Page 23 of Sapphire Spring

“Seriously, this is terrible,Nas.What can I do?”

“Why did he keep touching me?”

She shrugged. “Because he’s drunk. He’s kind ofalwaysdrunk. I mean, the dick wasreally good, so Ioverlooked it for a while. Until it turned whiskey on me. But anyway…sorry.”She rubbed between his shoulder blades with aggressive tenderness. “You don’twant to hear about MasonWorther’sdick.”

This wasn’t entirely true, so Naser kept his mouth shut.

Just then someone trilled Fareena’s name from across the pooldeck.

It was Pari.

Fareena smiled and waved, then she turned to Naser. “I’lljust tell her the investor didn’t show. Don’t worry. But let me go talk to herfor a sec and make sure she didn’t notice any of this mess. I feel likeshit!”

Then she was gone, and Naser was staring at the spot whereJonas and two security agents had helped Mason rise from the pool like abeardless Poseidon who’d been dressed by Tom Ford.

He told himself it wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t even hisjob. His goal had been to contain his sister’s excesses, and in that, his onlymargin of success was that the hotel around them wasn’t on fire. But the nightwas stillfairly young. MasonWortherwas a blast from the past he didn’t want or need. Jonas hadn’t asked for hishelp.

If all that was true, why was he rounding one end of thepool, approaching the open space where the retractable walls of glass had turnedpart of the indoor restaurant into the party area? He studied what he could seeof the lobby and paced a little, nodding and smiling at guests he knew, butmostly looking for any sign of Jonas. Or Mason. Or the security guys who’dhelped him from the pool.

He was about to head off in the direction of Fareena and hissister when his phone buzzed. It was a text from Jonas.

Do you happen to know this tall, drunk fellow? Wecould use an assist.

That was all it took to send him into the lobby. The janitormopping up the wet trail Mason had left across the marble floor told Naserthey’d taken the swimmer to the events office, which bothered Naser deeply.Despite his tiny office, he treasured the little private pocket of SapphireCove he and Jonas shared. Mason’s presence there felt like a violation. Thatsaid, escorting him to the management offices would have meant letting him dripover a long expanse of carpet, so Naser couldn’t fault Jonas for the call.

The group he was looking for had gathered inside theemployees-only corridor. Minus one. MasonWorther.The two security guys hovering outside Naser’s closed office door were a studyin contrasts—Keoni was a giant Pacific Islander who carried himself like an NFLplayer, and J.T. was a pasty white boy with a twangy Southern accent and thecalculated musculature of someone whose last job had involved having sex oncamera. Which it had.

“Sorry, but you guys were talking so I thought maybe youcould help,” Jonas whispered, tugging Naser into his office.

“We went to high school together.” He tried to keep it fromsounding like the loaded statement it was and succeeded.

“Think you can get him to sign this?” Jonas handed him aclipboard holding some papers.

“Where is he?” Naser asked.

“Your office.”

“Dripping all over everything? Thanks, Jonas!”

Jonas recoiled. “He finished toweling off in the bathroomand then we gave him some hotel merch to change into. He’s not wet, I promise.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, I’m sorry. I saw you guys talking and thought you werefriends. Don’t worry about it. I’ll have him sign the release myself.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Is it?”

Before Jonas could ask twice, Naser was knocking on his owndoor, Keoni and J.T. parting on either side of him like the Red Sea.

Mason told him to come in.

Naser obeyed, pulling the door shut behind him, realizing,too late, he was suddenly alone with a spectacularly shirtless MasonWorther, who was looking at him with one eye as he pulled apair of hotel-branded sweatpants up over his very bare ass. Of course, he’dditched his underwear. They were soaked, and Sapphire Cove didn’t sell any.He’d run his hands through his thick wet hair, and now he looked less like aparty accident and more like a fashion model preparing for a beachside photoshoot.

“You told me—” Naser turned, grabbed the knob. “I’ll comeback.”

“It’s fine.”

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