Slippery When Wet. Kristin Hardy

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ I’ll see you around. I’m going into the water.”

      Dev rose and sat on the edge of a nearby lounger. “You go right ahead.” He looked her up and down and his grin widened. “I’ll just sit here and enjoy the view.”

      Taylor walked down to the water, excruciatingly aware of the swing of her arms, every sway of her hips. Excruciatingly aware of Dev’s eyes on her. She was being silly, she chided herself. He’d harassed her, had his laugh. With all the bare breasts around, he had to have lost interest in her. Still, she could feel two spots burning on the scrap of fabric that stretched over her haunches. Just her imagination, she told herself firmly, she’d look back and he’d be gone. As she stepped onto the damp, firm-packed sand by the water, she glanced over her shoulder toward her palapa. And saw Dev raise a hand lazily, his white smile glittering even from this distance.

      Taylor flushed and stepped into the wash of foam.

      SHE HAD DIED AND GONE TO heaven. That was simply all there was to it. Tropical sea, an aqua so pale it was luminous, stretched around her. She sank down in the water and looked along the shore to where the pastel wavelets met the periwinkle sky. No wonder everyone dressed in such bright colors in the tropics, they were trying to keep up with the exuberant background.

      The gentle nudge of the foot high swells cradled her body. Even though she’d gone past the end of the dive dock to the string of cork floaters that marked the edge of the swim area, she was only chest deep in the warm water, her feet still touching ground. Bright-colored fish whisked along, past the occasional trail of seaweed. The water was clear enough that she could see the shadow patterns of the surface ripples waving on the bottom, could see the vivid red of her toenail polish against the white sand.

      Taylor turned lightly to look at the gleaming beach that ran along the coast to where it curved out of sight. The graceful curves of coconut palm fronds swayed over the golden sand, dotted among the thatched palapas.

      It was paradise.

      Almost paradise, she corrected herself. Except for Dev Carson. Maybe if she spent a dozen years around him, she might stop turning red every time she saw him. It probably wouldn’t happen anytime soon, though.

      She scowled at the tiny figures on the shore. Maybe he’d tired of teasing her by now and would leave her in peace. She thought of the spark of mischief in those green eyes and shook her head. She should be so lucky.

      Diving under the water like a seal, she came up with her hair wet and slicked back. It was a shame. The more she thought about the idea of cutting loose for a totally meaningless and completely decadent vacation fling, the more it appealed to her. If Dev Carson had been just another guest at the resort, she’d have given very serious thought to jumping his bones. Granted, her bones-jumping skills were rusty, but there had been a time when she’d been able to reel in any man she set her cap for. She still had the equipment, she had no doubt she could do it again. She just needed to get back the mindset.

      Somehow, though, none of the other men she’d seen around the resort had made quite the impression on her that Dev did. If only he weren’t focused on their little contretemps.

      Taylor rolled over to float lazily on her back, staring at the small white puffs of cloud in the sky overhead. She couldn’t do anything more about the situation than she already had. Ignore him and relax, that was the thing to do. This was her long overdue vacation. No way was she going to waste another precious minute of it worrying about work-related stuff. For the next seven days, duty and responsibility didn’t exist. Indulging herself was the only rule.

      That, and finding herself a decadent summer lover.

      DUSK WAS PURPLING TO evening as Taylor strolled up the winding jungle trail that led from her room to the restaurant. Stone lanterns dotting the side of the path cast a soft, peach glow over the flagstones, illuminating the nodding blossoms on plantings by the trail. Out in the dim space under the trees, a bird whistled softly. The skirt of her hot pink minidress swished against her thighs. With every step, she felt the years slough away, bringing her closer to the carefree, happy-go-lucky chance-taker she had once been.

      She’d begun to relax fractionally that afternoon after she returned to her lounger to find Dev Carson nowhere in sight. The little prick of disappointment she’d felt, she’d suppressed ruthlessly. No mixing business and pleasure, she told herself sternly. Having a fling would be wonderful. Having a fling with Dev Carson would be the dumbest thing she could do.

      But he was gone, and hopefully that was the end of it. She ignored the tiny voice in her head—miniscule, really—that whined about the rarity of six-pack abs. He was gone and she was glad. Now she could relax and take it easy. After all, in a resort of nearly a thousand people, she might go days without seeing him again.

      But she’d kept her top on the rest of the afternoon, just in case.

      The path leveled and broadened and changed into polished golden terrazzo that led along the edge of the open-air restaurant. In a region where the air was warm and silky, even in winter, walls were superfluous. The only thing necessary was the thatched roof that hung down at the edges and soared to a peak in the center, blocking out the occasional cloudbursts. Long ponds patrolled by orange and white koi separated the walkway from the dining area, where a fringe of dried palm fronds overhung the edge of the roof. One side of the restaurant looked out on a broad waterfall that cascaded over rocks, the chatter of the droplets soothing in her ears.

      Taylor walked up to the hostess stand at the entrance. “Hola, señorita,” smiled a compact, dark-eyed man, with a badge that said Raoul. “You wish for dinner?” he asked.

      “Si, gracias,” Taylor replied. “Un asiento, por favor.”

      “Ah.” His eyes lit. “Habla Español?”

      Taylor laughed and held her forefinger and thumb half an inch apart. “Un poquito, un poquito,” she said, shaking her hand ruefully.

      Raoul picked up a menu and led her to the side of the restaurant near the waterfall where a stream of droplets fell musically into the catch basin. The paddles of overhead fans stirred the air. Candles flickered on the tables and soft Latin guitar played over the sound system. It was exquisite. She wouldn’t have changed a thing.

      Except for the fact that the table Raoul was leading her toward was already occupied by Dev Carson.

      He stood up as Raoul stopped at the table, and pulled out a chair for her. “Gracias, amigo,” he said, nodding to Raoul.

      “De nada,” Raoul murmured with a wink and disappeared.

      Taylor looked at Dev and he looked steadily back. Behind him, the drops of the backlit waterfall chattered. His tan was dark against the white linen of his shirt. His eyes glimmered with something like anticipation, and had something in her stomach chittering like the waterfall.

      “Hot-pink suits you.”

      Taylor took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting her system steady. “Mr. Carson,” she began.

      “Dev,” he corrected.

      “So you keep telling me. Look, I know you weren’t happy with the way things worked out at the travel agency, and I sympathize with that. I sympathize with the fact that you might still be annoyed. But I’m on vacation. You made your point this afternoon. I’d be happy to listen to anything else you have to say—next week, in my office. While I’m here, I’m off the clock. Buenos noches.” She moved to turn away.

СКАЧАТЬ