Sunburn, page 6
Just to keep her safe, of course.
“Hey,” he began, seizing on an idea. “You’re The Travel Chick, aren’t you? You’re here to check out the resort.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How would you know that?”
Because I know things, other than the identity of the demon who’s trying to eliminate you from this world. “Oh, I make it a point to know the customers. Nothing gets past me. And I know this resort better than anyone. I’d be happy to give you the grand tour. In fact, I could show you some spots outside the resort too. The ultimate Mayan Riviera experience, if you will. You know, for your work.”
And so I can keep an eye on you.
If it was possible for a woman to look wary and tempted at the same time, Patience O’Connor was excelling. “For my work. Right.” For a moment, she looked as wobbly as she did walking in high heels, even though she had flats on now. “I suppose that would be okay. For my work.”
He smiled. “For your work. We’ve established that.”
She blushed, and his dick slammed against the inside of his pants.
“You must be hungry,” he said, feeling as if he were teetering on the edge of a precipice. “You missed dinner. I could order some room service for us.”
She ran a hand over her forehead. Immediately, she bristled, as if remembering something. She smoothed her bangs over her brow, a nervous tic he’d already seen on her.
What’s that all about?
Suddenly, she looked tired. “Actually, I’m not very hungry anymore. I think I just want to get some sleep. You don’t mind?”
“Of course not. I’ll walk you back to your room.”
She was in room 437. Clear on the other side of the resort. A good fifteen-minute walk from his villa. And he quite enjoyed that fifteen-minute walk with Patience. She told him about her work at the travel agency, and they shared a few laughs about picky tourists and customers who just had to have every amenity but didn’t want to pay for them. He enjoyed walking next to her, catching the odd, teasing hint of her orange blossom perfume. Wishing he could hold her hand, but refraining, creating the most potent sexual tension he’d ever experienced.
He walked her right to the door and opened it so he could ensure no strange characters were waiting for her inside. “There you go. Safe and sound.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, laughing. She shook off the question, though. “Thanks again, Apollo. Good night.”
“Good night, Patience.”
She opened her mouth once or twice as if she wanted to say something more, but didn’t. Slowly, she closed the door.
Upon hearing it lock, Apollo made himself invisible. Cloaked in obscurity, he flew to her balcony and took a seat on the chair there. Patience quietly pulled some clothes out of her luggage and disappeared into the bathroom. She emerged a few moments later, her hair brushed and dressed in an old T-shirt that said ‘Smile. It’s the second best thing you can do with your mouth.’
He grinned at the naughty suggestion and shelved the idea in his brain, in case it came in handy at some point.
She hung her dress in the closet and stared at it, shaking her head, clearly wondering where all the bloodstains had gone. Reading her thoughts once again, he realized just how scattered she felt. And why wouldn’t she? She pulled at the dress, smoothing out its folds so she could see every inch of fabric, and ran her hand over the spots where the stains had been. After inspecting it carefully for a few moments, she let it fall back into place in the closet and wandered over to her bed. He was frozen to his spot, unable to look away as she slipped into bed and turned out the light on the bedside table.
Patience didn’t fall asleep for some time. And as she rolled restlessly, he was just as restless on the balcony. He tried to look away a few times, which proved a useless exercise. He could see fine in the dark and couldn’t stop staring at her covered form in the bed. And as much as he tried, he couldn’t refrain from listening to the frustrated catalog of speculations in her mind.
He had to be more careful. She was smart, perceptive.
Eventually, Patience fell asleep. Even from his spot on the balcony, Apollo could hear the even rhythm of her breathing, and it soothed him. Gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in years.
That demon wouldn’t get her tonight. Not on his watch.
* * * *
The Travel Chick
Dealing with Injuries on the Resort
Hello, travelers!
Well, I must say I had a very exciting night here at Helios. So exciting, I couldn’t sleep for very long, so I decided to write another quick post.
I sustained an injury here at the resort during the dinner hour. Now, don’t get the wrong idea. It was my own fault for being a clumsy clod.
