by Sahara Kelly
*~*~*~*
Where the hell was she?
Cris paced, checked, walked the ground floor of the hotel at least a dozen times and double-checked the pool every time. His staff exchanged knowing glances and attended diligently to their work.
He'd already checked with housekeeping, only to learn from Maria on five that the guest in Room 522 had apparently gone out somewhere, and the room was already serviced. Yes, her belongings were still there.
The trip desk had closed after the last tour had departed, but when the station reopened after lunch to start making arrangements for the next day, Cris hurried over, drumming his fingers on the counter as he waited for Paul. He had the man's password of course, but didn't believe in undermining any his employees by opening up their software without their permission. Or at least their knowledge. Today, however, it was damn close…
"Hey boss."
"Paul. Where have you been?" Cris frowned, then waved his hand. "Never mind. I need to see the tour bookings. Pull them up for me would you?" He nodded at the flat screen monitor.
"Uh, sure." Paul hit keys and the schedules appeared.
Cris almost pushed the young man out of the way in his eagerness to read the names and it was with an audible sigh of relief his finger stopped three quarters of the way down on the third screen.
"Madre de Dios. Fish."
"You okay, Boss?"
Cris straightened and grinned. "I am now." He slapped the concierge on the back, nearly knocking him into the keyboard. "Fish. Who knew?"
He strode away, not noticing the dropped jaw or stunned expression of the young man behind the desk.
He'd found her. She hadn't left him.
The nagging fear she'd run away, gone, disappeared into the vastness of the Florida landscape or worse-gone home to New England-well, that had been an increasingly crushing worry.
But she hadn't. She'd gone to see some fish.
Hell, he could have shown her fish if she'd wanted to see them that badly. He happened to have a very friendly goldfish named Maurice. Right next to his bed.
He paused, staring absently out to the pool area. He might have to move Maurice soon, since he was a young and impressionable goldfish and Cris didn't really want anyone or anything watching what might happen in that very bed tonight. Maurice might be scarred for life.
Permitting himself a little smile, Cris realized he hoped that would be the case. That the desire and lust he could feel building inside him would be matched by the woman he wanted, and between the two of them they'd generate enough heat to fry Maurice.
Okay, that would be bad, but the concept was sound.
His phone discreetly vibrated and distracted him, pulling him out of his surreal musings and back into reality. Jen would return to the hotel around three or so.
Then his campaign would spring into action and his dreams-he hoped-would be fulfilled.
*~*~*~*
It was past four when the coach disgorged the last of its passengers at the hotel door.
Jen scurried inside with the rest of her traveling companions, eager for the cooler air and security of a solid foyer. Black clouds had gathered, fierce and threatening, and she knew a rattling thunderstorm was imminent.
Their timing was perfect. No sooner had the driver pulled away than the first drops spattered on the white tiles of the entrance and within seconds a blinding sheet of heavy rain obscured the outside of the hotel.
Guests murmured and moved to the windows to watch, jumping at the first loud crack of thunder.
Jen moved with them, then jumped herself, not from the thunder but from a warm arm slipping around her waist.
"Hello mi hermosa. I missed you today."
She turned to look up at him, catching her breath at the heat in his eyes. Lightning flashed, carving his cheekbones in brilliance and dancing from the white teeth smiling at her.
He was so beautiful. In a manly sort of way, of course. But the beauty was there, nonetheless.
"What?" He tilted his head inquiringly as she continued to stare.
"You are something else, Cris. You know that?"
"I am?"
"Yes, you are."
His arm tightened. "I hope you like this whatever-I-am thing…"
"Oh I do." She leaned into him, inhaling that amazing scent. "I very much do." Remembering herself, she glanced up again. "And thank you for the lovely surprises in my room. That flower…and those chocolates…" She closed her eyes and sighed. "Bliss."
"I'm happy they pleased you. It was my way of apologizing. I'd planned on dinner for the two of us, if you were in agreement. But business-a waste of my time type obligation-got in the damned way."
