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I shake my head, silently scolding myself for falling into the trap and becoming just like every other woman on the planet, ensnared by a fleeting glance and sexy smile. I’d be smart to remember that habit-forming charm he exudes isn’t reserved for only me. He spreads it around like a contagious STI.
Regardless, my cheeks heat from his attention, and I glance away again, hoping the sun exposure from today covers the blush. I’m also thankful that the sunglasses still hide my eyes. They feel like a protective shield at this point. I’m just relieved Sam isn’t adept at reading minds.
“I think I can manage the front on my own.”
I feel him smirk, but I don’t look.
“If you change your mind …”
He moves across my vision as he walks to the edge of the pool and dives in, looking every bit of the athlete that he is. I take a long pull from the straw and try to settle the restlessness that has suddenly appeared.
“You need a refill?” the waiter asks, materializing at my side. Malachi. The same guy who’s been helping me all day.
“I probably shouldn’t,” I admit, already feeling the effects of the first three even though I’ve taken my time drinking them.
“But that’s exactly when you should,” he counters.
I glance up at him, shielding my eyes from the sun despite wearing shades. Malachi is handsome. Not Sam and his hockey teammates kind of hot, but good-looking all the same. And he’s been very friendly all afternoon, but I’m sure he’s like that with all the customers.
“Brendon, the bartender, makes this killer rum punch …”
I grin and nod at him. “Okay, you sold me. Can I get some fries too?”
If I’m going to have another drink, I need some food to soak up all the alcohol before I’m the one stumbling back to the hotel room. Somehow, I don’t think Sam would take care of me the way I did him back in Seattle.
“Sure thing.” He winks before walking away.
I lean back in my chair and empty the rest of my drink while trying and failing to ignore the giggles and shouts coming from the shallow end of the pool. Sam has joined his teammates. One of the women, the bleached blonde busting out of the red string bikini, is whispering in his ear and touching his chest. The same chest I was admiring chairside just a few moments ago. She’s gorgeous, resembling Pamela Anderson from her Baywatch days, in that manufactured way. Let’s just say, there’s nothing natural about her body or face.
I pull my attention away from them and rise, trying to ignore the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. I feel like I’m on display as I dip my toe in the other end of the pool. I drop down to a sitting position and slide in. The water feels cool and refreshing against my sunbaked skin. My head ducks beneath the surface as I glide toward the other side. I push off the wall again when I reach it and float leisurely on my back, focusing on how blue the cloudless sky looks.
“Emerson,” Malachi shouts near my chair. He lifts my drink when our eyes meet.
I swim over and use my arms to pull myself out of the water before walking to where he’s waiting by my lounger.
“Try it,” he says, a tray resting against his body as he waits.
He drops down to sit on the chair next to mine as I lift the glass. Condensation leaks down the side, forming two droplets that fall onto my hand, mixing with the pool water that’s running in rivulets down my body to the concrete below.
I take a sip of the punch, noticing I don’t even taste the alcohol anymore. Maybe it’s the sweetness that’s covering it, or maybe my senses have been dulled by the first three beverages.
“It’s good,” I confirm. “Really good.”
“Told you.” He grins, revealing two dimples I didn’t notice earlier. “I wouldn’t steer you wrong. But it’s deceptively strong, so beware.” He glances away and then back again, studying my face as I snatch a salty fry. “Are you in town for business or pleasure?”
“A little of both,” I say evasively.
I’m usually an open book, but I signed a nondisclosure agreement when I agreed to work with Sam. I’m finding that saying as little as possible is the best way to avoid a slipup and honor that contract.
“Have you ever been to LA before?”
I shake my head. “First time.” I eat another fry.
“If you have any free time, I could show you around …” he offers.
A shadow falls across my body.
“You’re on my towel,” Sam says gruffly with a hard stare directed at the waiter.
