Tropical Temptation

by Angela R. Sargenti

Paris, suddenly interested, looked over to where Alex was indicating.

  “She is a taking little thing, isn’t she? And who’s her friend?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then let’s invite them for a drink and find out.”

  “I met this total hottie last night,” Marianne was telling Samantha. “The place was just crawling with guys; you should’ve been there.”

  Samantha brushed a stray curl from her breast and took a sip of her wine. A moment later, Marianne nudged her abruptly.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered urgently. “Speak of the devil, look who’s checking us out. It’s Jesse Dent.”

  Samantha’s gaze drifted in the direction of Marianne’s bright smile and there, sitting at a table right across from them, was Alex P. Shannon and he was waving them over.

  “No, that’s just my new boss.”

  “No way. Oh, my God, he really does look like Jesse Dent. Who’s that guy with him? He’s kind of cute.”

  “I have no idea. Let’s find out together.”

  The girls got up to approach Mr. Shannon and his friend, and Samantha suddenly felt over-exposed in the tight leather bodice she wore.

  “Hey, Mr. Shannon. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Neither did I, Samantha. I thought you said you stay home and knit or something.”

  She smiled.

  “I usually do, but my friend here wouldn’t hear of it. By the way, this is my best friend, Marianne Thompson.”

  Both men stood up with old-fashioned politeness and introductions were made all around. The girls were asked to sit down and join them, which they gladly did.

  Alex’s companion turned out to be his agent, Paris Anderson, and Samantha saw that Marianne liked him immediately. The truth was, they made a striking couple, Paris with his jet black hair and Marianne with such a pale shade of blonde that it was nearly platinum.

  He certainly was extraordinary. He was dressed all in white: white silk shirt, crisp white linen trousers, white kid gloves; even a pearl earring studded his left earlobe. His hair, though, was black as pitch, his eyes as well, and Samantha watched as he leaned in and whispered into her friend’s ear.

  “He really likes white, doesn’t he?” asked Samantha.

  “Yes,” said Alex. “He even drives a white Mercedes.”

  After a minute or two of consulting with Paris, Marianne was on her feet. Paris, too.

  “I left something in the car,” she told Samantha. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Samantha watched them go, acutely uncomfortable.

  She knew damn well what they were going out to the car for, and suspected that Alex knew, too. She avoided his gaze, trying hard to at least look innocent herself, but realized how absurd she must appear, dressed as she was.

  Finally, feeling his gaze resting on her face, she gave up the pretense.

  “So why don’t you tell me about the ranch?” she asked at last, looking him straight in the eye.

  Alex grinned, still watching her closely. He spoke, but not about his home.

  “Why don’t you have a boyfriend, Samantha?”

  She sighed heavily in response, knowing how unpleasant it would be to recount her failed romance, especially to a complete stranger.

  “His name was Randy and we both went to UCLA. We met in Economics, and things were pretty good for a while. In fact, he seemed to have some serious intentions towards me, but I broke up with him just after Thanksgiving. What I mean is, he wanted me to marry him, and for a little while, I thought I might, but then I realized it’d never work out.”

  Alex seemed to read the troubled expression on her face.

  “I’m sorry, Samantha. Is this very painful for you?”

  She shrugged, her eyes misting over.

  “It’s not that,” she insisted, drying her eyes. “Men just take things so badly sometimes. He wouldn’t listen to what I was telling him, he just kept reading such idiotic things into it.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I was cheating on him, or I was pregnant, or I liked women instead. He told anyone who’d listen. He went all over campus saying that Marianne and I were - ”

  Samantha, well aware that her voice broke, found herself quite unable to complete her sentence.

  Alex finished it for her.

  “Lovers?”

  She sucked in a deep breath and nodded, painfully aware of the blush that stained her cheeks.

  “Yes. But it’s not true, not any of it.”

  “No,” he said, reaching out a hand to grasp hers. “Of course not.”

  Her gaze met his and she honestly felt he understood, felt her pain.

  “That’s why I don’t have a boyfriend,” she concluded with a shrug. “Nobody decent ever asked me out again after that.”

  Pretty soon Paris and Marianne returned to the table and Marianne instantly dragged her friend off to the ladies’ room to spill her guts.

  Samantha had a pretty good idea what had happened in the interim, and, once they were ensconced in the ladies’ room, turned to her friend, slightly put out that she’d been abandoned like that.

  “Have fun?” asked Samantha.

  Marianne ignored her tone but answered her question.

  “Yeah. Yeah, as a matter of fact I did. How about you, Samantha? You guys looked like you were hitting it off.”

  “He’s my boss, Marianne. He was just telling me about Hawaii. Besides, don’t you think I’m a little young for him?”

  Marianne turned her attention away from her makeup for a moment and smiled like the Cheshire cat.

  “See?” she said triumphantly, “I knew you liked him. You said you’re too young for him, not that he’s too old for you.”

  “He’s my boss, Marianne. I’m just going there to work, and nothing more. And I intend to maintain a professional relationship with him.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a bore, Samantha. Tell you what: I’ll help you. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s snag a man.”

