Tease Me, page 13
With that wonderful thought, I closed the diary, grabbed my bag, and headed out my door, ready for another night managing the Hot Horizon Hotel.
Chapter Sixteen
I was looking forward to the conference that was currently setting up in my hotel. Wine was something I’d like to know more about, and some of the finest vineyards in Australia were showcasing their products here for the next two days.
According to Marjorie, about six tons of alcohol had passed through the lobby today, and I couldn’t wait to taste a few of the wines. I put the ‘back in five minutes’ sign on the counter and strolled into the conference room. Dozens of people milled about, setting up their stalls, unfolding tables, hanging signs, and stacking up rows of plastic cups, and some were sampling wine.
They were a noisy bunch, and based on their laughter and smiles, they seemed excited about the next couple of days. I strolled from stall to stall, introducing myself, checking out the wine labels, making idle chit-chat, and ensuring the stallholders were all happy with our facilities.
The conference room was set up with three rows of display tables, and halfway along the middle row, a man caught my eye. He was a beacon, drawing me in like a sex magnet. Slivers of copper reflected in his dark hair that fell across his forehead with just the right amount of bounce. Broad shoulders tapered down to thin hips that moved with a fascinatingly smooth rhythm.
As I pretended to glance from stall to stall, my eyes were continually drawn back to him as he set up the booth around him. A ring on his finger flashed in the light, and it took a few heartbeats before I established that the circular ring of gold was on his right hand.
His eyes were large, almond-shaped, and framed with the longest, darkest lashes I’d ever seen. I imagined he was born from a mix of cultures. Italian, maybe, based on his dark hair, or something exotic like Brazilian. He moved with a confident grace, and the way he fingered the wine bottle captured me in ways that had my kinky insides purring.
He looked in my direction, and the way his eyes devoured me made a hot flush barrel through my insides and burned my cheeks in about three seconds flat. He smiled a gorgeous broad smile that lit up his eyes as much as his face and had my feet firmly planted on the carpet.
He waved, indicating that I should approach. I convinced my feet to move, and I stood before the sexiest winemaker I’d ever met. Actually, he was the only winemaker I’d ever met, but his looks suited his career choice perfectly.
“Good evening.”
“Hi.” I forced my brain to act professionally and scanned his setup. “Is everything to your liking?”
“Yes.” His gaze traveled up my body. “I like everything very much.” His Italian accent made we wonder if my first guess at his bloodline was correct. “Would you like to taste?” He glided his finger along a dark bottle and trailed around a gold circle at the top showing off the award-winning label.
I nodded like a child agreeing to dessert. Red wine and I were not exactly friends, and more than one glass usually rendered me legless. But how could I resist his delightful request? Drastic measures had been called for.
He turned, and I admired the jeans that molded perfectly to his derriere as he bent over to pluck a pair of real wine glasses from a box at the back of his booth. I tried to calm my racing heart as he turned back to me with a smile.
“I’m Luca, by the way.”
“Hi, Luca. I’m Jane Nichols, the night manager here.”
He held his hand toward me, and his soft palm enveloped mine. “Lovely to meet you.”
I cleared my throat and blinked. Is he flirting with me?
With expert skill and bulging biceps, Luca guided a corkscrew into the top of the bottle and pulled. The cork released with an elegant pop, and he held the bottle to his nose. With his eyes closed, he inhaled, and the expression on his face was the epitome of concentration as ever so slowly, the edges of his mouth curled with obvious satisfaction.
“Perfecto.” The word whispered off his lips like an angel’s song.
He poured the wine into the glasses, and I was struck by how deep red it was, like a very ripe pomegranate. Luca swirled one glass around, capturing shades of red in the lights. He held it up, squinting to examine the glass closely, then nodding his approval, he offered it to me.
As I reached for it, he cupped his hand around mine and showed me how to hold the glass properly. “You must caress the glass. Hold it as if it were your lover.”
The blush already burning my cheeks bathed me in lava. Sweat prickled my forehead as he guided my hand in slow, mesmerizing circles that made the wine swirl around the inside of the glass. His body seemed to emit a warm hum that spoke directly to my libido.
“See? The wine. . . it coats the inside of the glass. It’s a lovely full body. You will see.”
“Hmmm.” Words were my enemy right now.
“That is good.” He nodded with conviction.
As I nodded with him, I feared I may fall under a hypnotic trance if I watched the swirling wine much longer.
“Okay.” He let go of my hand, and it was akin to having my womb removed. “Now, we sip.” He picked up his own glass and drank.
I copied, pouring a generous quantity onto my tongue. It was liquid heaven, and I imagined sitting by a fire with Luca, both of us naked as we savored his delectable nectar.
“And?” He raised his eyebrows and glided his hand from high up on his chest, down over his abs, and let it rest on his non-existent belly. “Do you feel it here?”
I copied him, matching the slow trail of his hand over my own body, and did indeed feel the wine warming my insides. “Yes. It’s wonderful.”
He smiled a truly fabulous smile, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Luca would be my next sexual adventure. We sipped the remaining wine in silence, and as I devoured him with my gaze, I was certain he, in turn, was examining me. Every breath he made matched mine. We were already in sync, and I couldn’t wait to continue that journey in the bedroom.
