Sex for Beginners Box Set(72)

She’d learned something new about herself and it had left her shaken. But now that she’d hit the release valve, she should be fine, as long as she kept a lid on the excitement level.

Not an easy task when Dominick was in the vicinity. At the airport, he rented a Mercedes convertible, and they drove to South Beach with the top down. The landscape looked like a Technicolor postcard with palm trees spearing a turquoise sky and the sun casting a pink glow over everything in its path. Violet had never seen so much skin in her life. String bikinis and thongs abounded, with brown, glistening bodies extending into the horizon. Playing loud music and in-line skating appeared to be the prevailing outdoor activities. The atmosphere fairly pulsed with a sexual vibe. Violet shifted in the passenger seat as perspiration trickled down her back.

“Aren’t you hot in that jacket?” Dominick asked with a grin.

“It’s not too bad,” she replied, taking another drink from the bottle of water she held. In truth, she was on the verge of melting.

Dominick, on the other hand, was sprawled in the driver’s seat looking cool and collected and impossibly sexy.

She turned to check on Winslow in the backseat. He was scratching at the door of his carrier, obviously antsy at being cooped up for so long. She reached back to soothe him, touching her fingers to the mesh for him to lick.

“How much longer to the hotel?” she asked.

“Just a few more minutes to South Beach, then we can all stretch our legs.”

“Are we staying near the Sunpiper Sports School?”

“Everything in Miami is relatively close. The city is densely populated, but not very big.”

“Do you have specific plans for finding out more about the school?”

“Actually, I thought we’d go by there this afternoon, if that works for you.”

“Of course. I printed out more research last night and brought a mini-laptop for note-taking.”

He gave a little laugh and rolled to a stop at a light. Unexpectedly, he reached over and smoothed a loose hank of hair behind her ear. “Okay. But let’s get to the hotel and eat lunch first. How does that sound?”

Violet inhaled sharply at his touch. From the backseat, Winslow barked angrily.

Dominick frowned and pulled his hand away. Violet wasn’t sure whether she should be relieved or irritated at the interruption. Nan’s words about Dominick trying to seduce her while they were in Miami reverberated in her ears. Would he?

And would she let him?

Her pulse was still clicking away when they pulled in to the valet parking area of the Catalina Hotel. She picked up Winslow’s carrier and followed Dominick inside, feeling like a peasant ogling royalty. The art deco hotel was a five-star establishment with all the trimmings—lush landscaping, palatial common areas and white-suited staff. Violet spotted a movie star and a pop singer in the lobby, and tried not to stare. Dominick seemed to take it all in stride, which only made her feel more backward as he checked them in and led her toward the glass elevator. She was woefully overdressed and perspiring profusely. She kept pulling her turtleneck collar away from her sticky neck, trying to let some air in. And she wasn’t looking forward to the ride up in a glass box.

She stepped on and plastered herself against the opposite wall. “What floor are we on?”

“We have a penthouse suite,” Dominick said.

The elevator doors closed and they began to climb, but her fear of heights gave way to a greater fear. “Y-you said we would have separate rooms.”

“Separate rooms,” he confirmed, “but connected. So that I can get to you if…I need you.”

From the carrier on the floor, Winslow growled menacingly.

The warning bell in Violet’s head sounded in time with the elevator chime. The doors slid open to hushed opulence. When she alighted, the scent of ylang-ylang tickled her nostrils. Zen-like music played from hidden speakers.

She followed Dominick down the hallway, where a bellman waited with their luggage outside a double door. The uniformed man greeted them, then used his key to open the door and swept his arm for Violet to precede him.

The room was larger than her condo—and exponentially more grand. The entryway featured lush carpet, but at the bottom of a short set of steps, sand-colored floor tile with just a hint of pink stretched in all directions. A kitchenette and bar sat to the immediate left. Straight ahead, a wall of windows was the backdrop for a spacious sitting area. The furniture was pale overstuffed leather, cool and inviting. Sumptuous area rugs created islands of tranquility. A balcony off the living room offered panoramic views of the beach below and the Atlantic beyond.

