Zero Control. Lori Wilde
too many personal details about each other. No sharing intimate secrets. If you learn a lot of little details about each other, the next thing you know you start caring about them. That’s not so good for a healthy casual fling,” Jess advised.
“Thanks for the advice.”
Sam reached over to touch Roxie on the shoulder. “Hey, since you’re all by yourself would you like to hang out with Jess and me? We’d love to have you.”
The invitation shouldn’t have pleased her as much as it did, and she should have thought of a graceful way to bow out. She didn’t need to pal around with anyone on the tour. The more inconspicuous she made herself, the better. But she was flattered. More than that, she wanted to hang out with Jess and Sam. They seemed like a lot of fun.
“We understand if you say no,” Jess hurried to add. “Since you’ve caught the attention of our tour guide. He hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire ride. You might want to spend your time hanging out with him.”
Roxie didn’t dare turn her head to meet his stare. “I’m not interested in a romance.”
“Who said anything about a romance?” Jess made a purring noise. “I’d just love to have a fling with him. If you’re really not interested that is.”
Roxie couldn’t bring herself to say that she wasn’t interested. There was that damned jealousy again. Illogical and annoying.
“Anyway,” Sam said, “we’ll save a place for you at dinner, unless Mr. Handsome Man over there sweeps you off your feet.”
All in all, Roxie didn’t have many friends. Of course Stacy was her best friend. There was Magda at work, and Mrs. Kingsly who lived across the street, and Susan, the checker at the supermarket. But they were all over thirty-five and married with children. She didn’t really have anyone her own age she could relate to.
You can’t hang out with them. You’re here under false pretenses. Tell them you appreciate the offer, but you have other plans. Tell them you’re hoping for a romance and you’re worried guys will be less likely to approach women in a group than on their own.
Tell them…
She opened her mouth to use one of her excuses, but instead she spoke from her heart. “Sure, I’d love to hang out with you guys. Thanks for asking.”
4
THE EROS RESORT WAS a hedonist’s wet dream.
From the outside the place was picturesque. The main building was a replica of a sixteenth-century castle perched on a sloping green hill overlooking the river Avon, complete with its own moat. Inside the castle grounds, snug little thatch cottages were lumped like gray-green turtles along a unifying cobblestone path. The moment Roxie stepped off the bus in the thickening drizzle, she was hit with the acute sensation that her world had just cracked wide-open and she’d stepped into a fairy tale.
She tried not to stare openmouthed, but it was a bit difficult when they were met at the door by a cadre of bellmen all dressed in the same romantic sixteenth-century style as Dougal and speaking in the tongue of that time. They flirted and winked. Clearly it was their intention to make the guests feel both lusty and welcome.
“Let me take that for you, milady.” A dashing bellboy, looking for all the world like Romeo Montague from Shakespeare’s most famous play, bowed and relieved Roxie of her suitcase.
Jess and Sam tittered as similarly outfitted bellmen took their luggage.
The five-star rated resort’s lobby was a sight to behold. It looked both old world and elegant and deadly romantic with huge vases of fresh-cut roses, Stargazer lilies and gladiola resting on highly polished antique tables. The air was scented with their sweet fragrance. The sofas and chairs placed strategically throughout the cavernous lobby were upholstered in rich matching fabrics of cranberry and gold. In the middle of the lobby was a grand fireplace made of gray lintels carved with quatrefoils and spanned by a four-centered arch with molded decorations and a frieze topping the lintels. Over the mantel hung a stately coat of arms.
Stenciled on the walls in gilded script lettering outlined in black were famous quotes about love. Her gaze traveled around the room as she read the slogans.
Naughty, naughty. Roxie pressed her fingers against her mouth, suppressing a grin. Just then a pretty female assistant dressed in a gauzy floor-length gown and a crown of braided flowers wandered over to distribute small flutes of complimentary ice wine to the thirsty travelers queuing up at the registration desk.
Roxie sipped her drink. She was delighted to discover it tasted like golden honey, sweet and thick and pure. She didn’t imbibe often, and just a couple of swallows produced a warm glow that drew her deeper into the magical atmosphere. Porter Langley had no idea what he was getting into if he set his cap at competing with Taylor Corben’s lavish destination resorts.
While they were waiting their turn to check in, an older woman, dressed in the same Tudor style as the young assistant, passed out a form printed on white card stock. “Hi, my name is Lucy Kenyon and I’m the entertainment director. To help tailor this experience to meet your needs, I’d appreciate it if you’d fill out this questionnaire and leave it with me.”
Roxie took the form and read through the short list of questions. Most of them were centered on her personal likes and dislikes. She answered as best she could, but paused when she got to the end.
“What are your hobbies, special skills or talents that you still love but haven’t had time for lately?” Jess read the last line on her card out loud just as Roxie poised her pen to answer it.
The question hit home. It had been so long since she’d gotten to do the things she’d given up after her parents’ tragic car accident. Becoming a surrogate parent at eighteen had caused her to grow up quickly. She felt a tug of emotion in her belly, a sadness mixed with yearning for everything she’d lost. She didn’t regret giving up leisurely pursuits for Stacy, but she did miss them, and she hadn’t really realized it until now.
“Oh gosh,” Sam said. “I guess we’re spoiled. We pretty much do everything we love.”
“What about you, Roxie?” Jess asked. “What are you putting down?”
Roxie doodled on the edge of the form, remembering how she used to enjoy acting. She’d even toyed with the idea of majoring in drama when she went to college.
Except she’d never gotten to college.
“I used to enjoying acting,” she admitted.
Sam nudged Jess. “You used to be able to whistle ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic.’ That’s a special skill.”
Jess rolled her eyes. “It’s not one I want to revisit. Anything else you used to like to do, but don’t get to do now, Roxie?”
“Fencing.”
Sam blinked. “You like putting up fences?”
“No, dork,” Jess told her twin. “You know, en garde.” She illustrated with a badly executed fencing pose. “Like Zorro.”
“Ah, that kind of fencing.” Sam nodded.
“My father qualified for the Olympic fencing team when he was twenty,” Roxie shared with her new friends. “But my mother had just found out she was pregnant with me and he chose not to go.”
“That’s so sweet and romantic,” Sam said.
“Fencing was one activity we did together, just he and I.” And she hadn’t picked up a foil since his death. Roxie blinked, swallowed past the lump in her throat and wrote down acting and fencing in answer to the final question.
“Oh, I know,” Jess said. “We used to go with Dad on stakeouts. Let’s put down sleuthing.”
“Your father was a cop?” Roxie asked.
“P.I.,” Sam explained and frowned at her twin.