Page 11 of Two of a Kind
He cleared his throat then gave a small, nervous chuckle. “I forgot how hard this was,” he admitted.
Mild curiosity made her flick her eyes his way. “What, flying?”
“No,” he said, color rising in his cheeks. “Trying to talk to a beautiful woman.”
Despite her resolve not to encourage him, her features softened. “You’re doing just fine.”
“Yeah?” The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Because it feels like I’m going down in flames here.”
She laughed and glanced pointedly at his left hand where he held his bourbon. The indentation on his ring finger told her he had only recently removed a wedding band. “How long?”
His smile faded somewhat. “Not long. We were married for twenty years. She was my high school sweetheart. She died last year. Cancer. Made me promise I’d move on with my life. So, here I am.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t feel right, though, being here without her. Have you ever been married?”
“No.”
“Ever been in love?”
Something inside her chest tightened.Hadshe ever been in love? Not really. There had been men she had lusted after and been infatuated with, but no one she had actually wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Did that make her self-centered? Probably, but she had made her peace with it. Better to be content and alone than married and miserable, she thought. If nothing else, her mother’s mercenary approach to marriage had taught her that much.
Aloud, she said, “That is a very personal question.”
He looked away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. That was rude. See what I mean? I’m terrible at this.”
“Tell me about her,” Kayla said.
For the rest of the flight, he did.
“Thank you, Kayla,” he said, offering a sincere smile as he helped her snag her carry-on from the overhead storage compartment. “Can I buy you dinner? No strings, no expectations, just a thank you. You deserve that much for letting me bend your ear.”
“No thanks necessary,” she told him honestly. “But if we happen to run into each other again, I’ll let you buy me an overpriced drink with a fancy umbrella in it.”
He laughed. “It’s a deal. Enjoy your vacation, Kayla.”
“You too, Rick.”
After they parted ways, Kayla sought out her connecting flight. Unlike the previous leg, this one would involve a private, chartered jet, followed by a boat ride to the island.
While she received some appreciative glances along the way, she was left to enjoy the rest of the journey in peace.
A limousine awaited her at the dock. Kayla sucked in a delighted breath when she realized the “limousine service” used real limousines, not the shuttle buses most resorts did. Even better, she was the only one designated for pick-up and got the posh ride all to herself.
After a thirty-minute drive along the coastal road, they passed through a guarded security gate and along a beautifully landscaped drive to the secluded resort.
She tipped the shuttle driver, a very attractive younger man with mischievous eyes and a flirty smile. She had barely had a chance to reach for the grip of her rolling luggage before another guy, also easy on the eyes, bowed his head and took it for her. He flexed his nicely-sculpted biceps and forearms in the process, which she appreciated.
Oh yeah. Being waited on hand and foot by buff, gorgeous man candy? She could get used to this.
If possible, Sate was even more impressive than she had expected. The website photos she had been drooling over pre-trip were stunning, yet they paled in comparison to the real thing.
The main building rose up out of the rocky coastline like some ancient Greek temple, a dazzling mix of white stone, open balconies, and tinted windows.
She walked through the open-air lobby, taking in the immaculate, polished marble floor and matching columns. Crystal lighting, not on in the bright mid-morning light, sparkled between massive, ocean-themed murals depicting sexy scenes of mythological hedonism.
Her job had taken her to some pretty nice places, but this place silently screamed of wealth, class, and privilege. Kayla didn’t fit into any of those categories, but no one here knew that. Annette wanted the agents to get the same treatment their clients would receive so they could make honest recommendations. Therefore, as far as anyone else was concerned, she was just another wealthy woman traveling alone.
Two people stood behind the reception desk, one man and one woman. Both were movie-star beautiful. Kayla wondered vaguely about the application process to get a job here. Was a portfolio required?
“Welcome,” the man said, greeting her with a devastating smile. “Checking in?”
