Morgan Brown inhaled deeply and blew out a sigh, trying to
banish the queasy feeling in her stomach.
This whole idea was ridiculous. She didn't have time for this.
Owning and managing Paradise Resort kept her plenty busy. Conducting
a week long interview with a freelance writer wasn't on the
agenda.
Besides, he would be intrusive. Under foot all the time -
watching her, studying her, asking probing, intimate questions
like reporters always did. Something she had avoided like the
plague ever since her divorce.
It wasn't good to dredge up the past. She'd successfully buried
it, along with her marriage to that slimeball, and that's where
it was supposed to stay.
So why had she agreed to the interview in the first place?
She knew why. Much as she hated the idea of opening herself
up to scrutiny, a magazine spread would be good PR for the
resort. She couldn't let her personal fears get in the way
of bringing potential new clients to Paradise.
She stepped out on the front porch of her home, welcoming
the feeling of total solitude. Nestled away in the jungle-like
overgrowth, it stood a good distance from the resort, completely
isolated. Just the way she liked it.
The warm, Caribbean breeze blew her hair in her eyes and with
a quick swipe she flipped it back behind her. The gardenias
bloomed this time of year, and she couldn't resist taking a
walk through the gardens to enjoy their sweet scent. Her idyllic
little hideaway always calmed her.
She felt safe here. No one intruded, no one bothered her,
and she could enjoy being alone.
It had taken her a trip through hell and back to get here,
and this is where she'd stay.
Paradise was her home, her livelihood, and her reason for
existence. The reason she'd started the resort in the first
place was to give people a place to live out their fantasies.
Paradise was the only place where sexual pleasures had no boundaries
as long as the parties involved consented.
She might never experience that kind of freedom again, but
at least others would.
A quick glance at her watch told her the reporter would be
arriving soon. She'd better get ready. Stepping in from the
gardens, she strolled through the front door, delighting in
the warm breeze the open windows provided. Her sandals clipped
noisily on the hardwood floors, but didn't disturb her Persian
cat, Phoebe, as she walked by. The ball of white fluff rolled
over on its back and purred loudly, then went back to sleep.
Morgan smiled at her companion's laziness. Phoebe was her
only buddy, and after three years together the cat had gotten
used to Morgan talking to it as if it were human.
Who else would she talk to? It wasn't like she invited people
over on a regular basis. She didn't socialize with the resort
staff, and she would certainly never get to know the customers
on an intimate level.
She stepped into her bedroom and changed from her shorts and
tank top to a long red and yellow flowered sarong. Tying it
off and tucking the ends between her breasts, she stepped in
front of the mirror and turned around to make sure none of
the scars were visible. She wound her hair up in a twist and
secured it with a clip. Satisfied, she headed to the resort
to meet Anthony Marino.
* * * * *
Tony Marino surveyed the lobby of Paradise Resort. Not at
all what he expected. He'd been there five minutes already
and had yet to spot any whips, chains or naked people. Hell,
he'd expected to find couples screwing on the front step, but
this place looked just like any other tropical hotel. Women
wandered around in bikinis, men in shorts and stupid flowery
shirts.
They weren't all beautiful, either. All shapes, sizes and
ages. The resort wasn't the hedonistic type of private vacation
spot catering to the twenty-something crowd. This place could
have easily been any hotel in any part of the world.
Except it wasn't just any hotel. It was Paradise Resort, quickly
gaining in popularity as the place for sexual frolic. Anything
you could imagine could be had here. With anyone who was game
enough to have it with you.
If he wasn't on assignment he'd consider dabbling in some
of the recreation himself. Unfortunately, he was only here
to observe.
And gain whatever dirt he could on the owner and manager of
this place, the mysterious Morgan Brown.
Despite all his research skills and resources, he hadn't been
able to find anything about this woman. And she sure as hell
hadn't dropped onto the earth three years ago. But that's how
it seemed.
Which only made her more intriguing. If there was one thing
Tony loved, it was a mystery. Mystery typically led to scandal,
and scandal led to big money.
"Anthony Marino?"
He turned at the sound of the soft voice behind him, and his
knees wobbled.
Holy shit - she was some gorgeous woman. Flaming red hair
curled atop her head, a few loose pieces twining against her
face. She had a cute little nose and pouty, full lips that
got his cock's attention in an instant.
Down boy.
And where the hell had his power of speech gone? Christ, he'd
just regressed fifteen years to those awkward, fumbling teenage
days.
"Yeah?" was all he could manage.
She held out her hand. "I'm Morgan
Brown."
Well, that figured. This was hell, and she was his personal
Beelzebub. His eternity would be spent in look but don't touch
torture.
"Ms. Brown," he finally said,
shaking her petite hand.
"Call me Morgan." Her voice
melted over him like butter on a hot English muffin. Smooth.
"I'm Tony."
She raised a brow and smiled. "Very
well, Tony. Welcome to Paradise Resort."
If she kept looking at him that way he was going to be one
painfully hard Tony in no time at all. She tilted her head
to the side, studying him, then looked down at his jeans and
tennis shoes and back up again at his polo shirt, concentrating
on his chest.
When her gaze swept back up to meet his she frowned.
