Deceptively Yours (Wanton Weston Women, Book Two)

by Wynter Daniels

  Skipping to the bottom of the page, he found the notes he and his partner Rick had added from their own investigation thus far.

  Informant advised me that Turiano planned to spend several days on Pleasure Cove Island before continuing to his final destination (unknown by informant). Travels with attractive women, usually blondes.

  If they could apprehend Harry then hand him off to U.S. Marshals to take him back to DC, it was worth a hefty bonus in addition to the daily rate the bail bond company paid them. But money had never been the reason he specialized in bail jumpers.

  A hotel guest wandered over and sat in an adjacent chair. Guy quickly covered the sheet with the conference flyer.

  “Ever read her column?” The middle-aged man pointed to the sketch of a woman identified as Dear Annie on a nearby stanchion sign.

  Guy nodded and looked away. Last thing he wanted to do was engage one of the conference-goers in conversation. He couldn’t chance giving himself away if the man asked him anything specific about the conference or the organization.

  Undeterred by Guy’s silence, the man continued. “I hear she has a book coming out soon. Lucky us. We get to hear her speak before she becomes the new rock star of the movement, huh?”

  “Yeah.” He vaguely remembered reading one of Dear Annie’s columns a few years ago in a doctor’s or dentist’s waiting room. He didn’t buy or subscribe to the magazine she wrote for so he hadn’t read any more of her work, but the hedonists obviously loved her.

  He shifted in the chair so he faced away from the man. He’d been hanging out in the lobby like a moron with no life for two days, and the man was only the second or third guest who’d spoken to him. It made for a long, dull time, but as a private investigator, he spent countless hours doing exactly this. The adrenaline rush when he nabbed his man—or woman—was a hundred percent worth the boredom.

  With any luck, Harry would show up and he’d capture him without having to spend another night at the hotel. The hedonists had kept him up half the night with their antics. From all the banging around and screaming, it had sounded as if they were having wild orgies in several rooms on his floor. Thanks to them, he hadn’t gotten two solid hours of sleep.

  He checked his watch then shot a covert glance at Rick across the lobby near the gift shop. A flight arrived each day about this time and he didn’t want to miss the new guests. The revolving door to the lobby whirred to life and a group of about two dozen tourists starting spilling in, some toting carry-on bags, others wheeling suitcases.

  Guy scrutinized the new arrivals, seeking out men who resembled Harry. He was tempted to use the binoculars hanging around his neck to get a better up-close view but he resisted. Rather than blending in with the other tourists, he’d appear like some sort of nutcase if he used them inside the hotel.

  As the guests queued up at the reception desk, a woman holding a clipboard addressed them. “If you’re here for the convention, please come see me at the WHS registration station after you get your room assignment.” She swept her arm toward a kiosk with a large, brightly colored banner over it that read World Hedonist Society.

  Guy grabbed his coffee cup then crossed the lobby to a mirrored pillar near the desk to get closer to the crowd. There were two black-haired men, one of them wearing dark shades, but he was too tall and thin to be Harry. He glanced toward the entrance, hoping his man had somehow fallen behind the others, but no one else came inside the hotel.

  Damn it.

  They’d been sure today was going to be the day. Unless… Could Harry have had someone else register at the resort for him? His girlfriend du jour was always with him. Maybe Guy had missed him and Harry was already lounging in one of the villas.

  One by one, each of the guests finished their business with the hotel then went to the conference booth until there was only one woman left. He looked her over. She wore glasses and a big floppy hat over her pale-blonde hair. Her floral-print peasant-style dress looked several sizes too large for her. Something about her piqued his curiosity. He hoped she wouldn’t go to the conference kiosk, hoped she wasn’t one of them.

  A desk clerk handed her an envelope with her keys just like the one they’d given Guy when he’d checked in. When she turned around their gazes locked for a too-brief moment.

