Tropical Tryst: 25 All New and Exclusive Sexy Reads

by Nicole Morgan

  TWO HOURS later she was rushing to get dressed after over sleeping. She had passed out the moment her head hit her pillow, and she’d barely surface to the alarm she’d luckily remembered to put on.

  She brushed out her mane of thick hair and tied it up in a quick bun. Lateness was a pet hate of hers. Some perfume and moisturizer barely managed to dry before she threw on the only semi-formal dress she’d brought with her. A red, clingy, knee length outfit that dipped low in the front to reveal her abundant cleavage.

  Perfect for the start to, hopefully, a great night.

  Five minutes later she was walking back into the same restaurant that sat empty only days before. Tonight there were five new staff members, and a maitre’d to take her to her table.

  She gave Fabrizio a huge smile as she drew closer. He was one of several staff members she’d hired and trained in the past few days.

  “Good evening, Miss Jenkins. This way.” He lifted his chin in a posh way that made her laugh and showed her to a table at the back of the restaurant where Julian sat with a glass of red wine, waiting for her.

  Fabrizio pulled out her chair for her and she sat. “Well done, Fabrizio.”

  He bowed for her. “Can I get you a drink, madam?”

  “Water please.”

  He walked away and she turned to her date. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I overslept.”

  “Great orgasms will do that to you.”

  “Shhh!” She looked around to make sure no one had heard him while flames licked at her neck and face. “Does that mean that yours wasn’t any good? Because you don’t look like you’ve had a nap.”

  When he didn’t answer straight away, her belly dropped. Was that the problem? The sex that had been so amazing for her, had not been so for him.

  He leaned in closer, placing his glass down onto the table. “If I’d lay down after that, I would have slept for a week. I didn’t trust myself.”

  Relief flowed over her like a cooling rain. “Oh, good.” She picked up the menus and gave them a good look over. “What do you think of the new design? They’re only mock ups. I wanted your opinion before I went and launched an updated look. But the old one needed a desperate upgrade.” She’d had a local designer put together a new logo for the restaurant and menus. “The new head chef is starting tonight and I’ve asked him to make us all the specials if that’s all right?”

  She looked up at him, but his eyes were far from interested in what she said. They were downright lust full.

  “It looks great.”

  She wanted to stamp her foot, but instead playfully glared at him. “You didn’t even look at it.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her. “Au contrare. I’ve been here for over half an hour, meeting the chef who is by far the most enthusiastic person I have met since arriving here, and studying your new menus. I like the logo, although a slightly less confusing font might be better.”

  “I agree.”

  She grinned and swallowed the hysterical noise rising up from her throat. He liked what she’d done!

  Stop over reacting. Since when is a client’s approval so important to you?

  “I like the way the tables have been positioned too. Less cluttered.”

  She glanced around at the new table cloths, cleaned walls, and freshly steam cleaned carpets. “Yes, it’s all come together beautifully. But I did have a great building to work with.”

  Their entrées had arrived….

  “I’ve given the chef some leeway and have asked him to prepare some meals that he thinks will work. I’ll give him three days and then I’ll readjust everything to suit.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. Give him a little rope and hope he doesn’t hang himself.”

  She knew that old saying from her father and it was a strange comfort hearing it so far away from home. A smile spread across her face as the warmth around her heart turned her into a puddle.

  “Is that what you did with me, Julian? Because I must admit you’ve been a lot easier to work with than I first thought.”

  He took a drink of his red wine and picked up his fork. “I wasn’t impressed that my parents hired you without consulting me, but you’ve been a real asset to the company and it was stupid of me to let my pride get in the way of getting my hotel back on its feet.”

  Her hand trembled as she reached for her water. Wow. She’d never expected him to be so honest about his own misgivings. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He chuckled, a real laugh that made a grin stretch across her own lips. His face truly transformed when he was happy, and it made her want to please him all the more. Which was silly, and strange for her. Those butterflies that made her feel like a teenager on her first date.

  “Well, that’s a first for you. I don’t know who you hired but this is delicious.”

  Samara picked up her own fork and sampled the prawn risotto. The perfect balance of cream, salt, and parmesan spread across her tongue. The texture, also divine. “Hmmm… I agree. I poached him from a restaurant on the other side of the island. One of the cleaners had said that the chef wanted work closer to home, so I made a few phone calls, and we have a head chef worthy of the title.”

  They finished their entrees and the mains were served. Another beautiful combination of flavors and textures.

  “Well, I can’t find fault with his skill or his choice of meals yet.”

  Julian was eating his steak so fast he looked like he barely had time to breathe. But after a final forkful of greens and scalloped potatoes, he moaned and dropped his knife and fork.

  “I think I worked up a bit of an appetite today.”

  Despite her best efforts to put some mental distance between them, his words made her whole body squirm in her chair. Their afternoon had her achy, hungry for more of the passion she’d found in Julian’s arms.

  “You must have.”

  The plates were taken away and Samara poured some more water for her suddenly dry mouth.