  With that, Marianne tucked her lipstick back into her bag and left the ladies’ room, Samantha following in her wake.

  The men stood up again once they spotted the girls, and Marianne slipped in beside Paris, stroking his thigh as she sat down. Alex ordered them another round of drinks, and she shot Samantha a prodding glance.

  Samantha ignored it.

  Not at all willing to give up, Marianne turned her attention to Alex instead, and flashed him one of her trademark brilliant smiles.

  “Don’t you worry about Samantha, Alex,” Marianne told him as the waitress departed. “You know how it is with these brainy women. They’re always a little bit shy at first, but she’ll loosen up. Trust me on this.”

  Samantha rolled her eyes.

  “In college, she never wanted to take anything fun like ceramics,” Marianne continued. “It was always some boring class like Latin or Philosophy, something like that. To be perfectly honest, though. She is a genius. She graduated Summa, you know.”

  “Is that right?” asked Alex, sounding intrigued and obviously enjoying himself hugely. He leaned in to listen some more, an avid expression on his face.

  But Samantha knew he wasn’t thinking about her brains just then, because she caught him stealing a sideways glance at her breasts, swelling voluptuously against the tight leather.

  Not at all put out, she smiled to herself, gratified by his attention, knowing she’d never looked as sexy as she did tonight. And she was secretly glad Mr. Shannon had been allowed this vision of her, glad to find she was attractive to him.

  “You like her dress, don’t you?” Marianne asked, following his gaze.

  “Without a doubt.”

  “It used to be mine, but I lent it to h
er this one time to wear to a rock concert we went to. I swear to God, she had all the guys there drooling over her. What could I do? I ended up giving it to her. It sure as hell never looked like that on me.”

  “Oh, I’ll bet you’re gorgeous in black leather,” Paris told Marianne, who turned to him and smiled enchantingly up at him. Encouraged, he ran his hands down her back and down to her bottom, pulling her closer, kissing her hard, passionately.

  Such a public display of affection naturally embarrassed Samantha and she found herself avoiding Alex’s gaze once more, not sure what to say or do.

  Taking her hint, he turned away to watch the crowd on the dance floor while Marianne continued to make out at the table with Paris.

  This, however, proved to be a fatal mistake, for now some random female with bleach blonde hair and improbably large breast implants broke off from the crowd and came to stand right next to their table.

  The woman leered insistently at Alex, although he pretended not to notice her until she spoke.

  “Oh, Mr. Dent,” she gushed, “I’m your biggest fan.”

  Alex shot her a guarded look as she continued to stand there, grinning hopefully.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not Jesse Dent,” he mumbled, looking uneasy.

  The woman, however, was not to be put off. “Can’t I at least get your autograph?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I’m really not Jesse Dent.”

  “Oh, come on? Please? It’ll just take a minute.”

  Samantha, past all patience with the intruder, stared coldly at her.

  “He just told you twice, he’s not Jesse Dent.”

  The woman was already fumbling with her phone to snap a quick photo of Alex. Samantha glanced at him and saw he was understandably annoyed, was trying to turn away and avoid the woman’s camera lens.

  All at once, Samantha flung herself into the breach. She rose to her feet and confronted the woman.

  “He’s not Jesse Dent, you stupid tramp. Now get out of here before I have you thrown out.”

  The woman glanced quickly around the table and found its occupants staring at her with passive yet unmistakable hostility. She showed no signs of moving, though, so Samantha flung her up hand to catch the attention of one of the bouncers. When she had it, she waved one over, but before he could get to them, their intruder beat a hasty retreat, flinging a vulgar insult over her shoulder at Samantha as she left.

  Paris, obviously fed up with all the drama, downed his drink in one gulp and suggested they remove to his place in Venice, a suggestion Samantha greeted with undisguised relief.

  The truth was, she wasn’t used to being accosted in public like that and was even more unused to asserting herself. She and Marianne climbed into the back seat of Paris’s car, and as soon as he pulled out of parking lot, Alex turned to them, an apologetic look on his face.

  “I’m really sorry, girls. It’s always like this. I can’t go anywhere anymore, since that goddamned Jesse Dent got so famous.”

  “Huh. You’d think it’d be fun to look like him,” said Marianne.

  Alex nodded.

  “Yeah. You would think so, but it’s not. It’s really not.”

  Samantha saw that it was probably very far from being fun. And as she always suspected, famous people had no freedom at all.

  She began to pity Alex, realizing this was why he was so into gardening, this was why he kept himself shut up on his ranch in the middle of nowhere.

  It was a short drive to Paris’s apartment, which Samantha soon discovered was also done up in all white. An enormous potted fern and a huge painting over the white marble fireplace lent the room its only color.

  Samantha neared the painting, recognizing the artist at once.

  “That’s a Mark Rothko, isn’t it?”

  Paris handed her a glass of champagne.

  “This lady knows her art, Alex,” he acknowledged, sending Alex a glance of approval before handing Marianne a glass.