  Even through her glasses, her azure eyes hijacked his stare. A vulnerability in her gaze seemed to reach out to him. A jolt of arousal bucked through him, locking his breath in his chest. But then she dropped her head, obscuring most of her face with the brim of her straw hat, and something twisted inside him.

  She started toward the conference kiosk but before she’d taken two steps, a man carrying a tall drink crashed into her, sending her sprawling over her suitcase.

  “Watch where you’re going, lady.” The man wiped the side of his glass but completely ignored the orange liquid that he’d spilled on the woman’s dress. Huffing, the man continued walking.

  Anger rose in Guy’s gut. The bullied foster child he’d been so long ago stirred inside him. He dropped his things on an end table and started over. He eliminated the distance between them in an instant and made a split-second decision to help the woman rather than to deal with the asshole who’d wronged her. “Are you hurt?”

  She tipped her head back to see him and gave him a half smile that electrified him. “Just my ego.”

  “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. That guy was a jerk. I saw the whole thing.” He took her hands to help her stand but the instant she righted herself, she yanked them back as if his fingers were on fire. Had she also experienced that zing of attraction the instant they’d touched?

  “Um, thanks. It was probably my fault. I’m a klutz, really.” She rubbed her forehead then bent over to gather the contents of her purse, which had spilled onto the floor.

  Her scent was the best thing he’d ever smelled—light and floral and somehow it suited her perfectly. Crouching next to her, he scooped up a bright-red lipstick tube and a rubber-banded stack of index cards and loaded them into her bag. He couldn’t help but stare at her mouth and wonder what that lipstick would look like on her. Under the outline of her dress, he spied the curve of perfectly round hips and long, shapely legs. God, he’d love to do sinful things with her.

  Hot body and tempting lips aside, she looked more like a bag woman than a hedonist, although he was hardly an expert on hedonists. Why was she hiding her very attractive assets beneath a frumpy outfit? Before he could get her name or her room number, she hurried away toward the conference kiosk.

  He considered going after her but he could take a hint. The notion that he’d never see her again left a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  He wasn’t some high school kid who developed a crush on every pretty girl he laid eyes upon.

  Who was he kidding? She’d left pretty on the shore on her way to gorgeous, and sexy and incredibly hot. Didn’t matter. He was there for one reason—to bring Harry Turiano back to jail.

  Rick leveled a chastising stare at him then went back to looking at the rack of postcards.

  Muttering a curse under his breath, Guy grabbed his things then downed the dregs of his coffee before tossing the Styrofoam cup into a fancy trashcan. He took a detour to his room to drop off the folder. Before he left, he phoned Rick.

  “I’m heading down to the villas just in case Turiano managed to slip past us. Maybe he had someone else register for him. I don’t know.”

  “Can’t hurt to check it out. I’ll hang here in case he just fell behind the rest of the group or something.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Minutes later he left the building. Heat and humidity blasted him as strode across the manicured grounds to the pebble-covered path toward the beach and the villas area of the resort.

  Several young women raced past him in skimpy bikinis, laughing and carrying tall, brightly colored drinks in plastic cups. A lanky redhead winked at him and gave him the once-over. />
  She wasn’t a tenth as appealing as the woman he’d met in the lobby.

  “Party at the nude beach in half an hour,” she said. “Hope to see you there. All of you.” Another wink and she was gone.

  Attending parties where he hardly knew anyone didn’t sound like fun. Growing up in one foster home after another, he’d had enough of being thrown into groups of strangers. With each new situation he’d grown lonelier and more frightened than if he’d been completely alone. Now he preferred more intimate gatherings.

  Besides, the conference guests weren’t exactly his type of folks. From what he’d read of the World Hedonist Society in their literature, they believed in an anything-goes philosophy, particularly when it came to all things sexual. As long as it feels good it’s okay. He couldn’t get his head wrapped around that. In his line of work, he’d seen too many awful repercussions when people did whatever felt good at the time.

  Not that he had anything against sex. He loved women. It was the seeking of pleasure without considering the consequences that bugged him.