  “I have a proposition for you,” Julian said, his words laced with a honeyed tone that made her belly twist and tighten. She pressed her thighs together and crossed her legs to dull the ache that throbbed at her center.

  She took another sip of her water, savoring the anticipation building in her body. “It sounds like it’s going to be an improper proposition.”

  He chuckled again, but this time his eyes grew darker. “It may be. We have nine days left until you fly back to New York. I propose that during the days we work alongside each other just as we have been, and at night we dine together and go to bed, enjoying each other however we see fit.”

  Their desserts arrived and Samara picked up her fork, slicing a thick forkful of baked cheesecake, and scooping it through the blue berry sauce at the side. “A work holiday fling, so to speak?” Her traitorous body jumped at the idea but her chest tightened. Flings were not her style, and Julian was far too exceptional a man for her fragile heart to get close to.

  “Yes. Precisely. I don’t do long term relationships, Samara. I should warn you now.”

  She swallowed hard and tried not to show how his words chilled her. When had she ever entered a relationship with the end firmly in sight?

  Never.

  “Tell me why…and don’t cite our original agreement not to get personal. I think the pool today crossed us over into the forbidden zone.”

  Julian leaned back in his chair and picked up the shortbread on his plate, biting into the crumbly cookie and chewing slowly.

  Samara took another taste of her cheesecake, the smooth subtlety of the lemon zest utter perfection. This chef was worth every cent they would be paying him.

  “Okay, I’ll answer a few of your questions, if you answer mine.”

  “That’s a fair deal.” And not one she would have expected from him.

  Julian looked toward where the staff were talking, shining glasses and silver cutlery. Just as they should be. When he glanced back, the teasing in his gaze was gone, replaced by a bleakness that rippled out on
to his handsome face.

  “I don’t enter into long term relationships anymore, because I have just survived a short marriage and divorce.”

  Her breath exhaled in a painful gush. That was not what she’d been expecting. A player that didn’t want to be tied down? Sure. But not someone who’d loved and lost. Her eyes shifted as though seeing him differently. “Oh, that must have been painful.”

  He nodded tightly, once. “The whole bloody thing was painful. My wife…”—he practically spat the word out—“played the dutiful role right up until the day we said I do, then she turned into an absolute hell cat. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

  Every fiber in Samara’s body wanted to tell him that not all women were like that, that those few bitches were the extreme minority. She couldn’t deny that they did exist; she’d worked for several. But she kept her mouth shut. There was only one way to prove to a man who’d been bitten that not all women were the same, and that was lots of time and love. Two things she didn’t have to give him.

  “Okay, thanks for being honest. Now you ask your question, Julian.”

  His face calmed. “Tell me why you only allowed my company to hire you for a fortnight. We would have paid for you to stay for three months. More.”

  She shrugged. “The answer is simple really. I’d planned to have this whole year off and had saved the money to do so. But my parents rang up a few weeks ago to say the bank was foreclosing on their house and they needed money. I gave them what they needed, but it left me short for my goals for this year. So, I’m here, filling up the bank balance again.”

  He blinked. “I’m sorry to hear that, but it doesn’t answer the real question. Why only two weeks? If you need money, why not work more? Stay longer.”

  She shook her head hard. She hadn’t worked herself to death for the past decade to worry about money now. “I have money. I own my two-bedroom apartment and still have my business. I just didn’t want to struggle if things didn’t go to plan, and your mother’s phone call felt like the hand of fate handing me a boon. But when it comes down to it, I need to take this year off for my health.”

  He swallowed strangely, a downward edge pulling at his lips. “Are you unwell?”

  “Oh, no, it’s nothing serious. Look, I don’t want to give you too many details, but I’ve worked hard for a long time. I’ve sacrificed family time, friendships, and my health to a certain degree to get ahead. But my priorities have shifted and my endometriosis has given me a time line I’m finally listening to.”

  “You’re still being very vague.”

  She huffed out a laugh, her vision board swimming into view in her mind. Time to be completely honest, and although she knew that he was about to freak out and possibly run away, she owed him the truth. He’d given it to her.

  “Julian, do you really want to know about my plans for babies, marriage, and my very unhealthy uterus?”

  He shuddered, literally shuddered, like a leaf in a strong breeze. She laughed at him.

  Curiosity killed the cat.

  “See. Told you.”

  His spine had straightened until he was sitting up like a soldier. “You’re right. I don’t want to know.”

  She licked the metal prongs of the dessert fork. “Good. So, let’s just enjoy the next nine days and then we can go our own separate ways.”

  And before she’d consciously made up her mind she was hearing herself agree to his proposal. She may not be the type to sleep around, but if this was the last chance she had to feel a man’s arms around her before she began the long and painful process of IVF, then she would enjoy it.

  “Sounds good to me.” He grinned at her and her belly flipped, tugging at her in that special way.

  They finished their three-course meal and stood up. “I think that chef is hired for good now, don’t you?”

  Julian nodded, “Yes. Definitely. You did well there. Shall we…” He tilted his head and she assumed he meant to go back to their room. She’d love to, of course, but a bit of waiting never hurt anyone.