She chuckled and turned to watch the rain once more. "You work here, Cris. I understand that. Your commitment to your job must come first. I'm on vacation and can do as I please. But when it comes to the day-to-day concerns about making a living? We're all bound by it to varying degrees."
"We are indeed. But even hotel managers get a night off." He moved his hand from her waist to the back of her neck and let it rest there. "I'm taking tonight." He paused, then lowered his voice slightly. "And I want you to share it with me."
She turned in his hold, loving the warmth of his palm, the feeling of desire his touch stimulated low in her belly. It was controlling in a way and that was a turn-on as well. He wanted her badly enough to override any objections she might have and his grip was telling her so.
Of course, she couldn't have come up with an objection to save her life, so the point was moot, but still…she couldn't help that tingling thrill of excitement as his fingers gently caressed her sensitive skin.
"I'd like that very much." She gave him her answer and had a feeling it was to a question that hadn't been asked. That didn't need to be asked.
Yes, I'll sleep with you.
Yes, I want to be with you, naked with you, lying beneath you or on top of you.
She swallowed and realized she was getting damp, her panties moist with the beginnings of her arousal. "I would like to change first though. I've been to the Aquarium and probably smell of Eau de Seaweed. Or the salt water a large grouper soaked me with."
"The cur. I shall demand he be captured, fileted and served with garlic, en croute."
She laughed. "You would too. You're just a pirate at heart, aren't you? Avenging wrongs and plundering where you please."
"I would be pleased to plunder you." His look said everything. "And if you're going to change, you'd better do it now before I shock everyone and plunder you right here on that couch. Followed by a bit of pillaging as well."
"Promise?"
She felt wickedly wonderful, desirable, sexual. All the things she'd thought she'd either never had or had lost.
It was heady, breathtaking and she could have stayed in his hold for an hour, but there was the whole panties thing. Not to mention the heat building in Cris's cheeks.
He shook her gently, his hand still clasping her neck. "Go amorcito. Before I embarrass myself. Meet me in the lounge in an hour?"
She nodded and turned, free of his touch and his gaze. She nearly ran to the elevator and found she was panting when it arrived. Good Lord above, if his touch and his conversation did that, what the hell was it going to be like when they were naked and entangled?
Her nipples hardened, giving her a preview.
Yeah. Oh yeah. Bring it on…
Chapter 10
Cris paced the length of the bar, unusually tense. He'd dated before, for God's sake. He'd been married. He certainly wasn't a virgin. So what the hell had him tied up in knots on this particular evening, waiting for this particular woman?
He didn't want to explore it, and tried to quell the sense of breathless expectation that rippled through him. It was-unexpected, to say the least. He'd missed her, and knew he'd panicked at the thought she might have left permanently.
He'd pushed her and himself yesterday, since touching a woman like that, one he'd known for such a short ti
me, was out of character for him. And he had a pretty good notion it was out of character for her too.
Something was happening between them. Some kind of spark, igniting places he didn't know were flammable. It was dangerous in many ways, untamed, raw and exciting. He prowled the lounge feeling like a panther stalking its prey. He wanted to feed on her, in every way there was. To drink her breath, taste her laughter and eat-hell. He was gonna have one painful hard-on if he stayed on that train of thought.
The odd thing was that he found himself smiling at the thought of Jennifer every bit as often as it made him hard. She appealed to more than just his dick, apparently, which made her unique.
Cris was a healthy male and liked women. Women liked him back. Nature took its course. But now, here, with Jennifer, something was changing. Yes, nature was asserting its interest in putting part A into slot B and repeating as necessary. That was a given.
But there was also the urge to talk to her. To just sit for hours and find out what she thought about life. What she liked to eat. What size shoe did she wear and did she vote? Movies? Did she like old movies, like he did? Did she have any allergies? A favorite singer?
Dios.
