done anything wrong, or foolish, or frivolous. How about this? I promise to be home for my birthday.”
He sighed. “That’s three weeks!”
Considering that this was all the time she’d have with Alexander to satisfy the yearning of her soul for one great love, Merry’s heart dipped. Her voice was filled with sadness when she said, “Three weeks isn’t such a long time.”
Apparently picking up on her melancholy, her father relented and softly said, “I suppose.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Tears pricked Merry’s eyes. Though he was a king, her father always deferred to her, always loved her—even when she’d made his life miserable for remarrying after her mother’s death. Lord, she’d been absolutely horrid!
Regret swamped her and she squeezed her eyes shut. She had a lot to make up for when she returned home. “I love you, Dad.”
From her dad’s quickly indrawn breath, she knew she’d surprised him. After a moment of silence, he whispered, “I love you, too.”
Merry tried all afternoon to think of something spectacular that would push Alexander into breaking or bending any rules he might have about getting involved with a co-worker, but she couldn’t think of anything. It wasn’t until she walked past the window of La Torchere Boutique at the end of the day and saw a white thong bikini that a plan formed.
If anything could render a man incapable of resisting a woman, it would be that suit. And as the resort manager, who had insider knowledge of Alexander’s activities, Merry knew the perfect way to be alone with him when he saw her in it. Every night Alexander had a drink beside his private pool before he ordered dinner from the Greenhouse Café. All she had to do was pretend to be lost and walk in on him and voilà…. She’d render him speechless. After a little flirting—to prove she was interested in him and to let him know he didn’t have to worry about her telling tales to the staff—he’d be helpless.
Her plan was perfect.
Merry strode into the boutique and ten minutes later marched out with her secret weapon. But she wasn’t quite so confident when she slid into the skimpy white bikini and eyed herself critically in the full-length mirror of her bedroom.
The scant material barely covered the appropriate areas, but she didn’t think the suit’s skimpiness was the problem. Her hips and thighs were trim and toned. Her tummy was flat. Her breasts were firm. She’d worn this kind of suit a million times before she’d been cursed. So why did something not feel right? And why was that “something” making her stomach churn?
Deciding her odd feeling could simply be nervousness about her night with Alexander, Merry slipped on her blue-violet crocheted cover-up and sneaked out of her villa in the dying light. Wavy clouds of red, pink and aqua applauded the sun for its hard day of work as it made its final descent. Soon it would be dark and she would be in Alexander’s arms. Excitement quivered through her at all the wonderful possibilities that awaited her. But imagining being kissed and held and loved by Alexander also caused Merry’s queasiness to return.
She stopped on the cobblestone path when she reached the fork that gave visitors the option of walking to the beach or turning toward Alexander’s residence. She glanced toward his villa. Though he was owner of La Torchere, Alexander hadn’t wanted his quarters to stand out in any way, so in terms of size and shape, his cottage looked the same as all the others. An open cobblestone path was surrounded on both sides by the resort’s trademark foliage. But that plant life also camouflaged the biggest difference between his villa and the others—a fence that surrounded a private pool.
She knew the gate would be open because every night the guards reported locking it for him. She knew his habits. She had the opportunity. And she looked great. Besides, she didn’t have enough time to wait for him to notice her. At most, she had three weeks before she had to go home. She had to start something tonight.
Anticipation trembled through her as she slid through the gate. Covertly peeking through the sliding glass door to his living room, Merry could see his black leather sofa in the muted glow of a single lamp, the light a fairly clear indicator that he was home.
Nervous, she slid out of her cover-up. She couldn’t decide if she should be in the pool or be lying on a chaise when he came out with his drink. Then she realized a splash from her dive into the water would conveniently alert him that he had a visitor. Time wasn’t her friend. She had to get things moving as quickly as possible. She draped her cover-up over the chaise and dived into the pool. By the time she came up for air, Alexander was opening his sliding glass door.
“What the…Merry?”
Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. That afternoon, he had changed out of his typical resort attire and into a black suit for a meeting, and right now, with the jacket removed and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled to his elbows, he looked sexily rumpled.
Though it was difficult, Merry managed to sound composed when she said, “Oh, hello, Alexander. What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
She glanced around as if confused. “We all live here.”
“No, I live here,” he said, pointing at the ground beneath his feet. “This is my villa and that,” he said, pointing again, “is my private pool.”
“Private pool?” She feigned a gasp, pretending she didn’t know he had a private pool since this was her “first day” as manager, and hoisted herself up on the ladder. Water sensuously trickled from her hair to her shoulders, from her shoulders to her breasts, from her breasts down her flat-as-a-pancake stomach to the string that perched on her hip bones. She shook her hair off her face and tucked it behind her ears. “What do you mean, private pool?”
“This is my villa. This is my pool,” he said, slowly, because he couldn’t stop his eyes from taking in the scenery she provided. As he looked at her, she watched his pale irises heat to a blue flame, confirmation of what she believed she had seen that afternoon. He found her as attractive as she found him.
Shivering with a combination of nervousness and her own desire, Merry swallowed hard before she said, “My villa doesn’t have a pool.”
“You,” he reminded her, raising his gaze away from her taut body until it angled with hers, “are the help.” She could tell from his tone that he was trying very hard to remain righteously indignant, but nothing he said dimmed the fire in his eyes. “I’m the owner. I get one of the deluxe villas. You get a darned good one, but not deluxe.”
From the tone of his voice, it was clear he wanted to be furious with her, but the way his gaze continually fell to her body proved other emotions warred with his anger. Still, that was a good sign. A battle had to be fought and won. His eyes were supposed to stray to her body. His feet were supposed to remain rooted to the spot, as if he couldn’t turn away. He was supposed to try to walk away and fail. He was doing exactly what needed to be done.
So why didn’t she feel triumphant?
Watching his gaze fall again to her breasts, Merry suddenly knew why she didn’t feel any sense of victory. This was a purely sexual encounter. Even her own responses were physical, not emotional. But theirs was supposed to be a romantic relationship. A time of great love that they both could remember forever. And right now there was nothing romantic about the way he was looking at her.
She stepped in front of him, not so close as to be inappropriate,
