by V.K. Sykes
* * *
Holly inspected the suite, her skin tingling with delight. Nice was not exactly the best word to describe the place. Decadent wouldn’t be closer. Both rooms were spacious and lavishly decorated, and the furnishings were the finest she’d ever seen in a hotel room. And she’d stayed in enough nice hotels to know the difference.
But the wall-to-wall, full-height windows—with a door leading to a long, oceanfront balcony—drew her immediately. The door opened with the slightest push, and she stepped out into a fragrant ocean breeze. Lights shone from the hotel courtyard below and to the left, highlighting the tall palms whose fronds rustled in the wind. The moon glimmered on the white-capped waves as Holly strained to make out a group of lights distant on the horizon. Probably a freighter heading for the port of Jacksonville.
“Let’s go down to the beach,” she suggested impulsively, turning to Nate who had stepped out onto the balcony beside her.
He leered at her, waggling his eyebrows like Groucho Marx. “For a little skinny-dipping, I presume?”
She rolled her eyes. “I was thinking more along the lines of a nice walk along the shore. But feel free to go for it if the spirit moves you.”
“Better not. God only knows what’s lurking out there in those waters at night.” He put an arm around her waist and kissed her ear. “I’m up for a stroll, though. But let’s grab a blanket. It’s great to sit in the dark, just watching the waves and listening to the surf.”
“Good idea. There should be an extra blanket in the closet.” She turned to go back inside to check.
“And I’ll order up some wine and a couple of glasses,” Nate said as he followed her.
“Can we take that down to the beach?” she asked as she pulled down a blanket from the closet.
“Baby, I can do just about anything,” he boasted. He offset the arrogance of the comment with a goofy, endearing grin.
She laughed. “You do know how to impress a girl, Carter.” She tried to act like it was no big deal, but excitement bubbled inside her as she surrendered to the impulsive magic of the trip. Everything about it had been perfect. More than perfect, if that were even possible.
And that thought, somehow, felt a bit too much like tempting fate.
Chapter Twenty-One
