of wine in a bar after their corporate orientation. Who knew what a bottle of Cristal made her babble? “Did I say anything else?”
“You don’t remember?”
“For the most part I do.” A small white lie. She remembered thinking the space didn’t feel quite so empty once he arrived, and the way his five o’clock shadow had felt rough against his fingers. “There are a couple blank spots, though. I didn’t do anything...embarrassing, did I?” Like come on to him? A flashing image of brown eyes looming dangerously close set her stomach to churning again.
“I left the coffee in case you needed the caffeine,” he said. A neat change of subject that was answer enough. Inwardly, Larissa cringed.
“Would you like me to pour you a fresh cup?”
“No, thank you.” She couldn’t take the burnt smell for a second time. “I think I’m better off with something cold. Maybe one of those twenty-dollar colas from the mini-bar.” A few dozen pain relievers would be nice as well, she thought, combing her fingers through her hair. “I don’t suppose these rooms also come stocked with aspirin.”
“Next to the coffeepot.”
Sure enough, a bottle of pills sat on the desk, next to the thermos. They hadn’t been there before. “I suspected you might need them.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome. We strive for nothing less than one hundred percent satisfaction from all our guests. You said cola, correct?”
“That’s not...” Before Larissa could utter a protest, she’d crossed the distance between terrace and cabinet. “Necessary.”
“Of course it is. You’re my guest. It’s my job to make sure you’re happy.”
Although Larissa knew she was but one of a thousand guests, his lilting tone made the comment sound far more personal. As though she were the only one getting such hands-on treatment. She blamed her condition for the nervous fluttering in her stomach. “Even the hungover ones?”
“Especially the hungover ones,” he said, popping open the can.
Larissa felt her cheeks flush. “My friends always did say I was high-maintenance.”
“Are you?”
Good question. It always struck her funny, how her New York circle gave her that reputation. Growing up, she’d perfected the art of staying out of the way. Expensive dresses and “sticky kid stuff” didn’t mix, according to her grandmother. If she was going to live there, Larissa had better learn to be careful.
“I prefer the term particular,” she replied.
Naturally, the universe decided to deflate her argument by tangling their fingers when Larissa reached for the soda can. The contact shocked her, so much so she jerked the can from his grip with a gasp. “I—um.” She looked up in time to catch something—a light but not quite a light—flashing in his brown eyes. One blink and it disappeared. Hidden behind a polite, distant shade. Didn’t matter. Even if she hadn’t seen anything, the way his body stiffened at the contact was message enough. She did them both a favor and stepped back. “Are you sure I didn’t do or say anything stupid last night?”
“Nothing that bears repeating.”
But something, nonetheless. Enough that her proximity made him uncomfortable. Great, she thought, cringing. Probably best that she not to press for details. “I’ll do my best to stay under the radar for the rest of my visit. In fact, you’ll barely notice I’m here,” she added, taking a drink. Raising the can blocked her from seeing any skepticism.
On a positive note, the cold fizz felt wonderful on the back of her throat. Didn’t completely wash away the cotton sock taste, but helped.
“Speaking of your stay, Señorita...” Reaching into his breast pocket, he removed a neatly creased sheet of paper. “I had some questions about your itinerary, now that your original plans have...”
“Bitten the dust?” Larissa supplied. “And please, call me Larissa. Formality seems a little silly at this point, don’t you think?”
A hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth. “Very well, Larissa. According to our records, you booked a number of activities for while you’re staying with us.”
Larissa remembered. The wedding coordinator made everything sound so wonderful over the phone. Unable to pick one or two, she selected everything. You only get one honeymoon, she’d rationalized. Why not make it as romantic as possible?
“I’m assuming you are no longer interested.”
“You assume correct.” Moonlight dinner cruises and couples massages weren’t exactly solo activities. “The only activity on my schedule this week is following the angle of the sun.” And hopefully figuring out what caused her perfect engagement to implode so spectacularly. See, Tom, I am capable of introspection.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the manager looking at his paper. “What? Is there a problem?”
“Not at all. I’ll make sure all your previous events are canceled. Although you realize, by canceling at such short notice, you are respon—”
“Wait, wait, wait. Short notice? I canceled everything weeks ago.”
He frowned. “Not according to our records.”
“Well, your records are wrong.” It would take more than a couple bottles of wine to erase that phone call from her memory. “What did you think I was going to do? Marry myself?”
“I assumed you didn’t realize the wedding was off last night.”
A logical assumption. Wrong, but logical. “I spoke to your wedding planner six weeks ago.”
“Six weeks.” He inhaled deeply. “Are you sure you spoke directly with Maria del Olma?”
“Positive, and she assured me canceling wouldn’t be a problem.”
Except apparently it was, if his quivering jaw muscle was any indication. “It appears there’s been a miscommunication. Maria never noted the cancellation in your records.”
“Well, I’m noting it now.”
“I don’t suppose you have written confirmation.”
Larissa started to say yes, only to snap her mouth shut. Come to think of it, Maria didn’t send any follow-up. Normally, Larissa would request a letter for her files, but she’d been so upset she must have let it go. Plus, Delilah was getting married, and Chloe was having relationship drama. Following up slipped her mind.
Could she start this whole trip over? Please?
Turning on her heel, she stomped onto the terrace. Sunshine and brightness be damned; she needed fresh air. In keeping with the morning’s theme, she bumped into the lounge chair, stubbing her toe on a piece of plastic. Her missing sunglasses skidded across the floor. Score one positive. She shoved them on her face as she limped toward the railing.
At