The anticipation was going to kill me.
Oh my god! He’s flirting with Jane. Plain Jane. A hot flush blazed through me so quickly it was a wonder I didn’t self-combust.
I had to get away before my cheeks and neck matched the color of the wine. Swallowing dryness from my throat, I held the empty glass toward him. “That was delicious. Thank you. But I must keep moving.”
“You’re welcome.” Our fingers touched as he took the wine glass from me, shattering my ability to utter another word, so with my heart in my throat, I spun on my heel, and left his booth was like swimming through wet concrete.
I had to force my brain back into Jane Nichols, the night manager.
I continued around the remaining booths, introducing myself and assuring the other delegates that if they needed anything, then I’d be at reception, ready to help.
By the time I returned to the front counter and removed the sign, it was close to ten-thirty. During the course of the next half an hour, many people left the conference room and disappeared into the elevator. When Luca left, he was chatting with another woman, but the distance they stood apart suggested they didn’t really know each other, which was a relief.
When the bar closed at one-thirty, a flood of people left about twenty minutes later, and I overheard several debates over where they’d go next. People came and went; conversations carried on around me. Nobody glanced in my direction. I seemed to be invisible.
All of a sudden, I was back to the insecure woman I’d been last year. I flopped onto my office chair and felt immensely insignificant in the large, marbled foyer.
For the first time in three and a half years, I was beginning to dislike my job. I wanted to go out partying like these people. I wanted a social life that crept into the small hours of the morning.
What’s wrong with me?
I didn’t go partying. But now, for some inexcusable reason, I wanted to try. With a jolt, I realized I was jealous.
As I observed people crossing the lobby, I contemplated my future. My thoughts skipped from being single to being attached. That flowed onto how difficult any relationship would be with my stupid job.
It was with a sinking heart that I also realized that my career choice may have contributed to my relationship status.
I sat up and wanted to slap myself.
I shouldn’t have been thinking like this. Especially not while I had the challenge to complete. This year was supposed to be fun.
But come the new year, it may be time to look for a new job. I brightened at that thought, and as the early hours of the morning crawled along, my mind drifted from what type of job I’d look for, to all the different people I’d met at the conference this evening and my mind swooped to my sexy winemaker upstairs.
A quick flick through the check-in cards revealed that he was staying in the room next door to mine, and from that second onward, I was consumed. I pictured going to him, all dressed up and ready for sex. I pictured him naked and imagined every inch of his exquisite body. I pictured his gorgeous hands caressing my boobs and our writhing bodies glistening with sweat as we teased each other into a carnal frenzy.
The remainder of my shift was consumed with these erotic thoughts, and by the time my boss came and relieved me of my shift, I was practically jittery with excitement at the prospect of going to Luca.
As I rode the elevator to my floor, I contemplated going to the sexy winemaker as myself, but realizing it would be inappropriate after I’d demonstrated my professionalism as the hotel’s night manager, I cast that frightening thought aside.
In my room, I showered and applied my Memphis makeup, complete with blue contact lenses and the long blonde wig. I chose a simple black dress that crossed over at the front to meet at my waist and flared out to a full skirt that stopped just above my knees. For a little spice, I chose my zebra print Nilenia Givenchy stilettos and tugged the matching purse from the shelf in my closet. These stunning shoes and clutch had cost me a whole week’s pay, and it was a thrill to finally be wearing them. Thank God I’d stockpiled all these accessories, or my outfits would be boring.
With a touch of my favorite Bobbi Brown retro red lippy on, I glanced at my reflection. My conservative dress was jazzed up just the right amount with these stunning shoes and perfectly suited my planned meeting with Luca.
It was going to be a little weird coming out of my apartment and walking just ten feet to his. I grabbed my bag, planted a smile on my face, crossed the short distance to his room, and knocked.
The door opened a few moments later, and I was treated to a wonderful greeting. The man I’d met downstairs had increased in sex appeal in the space of just eight hours. He wore tan slacks and a white T-shirt that was tight enough to show off his bulging pecs. Yummy.
“Can I help you?” His accent was yummy, too.
“I hope so. I noticed you last night; you were setting up a table near mine, and . . . as we have a few hours to kill before we start today, I thought we could get to know each other a little better.” I offered him my sexual diva smile.
His thick brows drilled together. “I beg your pardon?” His accent wasn’t so sexy now, and I blinked up at him.
“I, um—”
“You’ve got the wrong door, lady. I don’t do things like that.” I felt as if I’d been punched in the gut and slinked away.
“I didn’t see you last night. What’s your name?”
I turned and walked away and was forced to keep walking right past my door.
“I’m calling hotel management. I bet they’d like to know about you.”
Chapter Seventeen
My chin dimpled as I waited through the humiliation for the elevator to arrive. I just about shattered into a million pieces when it finally pinged open. Tears stung my eyes as I jabbed the lobby button.
As I stared into my own eyes, a bolt of horror hit me. If he called reception, there was every chance Needledick would be waiting for me.