  He thought about the keynote speaker and the gist of her one column he’d read. Her harsh words had stuck in his craw. The tone was distinctly anti-long-term relationship and she’d justified her position by citing the sky-high divorce rate and the dismal statistics on monogamous relationships. She concluded that most people were better off engaging in short, sexually motivated liaisons.

  Flings had their place. Hell, he’d had his share of them in his early twenties, but he had to believe there was more to life than living in the moment.

  He passed a few more groups of partiers on the winding path before he reached the fork marked by two carved wooden signs nailed to the trunk of a coconut palm. One pointed left toward the beach. The other said Villa Guests Only. Glancing over his shoulder to check if anyone was around, he took the right fork.

  The villas were situated close to the beach, each unit separated by tall hedges for privacy, no doubt. He’d checked on the internet and learned that all but one of the houses was occupied as of this morning.

  He adjusted his cargo shorts and confirmed that his Glock and handcuffs were at the ready in his inside-the-pants holster. Someone with Harry’s considerable resources could always get his hands on a weapon. Yet even with their PI licenses, Rick and he had been forced to cut through loads of bureaucratic red tape to get their guns into the Caribbean nation.

  On the off chance Harry was already settled in at a villa, he wanted to be prepared. Unfortunately, he knew very little about him, other than he was a big Baltimore Ravens fan and he was dangerous. The bastard had slipped out of an Annapolis restaurant last week, minutes before Rick had gotten there, and the same thing had happened again only a few days ago when Guy thought he’d had him cornered in a Richmond hotel. His gut clenched at the memory, but he refused to let past experiences with the fugitive shake his confidence.

  He approached the first house and dipped into the thick foliage behind it for cover. The high ground gave him a clear view of half the homes, which were perched on a hill facing the ocean. He raised his binoculars and scoped them out.

  A middle-aged couple lay on loungers by the pool at one house and several adults dressed for the beach were in and out of another house. He glimpsed several teenagers just inside the glass sliders at the next villa.

  He focused in on two couples eating lunch at the outdoor table at one of the houses. They smiled and laughed and seemed to be having an animated conversation. He lowered the binoculars and started back to the path leading to the rest of the homes.

  Voices approached, so he ducked into the woods and waited as a golf cart rolled past toward the villas. The same woman he’d met in the lobby sat in the passenger seat, one hand hanging onto her hat to keep it from blowing off and the other grasping the edge of the seat.

  He recognized the driver’s khaki shirt as part of the resort staff’s uniform and a rush of relief flooded through him. Why did he give a damn that she wasn’t here with a husband or boyfriend?

  Curiosity niggled at him. The woman was young, probably in her early to midtwenties, and in her baggy clothes and oversize hat, she hardly appeared the type who could afford the expensive accommodations. She could be an eccentric heiress, though he suspected that wasn’t the case.

  Continuing along the path, he picked up the distinctive beat of reggae music—from the nude beach party, no doubt. Would that woman who’d just passed in the golf cart head over there later? Maybe he would check it out after all.

  No. I have a job to do.

  With renewed purpose in his stride, he made his way to the hilly area behind the villas and trained his binoculars on the house with the golf cart parked on the side. The building was essentially a horseshoe shape that wrapped around the pool, which seemed to be the one architectural feature common to all the villas. Floor-to-ceiling windows gave him a view of the living room and two bedrooms.

  He adjusted the binoculars so he could get a better look at the inside. Harry could be anywhere, even shacked up with that innocent-looking beauty.

  The porter drove off in the golf cart but Guy was more interested in the woman as she opened the glass sliding doors to the pool area and stepped outside. She’d removed her hat and the breeze blew her flax-colored hair into her eyes. She smoothed it behind her ears and walked around the patio, checking everything out.

  He wished she’d change out of that oversize sundress that billowed around her. He’d only gotten the slightest hint of her luscious body underneath when that jackass had crashed into her in the hotel lobby.

