Page 97 of Tempt Me

Much to my parents’ delight, Tyler had been drafted to the West Coast Eagles. This meant Tyler and I were literally on opposite coasts of Australia. My brother and I talked on the phone occasionally, and the main conversation was about his stellar career.

I was proud of him; he deserved everything he got. He certainly worked damn hard for it.

One of the things that always surprised me, though, was how forthright he was about sharing what he got up to in his so-called downtime. According to him, women hung around the team like hungry lionesses, just waiting to pick up any man who was keen.

I, of course, being the naïve country girl I was, had never believed him. But after tonight and the number of women I’d seen coming and going, I now had faith in every word he’d said.

What amazed me the most, was just how stunning the women were. Every one of them could win a bikini model competition. They certainly weren’t afraid to flash their flesh either.

As if on cue, two women strode into the lobby. Their stilettos were high enough to cause serious back damage, and their skirts short enough that they could almost be called belts.

The ladies had their arms hooked together, and neither of them glanced in my direction as they made a beeline for the thumping music coming from the Triple H Bar. A shout erupted when they entered; clearly, they’d been expected.

The Gold Coast was renowned for its gorgeous women, and I think every one of them had visited the Hot Horizon Hotel tonight.

I glanced at the time and sighed. We had extended the closing time of the bar to three o’clock to cater to the footballers’ party-time request. They still had one hour to go. But even then, if I managed to get them out of the bar and close it down by four in the morning it would be a miracle.

Maybe I could call the last drinks at two-thirty and see if anyone noticed.

A couple emerged from the bar, arm in arm. The guy with dark, curly, almost afro-looking hair was tall, at least eight inches taller than the woman. His thick arm was draped over her shoulder as they headed toward the elevator. His attire looked a little shabby.

She, on the other hand, was stunning. Her flaming red hair with copper highlights fell in a luscious waterfall over her shoulders. Her skin was China-doll perfect and had obviously never been kissed by our harsh tropical sun. She wore a green satin dress with thin straps that crossed over at the back. Her dress was backless and plunged away to just above her bottom. On her physique, the dress was somehow both classy and slutty at the same time, if that was even possible.

This was the second time I’d seen her go upstairs with a man; the last guy had been blond.

My initial reaction to what she was doing hadn’t been pleasant. But then I compared her to what I did when I slipped into my sexy Memphis disguise. Obviously, I’d never had two guys in one night, nor did I think I ever would. But both of us were women who went after men purely to satisfy our sexual desires.

Was that bad?

Why were women considered sluts when they needed their sexual thirst quenched, while men could have a different woman every day and suffer no derogatory labels? Although I considered anyone who cheated on their partner as a slut. Having lived through the wrong side of that experience, I abhorred anyone who cheated on their partner.

My mental debate was interrupted by a tall redheaded man who stumbled as he came out of the bar. At the last second, he managed to save himself from face planting on the marble tiles. Laughter erupted from the bar and the stranger’s already red face flushed even brighter as he scurried away from their sight and headed toward the elevator.

As he waited for the elevator to arrive, he glanced over at me, and I waved. He stared at me, and for a moment, I wondered if he was seeing double or something.

I smiled, making sure he knew I had waved at him. This was not something I normally did. It was just a bit of fun, but when a small smile curled at his lips, I was glad I’d done it. Then the elevator arrived, and he disappeared.

Four more young women entered the foyer. Again, they were all dressed in scanty clothing, and they headed straight for the Triple H Bar. Maybe there was someone on a microphone outside announcing that a bunch of hot guys were in my hotel.

Despite their sky-high heels, the women strode across the marble as if they were in running shoes.

It was now well past two o’clock and yet the party wasn’t slowing down. The last thing I wanted to do was go in there and break it up. But that was part of my job. That was the reason I was paid the big bucks . . . apparently. In the three years I’d worked here, I hadn’t had to do it yet.

Each time a man and or a woman left the bar, I did a silent happy dance. Three o’clock rolled around, and although I hadn’t actually done a head count, I was fairly certain there were at least fifty people still in there.

The music died as the DJ stopped at his designated finishing time, and barely five minutes later, he left the bar with a cursory wave in my direction before he vanished out the sliding glass doors. He was gone less than two minutes before the bar’s in-house music picked up where he’d left off.

At three-thirty in the morning, the noise seemed to get even louder, and I used that as motivation to do the inevitable. I tightened my ponytail, put my shoulders back, strode across the lobby, and weaved my way through the muscular giants. The combination of the throbbing music and exquisite bodies from both the men and the women was an attack to my senses. Odors of perfume, cologne, alcohol, and sweaty men abounded. The energy of the room had its own presence.

There was so much to take in; I didn’t know where to look.

It seemed like forever before I reached the bar. Peter, the bar manager, and Tania, the bartender, looked as if they’d been breakdancing all night. Their cheeks were flushed, and they both had sweaty hair clinging to their foreheads. That alone was justification to call an end to this party.

“Hey guys, it’s time to stop serving.”

Pete’s eyes lit up. “Thank God.”

I strolled to the stereo and turned off the music. The adjustment in noise volume was confronting, and several people turned around with confused looks on their faces.

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