Everyone talks about how bad the Mexican health system can be for travelers. However, I have to say Helios Resort dealt with my wound in a quick and strangely efficient manner. It seems I’m all better now! It’s assuring to know the resort trains their staff so well in first aid. Even the bartenders are capable of life-saving feats!
He did save my life. I’m convinced of it.
At any rate, I must remember to commend the management here tomorrow. I still have much to observe, but as far as guest safety goes, I have to award Helios my Gold Star rating.
I’ll sign off for now, and try to get some sleep.
Nighty nite!
Chapter 5
Patience woke to the sound of unfamiliar birds cawing and tweeting in the nearby rain forest. She lay in bed listening, feeling a delicious unease. Delicious because the Mexican setting was so beautiful, but uneasy because of what happened the previous day. She turned toward the balcony and smiled when several tropical birds soared past. They were an eye-catching flurry of blue and purple and red feathers.
Red feathers. Red like blood.
She sat and looked at her wrist, the wrist that had been so bloodied and carved. Gingerly, she ran her finger over it. It didn’t even hurt. It should at least be bruised considering the weight of the plate that had shattered on it, but there wasn’t even a hint of black or blue.
In fact, she could swear it looked better than ever before. She’d had a couple of old scars on her wrist from childhood accidents, but for the life of her she couldn’t locate them anymore.
He’d healed her. Apollo the bartender had healed her, and she couldn’t imagine how.
First aid, my sweet, fat fanny.
A loud knock on her door interrupted her jumbled thought process. She looked at the clock. Eight in the morning. And then she looked at herself. Dressed in her old T-shirt.
Shoot.
There was no chance it was Doris or Angie. They’d still be snoring this early. It was likely a concierge, coming to convince her to attend one of those breakfast meetings where they try to persuade you to dump all your money into buying a time-share.
Just answer the door and get rid.
She padded to the door and unlatched it, peeking her unbrushed head around the corner.
Apollo stood there, oozing sun and sensuality. Her bartender savior was dressed in Nike gym shorts, running shoes, and a black T-shirt that glided over his every ripple. There was a Yankees cap on his head covering most of his golden locks, but a few shimmered around his ears. He was holding a tray with two coffee cups and a paper bag, from which the enticing aroma of cinnamon buns wafted toward her. He smiled. “I pegged you for a coffee woman, but I’m taking a chance on the cinnamon buns.”
“W-why are you here?” And then she cut off the indecent thoughts surrounding his cinnamon buns and how much she suddenly wanted to lick them. Choking back her sudden need to lick the sweet icing off them in front of him.
His eyebrow curled with amusement. “Have you forgotten I’m giving you the ultimate Mayan Riviera experience? For your work? I’m hurt you’d forget me so easily.”
As if that were possible. “Yeah, but now?”
He barged into her room, and she almost said something about it, but didn’t because Apollo in her hotel room was such an overload on her senses it was cutting off any breath in her trachea.
“No time like the present.” He put the coffees down on a table and turned to look at her. His eyes dwelled on her bare legs for an uncomfortable moment and then he stared back up at her face, completely deadpan. “That’s an intriguing mole on your inner thigh.”
She grabbed a pillow from the bed and used it to cover herself like a shield. “Never mind my moles! I didn’t ask for your opinion on them.” She huffed. For some reason, she needed to put up a bit of a fight. It was a bit presumptuous of him to sweep into her room and assume she’d just fly off with him to wherever. Even though she couldn’t deny her strong curiosity. “Look. Maybe I have stuff I need to do today. My friends will want to meet up.”
Apollo bit his lip, clearly stifling a grin. “Not today. I saw them on my way over. They’re already down by the pool. I took the liberty of letting them know you’d be spending the day with me.” He paused for effect. “In fact, they seemed pleased you’d be doing so.”
Her jaw dropped.
