balcony and opened the glass door. The mild air fluttered the hem of my dress, and I wrapped my arms around my waist remembering the softness of Nox’s jacket as it blocked the chill. In the darkness the rush of the surf created a low rumble. Our view might not be as spectacular as the one from the presidential suite, but it was nice. As I kicked off Chelsea’s high heels, I suppressed the emotions that threatened to bubble to the surface. Nox wasn’t worth my anger or my tears. I wouldn’t give him any more of either.
By the time room service finally answered my call, I had my silver necklace and earrings lying in a pile on the desk. “Hello, this is Al—this is Charli Moore. I’d like to order a glass—no a bottle—of your house red.” I didn’t wait for him to figure the total. “Charge it to my room and if you have it here in less than ten minutes, I’ll double your tip.”
Hanging up the phone, I pulled the blue dress over my head. I had wine coming and I planned to enjoy it. Some rotten cheater wasn’t going to ruin my second night of vacation. No, I was going to make a night of it. Before sitting alone on the balcony and listening to the ocean, I would soak in a nice, warm bubble bath.
“I can do this,” I said aloud to no one. “I don’t need Nox.” I worked to remove the bobby pins from my hair. “I don’t even need Chelsea.” I raked my fingers through the red-brown waves. “Pretty soon I’ll be living alone in New York.” I nodded to myself in the mirror. “And I’m nearly twenty-four years old. It’s about time I get used to spending some time alone.”
Realizing that I was carrying on an audible conversation with myself, I stepped from the bathroom and took another look around the suite. It was one thing to talk aloud to myself. It was another to have anyone hear me. Maybe I’d get a cat when I moved to New York. Then talking aloud wouldn’t be considered crazy.
I read the different bottles of bubbles, oils, and salts while warm water filled the tub. As I tried to decide which one to use, which fragrance I’d choose to replace the lingering memory of Nox’s cologne, I washed the makeup from my face. It was ridiculous that I was so nervous about our dinner. He didn’t deserve the time I’d spent in his suite or the time I spent getting ready for it.
With each passing second my indignation grew.
I turned off the running water in the tub as a knock echoed throughout the suite. Wrapping the white satin Del Mar robe around my body, I walked barefoot toward the door. In a few minutes I’d have wine and a nice bath filled with bubbles. Who needed anything more?
Looking through the peephole, I saw the customary navy jacket on the young man through the lens. His face was slightly distorted with the dome of the glass, but I could see him plain enough. Had it been less than ten minutes? I wasn’t sure. Hell, I’d go ahead and double his tip. He’d made it before my tub got cold. Besides the way this week was working out, I would probably become very acquainted with the room service staff. It was best to keep myself in their good graces.
I opened the door, but before the waiter could speak, my eyes went to the man standing off to the side, the one with the pale blue eyes I wanted to forget. Regret and sorrow morphed into hunger as Nox scanned my new attire. Although the robe was long, nearly to the floor, the rich satin did little to hide my body’s reaction to his gaze.
I crossed my arms over my traitorous nipples. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“May I come in?” The low thunder rumbled my insides.
“No,” I answered too quickly, suddenly conscious of my lack of clothing beneath the robe. Even the loss of the high heels put me at a marked disadvantage. The man with the ravenous stare towered over me, taller than only an hour before.
“Miss Moore?” the young man in the navy jacket asked. “Would you like me to bring your wine into your
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