Kayla felt as if she had died and gone to Heaven. Either someone made a mistake, or Annette had just put herself in the running for Most Awesome Boss Ever.
“Are you sure this is my suite?” she asked.
“Quite sure.”
Assuring Nikolai that she required nothing further at the moment, she slipped him a generous tip—she could afford it since someone else was footing the bill for everything else—then stepped out onto the balcony. Directly below, a swim-up bar sat in the center of a large pool. Farther out, a pristine white beach led into the clear waters of the Caribbean.
Yeah, she thought as she filled her lungs with scents of sunshine and sea, she could definitely get used to this.
Chapter Nine
Her first day in paradise was nearly perfect. Kayla slathered herself with sunscreen and spent the afternoon sunbathing at the pool. Between people watching and cat napping, she cooled off with frequent dips in the crystal-clear water and trips to the swim-up bar. Afterward, Kayla showered and slipped into one of her new purchases—a silky, flowing sheath that clung in all the right places.
“Not too bad for an old broad,” she murmured, examining herself from all angles in the mirror.
Poor self-image had never been an issue for Kayla. She had always been comfortable with her ample curves and worked hard to stay in shape. Between the dress and the barely-there lingerie she had splurged on, Kayla felt every bit the sexy, wealthy vixen her image portrayed.
Completing the ensemble with a pair of strappy high heels, she left her suite and headed downstairs, following the mouth-watering scents to the bar and restaurant.
Kayla received plenty of looks along the way—appreciative ones from men, envious ones from women. She was used to it. It had been that way since the summer she had turned fifteen. That had been the year she had blossomed, beginning ninth grade in a training bra and entering tenth with a D-cup. Rather than try to hide it, she had embraced her natural curves and learned early on to use them to her advantage.
The handsome host suggested a seat at the bar while they prepared a table. She was fine with that. Having tended bar herself for quite a few years, she felt comfortable there.
Like the reception desk, there were two people behind the bar, one male and one female. And, as before, it was the male who approached her. His eyes raked over her approvingly; the sexy smile he gave her held genuine interest.
Her womanly parts perked up in interest, but she held them at bay. The bartender looked as if he had just stepped off the stage of a classy male review, but he was too young for her. Halfway between thirty and forty, anything that hadn’t aged at least three decades was off the menu. Flirting and visually assaulting him would have to suffice while she discreetly scoped out other, more mature options. While many of the guests appeared to be couples, she had seen a fair number of singles, too.
“And what can I get you, pretty lady?” He placed both hands on the bar and leaned toward her. She recognized it for what it was—an invitation to look, to engage, to imagine the possibilities. She had used the move countless times herself and made enough tips in the process to buy a car and put a down payment on a house. “Hurricane? Mai Tai? Maybe a Screaming Orgasm?” He grinned suggestively, revealing the hint of a dimple on the left side of his face. He really was quite attractive, almost enough to make her reconsider her age requirement.
“Lagavulin, neat.”
She received an amused, raised brow in response. “A woman who knows her malt whisky. I’m impressed.”
While he prepared her drink, Kayla took the opportunity to look around. The dining room looked just as impressive as everything else she had seen. Cozy tables were set with white linens and elegant-looking hurricane lamps. Potted palms and other tropical plants, interspersed with Zen-like water fountains, provided an intimate, private dining experience.
Her drink was served right about the same time the host reappeared. Kayla was seated at a table with a lovely view of the sun setting over the ocean. After dinner, a moonlit walk along the beach was definitely on the agenda.
After placing her order, Kayla sat back, splitting her attention between the glorious sunset and her fellow diners. Unsurprisingly, most were couples lost in their own romantic worlds. It was still fairly early for prowling singles; she expected more would appear later when some of the night time activities began to pick up.
She did a double-take when she spotted a handsome man at the far end of the restaurant, one whose eyes were fixed intently on her.
Mid-to-late thirties. Gorgeous. Radiating power in waves. And she knew exactly who he was.
Spencer Dumas.
It was impossible to live around Pine Ridge and not know who Spencer Dumas was. The bad boy CEO of Dumas Industries and owner/operator of Sate, he was considered to be one of the most eligible bachelors in the Northeast. Blessed with angelic looks and the good luck to be born into an insanely wealthy family, Spencer was never seen without at least one beautiful woman on his arm, and never the same one twice.
Yet, he appeared to be all alone.
And he was staring at her.
Keeping her expression neutral, she casually turned away, taking her gaze back to the stunning view. Inside, her heart was pounding. He couldn’t possibly recognize her, could he?
They had never been formally introduced. Hers had been an entry-level position, just another insignificant cog in the Dumas Industries machine. While Spencer Dumas had been the subject of many breakroom discussions, she had only seen him in passing a few times. She was quite sure he had never seen her.
Until now.
Besides, that was years ago. After her tending job at Jake’s Irish Pub, she had taken a temp job at DI, filling in for a woman on maternity leave. Her time on the corporate payroll had been brief and unremarkable.
He doesn’t know who you are, she thought, and that look he’s casting over here is not one of recognition.