He did smile this time and took a step toward her. And another, bringing him dangerously close to her body. “Shall I help you close your mouth, or would you like me to put a cinnamon bun into that gaping hole?”
Patience clapped her jaw shut. God, why did this man make her feel so … naked? Granted, she was half-nude, but even when clothed he had a bizarre ability to see into her. “Well, where are we going?”
His smile widened as his eyes took in her rumpled T-shirt. “Just get dressed. Put on something comfortable: shorts and a T-shirt. No heels. I’ll wait outside.”
And even though he’d gone out of the room to give her privacy, Patience still felt exposed to his gaze. Somehow his magnetism would seep right through concrete walls and under wooden doors. With her nose in the air, she closed the door on his annoying, grinning face.
* * * *
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at one of the many activity booths dotting the resort. The cinnamon bun and coffee were happily sloshing together in her grateful belly. In fact, her impromptu breakfast with Apollo was the most delicious meal she’d had in recent memory. The buns had been decadent and the coffee just right, but the best part of the meal had been getting to watch Apollo lick a couple of globs of icing from his large fingers.
Now she couldn’t get his tongue out of her head.
Stop it, Patience! You’re not here for that. You’re supposed to be reviewing the resort, not pondering how many stars you’d give him for his licking ability.
Dismissing the thoughts, she stared at the intimidating piece of equipment before them. “Am I supposed to get on that thing?”
Apollo, still bearing that infernal grin, held a hand out to assist her. “That thing is a Segway. Our Segway tours are the most popular tours here at the resort, and the best way to see the place. Give it five minutes and you’ll be a pro, I promise.”
He helped her step to a small platform between two humungous wheels and showed her how to hold on. “I don’t know about this. You’re talking to the girl who other drivers ganged up on in the bumper car circuit at the amusement park. I’m not good with … things that move faster than I do.” As if to prove her point, she gave a frightful lurch, one that almost sent her flying off the vehicle that looked like a unicycle on steroids.
Apollo anticipated her movements and placed himself behind her, steadying her. He put his hands on her waist, making her stiffen, and slid a foot between hers. “Your feet are uneven,” he said quietly, moving her foot with his. “They need to be in line. Then all you do is balance. When you want to move forward, you lean forward. It senses your body movements and is in tune with them. It’ll follow you. Does that make sense?”
She didn’t know. She was too busy concentrating on the feel of his fingers on her midsection. “I guess so.”
He patted her waist, making her stiffen again. “Whoa. You are one jumpy woman.” He vaulted onto his own Segway with the ease of someone who’d burst out of the womb on one, and grinned over at her. “I think, while I’m showing you around the resort, I’m going to teach you how to relax too.”
She couldn’t help grinning back. “If you say so.”
With a dare in his glittering eyes, Apollo nodded toward her. “Now see if you can catch me!” He leaned forward on his machine and was off like a shot of lightning, streaking down the boardwalk.
“Hey, no fair,” Patience called. As she stared at his retreating form, her sense of competition flared. Determined, she looked at her Segway, breathed in, and leaned forward. Then leaned back. Then leaned forward. Then leaned back. Then leaned forward. Moving like a jerky snail, she slowly shuffled her way down the boardwalk, feeling like an utter fool.
Within moments, Apollo was back, laughing and doing circles around her as if he were some crazed NASCAR driver with a death wish. “You seem to be a little stuck there, Patience. Need some help?”
“No, I don’t need your help,” she barked. “We’re supposed to be touring the resort. We can’t do that if I’m not moving. Can’t we use one of those golf-cart thingies?”
“You’re doing great,” he encouraged, making her even more annoyed. “Just let go a little. Stop trying to control every movement. Let your instincts take over.”
She stared at him. She was already sweating buckets, and he looked as refreshed as if he’d just had a nice dip in the pool. Let her instincts take over. Her instincts were telling her to throttle him.
Or to kiss him.
Oh, for the love of Mike!
Another Segway zoomed behind her on her other side, and she braced herself, waiting for a collision. She looked up. It was Claude Lenoir, also riding a Segway so expertly it seemed to be an extension of his skinny, French body.
