Page 198 of Wicked Fantasies

“I’m afraid I’m not sure what you are talking about,” the man answered smoothly despite her insults. Further angered by his calm demeanor after nearly causing her serious injury, she continued, “Sure you don’t,” she answered sarcastically. “That man runs me off the road not 10 minutes ago and you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.”

Glancing sharply at his driver, the man said, “George, is this true?”

Looking at his feet, the young chauffer replied, “I didn’t know she ran off the road.”

“You didn’t know?” the man asked incredulously. “Did you pull over to check?”

“We were on a tight schedule,” George mumbled. “Already late.”

“Rob,” the attractive woman, clearly uncomfortable with the coming confrontation, said, “I’m going to go in if you don’t need me anymore tonight.”

“Of course, Lana,” Rob replied, “it’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Lana purred softly before making her elegant departure. Meg had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at the woman’s red carpet worthy performance and the two men gawking at her pert little behind as she strolled away.

“And the Oscar goes to…” she mumbled.

“I beg your pardon?” Mr. Gorgeous asked.

“Christ,” she muttered as all the fight left her. “Forget it. I’m wet, cold, hungry, tired and quite frankly, I don’t give a shit about any of this anymore. Bye,” she waved, well aware that her departure, unlike Lana’s, was less than stellar with water streaming off her now see-through pink blouse and linen pants, mud squishing between the toes of the sandals she had foolishly donned in the Florida airport, and her mass of curly blond hair dripping wet and hanging in her face.

“Miss,” the elegant man named Rob called out to her, but Meg kept walking. The end of her hellish day was in sight and nothing was going to stop her from soaking in a nice hot bath, crawling between the soft cotton sheets of her king-sized bed, and sleeping until noon.

The night clerk at the front desk seemed to take in her dirty, wet appearance with disdain before asking, “May I help you, ma’am?”

“Yes,” Meg replied, rummaging through her damp bag for her hotel confirmation number. “I have a reservation. My name is Meg Williams. I have the confirmation number here somewhere. Oh yes, here it is,” she said, pulling out the crumpled computer printout page with her reservation information.

Glancing at his computer, then at her paper and then back at the computer, the man’s earlier haughtiness disappeared before he tugged at his collar and sighed heavily. Meg closed her eyes and waited for the words she’d heard so many times today.

“I’m very sorry, Ms. Williams. There seems to be a problem with your reservation.”

“Of course there is,” she answered woodenly. “Let me guess, my name isn’t in your computer and you don’t have any more rooms.”

Flushing, the man replied, “Well, actually, yes, that’s true. You have to understand Cupid’s Carnival is our busiest weekend.”

“Save it,” Meg cut him off with her hand. “Are there any other hotels nearby?”

“There are,” the man began, stumbling before adding, “however--,”

“They’re all booked too,” Meg answered for him.

“There isn’t a single vacancy on the island,” he replied apologetically.

Looking around, Meg spotted the hotel bar.

“How late is the bar open?” she asked quietly.

“Until 3 a.m.,” the clerk answered, clearly surprised by the fact she wasn’t arguing more.

Numb and exhausted beyond belief, Meg merely nodded before walking away. All the fight had been beaten out of her. Paradise Island had officially kicked her ass. Dragging her shoulder bag on the ground behind her, she trudged toward the bar, unable to think beyond the drink she was going to order.

Chapter Two

Rob watched the petite brunette who had attacked his driver so fiercely limp toward the hotel bar. After she left him in the parking lot, Rob questioned George about the incident, only to discover that his foolish chauffer had indeed run the poor woman off the road. George, a last minute replacement for his regular chauffer, had apparently thought to impress Rob by getting him to the hotel from the airport in record time. The only problem was Rob had been too tired to notice the man’s reckless attempt. He didn’t want to confess to the angry woman that he had nodded off and had actually been asleep during her terrible ordeal.

“Ah, Mr. Madison,” Pierre greeted him from behind the desk. “Welcome back,” the man smiled.

“Thank you Pierre. It was quite a trip, I’m afraid. Everything okay here?” Rob asked, looking back toward the bar. The brunette had disappeared inside.

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