What? This was a resort. He was a reporter. Was there a dress
code no one told him about?
"When can we get started?" he
asked, hoping to focus his attention on work and away from
her body and face.
"I'm very busy."
"You also agreed to this interview."
She lifted her chin. "I know. However,
you will have to work around my schedule."
"Fine." Morgan Brown wasn't
the first reluctant interview he'd conducted. He had ways
to gain her cooperation.
"I have to greet the incoming arrivals
tonight."
"And after that?"
"After that I go home."
"That'll work. I'll just go to your
place."
She pursed her lips and glared, her blue
eyes frosty. "I
think not. My house is not within the resort grounds."
"Which means what, exactly?"
"It's a distance away."
He smirked. "The island is only
so big. Can't be that far."
She sighed.
"You could stay at the hotel while I'm here," he
suggested. "Make it easier on both of us."
"No."
That was definite. "Why not?"
"The rooms at the resort are for
the guests. I don't stay in any of them. Besides, we're full."
"Well, Morgan, seems to me you have
two choices here. You can make yourself more available to
me during the work
day, or I can do the interview at your place. As you know,
you're under contract with the magazine and you agreed to give
me access to you during this week."
Daggers shot out from her ocean blue
eyes. "I suppose
that only leaves us one choice."
"Which is?"
She studied him again for a few seconds,
then said, "We'll
go to my place where I don't have to worry about other people
listening in."
Did she have something to hide? And if
she did, why would she be telling him about it? He filed
that mental note away
for later. "Wherever. When can we start?"
The desk clerk handed Morgan a clipboard
which she rapidly scanned before looking up at him. "You're
here not only to interview me, but observe the activities
at the resort,
right?"
"Yeah."
"This is welcome night for the new
arrivals. You can take a seat in the bar, have an hors d'oeuvre
and a drink,
and when I'm finished we'll head to my place."
He followed her through the lobby and into the lounge, a large
room open to the beach and ocean. Pale wood floors gleamed
with a fresh wax. The tables and chairs were surrounded by
potted palms and oversized hibiscus swaying gently from the
ocean breeze. Stairs led down directly to the beach and swimming
pool. They sure made it easy for guests to have access to all
the amenities.
Morgan left to mingle with the arriving guests. After finding
the bartender and ordering a double Crown and Coke, he settled
in at the back of the room and took out his laptop to take
notes.
The lounge was already packed with the new arrivals. Tony
found it interesting to watch couples gravitate toward one
another, strike up conversation and size each other up. The
meetings either ended with the couple sitting down at a table
together or separating in search of other prey. He bit back
the urge to laugh out loud.
Who would be desperate enough to come to a place like this
just for sex? Were these people such losers that they couldn't
find compatible partners in their own neck of the woods? That
couldn't possibly be the reason, since more than half of the
guests in attendance were quite attractive. So what was it
that drew people here?
He'd never had any trouble getting laid wherever he was. Not
that he was a stud or anything, but he did okay. More likely
his success rate had to do with his job. Women, for some inexplicable
reason, gravitated toward writers. Like he was some famous
author or something.
He snorted. Not likely. He wasn't patient enough to sit still
and write a book. That's why freelance writing worked for him.
Research, write and then get the hell outta town and on to
the next project. Not conducive to stability, marriage or family,
but those things were for other people, anyway. Not someone
like him. He enjoyed his freedom to travel way too much to
ever be tied down in the traditional family way.
He made notes on questions he wanted to ask Morgan later.
He'd kept one eye on her the entire time. She smiled and greeted
every one of the guests, and even made a few introductions
when she discovered the shy types standing alone.
Morgan stepped to the stage and asked for everyone's attention,
then gave a speech about how everyone was free to do whatever
they liked as long as the other participants were in agreement.
She warned that if anyone forced another guest to do something
against their will, the local authorities would deal with them.
Her eyes darkened in what he could only surmise was barely
suppressed anger when she talked about free will and force.
She took the security of her guests seriously. Not that he
blamed her. All it took was one psychopath and all hell could
break loose.
After she finished and spoke with a few other guests and resort
staff, she headed over to him. He admired her full hips in
the tropical getup she wore. It fit her snugly in all the right
places, accentuating every one of her lush curves. Damn if
his cock didn't begin clamoring for attention again. He liked
his women to look like women, not skinny little boys.
Morgan Brown was his perfect type of woman.
Wrong. She might fit his type, but he wasn't going to have
her.
"Sorry it took so long," she said as she stopped
in front of him. "Part of my job."
He shrugged, mentally counting backwards
from one hundred in the hopes of getting his wayward penis
to behave itself. "No
problem. I'm here to observe as well as interview."
She nodded. "Shall we go, then?
Might as well get started tonight. I'll be busy with the
guests and staff tomorrow morning.
Oh, and grab your luggage. I don't want to have to drive you
back here tonight. You can stay at my place."
"Stay there?" he asked.
"Yes. I don't live close enough to drive you back here
every evening." She stopped and stared at him. "Unless
that's a problem?"
Problem? With his cock, maybe. With him,
no. Easier to watch her, talk to her, follow her around if
he had access to her
twenty-four hours a day. Maybe he could snoop around and find
something about her. "No problem. Let's go."