He sat down suddenly, his knees less than steady, refusing to accept the impossible.
He was absolutely not falling head over heels for Jennifer Hodges. Not in the space of twenty-four hours. It simply couldn't happen. Out of the question. Don't even consider it.
Fuck.
*~*~*~*
Jen's heart was pounding like the proverbial drum as she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. Her reflection shone all around her in the polished copper lining the walls, gleaming blues and tiny sparkles twinkling warmly as she moved.
Glad she'd packed one pretty cocktail dress, she'd slipped into the multi hued bit of chiffon with a sense of anticipation and excitement. The dark blue of the bodice with its sequined straps bled to a sea blue and then a fragile shade of forget-me-not by the time it reached the hem, which flirted around Jen's knees. Soft and almost weightless, it was the perfect choice for a sultry tropical night.
And the perfect choice for a seduction.
Who was going to be seducing whom…well, that was To Be Announced. She smiled as the car dinged and the doors slid smoothly open onto the Lobby. The thin heels of her sandals clicked satisfyingly on the white marble-and there he was, his head turning toward her like a magnet to north even though she wasn't even in the lounge yet.
Cris.
She mouthed the word and he stood and smiled, then walked toward her in that leonine way that made her skin ripple with awareness. He wore his sensuality absently, unaware of the effect he had on women. It was probably part and parcel of that charm, she realized.
He didn't work at it; it was natural, incorporated into his attractive personality. The combination of magnetic sexual appeal and an ability to make a positive impression on everyone he dealt with-well, it was a shatteringly effective presence and he'd certainly found the perfect career. What guest wouldn't leave the Palms without a memory or two of the most handsome man spending a few moments with them?
And tonight…tonight he was all hers.
"Beautiful, mi cielo." He took her hand and stepped back, surveying her. "A star fallen to earth."
She grinned. "Seriously?"
"Completely." He grinned back. "You are stunning and you know it. And I'm the lucky guy who gets to buy you drinks, dinner, dance with you, and…"
"And?" Her voice caught in her throat.
"And tell you how beautiful you are." He pulled her close. "I want to kiss you right this minute. But I won't. I shall torture myself by spending some time watching your lips and wondering how they taste. Waiting, aching for the moment when I will…find…out…"
She gulped and for a moment forgot to breathe. Then blinked. "You're good. Very good."
He smirked. "No complaints so far."
She couldn't help the laugh. "Buy me a drink, you Floridian Don Juan. Then you can stare at my lips and tell me more outrageous things. After two or three cocktails I might even believe 'em."
She wouldn't need two or three drinks, she knew. Already just the sight and sound and smell of him was enough to send tremors of desire dancing through her veins like the bubbles in a tall glass of champagne. No alcohol required, just him.
She fizzed inside as he took her arm, stroking the delicate skin of her inner elbow while guiding her to two stools at the quiet end of the bar. Not that it was loud, by any means, but there was a baseball game in full swing and a few patrons were expressing their opinions enthusiastically.
"Who's playing?" She glanced at the large flat screen flickering above the tables.
"Who's playing what?" Cris's finger toyed with her strap. "I like your dress."
Torn between a sharp dart of lust and amusement, Jen rolled her eyes. "Oh stop."
"Why? You don't like me telling you I think you're beautiful?"
"No…I mean yes. I mean…hoo boy." She gave up the battle and let him cup her cheek, managing to not turn her head and bite a chunk out of his hand. She wanted him that much.
The bartender approached and Cris dropped his hand as their drinks appeared in front of them with a flourish.
Jen glanced at him. "Oh…this looks good?"
"Chocolate martini, Ma'am. Boss thought you might enjoy it." Grinning over his pristine white shirt and black vest, the bartended nodded at Cris. "And your usual, sir."
"Thanks, Barry." Cris nodded back and sipped from a tall glass of something fizzy with a slice of lemon in it.