A thrill shot through her. The game was on, and it was one she was very familiar with.
“Excuse me, Miss? I’ve been asked to deliver this to you.”
Kayla accepted the paper from the waiter, knowing instinctively it had come from him.
She once again sought him out. He stared right back, his eyes intense. Hungry. Determined.
Once again, a thrill ran through her, stronger than the one before it. She had always had a thing for confident, powerful men, the ones who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to go after it. She had never been weak, so finding someone man enough to push her buttons wasn’t easy.
She opened the note and read: Meet me at midnight. Take the glass elevator to the twenty-seventh floor. Face away from the doors. Wear that dress, and only that dress.
Her core clenched. She snapped her head back up, but Spencer Dumas was already gone.
Chapter Ten
Sate had been a calculated risk, but taking risks was part of who he was. Hedonism was, and always would be, profitable, and this new resort of his was no exception. Less than a year after completion, it was already turning a profit and projections for the future were through the roof.
Spencer was pleased, but not surprised. He always weighed his options carefully, and he rarely lost. Especially when it came to women.
In fact, there was only one time in his adult life where he hadn’t succeeded, but it had all worked out in the end.
His engagement to Maggie Flynn, now Maggie Callaghan, had been doomed from the start. Maggie was a good woman, and she had spirit, but their pairing had been based primarily on a business objective—Maggie had prime agricultural land and his father, the then CEO of Dumas Industries, had wanted it. Still, they could have made it work had it not been for one glaring obstacle—Maggie was a one-man woman, and Spencer was, and never would be, capable of limiting himself to one woman.
When Maggie thought to surprise him at the office one night and caught him in flagrante delicto with his buxom young secretary ... well, that had ended any hopes of attainin
g the rights to her land. His father hadn’t been pleased.
It had proven to be a costly lesson, but a necessary one. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He kept his dalliances strings-free, kept business out of the bedroom, and sought out only those of a similar mindset. Like the sexy vixen who had come in only a few minutes earlier.
Tall, toned, and gorgeous, she commanded attention. Heads turned in her direction, and she accepted every lascivious glance as though it was her due.
That kind of confidence was damned sexy in a woman. There was experience in that slight twist of her lips. Wisdom. Passion.
“Dominic,” Spencer quietly uttered the man’s name, knowing he was hovering around somewhere. As the general manager, Dominic hadn’t been more than an arm’s length from him since he had arrived in his private helicopter a few hours earlier. The man was as eager to please as he was excellent at his job.
“Yes, Mr. Dumas?”
“That woman. Is she alone?”
There was no need to specify which woman to whom he was referring. Dominic’s gaze was where every other man’s was. “It would appear that way, sir.”
Spencer clicked his tongue impatiently. “Find out.”
“Yes, sir.”
While Dominic scuttled away, Spencer sipped his drink and observed. He wanted to see how she reacted to Rico, the young bartender. The guy had a charm most women found irresistible.
That was the key, Spencer had realized early on. There were any number of places willing to cater to the wealthy, but Sate would appeal to more than just their need for pampering and opulence. Sate would make them feel wanted. Desired. Appreciated. He had personally hand-picked the staff with exactly that in mind.
The client-facing employees, those who interacted regularly with guests, were not only physically attractive, but oozing sex appeal, as well. Each and every one had gone through a rigorous selection process and, once chosen, had been required to complete a mandatory three-month training program and held to the highest standards.
Spencer watched her body language. The woman at the bar liked what she saw, but she wasn’t interested. That ratcheted his interest up another notch. What exactly would interest her?
Franco appeared and led her to a table for one.
“She is traveling alone, sir.” Dominic reappeared. “Her name is—”
Spencer held up a hand. “I don’t want to know her name.” He didn’t want to know anything but what she sounded like when she came.
As if sensing his eyes on her, she turned his way, pinning him with gorgeous, haughty eyes. He held her gaze, wanting to see how she would respond to his undisguised interest. Then she did the most unexpected thing of all. She turned away.
His dick went rock-hard beneath the fine linen tablecloth. Nothing was more arousing than a challenge. The hunt was on.
“Take the rest of the night off, Dom. We’ll meet tomorrow.”
Dominic looked as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he nodded—a wise choice—and left Spencer alone.
“Franco.” Spencer waved over the host. He scribbled on a small piece of paper, then folded it. “Take this to the woman you just seated. The one in the green dress.”
“Yes, sir.”
Feeling confident, Spencer pushed back from the table, stood, and walked away. He had preparations to make.
Chapter Eleven
To anyone watching, Kayla appeared cool and unaffected as she ate slowly, savoring every bite of the perfectly prepared prawns and seared vegetable medley. Inside, however, her mind whirled and her feminine parts tingled with possibility.
In addition to being handsome as sin, Spencer Dumas was also either very self-assured or exceptionally presumptuous. She supposed that having those good looks, wealth, and power might have something to do with it.
What he needed was someone to take him down a notch. It would serve him right if she ignored his blatant summons and spent her evening as she had originally planned—with a walk on the beach, and maybe a drink or two while listening to the live band she had seen setting up in the outdoor pavilion earlier.
