As he thanked her and made a flirtatious rejoinder, Maria couldn’t contain a mirthful laugh as she shook her head and rolled her eyes at the sweet old man’s jest. The old guy always brought his wife, if not his entire family. He was the epitome of a family man; he was at least seventy-five and she knew he’d been very happily married for at least half of those years. “Oh, really now?” she flirted harmlessly back. “I think maybe your wife would have something to say about that.”
As she keyed in the instructions and ended the call, she handed the phone back to Justin. “It’s all set, we’re good to go.”
“You haven’t forgotten about the Anderson bookings, have you? That’s an entire block of rooms taken while the Calderon party will be in attendance.”
She shook her head with a sad smile. Damn, she was going to miss the hotel. “I haven’t forgotten. The renovations on the third floor will be complete before the week is up, we’ll have rooms to spare.”
As Justin departed the room, she gathered her things and blatantly ignored Garrett Rule as she began to slip away, not caring to finish the conversation they’d started.
Unfortunately, she didn’t get a choice.
“You’re fluent in Spanish?” the hard voice asked.
She swung around to face him. “Does that shock you, Mr. Rule? My given name is Maria Sofia Isabella Alvarez and I was born and raised in Miami; I’ve lived here all my life. What did you expect? That English would be my only language?”
“I never really thought about it. If you have an accent at all, it’s only slight.”
“And only when I allow it,” she couldn’t contain the small boast. “I can turn it on and off at will.”
His gaze slid slowly down her body before lifting to her eyes again. “I’ll just bet you can.”
Sucking in a breath at his clear innuendo, she snapped, “Goodnight, Mr. Rule.” Giving him no time to respond, she slipped from the room.
Garrett tried to sleep that night, but the effort was mostly pointless. Maria Sofia Isabella Alvarez had fucked him up completely. It had been obvious at first sight that his fantasies weren’t going to dissolve into thin air. Oh, hell no, his goddamn cock was on full alert, condemning him to more cold showers and jacking-off if he couldn’t get his hands on her.
She’d looked even better than she’d sounded. Granted, his first sight of her had been a stupendous one; he’d seen her dripping wet, curves and all, even if it had been in a conservative one-piece swimsuit. But there’d been no mistaking the raging hard-on he’d gotten as he’d watched her swimming back and forth across the pool, her slim muscles powering through the water as if she were trying to exorcise something from her brain.
Him.
He’d felt it. He’d felt the tension between them even before she’d lifted herself from the water and stood on slender, weary legs that were subtly trembling from her punitive workout.
When she’d stood by the side of the pool, it had taken only seconds for him to recognize her allure as if it were a magnetic force field pulling him in; she was exactly what he’d pictured in his brain but only better, a combination of bold, sultry and sexy.
Her facial features were delicate, but stamped with such an iron determination that his cock had engorged at first sight, the clash of wills that was undoubtedly coming feeding his lust even more. Her dark hair hung in wet tendrils down her back and wisps of it escaped her ponytail to frame her face, giving it an exotic appeal.
Her eyebrows were high and delicately slanted, her brown eyes enhanced by long lashes, her lips full and red, her skin smooth with pale gold undertones. She was petite, her frame slender, her shoulders small. But her breasts . . . Christ, her breasts. To say she had full breasts was an understatement. She looked to be God’s gift to man; she had an hourglass figure accentuated by high, round breasts that had sent an instantaneous river of heat sliding down his spine.
He’d noticed all this about her in no more than a heartbeat . . . and then she’d glanced up at him . . . their gazes had connected, and he’d seen the volatile nature she possessed in the depths of her eyes. His hard-on had gone from raging to painful, a drop of pre-cum leaking onto his boxers.
Fuck.
He’d known down to his doomed soul that this shit would happen; he’d known she would look good. Hell, she looked even better than he’d imagined she would in his wildest, horniest dreams.
And that was how turned on he’d been before they’d started throwing insults back and forth. So, the little witch thought Courtney was his girlfriend? That was what had set her on the warpath? The idea of anything but a platonic, sibling-like relationship with Courtney was almost laughable—at least for him . . . but then he remembered the look on Nick’s face when they’d been arguing about her. It had been about a month ago, when Courtney had finished grad school. He and his brother had had a disagreement over where her place in the corporation would be; they’d both wanted her for their own divisions. It had somewhat surprised Garrett that his brother had had such definitive opinions about Courtney and her future, but at the time, he hadn’t put much thought into it.