Lavish Loving

by A. C. Arthur

  “I was headed to the bathroom anyway.”

  “There’s one right behind you.”

  “I’d rather use the one in the lobby.” Diamond grunted. “Stop being so independent. I’m going to walk you down.”

  Two steps out of Wine and the conversation continued. “No.”

  “What?” London asked Diamond, her face a study in innocence.

  “What?” Diamond parroted. “I’m not stupid. Earlier, it was Ace you saw, and by your reaction whatever happened in Europe with this friend—” she made air quotes with her fingers “—wasn’t as casual as you claimed. Now try and deny it.”

  “Dang, was I that transparent?”

  “No, I’m that good at reading people. Especially those on the prowl in hotels.”

  “I am hardly on the prowl.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, really. I don’t look for men. They look for me.”

  “Then you wouldn’t be interested in any information I’d have about him. His room number, for instance? Or that he checked in alone?”

  They reached the hotel entrance and stepped outside.

  “Okay, what is it?”

  “No, you’re probably right. No need to share information you won’t even use.”

  “I might use it. Make a phone call. Have a chat.”

  “Just a phone call, huh? You can do that through the front desk. Just dial zero and ask for him.”

  “I don’t want the hotel staff in my business.”

  Diamond raised a brow. “Or your relatives?”

  “What’s the room number?” London huffed.

  “Oh, darn. Look at our observant and efficient valet staff. Already here with my car.” Diamond spoke to the young man who held the car door open and got inside.

  “Diamond!”

  Diamond laughed, blew a kiss. “Sweet dreams, London. See you tomorrow at brunch!”

  London hid her exasperation behind a smile and waved goodbye. Her frustration was gone before Diamond’s car left the hotel driveway. It had been a few months since she’d broken things off with Maxwell and London was more than ready for some horizontal aerobics. Nothing serious, though. A friend with several inches’ worth of benefits. Or someone like the hotel guest who reminded her of the bad-boy blond Max had recently made famous. Yesterday, he’d seen through her thin wig-and-shades disguise and requested a selfie. Someone like him would be fun. Not someone for whom she’d once had feelings and who was engaged—even married, as far as she knew.

  Even though he checked in alone?

  Yes, even though.

  No Ace. Keep it moving. Got it.

  She crossed the lobby to the ladies’ room. The marble-and-brass appointments made even a simple trip to the loo a luxury. London entered one of six stalls and handled her business. She was just about to exit when she heard more women enter, whispering and giggling. London didn’t want to take a chance on being recognized, and at a towering six feet plus in her ever-present five-inch heels, she was hard to miss. That and the fact that over the past five years her oval face, big brown eyes and naturally plump lips had graced the cover of every major magazine in the world. Throughout the Papa Dee celebrations, most had respected her privacy and the situation and left her alone. Not sure that would happen now. She didn’t feel like socializing with strangers but didn’t want to be rude. So she muted her phone and silently scrolled through a social media site, waiting for them to be gone.

  “Oh, my gosh! He’s even better looking in person!”

  London’s ears perked up. Her head raised, too.

  “I know, right? I got a selfie!”

  A rustling sound followed as London assumed the speaker was digging through her bag.

  “Mr. Hotness in the hot flesh.”

  She must have found it.

  “Darn it! I’m jealous! You should have asked for one in his undies.”

  “I know, right!”

  A high five sounded. London scowled.

  “Ooh, I’d do anything to be Ellen right now. Fine man like that on vacation all alone.”

  “Alone? I thought I read that he was married.”

  “Engaged, but they broke up.”

  London’s brow raised. Oh, really now. Bathroom breaking news had just gotten more interesting.

  “He scheduled a massage?”

  “Yes. She gets to massage that fine mass of muscle for a whole hour!”

  “Shut up! Why was she the lucky choice?”

  “She’s one of the best in the business. It probably doesn’t hurt that she’s married, a grandmother and twice his age. The hotel wouldn’t want any scandal.”

  London heard a sigh.

  “Guess I’ll have to content myself with changing his sheets and inhaling the cologne lingering on them.”

  “Is he in the Champagne bungalow?”

  “No, the Pinot Noir. His massage is at noon. I’d love to be a fly on the wall.”

  All that talk about Ace’s sexiness made London replace thoughts about boundaries with memories of Ace’s hard body. In that moment she determined that tomorrow at noon, she was going to be that fly.

  Chapter 2

  They’d all been right. Especially Tyler, one of two business partners with whom Ace had opened Out of the Box, a fashion design company. They’d debuted with a menswear line known to the world as OTB Him. The launch had been as exhausting as it was successful. Ace had worked too hard for too long. He needed a break.

  “You know it’s bad when you stop getting on my nerves and start getting on your own,” Tyler Dent had quipped last Tuesday after Ace fired a talented designer and scrapped a clothing direction months in the making. “You’re frickin’ overstressed, man. Either take a vacation or find another partner.”

