there was doubt, and then denial, and finally the most adorable expression of acute agony – she now looked like she was ready to sell her soul to the Devil if it meant she could forget the fact that she had signed up to be his wife.

  Which was really too bad, Sean thought lazily, since he had no plans of letting her go.

  One month ago, he had asked Charlotte Carmichaels to hook him up with a wife. I need her with me in time for the holidays, Sean had spelled out, and someone my father’s guaranteed to see as ideal wife material.

  To which his widowed friend had replied dryly, In other words, you’re not looking for your usual 3Bs: blonde, big-breasted, and brainless.

  Needless to say, Charlotte’s contempt of his taste in women had made Sean wonder if his friend would even take his request seriously, but as it turned out, it had only taken Heart’s Match to come up with a suitable candidate.

  28-year-old Isla Bouchard, accomplished paralegal with a degree in economics under her belt, and the second daughter in a well-respected, upper middle-class family. She had no known vices, led a virtuous and modest life, and had only one ex-boyfriend to make up her entire dating history.

  At that point, Sean had been prepared to marry Isla regardless of her appearance, but then he had seen her photo and he had realized Isla wasn’t just suitable. Everything about her appealed to him and intrigued his senses. In her emerald eyes, he saw the slumbering passion that only the right man could awaken, and he had known then and there: he would not rest until he made her his.

  And now, with his redheaded goddess seated right in front of him - so tantalizingly close that the faint floral scent of her lotion could tease his nostrils – the urge to possess Isla Bouchard became a wild, feverish clamor in his loins.

  Everything about her captivated him – the rosebud mouth that begged to be tasted, come-hither green eyes that seemed to challenge and seduce him at the same time, and those wild locks of hers that were the colors of sunset – each and every part of her body was so damn alluring that Sean had to exert great effort to keep his hands to himself and his cock in his pants.

  He strove for control and was almost able to reach it – until he belatedly noticed how Isla’s hair was still slightly wet.

  Fuck.

  The sight had him picturing Isla’s naked body immersed in a bath of rose petals and foam, her silken arms opening to beckon him to join her in the tub.

  FUCK.

  His balls started to ache as the imaginary scene persisted in playing out in his mind. Sean could see himself sitting behind her in the tub, washing and caressing every part of her –

  “I’m done, thanks.” Isla’s stiff voice intruded in his thoughts, and Sean forced himself to shut the lid on his fantasy, which by now had his imaginary self’s cock balls-deep in her delicious pussy.

  “You’re welcome, darlin’,” he said thickly and as she offered him his phone back, he couldn’t help but take advantage –

  Isla jerked when Sean reached for her hand instead of his phone. She tried to tug free as soon as she recovered from her surprise, but his grip didn’t even loosen the slightest bit.

  “Could you please let go?” Isla continued trying to yank herself free, but this only made him tighten his grip. It should have made her feel trapped and harassed, but instead the feel of their skin coming into contact only made her lungs start malfunctioning.

  “Did you find what you’re looking for?”

  Isla’s lips tightened. The contract stored in his phone was indeed the same contract that they had signed over a fortnight ago – and the penalty of breaking it was tantamount to making herself bankrupt.

  “Isla?” Sean raised a brow, knowing there was more.

  She shrugged, determined not to say another word until she had properly gathered her thoughts. It just didn’t make sense, she thought irritably. With his movie-star looks, it seemed impossible that he’d have trouble finding himself a wife.

  “Why not just come right out and say it?” Sean asked cajolingly. “It’s easy enough to see something’s still troubling you.”

  This time, Isla’s silence wasn’t because she didn’t want to answer. Rather, it was because she couldn’t, with the way his fingers had started to caress her knuckles, and so leisurely it was if he knew he could take his time seducing her.

  How can this be possible, Isla questioned herself in dismay. Jonathan held her hand all the time, but his touch had never made her feel this alive. Panic struck her, and she instinctively tried tugging her fingers out of his grip again. But still he held on, and she gazed at him in helpless consternation. “Will you please let go of my hand first?”