  But the sweetness and warmth in those eyes, it had mesmerized him. He could still picture the unusual shade of blue and how they’d sparkled in the light. And Lord, had he ever seen a more dazzling smile?

  As if she’d read his thoughts, she lifted her dress over her head and tossed it toward a chair, but it missed her intended target and instead knocked over a small flowerpot, spilling soil and blooms onto the concrete deck.

  He stifled a laugh but froze when he realized she was now wearing only a white bra and panties. His shorts grew decidedly tighter in front. Pulse pounding, he adjusted his lenses for a closer view.

  Damn, she was as hot as he’d suspected. Her breasts were full and high with deep cleavage between. He imagined holding those pleasantly curvy hips as he slid inside her. Her flat stomach was alabaster perfect and her legs, holy cow. He’d love to run his hands up those smooth calves and spread her thighs apart to kiss her…

  No. He shouldn’t even be looking at her but he couldn’t help it. God, it had been too long since he’d been with a woman. He’d briefly dated a neighbor last year, but she hadn’t turned him on like the beauty he had in his sights now. Nor had the secretary from another office in his building who came to borrow copy paper at least once a week for the past few months. What was it about this lady that he found so damn inviting? Why did she set off his hormones like a three-alarm blaze?

  She bent over to clean up the flowerpot—giving him a better glimpse of that cleavage—then moved her discarded dress to the chair.

  Shit. Now he had a full-blown hard-on.

  His heart sank when she went inside but seconds later she came back with a book in one hand and a bottle—probably sunscreen—in the other. He had to rein in his rising libido as he watched her rub lotion all over that heavenly body then settle onto a lounge chair with a book.

  But he was starting to remind himself of a voyeur so he lowered the binoculars and continued on. If he wasn’t on a case he’d have loved to put her on his agenda, whoever she was. Unfortunately, nabbing Harry trumped his sex life.

  * * * * *

  Laura sighed as she glanced up from the page of her book and took in the fuchsia blooms on a sprawling bougainvillea vine that clung to a trellis against the house.

  This place was as lovely as the setting of a romance novel—and just as far removed from reality. She laid her head back against the cushion and soaked up the heavenly rays. Did
n’t matter that she wouldn’t get any color under the armor of sunscreen she’d applied, she needed the tropical heat to warm her soul after the long Virginia winter.

  The ring of her cell phone—so out of place in the serene surroundings—startled her. She picked it up and smiled at her oldest sister’s name on the screen. “Suzanne, I’m here. This island is truly a paradise.”

  “How’s the villa?”

  “Incredible. I’m lounging at my pool as we speak, in my underwear.” She couldn’t hold back a giggle.

  “Your underwear? What happened to your new bathing suit?”

  “I don’t have much sunlight left today. I didn’t want to take the time to dig my bathing suit out of my suitcase and change. I’d have cheated myself out of too many of my precious minutes in paradise. Besides, the suit’s a one piece and it’s been way too long since my abdomen has felt the sun.” God knew she’d never reveal this much skin in public. Wasn’t as if anyone could see her, though.

  “Good for you. I’m glad you’re letting loose. You saved my life, you know.”

  Laura swallowed hard. “I just hope I don’t freeze up when it’s time to give your speech.” Her skin grew clammy when she thought about standing in front of the group, reading her sister’s address.

  “You’ll do fine. You’ve been practicing, right?”

  “I studied the index cards on the flights. I don’t have it all memorized or anything, but I will.” Memorizing the speech was one thing—but the devil would be in the delivery.

  “Good.” Suzanne lowered her voice. “I bet there are some uber-hot men there, huh? You should hook up with someone.”

  She pondered the possibility of a vacation fling with some sexy hunk. They could make love under the palm trees. He’d do all those wicked things to her like her romance book heroes did to their heroines.

  Yeah, like that’ll ever happen to me.

  She massaged her temples. “Can we please not go there?”

  “Okay, okay. You are the best sister in the whole world.”