Page 27 of Feast

“Been a while.”

“Well, you are.” She gave his hand a final squeeze, then picked up her champagne. “But I still want grandchildren.”

He just sighed and signaled for another drink.

After lunch,he escorted his mother to the spa for the treatments she had booked, then made his escape. With his ears ringing from her demands for grandchildren, he let himself into his room and sprawled on the bed. Housekeeping had been in, so it was neatly made, and he tried not to think about the mess he’d left behind in his dash to lunch.

The bed had been a wreck, his clothes from yesterday still on the floor, and he was pretty sure he’d left the condom—which he’d had to peel off in the shower with the aid of hot water—on the bathroom floor.

Making a mental note to leave a very large tip, he reached for the nightstand and picked up the note he’d found under the box of condoms that morning. He scanned the scrawled words, though he remembered them clearly enough:Thanks for the orgasms—if you’re around tomorrow, I’ll be at the pool after lunch. Come find me at the European pool if you’re interested in round two.

He set the note aside. He wasn’t going to go, of course. Last night had been fun, and he wouldn’t mind another round—especially since he’d promised to make her choke on his dick—but he had enough on his plate this weekend. He needed the nap he promised his mother he’d get, and since he’d forgotten to unpack last night he probably needed to arrange to have his suit pressed. And he owed it to his mother to be fully present for her wedding. He was the only family she had left, and he knew how much she wanted her wedding to be perfect.

He definitely wasn’t going to go.

On the other hand, a glance at the clock told him it wasn’t even one-thirty. And a swim might do him good—he’d sleep better after a little exercise.

“Fuck it,” he decided and picked up the phone to call the concierge.

Half an hour later,he was scanning the deck of the topless pool—because that’s apparently what ‘European pool’ meant in Vegas speak—his eyes shielded against the sun by aviator shades, trying to pick 3B out of the crowd of sunbathing beauties.

“Excuse me, Sir,” someone said at his elbow, and he turned to find a hotel employee hovering nearby. “Can I help you find a chair?”

Realizing he probably looked like a perv scoping out all the bare breasts, Spence tried a genial smile. “No, thank you. I’m just looking for my friend.”

“Of course. And your friend’s name?”

Shit.Spence kept the smile on his face. “Honestly? I don’t know. She’s a…new friend.”

The young man’s expression didn’t so much as twitch. “I see.”

“You’re probably supposed to weed out the pervs,” Spence said, amused when that got him a flicker. “So I’ll just do a lap, and if I don’t see her, I’ll leave.”

“You’ll be welcome to stay, Sir,” the kid said, stoic once again. “Please let me know if you need an umbrella.”

“I’ll do that,” Spence promised and started off around the perimeter of the pool.

He scanned the chairs, the water as he strolled, and though he saw plenty of beautiful bodies, he didn’t see 3B.

Trying to take it philosophically, he angled his body to let a woman wearing a tiny string bikini with an enormous butterfly tattoo covering her breasts pass—returning her come-hither once-over with an unsmiling nod—and made the turn around the far end of the pool.

And he saw her.

She was lying face down on a lounge chair, an umbrella angled over her for shade. A narrow triangle of cloth the color of peacock feathers rode low on her hips, showing off the dimples on either side of her spine and the curves of that magnificent ass.

The rest of her was delightfully, deliciously bare.

Her back was smooth and sleek, and even from a distance, he could see her skin was glistening. Probably not suntan oil, he mused, since she was lying in the shade and hadn’t struck him as a fool. It was more likely she’d recently taken a dip in the pool.

He was sorry he missed it.

Her hair was swept up on the top of her head, leaving her neck bare, and her forearms were folded under her head. The position left an epic amount of side boob on display, and he took a moment to appreciate it before lifting his gaze to her face.

She was turned toward him, her cheek pillowed on her arms, with an enormous pair of sunglasses covering half her face. And still, he was absolutely certain that when he strode towards her, she was looking right at him.

“Hey, Daddy,” she purred when he stopped at her lounger.

“Hey, sugar.” He dropped into a crouch. “I got your note.”

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