  Samantha saw that Paris really was infatuated with her friend, that Marianne had already made a conquest of him, but watched in growing apprehension as Paris abandoned his glass of champagne and dropped down onto the couch beside her.

  They instantly started making out again and Samantha, wondering what on earth Alex must be thinking, glanced in his direction.

  He smiled lazily and pretended not to notice the others as he drained his glass.

  “Can I give you a ride home, Samantha? We have that early meeting in the morning.”

  They hadn’t any such meeting, of course, but what a sweet way to leave their friends to their own devices.

  Her glance shot to Marianne.

  “Don’t worry about your friend,” Paris told her from his place on the couch. “I’ll see to it that she makes it home.”

  Samantha nodded and downed her drink, and then she allowed Alex to hustle her away. Before they were out the door, though, Paris tore himself away from Marianne and came forward, taking Samantha’s hand, then Alex’s.

  “Let’s do lunch tomorrow, Alex. The three of us. I must get acquainted with your new assistant.”

  “All right,” said Alex, guiding Samantha toward the door with a well-placed hand at the small of her back. “Talk to you in the morning.”

  Once Samantha was safely alone with Alex, she sat back against the seat, relieved to be rid of Marianne for the day. She wished her friend well, of course, and loved her dearly, but every once in a while Marianne still managed to annoy her.

  Suddenly she looked around and caught Alex’s eye.

  “I’m sorry about Marianne. She’s not usually so...you know, loose.”

  Alex looked at her a long time before he put the key into the ignition. Samantha knew she’d sounded unkind and disloyal, and she shut her eyes, a blush of shame stealing over her face.

  “I hope you won’t regret having hired me, Alex,” she told him.

  “Regret it? Why should I?”

  She shrugged.

  “I don’t know. Maybe you meant to hire another type of girl?”

  He grinned softly, seeing what she was getting at.

  “You mean someone like your friend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that what you think I’m all about?”

  “No, of course not. I...I just want to know what’s expected of me.”

  “I thought I already told you, Samantha,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “I expect you to type and file and help me manage my writing career.”

  He started up the car without another word, his lips compressed tightly together. Samantha realized she’d offended him and begged his pardon at once.

  “Please don’t be angry with me, Alex. I do trust you, I really do.”

  “Yeah? Then quit worrying, will you? I’m not luring you off to Hawaii to take advantage of you. I can get plenty of women on my own. Apparently, I look just like Jesse Dent.”

  Samantha giggled, despite herself. “You really do look a lot like him, you know.”

  “I do not.”

  “Yes you do, Alex.”

  “Not.”

  “Just a little?”

  Alex glanced over at her, fighting to keep a grin off his face.

  “Jeez, you’re stubborn,” he muttered, biting his lower lip and putting the car into gear to back out of the parking space.

  They drove back towards the northwest end of the valley, the tension between them gone. They arrived at Samantha’s house, and she was surprised to see the lights on so late on a weeknight, knowing it was way past her dad’s usual bedtime, but she led Alex inside anyway, tugging him up the walkway by his hand.

  “Look who I ran into,” she told her parents merrily as she led him inside. “My new boss, Alex.”

  “What in the hell
is that you’re wearing?” her dad asked immediately, not even acknowledging their guest. “Do you mean to tell me you went out like that? Dressed like some kind of dominatrix?”

  “Oh, Gerald, all the young kids dress like that nowadays,” said her mother, more mindful of her manners than her husband was. “Come on in, Alex, and have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “A glass of water would be great,” he replied.

  While her mother attended to Alex, Samantha dashed upstairs to her room to change.

  She didn’t like to leave her father alone with Alex for very long. He was probably grilling the poor man already. She quickly slipped on a pair of jeans and her favorite UCLA tee shirt, hoping her mother kept her dad in check, and then she hurried back downstairs.

  “So tell me, Alex; who all lives on this ranch of yours?” she heard her father asking, the minute she was within earshot. Alex started explaining about his domestic staff when her father interrupted.

  “Yes, but how many girls did you interview for this job?”

  “Just your daughter,” Alex admitted, sounding acutely uncomfortable. “None of the other applicants interested me.”

  “Oh? Why her? Why my daughter?”

  “Daddy, I have a Bachelor’s degree in English,” she told him, coming to Alex’s rescue.

  “I know what you have, Samantha. I paid for it, didn’t I?”

  Alex set his glass down and squared off with Samantha’s father.

  “Look, Mr. Wilkes, I have no intention of molesting your daughter. Even if I wanted to, I could do it just as easily from an office downtown.”

  Her dad glanced over at her mother and Samantha knew he was embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “I like to hire my assistants fresh out of college because they’re the ones who really need a break,” Alex continued. “Hell, I’ve been there myself, degree in one hand and a huge student loan in the other. I’ve always hired guys before, but I have a hard time keeping them for very long. There’s always some girl back home they want to marry, so they leave me within a few months. It’s getting old, so I thought I’d give a female a chance this time.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Daddy, would you stop sounding like he’s the Boston Strangler or something? My God, he’s a respectable writer.”