"Chocolate martini, huh?" She turned the glass, admiring the artistic scrollwork created with a squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup. Then she took a sip. And for a moment the world was dazzlingly wonderful.
"Like it?" The dark brown eyes were amused.
"Like it?" She moaned a little. "This is heaven in a glass. I could dive into this and drown quite happily." She sipped again. "Whoever invented this should be given a Nobel prize for making people happy. Two of 'em."
"That good, huh?"
"That good." She nodded and went back for more. Not an adventurous drinker, she'd never have ordered one of these for herself. But the seductive blend of chocolate, silky cream and the underlying snap of vodka, well…hell. It was a milkshake with a kick, a frozen chocolate creamsicle with a side of mood enhancing relaxers.
Not that her mood needed enhancing. After barely her fourth sip, she found herself staring at Cris's mouth, wondering in turn what he tasted like. And whether she could figure out a way to smear chocolate on him before she kissed the bejeezus out of him.
Jen the wanton slut had apparently decided to make an appearance. Jen the perfectly normal and proper woman slithered onto a couch and hid her head.
"Cris." She spoke his name quietly. "Forgive me for saying this, but I want you."
His gaze shot to meet hers. "Good. I want you too, Jennifer. I really like that you can talk to me with honesty. Makes it easier to say things I might not otherwise say."
She leaned toward him. "Like what?"
"Like I'm tormented by the need to taste your pussy. I can still remember the fragrance of your body when it's aroused. I want my mouth there, my tongue there. I want to feel your thighs against my head, pressing into me as I make you come."
"Jesus." Sweat dewed Jen's body and she shivered in the air conditioning, a combination of need and cool breezes. She spoke without thinking, saying what was in her heart at that moment. "Yes."
Cris slid from the stool, picked up her drink and handed it to her. "We'll take this with us." He walked her away from the bar.
"What about yours?" She glanced back.
"It's seltzer. I don't drink very much and especially not tonight. I want to make sure every second I spend with you is clear and fresh in my mind."
His arm slipped around her waist and he steered her steadily to the elevator, urging her inside, tapping his foot as they waited for the door to close.
He pulled a small key from his pocket and turned it in an unmarked slot above the floor buttons. "My personal suite. Small but convenient."
She nodded, her throat thick at the scent of him. He was clean and masculine, tangy and slightly tropical. Part of her mind wondered what cologne he used, but the rest of her just wondered what he'd taste like when she ran her tongue over every inch of him.
He took her glass as the elevator began to move.
And crushed her against the copper wall, kissing her fiercely.
Surprised, thrilled and eager, Jen kissed him back, her mouth opening, tongue seeking, learning, tasting…
The doors slid open and they parted with mutual sighs.
"Welcome to my home. I hope you like it. I'll show it to you later." He put down her glass, took her purse and put it on the same small table, then grabbed her hand.
"Follow me. You and I are wearing far too many clothes."
She toed off her shoes and followed him to his bedroom, suppressing a slight gasp as she saw the wall of glass opening onto a patio and a view of the landscape that was breathtaking. The lights outside were dim and there were no lights inside at all.
It was perfect. There was even a goldfish.
"Maurice, say hi to Jennifer."
She waved her fingers. The fish ignored her.
Cris reached out her and held her shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you, Jennifer. I've been thinking of nothing else since the minute I saw you."
She nodded. "I want you too. I want to…to…" she stumbled a little over the blunt language. "I want to fuck you back, Cris." She felt heat rise in her cheeks and bravely lifted her chin. "I want everything."
"Then you shall have it, querida." He slid the jeweled straps from her shoulders and eased her dress away from her.
Since the garment had been well-engineered, there was no need for a bra. Her breasts were bare, her nipples hardening as she watched him look at her. She wanted that lovely mouth on her somewhere, anywhere.
With a quick wriggle, the dress dropped to the floor and she stood there, nude but for her lace panties. "Now, Cris. Now."