  Unfortunately, this only made him smirk as he returned mockingly, “Will you please answer my question first?”

  Isla scowled. “Why do I have to?” She tried one more time to yank her hand free, but it did no good. “You already know what I’m thinking.”

  “If that’s so,” he murmured, “then what harm would it do to humor me?”

  Her eyes shot sparks at him, and Sean almost smiled at the answer written in her furious gaze. She was not going to do anything he asked, period.

  “You’re used to having men let you walk all over them, aren’t you, sugar?”

  Isla stiffened, her surprise having nothing to do with his words but everything to do with that last endearment he used.

  Sugar.

  That was what the Sean she wrote to (and the Sean who wrote back to her) liked to call Isla, and it was this more than anything else that made her grimace and say, “You’re really him, aren’t you?”

  “I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

  Isla pretended not to notice the amusement gleaming in his eyes. She knew her words weren’t exactly what he wanted to hear. The scoundrel had made it obvious he wanted her to say out loud that he, Sean, was the man she had flown here to marry, but that wasn’t ever going to happen.

  Tough luck, cowboy, Isla thought stubbornly, but that’s all the admission you’re going to get from me.

  Glancing at the hand he still held captive, she asked sharply, “Well?” His grip gradually loosened, and she quickly hid her hands behind her back as soon as she was free.

  His eyes were laughing at her now. “Will it make you better if I promise not to, err, steal your hand?”

  “What would really make me feel better,” she muttered, “is if I wake up right now and find out all of this is just a dream—-”

  “And I’m not the man you came to spend the rest of your life with?”

  Isla turned red. Horrible man! How dare he taunt her with words she had written to him in good faith?

  Lifting her chin, she said darkly, “That’s right. I do wish you were someone else instead.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” But actually...it wasn’t. There was nothing Sean loved more than having a challenge to conquer, and Isla Bouchard was exactly that: a challenge, and he looked forward to wooing and taming her to his will.

  Isla crossed her arms over her chest when she noticed Sean was back to eyeing her like a decadent piece of chocolate he wanted to unwrap and lick all over. “Will you please stop that?” The way he kept trying to undress her with his gaze was driving her mad, but more frustrating was how i
t made her body shamelessly come to life.

  At the end of the day, this man was still a stranger. How could he turn her on so easily when they were only meeting for the first time today?

  “Stop what?” he asked mildly. “It’s hard to understand you when you don’t speak plainly and just call a spade a spade—-”

  “Because we both know you know what it is,” she snarled.

  “Always in a horn-tossing mood, aren’t you?” Sean clucked his tongue. “I’m beginning to think you set out to fool me in those letters of yours.”

  Isla was indignant. “I did not.”

  “But you were so sweet and funny—-”

  “I am sweet and funny!”

  He raised a brow, and Isla flushed upon realizing she was acting anything but, with the way she had just yelled at him. Lowering her voice, she muttered, “I am sweet and funny.”

  “Whatever you say, sugar.”

  Isla shot him an accusing look. “There’s just something about you that brings out the worst in me. I only lose my temper with you.”

  “Uh huh.”

  His eyes were back to laughing at her again, and Isla’s teeth gnashed. “I’m not lying. Except with you, I have always been sweet and funny—-”

  Sean’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Assuming what you’re saying is true...”

  “It is!”

  “You’re sweet and funny, and you never set out to fool me—-”

  “Of course I didn’t.”

  “Then how about that kiss you promised?” he asked very politely. “Didn’t you promise me one when we’d meet?”

  Isla paled. Crap. She knew exactly what he was talking about. It had been a few days after Jonathan and India’s whirlwind engagement, and Isla had accidentally caught a glimpse of them making out inside his office through a slightly open door.

  It still hurts every time I see them together, she had then written to Sean. Does that mean I still love him? I know I’d be stupid to do so. He cheated on me with my own sister, and he’s already married her. But even so, it hurts. I wish you were here with me. I’m sure it won’t hurt if you were here.