  Ace had responded with a few choice words, an upward flip of a certain finger and a door slam to punctuate his exit. He’d apologized later that evening and Dent, as Ace called him, in characteristic fashion, shook it off, bought him a beer and reiterated his ultimatum. The next day Ace had tasked his assistant with finding him a quiet, private place to unwind, something outside Northern California but no farther than a two-hour drive or hour-long airplane ride away. Among the several links she sent was the place he was now, Drake Wines Resort and Spa. The award-winning hotel and winery had appealed to him for several reasons. The private, freestanding bungalows they featured was only one of them.

  Back from an invigorating two-mile run, Ace entered the expansive two-bedroom abode and headed straight for the master suite. He’d been forbidden from calling the office, and to abide by these wishes had left his phone in the room. He grabbed it, tapped the icon for his company email and strolled into the kitchen while the newest messages synced in. After opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig, he sat at the table to read through the day’s mail.

  The name he’d hoped to see popped out at him. He opened the message, read the quick note and tapped the clip to open attachments. After a couple flicks of his thumbs, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. He hadn’t regretted firing the talented but temperamental designer this week. He had been doubtful about finding another one who could bring the new line Ace envisioned to life. But Lucien, the teenager who’d won a TV show design contest, was just that guy. His portfolio was everything Ace had hoped for and then some—as fresh, innovative and daring as the styles that had won him first prize. The new OTB fashion line, this one for women, would definitely turn heads. All they needed now was the right muse to wear it.

  He replied to the email, forwarded the images to the partners and then, satisfied that his company actually could go twenty-four hours without his direct involvement, slipped out of his running shoes, shorts and tee and stepped into the shower. He leaned against the cool marble, a stark yet welcome contrast to the
warm water streaming over his body. He stepped under the rain showerhead and let the water flow through his close-cropped curls, trickle over his brow, angular nose, full lips and dimpled chin, across his broad shoulders, down his rock-hard chest and back, pooling at his size fourteens before swirling into and down the drain. He increased the heat even more and turned on the multijet system. Soon, water shot to his body from eight different jets. A full-body massage was scheduled in just ten minutes, but this torrential pounding was going to be hard to beat.

  Five minutes later he reluctantly stepped out of the shower, dried off six feet of chocolate perfection and donned a downy, soft cashmere robe with matching slippers. He was hungry and wished he scheduled enough time for a meal before his massage, but the ringing sound of a brass knocker proved the thought had come too late. He walked to the door and opened it.

  A stout, pleasant-looking woman stood in the doorway. Ace was relieved. He was at the resort to relax, not fight off overzealous fans. From the looks of the woman who stood before him, he was safe.

  “Mr. Montgomery?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hi, I’m Ellen, here for your massage appointment.”

  “Please, come in.”

  Ellen entered, pulling an oversize canvas bag on wheels. The strap of another bag made of the same material rested on her shoulder. She placed the larger bag on the floor and the smaller one on top of it.

  “That’s the massage table?” Ellen nodded. “The whole table is in that small bag?”

  This elicited a smile and another nod. “I assure you that it’s comfortable and durable, yet light and easily transportable. Top of the line.”

  “If you say so. Would you like a drink, a glass of water, perhaps?”

  “No, nothing. Thank you.”

  “I hear you’re one of the best.”

  “I try. You signed up for the Swedish/deep tissue combo. Is that still your choice?”

  Ace nodded. “I think that’ll work.”

  “Very well. I will get set up in the master suite.”

  In short order the therapist returned and stated that she was ready to begin. “Please remove your robe, climb between the sheets and let me know when it’s fine for me to enter the room.”

  “Will do.”

  Ace found humor in Ellen’s serious nature and entered his suite with a smile. The shades had been pulled, he noted, with aromatic candles placed strategically around the room. An array of oils were positioned on a nearby table. New age music wafted from an iPod. Five minutes and Ellen had turned the master suite into a spa room.

  He removed the robe, tossed it on the bed and climbed aboard a table, which, surprisingly, was as light, sturdy and comfortable as Ellen had claimed. As he settled himself between the sheets, a sound resembling a knock reached his ears. He paused and heard a muted conversation. Probably the housekeeper. Ace settled himself beneath the sheet, placed his head into the headrest and anticipated with pleasure a much-needed massage.

  A moment later, there was a knock on his door. “Come in.”

  “Ready?”

  “Yes, Ellen. I’m ready. Come on in.”

  “Just relax. Close your eyes.”

  Ace’s brow furled. The voice sounded deeper, forced, her accent more pronounced. He dismissed the suspicion as quickly as it came. In his twenty-nine years he’d learned to question everything. But he was on vacation at a reputable, first-class resort and spa in a town he’d not heard of until clicking the link. If there was any place he could relax and feel safe it was here, in Temecula, California, in a bungalow named after a wine.

  Two seconds after Ellen moved toward him, the frown returned. There was a smell—citrusy, spicy—that had not been there moments before. While most men wouldn’t have noticed, Ace had always been a lover of fragrance, especially when inhaled from the skin of a fine woman. Had Ellen whipped out the perfume before reentering his boudoir? Was there a little freak behind the formal facade? He almost laughed out loud. Still, his senses, especially those of smell and sound, were heightened in the darkened room. The music shifted from a haunting, piano-driven melody to a sensuous-sounding serenade led by a sultry sax. He heard hands being rubbed briskly together to warm up the oil. Felt the slightest of hesitations before two soft palms pressed against his upper back. Small hands. Smaller than he’d imagined Ellen’s would be. Softer, too. The oil was warm and soothing. Expert fingers began to knead the healing oil into his skin, across his back and shoulders. He closed his eyes, told himself he’d earned the right to relax.