  “Yes. But can we go for a little walk first? I am so full from dinner.”

  She watched him carefully and if he was disappointed by her request, he didn’t reveal it.

  “Of course, that’s a great idea. Around the pool again? Or…”

  She had a better idea. “I’d love to walk over to the beach. I haven’t set a toe on Waikiki since I arrived.”

  He smiled, one of his genuine, relaxed smiles, and they headed into the quiet foyer and through the glass doors that now opened on approach.

  She giggled a little as they walked out into the humid night air and he asked, “What’s funny?”

  She waved her hand at the entrance. “Oh, those doors. I’m always so pleased by small improvements that make a massive difference to a business’ appeal.”

  He chuckled. “Yes. That was a good thing to fix.”

  “It was my very first phone call. How are the numbers for the hotel going?”

  “We’re still very much in the red, but we didn’t expect a turnaround from the first day. Three months is the goal. But let’s not talk about work. Tell me about your fantasies.”

  A surprised laugh filled up her belly as she ran across the road, finally landing with her sandaled feet on the cool sand of Waikiki beach.

  “Now this is a fantasy.” She tugged at the buckles and shuffled out of her shoes, before picking both of them up. She held them by the back straps and let the small grains of sand nestle between her feet. It was dark, so all she could see was what the street lights illuminated, and the moon light that sparkled off the water. “Standing on a beach in Hawaii. I’ve wanted to come here for so long.”

  She began to walk, loving the sound of the waves, the quiet around her. She put her arms out wide and spun in a circle, her dress twirling around her legs. “Isn’t this magnificent?”

  He chuckled softly, the sound rolling around her. She was getting used to that laugh.

  “Are you laughing at me, Mr. King?”

  She turned to look at him and began walking backwards, her eyes now adjusted to the dark so she could see the unusual play of emotions on his face.

  What was he thinking?

  JULIAN STUFFED his hands into his pockets and began walking along the firm sand, his Italian leather shoes sinking with each step he took.

  “I am. But it’s a good thing.”

  She twirled again like a five-year-old with a new party dress, a sight he would never have assumed he would find attractive on a woman. But Samara was utterly enchanting.

  “How is it a good thing?”

  How much should he tell her? They were beginning an affair of sorts, so some nice words were appropriate, but this woman was an Alice. There was a large rabbit hole in front of him and the last thing he wanted to do was go tumbling down it.

  “It’s good because I’ve never met a woman like you. You’re fun.”

  She laughed again, the sound so clean and smooth it sent a shiver down his spine. There was no pretense or artifice to her, and he wasn’t used to it. In his world, he was always looking behind people’s words, investigating their intent, and second guessing how they were trying to manipulate him.

  With Samara, he didn’t need to do that. She was different, and it was as obvious as the moon in the sky. And all of a sudden, he was intrigued.

  “Tell me why you’re so different, Samara. Where did you grow up? What were your parents like?” He was a big believer in making your own destiny, but science was proving just how important genetics were in making you who you were.

  “I’m not that different. I suppose I’m a little happier, or more positive than most the people I know, but that’s just me. And my mum. She’s a beautiful person.”

  “But not very thrifty with money it seems?”

  He regretted his words the moment he saw her face drop. “Well, they are actually. My dad got sick a while ago and they had to re-mortgage their house to pay for it and I think they fell behind on
payments with him not working. They live on a big block with lots of development potential and I think someone saw the chance to grab their house. I don’t blame my parents.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  What did he know about a single home and needing to re-mortgage to pay for medical bills? It was so far away from how he’d been brought up.

  “So you grew up….” He didn’t want to say poor, but what other word was there?

  “I grew up very happy and had everything I needed,” she finished for him, dancing a little in the sand.

  He frowned as he watched her delight. Was it possible that this was all an act? He doubted it.

  “Come on, Julian. Take your shoes off. And your jacket too. You look ridiculous.”

  “Why? You wanna go skinny dipping?”

  That would be the only reason that he’d be stripping off his suit.

  She giggled in the night air. “Nope…but you’ve got a point. Home time?”

  She bounced back to him, dropping her shoes and grabbing both of his hands in hers. A hand squeezed his heart from the inside, taking his breath with it. Samara stared up at him with the trust of a child and he was undone.

  He pulled her closer and his lips touched hers, breathing in her scent, her warmth, her smell. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

  She nodded and bent down to pick up her shoes, taking his hand once again so that they could walk back together. It was a foreign feeling, the casual squeeze of her hand in his. They weren’t on display, no one could see them. She wasn’t like his ex-wife. Samara wasn’t holding his hand to mark him as her property, nor playing a role. She wanted to hold his hand, and considering what they were about to share, it all made sense.

  He pulled away as they stepped back onto the pavement, his hotel a huge presence across the road. “Shall we?”

  She nodded and together they ventured inside, walking up the stairs to her room on the second floor.

  His heart pounded as they entered her room, an anomaly in these situations. She undressed for him slowly, her eyes shining with happiness as she stripped to her lacy knickers, her tight, full breasts already erect and begging for his touch.