The problem was, she really wanted to show up at midnight and find out exactly what the arrogant playboy had in mind.
She finished her dinner then walked out onto the beach. Slipping off her sandals, she let the gentle waves wash up to her ankles while a light sea breeze whispered over her skin. There was nothing quite as lovely as a tropical island at night, especially when it hummed with possibilities. Simply being there made her feel as if she was living a fantasy; that here, she could indulge in things not possible anywhere else.
That, she supposed, was exactly the point. Spencer Dumas was not only gorgeous and rich, he was also brilliant when it came to marketing.
And arrogant, she thought with a secret smile. That kind of confidence was damn sexy in a powerful man.
She had a choice to make: indulge her wild side or play it safe. Do something, or sit quietly on the sidelines and watch everyone else have fun.
As she walked along, the sound of steel drums and the rolling ocean providing background music to her musings, while the angel on one shoulder debated with the devil on the other. The demon was winning. She was on vacation, it reasoned, so why not?
Of course, there was nothing that said she had to indulge in her wild side with Spencer Dumas. There were other men around with whom she could scratch her itch. Chances were, if they had come to Sate to play, they also wielded the kind of power and influence she found particularly attractive.
But none of them had boldly propositioned her. And none of them had managed to get her wet with naught but a look.
Besides, she knew Spencer Dumas was the real deal. Anyone else could be a poser. Or worse, married.
If Spencer Dumas had propositioned her in Pine Ridge, that would be a completely different, and entirely implausible, situation. Here, though, no one knew her.
Another check in the “do it” column was that it had been a long time since she had done anything remotely exciting. Even longer since she’d had really good sex. She had a feeling Spencer Dumas knew his way around a woman’s body. He radiated the kind of power, the kind of control she craved.
It wasn’t as if anything would come of it; it would be a one-time deal. According to the gossip rags, Spencer Dumas didn’t do repeats, which meant no strings, no worries, no messy complications.
And it would make a memorable trip that much more so.
More importantly, when had playing it safe ever been her thing?
Decision made, Kayla turned back toward the resort. If she was really going to do this, she had some preparations to make.
At 11:59 p.m., she stood in front of the glass elevator. Her skin was soft and supple, smooth and glowing. The light silk of her dress, sans lingerie, made her feel especially wicked. She took a breath, and hit the Up button to call a car. The doors opened almost immediately.
With another deep breath, she stepped into the empty car and pressed the button for the 27th floor. Her whole body tingled with anticipation.
Remembering his explicit instructions, she turned her back to the doors and grasped the brass rail with both hands. Her heart hammered as the car ascended, the central atrium visible through the glass. She held her breath when the soft ding sounded and the doors opened.
Would he be there? Or had he changed his mind?
Seconds felt like hours. She was just about to turn around and press the button to take her back to her floor when the air grew heavy and thick as his expensive, masculine scent filled the space.
“Don’t.”
A small sound followed his command, like that of a key fitting into a lock. Then the lights within the car went dim.
She remained fixed in place, her heart pounding and the area between her legs throbbing.
She could feel his heat at her back. What was he doing? She lifted her gaze, catching his semi-transparent reflection in the glass. Intense, hungry eyes met hers.
Then he disap
peared, and she felt his hands at her knees. He pushed her legs farther apart, then drew his hands upward slowly, caressing her outer thighs.
Kayla sucked in a breath. They were in a glass elevator, suspended more than twenty stories in the hotel’s central atrium. If anyone looked up, would they be able to see her splayed against the glass with Spencer between her legs?
He continued his upward path. His touch was light, exploring, yet when he flexed his fingers, she could feel the strength in them.
He hummed approval when he reached her hips and found her bare. “So obedient,” he murmured, caressing her ass, dipping down, slipping seductively along her now soaked folds. “And so fucking wet.”
He guided her even farther apart, and then she felt him licking between her legs. She gripped the rail tighter until her knuckles were white. Holy hell, this man knows how to use his tongue!
He brought her to the edge, then promptly disappeared. Her mewl of protest was met with a seductive laugh and a whisper-soft rip of foil. Then his hands were on her hips, pulling her back toward him.
She felt the broad head of his sheathed cock kiss her entrance, and she shivered with anticipation.
“Don’t let go.”
He thrust upward, his thick cock sliding smoothly and deeply, filling and stretching her in the process. She gasped at the sudden, glorious intrusion. He moaned in pleasure.
He then paused, allowing her to catch her breath. If possible, he grew even thicker inside her. Then he withdrew and slammed back in. He repeated the process, fucking her hard and fast, exactly as she needed. She pushed back, meeting him stroke for stroke, delighting in the sound of the hard slaps of her ass against his hips; the hard, hot, heavy feel of him pushing every one of her buttons.
She lifted her hips, a blatant demand for more, only vaguely conscious of the fact that anyone could look up and catch a glimpse. The thought only made her burn hotter.
Two of a Kind: A Callaghan Family & Friends Romance Page 4
