Hot Boss - Anne Marsh Page 0,38

is a mix of villas, casitas and luxury suites sprinkled across the creamy sand and tucked back into the rocky hills that frame Santa Maria Bay. Everything is tasteful, modern and beige. I’ve never seen so much brown in my life. Unfortunately, however, there’s a hiccup in Dev’s careful plans.

The manager almost strokes out on the spot as he explains the room shortage to us. Instead of four villas, he has three, so two of us will have to share. It doesn’t take much imagination to figure out why putting Dev and Lola in the same villa as Max and Maple—or Hazel, or me—would be a bad idea. As for Max and Maple, there are things you can’t unhear and Max has no filter. I do not want to know what they do in bed.

I open my mouth to point out the obvious solution, but Hazel beats me to it.

“It’s not a problem. Jack and I can share.” She winks at the group. “My virtue is safe with him.”

Our friends laugh, as if the idea of the two of us having sex is funny. Is that so inconceivable? I smile and laugh at all the right spots, however, before allowing the grateful manager to lead Hazel and me to our villa. I have no idea why it bothers me so much.

While Hazel wanders away, enthusiastically snapping pictures of the room with her phone, I tip the manager and the porter and send them on their way.

We’ll be secret lovers.

Never in the office. Never in front of other people.

We’ll never tell.

Would our friends really react that badly? Do I want them to know that we’re a couple, too, even if we’re only temporary and not forever? Dev and Max would worry like old biddies. They’d wonder if it was too soon, if I was really over Molly, if I was risking an amazing business partnership for sex because I was lonely.

The villa’s so huge that I practically need a bread-crumb trail to track down Hazel. Wherever she is, it would be nice if she was naked. Or relaxed. It’s been a rough week at the office and she’s strung tight. Orgasms help with that, but I’m hoping some R & R works its magic.

She’s not outside in the private infinity pool or lounging on the massive deck that overlooks the ocean, so I work my way through the rooms. Lola called it Tuscan meets Santa Fe when she was describing it to Maple on the plane, which turns out to mean tall ceilings, wooden beams, terra-cotta walls and lots of stone. The living room offers a plush sofa that I can imagine spooning Hazel on and a coffee table made from a large slab of Mexican wood. There’s also an enormous television, a bookcase stocked with books about the desert and local wildlife, and binoculars for whale-watching from the deck surrounding the pool.

I find Hazel on the little balcony just off the master bedroom that faces out onto the ocean. She’s less tense than she has been. I hope. She stands in front of the wide-open French doors, face turned into the breeze. She doesn’t turn around when I pad toward her, but she knows I’m here. I’m too big to move quietly.

Her pretty, beachy clothes flutter around her body. I check but I don’t think anyone can see in, not unless they’re suspended in midair above our balcony, so I prowl closer. Hazel’s always so put-together and in control, but the ocean’s making a mess of that perfect front. Little wisps of hair fly around her face, teasing her skin with butterfly kisses. I love messed-up, imperfect Zee.

I contemplate giving her some space, because things feel a little weird between us and I know she doesn’t want the others finding out we’re more than just friends. But I do want to have sex with her, the sooner the better, and I also miss holding her. Zee is addictive.

I’m overthinking... I think. I move behind her, bracing her body with mine. She relaxes against me, the fingers of her right hand tangling with mine. We stand there like that, staring out at the ocean. The sun set on our way here and now it’s completely dark, although the moon spills a pale, silvery light across the bay. It’s calm enough that there would be no point in taking out the boards.

“Are you meeting up with the guys?”

I raise her hand to my mouth. It’s silly, the gesture of a white knight