“It’s…wow,” she murmured, at a loss for words.

Dominick laughed and she blushed, reproaching herself for her uncouth response. “I mean, it’s lovely, Mr. Burns.”

He frowned. “I thought we’d made it to a first-name basis.”

Her face warmed. “Dominick.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you like the accommodations. Traveling first class is one of the perks of the job.” He turned to the bellman. “The black bag goes in the room on the right, the blue bag in the room on the left.”

He walked over and opened the sliding glass door leading to the balcony, then stepped out. He gestured to her and she made her way gingerly to the doorway. She took a tentative step outside, swayed, then reached back to cling to the door frame for support. The balcony jutted out from the building like a long narrow box. The railing was frosted glass panels with lots of daylight in between. If the architect had intended for the occupants to feel as if they were dangling high above the earth straddling a beam, the design was a raging success.

“What a view,” he said, leaning against the rail.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she murmured, then stepped back inside and put her hand over her racing heart.

Dominick followed her and closed the door. “Too high for you?”

“And too small and too…open.”

Inside the carrier, Winslow barked and pawed at the mesh window, demanding attention.

“Is it okay if I let him out?” she asked Dominick.

“Sure. I assume he’s housebroken?”

“Oh, yes. In fact, I probably need to walk him.”

He gave the porter a tip then glanced at his watch. “How about we take twenty minutes to freshen up, then we’ll let Mr. Squatty Face have a walk and we can get a bite to eat?”

“His name is Winslow,” she chided with a laugh. When she opened the door to the carrier, the dog practically leapt into her arms, wriggling and licking her face.

“Can’t fault his taste,” Dominick remarked, turning toward the door to his room. “Let me know if you need anything, Vee.”

Violet carried Winslow to the door of the room where the bellman had taken her suitcase and tried not to think about the fact that there were only fifteen feet between the doors of their bedrooms. Five long strides. She gave herself a mental shake, pushed open the door and gasped.

The king-size bed sat in the corner at an angle, facing the same view as the living area. The furnishings were luxurious, but understated. The thought flitted through her mind that it was the kind of bed that one shared, big enough for two. She peeled off her suit jacket and draped it over a chair, then stepped out of her loafers and socks and sank her feet into the deep pile of the rugs scattered over the oversized floor tile. The bathroom boasted a jet tub and enormous, fluffy towels, spa robes and luxury toiletries. She ran a hand over the sleek countertop and wondered if her parents had enjoyed these kinds of accommodations when they traveled. Probably, since her father had often worked for high-level government officials.

No wonder they hadn’t wanted to come home, she mused.

Winslow followed her around, his toenails clicking on the tile floor. She crouched down to pet him, feeling a rush of affection for the homely little dog. She knew what it felt like to be abandoned at Christmas. From the bag that Patricia had packed, Violet withdrew his bowl and a resealable bag of dry food. She put a half cup of the food into the bowl so he could eat while she checked her phone for messages.

The fact that there weren’t any left her with mixed feelings. She’d hoped her parents had left a message about the gifts she’d left or that they’d arrived in Panama safely, or something to that effect. And she expected at least one phone call from Lillian about…something. She decided to check in, just in case. While she punched in the number, she unzipped her suitcase.

“Summerlin at Your Service, this is Lillian.”

“Lillian, it’s Violet.”

“Hi. How was the trip?”

“A little bumpy,” Violet admitted, pulling clothes out of her suitcase and hanging them in the closet on the padded hangers provided. “But we’re here. I was just calling to see if everything is okay at the office.”

“Everything’s fine,” Lillian said cheerfully. “I’m up to my elbows in gift wrap and ribbon, and later I’m going on a delivery run.”

“So…no problems? Or…questions?”

“No, none.”

Violet frowned. “Okay, well, in the next couple of days I’ll be overnighting to you the last few gifts on Mr. Burns’s Christmas list, and I’ll need for you to hand-deliver them.”