  Her fingers were slender but surprisingly strong. She massaged and nudged and kneaded his tight muscles into submission and glided her palms softly, slowly, almost lovingly, across his body. A swirl of air kissed his skin as the sheet was pulled lower, exposing the dimples just above his hard butt. Palms came together briskly. Ace could feel the heat of them hovering just above his buns.

  Come on, Ellen. Don’t get shy now!

  She didn’t. Not at all. Instead she pulled the sheet down farther, exposed his cheeks and slapped his bare ass.

  “What the—” A shocked Ace turned and sat up in a single motion. “London?”

  London was smiling, but his expression made her laugh out loud.

  “Where’s Ellen? How...” The sheet slid to the floor. Ace cupped his hands over, well, as much of himself as he could.

  London tried to stop laughing. “Don’t worry about that, big boy. Nothing I haven’t seen before. Besides, there’s no modesty in modeling. You know that.”

  He rolled off the table, reached for the sheet and hurriedly wrapped it around him, totally flustered. “What are you doing here?”

  “Until a second or two ago, I thought I was giving you a darn good massage.”

  “This isn’t funny, London. How’d you get in my room?”

  London was as calm as Ace was rattled. She sat on the four-poster king-size bed and leaned back on her elbows. “You’re not happy to see me?”

  Though she appeared to him as a vision of pure loveliness, he looked at her like she’d grown a horn in the middle of her forehead. “It’s not about being happy or not. My being here is supposed to be confidential. How’d you know I was here?”

  “I have my ways. It’s not like I’m a stranger, Ace. I’m a friend, who you’re treating quite rudely at the moment.”

  “Forgive my lack of manners, London, but I thought a hotel employee just smacked my ass and then found out, no, the therapist has been knocked off by a friend of mine who broke into my room!”

  “Well, it wasn’t a hotel employee. It was me. So calm down. Where’s the guy I met seven years ago who talked like a dork and then showed me his penis?”

  “He grew up.”

  “Good for you.” She could walk out the door right now, but that would feel too much like running away. So she shifted the energy and her expression with a smile. “It’s been forever since I’ve seen you. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” She glanced suggestively at the bed. “Don’t I get a hug?”

  Ace looked at the bed and back at London, who wore a formfitting maxi. He took a step, tripped on the sheet and almost bared his goods again. “In there,” he said, pointing toward the living room.

  The lack of cordiality put London back in a huff. “Never mind. It’s clear I’m not welcome, so I’ll leave you alone.” She strode out of the room.

  Ace was right behind her. “London, wait.”

  She stopped but didn’t turn around.

  “You shocked the heck out of me, okay? Give me a minute to put some clothes on.”

  A slow, deliberate turn and then dark, daring eyes stared at him. “Are you sure about that?” Ace sighed. “Forget it. Jeez, I was just kidding. You act as though you’re not happy to see me.”

  “I’m very glad to see you, London. I just need to pu
t on some clothes.”

  He gave her a hug and a kiss to her forehead, then he pulled away before a certain part of his anatomy betrayed him and revealed just how much.

  Chapter 3

  London strolled over to the large picture window that let in a picturesque view of the Temescal Mountains. The commanding peaks reminded her of Switzerland and a cottage near her boarding school she and her friends would sneak out to when they wanted to meet up with boys. Her senior year, just after turning seventeen, she went on a trip to Paris and got discovered by Incomparable, one of the top modeling agencies in the world. A year later she met Ace and had her world rocked off its axis.

  Her phone vibrated in the bag that rested against her thigh. It was a text from Diamond.

  It’s brunch. You’re late.

  London glanced toward the bedroom and typed a quick reply.

  Busy. Can’t come. Talk later. BTW... I’m always late.

  Her thumb hadn’t left the send button before she heard the padding of bare feet across the dark hardwood floor. Slipping the phone into her bag, she turned around and was met by the confident, carefree Ace that she remembered. But if he hoped to make himself less desirable by covering up with a pair of low-riding jeans and a black OTB tee, he failed. Miserably. The way London looked him up and down expressed that louder than words ever could.

  “Come here, you.” He opened his arms.

  London crossed the room in a walk worthy of the runway and stepped into his embrace. “I’m glad you left the jerk in the bedroom and brought out the Ace that I know.”

  Her teasing smile rendered the barb harmless.

  His hug was heartfelt and even though she’d spent several pleasurable minutes rubbing oil over his body, she relished the chance to touch him again. “It’s good to see you,” she said, dropping her hands to squeeze his butt, one of her favorite parts of his anatomy.

  He caught her wrists and pulled her hands away. “Still the troublemaker, I see.”

  “I try.”

  “What are you doing here?” they asked each other.