No . . . not me—a blonde-haired bimbo.
I yanked my wig off and shoved the long synthetic locks into my purse. Scrambling at the pins that held my hair in place, I tousled it out around my shoulders. I plucked my contacts from my eyes and, flicked them on top of the wig, and forced the clutch to close.
Using the underside of my hem, I scrubbed my lippy off, grateful my dress was black. Then I licked my thumbs and careful not to touch my lashes, I desperately wiped away as much blue eye shadow as I could. The thick mascara would have to stay.
For the first time ever, I was grateful for the slow elevator.
By the time it did a little jig announcing its arrival at the lobby, I was back to Jane. Well, Jane in a stylish dress, classy high heels, and an abundance of mascara.
The door pinged open, and Needledick was right there. His arms were folded across his chest, his legs apart, and a deep scowl was drilled onto his face.
“Oh, hi, John. Are you okay?”
He blinked at me, his jaw ajar. “Did you see a blonde woman?”
“Yeah.” I frowned. “She got out on the first floor.” Holy shit, I’m clever.
His eyes bulged. “Christ!” He jumped into the elevator.
I stepped out. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s that hooker.” He jabbed a button over and over. “I’m going to get her this time.”
“Oh, do you want my help?”
“No. I’ve got this.” As the doors closed, he clenched his jaw and nodded at me.
Ten seconds later, I burst out laughing as I crossed the lobby. But five seconds after that, the enormity of how close that was hit me. I stepped outside, crossed the road, and stood on the path, looking out to the ocean.
Jesus. The adrenaline rush of the last ten minutes hit me like a thunderbolt, and before I crumbled to the pavement, I moved over to the bench seat and sat down. The sun was a white fireball hanging high off the ocean, yet it was still cool. A gentle breeze drifted up from the water, cooling the inferno coursing through me.
What had gone wrong? Why didn’t Luca want me? My first rejection was a slap to my face, and it stung like hell. I forced back tears as I tried to focus on the positive—my close escape.
I needed coffee and food, but most of all, I needed Lolita.
It took all my effort to crawl to the Blue Haven Café. I sat at our usual table out the front, and when Matt arrived with his customary dour look, I ordered a cappuccino in a mug and a slice of chocolate mud cake with ice cream and extra cream. A sugar fix was imperative.
Once I’d sorted out my tumbling emotions, I rang Lolly.
“Hey, babe,” she answered on the first ring.
“Hey.”
“Oh dear. What’s happened?”
I swore the woman was a freak. All I’d said was one word, and she knew I was troubled. I tumbled it all out, not even stopping when my sugar fix arrived.
“Jesus, that was close.”
“I know.”
“Hey, but you didn’t get caught.”
I spooned the rich cake into my mouth, rendering it impossible to answer.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she blurted out. “Don’t you go stopping your challenge now!”
Sometimes, it felt like Lolita was inside my head because I had been thinking that this disaster may have been a sign that I should stop. Luca had been so flirtatious. Of all the guys I’d had so far this year, he was easily the one who’d given all the right signals. I’d thought he was a sure thing. After thirty-three sexual encounters, I still had no understanding of men.
“Jane.” Lolly snapped me back to the conversation.
“I’m here.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I sighed. “I just don’t get it. Luca was flirting with me last night, and I swear he was so ready to jump into my pants. Yet when I did go to him, he rejected me. It hurt, Lolly. I thought I understood men.”
“Pfft, babe, you’ll never understand men. They’re fucking off the planet when it comes to logic. You know that Mars/Venus thing. Well, it’s more like Mercury/Pluto—that’s how far apart we are when it comes to understanding each other.”
“But how could I have got him so wrong?”
“Who cares? I’m amazed you’ve gone this far without a rejection.”
I gasped. “Really?”
“Shit yeah. It’s a testament to how fucking hot you look.”
I grumbled and ate another bite of cake.
“Now, you listen to me. You’ve had one rejection in thirty-four weeks. What’s that? Like, point-zero-zero-zero-sixty-nine percent?” She laughed. Math was not her strong suit. “That’s nothing,” she continued. “Men and women would never hook up if we gave up after one rejection. This should just make you more determined.”
“Umm, why?”
“To prove to yourself that you’re fucking worthy, of course. That Luca guy was a loser, and he just missed out on the best sex in his life.”
I chuckled.
“That’s better. Now, it’s Friday already. You have three days to find a man with a hard-on who can keep you on track.”
We laughed together. “I’ll see what happens.”
“No, you fucking won’t. You’ll make it happen. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Bullshit, I’m not your mom. I’m your mentor, and that’s an order.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love ya too. Mwahhhh.” She hung up the phone, and I forked a huge mouthful of chocolate cake smothered in whipped cream into my mouth.
Sunday morning came around too quickly, and I was in trouble. If I didn’t find a sexual partner in the next fourteen hours, my year-long challenge was over. I’d tried heaps, but not one man who’d walked through my marble lobby had suited. It was as if all the single men in the world had suddenly gone underground.
The phone rang. “Welcome to the Hot Horizon Hotel, this’s Jane, how can I help you?”
