Page 51 of Vicious Intentions

“The coffee table is fine. Let me get you a tip.”

“Not necessary. The sender was very generous.”

“Now, you have me curious.”

He placed them where I asked, then turned around, pinching his forefinger and thumb together, pretending he was zipping his lips.

“Hmmm… Thank you, Johnny. You are wonderful.”

“That’s the best type of tip a man like me could receive.” He backed away, offering a bright smile.

I waited until after he’d left to walk towards the bouquet, running my hands across several of the barely opened buds. The softness of lush velveteen tickled the tips of my fingers. Then I bent down, gathering a deep whiff of their incredible scent. Amazing. How long had it been since anyone had given me flowers? Even my shithead of a manager had never done that. Oh, yes. My father had brought me a dozen red roses to my first couple of shows, trying to brighten my night after the sparse crowd had barely clapped. He’d been my rock and encouragement.

I noticed a card and bit my lip, uncertain why I hoped the beautiful treat was from either one of the gorgeous men I’d met. I tugged the small note from the envelope, feeling slightly giddy when I read the words.

Good morning, sunshine.

Come meet me by the cascade pool at noon for a little bubbly.

If you dare…

Hunter

Why did his words thrill me so much? I was crazy to meet with a complete stranger who’d insisted on meeting me then sending me the most gorgeous flowers in the world. Or was I?

I glanced at the clock and squealed. I had ten minutes to prepare. This was one of those ‘why not’ moments I planned on killing.

I managed to put myself together, grabbing a sexy yet comfortable dress and sandals and heading out with a couple minutes to spare. The cascade pool was on the other end of the sprawling resort, and by the time I made it outside, I was five minutes late. There were already dozens of people enjoying the cloudless day and light breeze, music pumping from invisible speakers.

The vibe was tropical, with palm trees and tiki bars, umbrellas in a dazzling array of colors. I moved through towards the open-air restaurant, forced to don my sunglasses. When I didn’t see him after my first tour, disappointment squelched my excitement.

Then I noticed several tables on a raised platform, the area roped off with no customers.

Except for a single man.

Even from the distance, I was still taken aback by the man’s incredible prowess and utter control as he gazed into the waterfall below. It was as if he was looking at his kingdom. I moved slowly towards the stairs, realizing I was holding my breath. He noticed me just before I reached the bottom step, immediately standing. As I walked up, I was able to take a better look at the man I’d fantasized about.

He was at least six foot four, his shaggy dark hair covering the color of his short-sleeve Henley. Wearing casual, lightweight trousers and sunglasses, he reminded me of a movie star from a couple decades before, the Miami Vice vibes creating a pool of knots in my stomach.

As soon as I was close to the single table prepared for diners, he popped open a bottle of champagne, his expertise in doing so notable. By the time I got to the table, two crystal stems had been poured, a strawberry from the gorgeous display of fruit swimming inside.

Then he placed his hand on his chest, shaking his head slowly.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, the coyness in my voice surprising.

“You are a vision in the morning, just as I knew you’d be.”

“Thank you for the lovely flowers.”

“I thought the ray of sunshine that I experienced last night should be gifted to the woman who brought so much joy to a lonely man.” His grin was lopsided, highlighting the dimple in his chin. With the two-day stubble aligning his chiseled jaw, I was swept into another naughty fantasy of being with a bad boy.

Shame on me.

“And here I thought you weren’t the kind of man to use come-on lines.”

His laugh was deep, rumbling through my stomach. “I assure you it wasn’t a come-on. You’ll know the moment when I claim what I want.”

As he pulled out the chair, encouraging me to sit, he brushed his fingers across my bare shoulder, and I was thrown by the intensity of my reaction. It wasn’t just electrifying. It was as if a volcano had erupted, spewing hot ashes a hundred miles away. My breath was stolen, the same lightheaded feeling I’d experienced the night before muddling my senses.

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