She teetered between the two whizzing Segways on either side of her, lost her balance, and plummeted back off her machine and off the boardwalk. She fell into the sand, landed flat on her back, and swallowed a huge amount of the gritty stuff.
As both men launched themselves off their Segways and ran over, she tried to spit the sand out of her mouth in as ladylike a fashion as she could achieve. However, she quickly learned it was impossible. Sputtering and hissing, she wiped the golden sand off her tongue and almost retched. It was everywhere. In her eyes. In her ears. In her stomach. She wiped what she suspected was a long string of snot from her nose and looked up.
Only to find the men kneeling in front of her. Claude was biting back a guffaw. And Apollo looked ready to strangle the Frenchman. With a gentle hand, he brushed some of the sand off the delicate skin under her left eye, and then turned to Claude.
“You startled her. You shouldn’t have done that.”
Claude took offense and snorted. “Please, Monsieur Bartender, I could see you from down the beach. You were, as they say, popping wheelies around her yourself. Don’t blame me.”
If there hadn’t been so much grit in her eye, Patience could have sworn Apollo was going to hit Claude. Really punch him in the nose. His eyes flashed, and he took a breath and reined in his anger. Ignoring Claude, he turned to her. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Apollo offered her his hand and she took it, wanting to get rid of the arrogant Claude. He motioned to a staff member, who immediately came over and took the Segways away. Claude zipped off with a frown on his face, and they walked back to where they started. Apollo’s hand always on her back.
The whole time, she cursed herself for being a clod. She felt clumsy. She felt frustrated and uncoordinated and as messy as a sandcastle princess.
But with Apollo’s big hand rubbing her lower back, she was feeling better. It grieved her to realize she was feeling better in a big way.
* * * *
Apollo led Patience to one of the nearby bars, the perfect place to have a quiet drink and grill her for details that might reveal why a demon was after her.
After all, he was sticking close to her to keep her out of the demon’s clutches. Right?
He gritted his teeth, wishing that were his only motivation. Wishing it had nothing to do with wanting to know her better, or wanting to taste her skin so badly, or wanting to bury his face in her heaven-sent cleavage.
Dismissing the carnal nonsense in his head, he held out a bar stool. As she positioned her beautiful ass on the stool, settling in with a delicious wiggle, his cock hardened.
By the liver of Prometheus! What sort of torture is this?
She coughed again, grimacing at the sand in her throat, and he came back to reality. He said a few words to the bartender who was posted there, jumped behind the bar, and grabbed a couple of clean towels and some ice water. He poured the water into a glass and held it out for her to take a sip.
“I can do it, thanks,” she argued, reaching for the glass.
“Hush,” he countered, not letting her take it. “Just drink.”
She blinked as he put the glass against her lips and opened her lips. She didn’t open wide, just a crack, as if she needed persuading. He nudged her bottom lip with the glass, his gaze glued to her soft lips the whole time. She finally opened enough so he could tip some water into her mouth. She took a few sips, closed her eyes, and sighed.
Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. He’d never been so hard in his entire life! And that was saying something!
What am I doing with this woman? Just see if you can help her and end this insanity! He pulled the glass away from her moist mouth and set it on the bar. She grabbed one of the towels and wiped sand out of her luscious cleavage, prolonging his misery.
More than anything, Apollo wished he had one of his sister’s famous silver bows … right through his heart so he could end this torment. “Do you feel better?”
She looked up, her expression blank, as if she were completely unaware of the effect she was having. “Yes.” Her face crinkled into a sheepish grin. “Thanks for your help, and for the drink.”
He moved behind the bar again. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I could use something a little stronger than water.” He looked up, remembering Angie making a comment about Patience’s drinking habits. “Can I make you a drink? I’d offer you a Sombrero, but I don’t know if you want one. We’re famous for them here. It’s a good morning cocktail, better than a mimosa.”
