Sinfully Summer: A feel good sexy summer romance. Aimee Duffy
bugged out of the sockets when she saw the name of the American actress asking if Alexa’s business Together could set her up with a companion when she visited London for business next week.
She brought her phone back to the sofa and showed Jenna and Sarah. ‘Look at the new client I got!’
Sarah grabbed the phone out of her hands and gawked at the screen. ‘Can I be the one you set her up with?’
Jenna and Alexa rolled their eyes.
‘She wants a tour guide and a dining companion, not a crazed stalkery fan,’ Alexa teased.
‘I can’t believe she heard about your business in the States,’ Jenna said. ‘But we agreed, Alexa. No work on this holiday.’
‘I can’t lose a client, Jenna. It will only take half an hour to set things up. I have the perfect woman in mind.’ She didn’t mind setting clients up with the opposite sex, she based the service Together provided on common interests, but she didn’t think an A-lister would want to be seen with a mystery man. The press in London would be all over that like a rash.
Sarah nodded. ‘Alexa, reply before she changes her mind.’
Jenna grumbled something under her breath and guilt broke through Alexa’s excitement. But holiday or not, Together was her livelihood and big named clients would mean better publicity. With her reputation still shot to pieces and her refusal to touch her trust fund, she couldn’t let a client like this slip through her fingers.
She scrolled through her contacts and found the number she needed. It was great business and a brilliant distraction from the whirlwind of hormones and irritation Ric had brought to the surface. Hitting dial, she ignored Jenna’s pout and brought the phone to her ear.
The midday sunshine heated her skin like she was in a just-too-warm jacuzzi, but Alexa didn’t care. She had tan lines to get rid of and lying topless was the only way to do it, even if that meant being more wary of low-lying paparazzi.
‘I can’t believe you made us pick a spot this far away from the bar,’ Jenna grumbled as she returned with a tray of cocktails. ‘There are plenty of topless women next to the pool; you don’t need to hide away here.’
Alexa opened her eyes to squint at Jenna. ‘Last thing I need is to be back in the papers, especially with the new client I’ve just scored.’
Jenna laid the tray of multi-coloured cocktails down on the table between Alexa and Sarah’s sun loungers. Jenna then pulled a Spanish magazine from her bag and threw it at Alexa. She caught it, exposing herself to the sun again, so rolled onto her stomach.
‘Page three,’ Jenna said.
Alexa opened the magazine to the page Jenna had pointed to, and her breath caught. ‘You’re kidding me.’
The sneaky paparazzi had the cheek to snap a picture of her at Sarah’s hen party. Alexa was tipsy and in the process of getting out of a limo, with her knickers in full view. ‘Can’t they just leave me alone, I wasn’t even doing anything shocking. Two seconds later and they wouldn’t have seen a thing.’
She wished she could read Spanish to see what the article said, but she wasn’t an idiot and could guess. Exaggerated rubbish, since she wasn’t as crazy as she had been in her teenage years.
‘What is it?’ Sarah asked.
Alexa handed the magazine to Sarah, her blood heating with irritation. Jenna lowered onto her lounger with a pink cocktail. Alexa went for the tray, picked up the glass with the red contents, and drained half. The fruity liquid was cool and relaxed her a little. If she didn’t have Together to worry about, she wouldn’t care. But being caught with a goofy expression on her face and her knickers on show wasn’t exactly sending images of the professional business woman she wanted to be.
‘It isn’t as bad as the one where you fell out of that club,’ Sarah said, flicking through the pages, ‘it hasn’t made any of the gossip rags in the UK. The Spanish must be short on scandal.’
‘Let’s just forget about it, okay?’ Alexa was sick of being the wild-child. ‘We still have to plan Jenna’s dare.’
Jenna groaned. ‘I’d rather talk about your date with the hunk.’
Sarah dropped the magazine and turned on her side to face Alexa. ‘What’s his story, anyway? Didn’t he used to be reckless, a bit of an adrenaline-junkie?’
‘He was as far as I know.’ Alexa thought maybe the git would have cut her some slack, since he had hardly been a good little boy growing up.
Jenna pulled out her iPhone and swept her fingers across the screen. A few minutes later, she grinned. ‘It’s so sexy to see a man jump out of a plane, and all these woman must think so too.’
Alexa ground her teeth. She wasn’t going to ask, she wasn’t.
Sarah piped in. ‘What women?’
Jenna turned the phone around to show Google Image results for a search on Enrique Castillo. She didn’t want to look, really. But she couldn’t not. In all the tiny pictures, he was with a different woman, rarely pictured with one twice. She tried to tell herself the twisty feeling in her stomach was disgust. After all, it definitely couldn’t be jealousy.
She polished off the rest of her cocktail then lay down on the lounger, her hands covering up her sensitive bits from the rays of the sun. The twisting sensation in her tummy turned to an almost low burn, and her already warm skin flared hotter. Puffing out a breath, she tried to wipe the images Jenna showed her from her mind. She really didn’t care if Ric had dated, or even slept with all those women. After tonight, she’d never see him again if she could help it.
Ric glanced at his watch again. Seven thirty. She should be here by now. He grabbed another glass from a passing waiter, then made his way through the throng of Spanish socialites to the exit.
The car park was empty. Party already in full swing, all the guests had parked up or their chauffeurs had left. He glanced toward the road leading off the beach. Frustration set in as he saw the empty strip of tarmac before him.
Running his free hand through his hair, he cursed under his breath. Today was a hell of a day for people letting him down. First his events organiser, Lydia, who had a family emergency, and now the unpredictable heiress.
He turned back to the boathouse and took a long gulp of champagne. Boathouse was an understatement. The Castillo holiday home covered at least a quarter of an acre and had its own private stretch of beach. The house itself consisted of four levels, the ground floor specially kitted out as a ballroom to host parties for those who were somebody in the Costa Del Sol—or those, like himself, with a connection to the owners, a fat wallet and deep pockets.
The sound of wheels crunching against the tarmac made him turn. His driver nodded at him from the front seat and Ric exhaled. She was here.
Manuel exited the vehicle, rounded it and then pulled open the rear door. Ric heard every one of his heartbeats pounding in his ears as he visualised what Alexa would look like in a glamorous gown. He’d couldn’t help but notice her around his hotel. Scandal was something he wished to avoid if he could help it—even in his adrenaline-junkie days—and scandal seemed to follow her wherever she went. He’d worked hard to gain some respect in this society, and whether he deserved it or not, it wasn’t something he wanted to lose.
He’d seen her in non-existent shorts, a tiny cocktail dress which made his blood heat and now he could add undies to the list.
But none of it could have prepared him for what he saw now.
Taking Manuel’s hand, she stepped out of the limo. First he only noticed the plunging neckline and his gaze followed the cut of the material to the curve of her breasts and then further, down to the flash of toned, tanned stomach above her navel.
Fire ripped through his veins. Ric gulped down the last of the champagne. It didn’t help.
She turned