Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I take a seat by myself at one of the tables and scan the deck. Already June, Heather, and Misty have chucked their suits, and I can’t help noticing they all have bare pussies. June even went for a vajazzle—tiny crystal ornaments stuck to her bare vulva with adhesive. My stylist had to explain it to me. I have a trimmed triangle—the “Dorito,” my stylist called it. Getting rid of all the hair seemed very… I don’t know. It felt all wrong to me. Now I wish I’d done it.
Of course, Brett saw me down there, and he didn’t seem to mind. I look down at my teal bikini that’s nearly the same hue as my dress last night. Between the Dorito and Tweety Bird, I’ll be keeping my bottoms on today, and probably my top as well. They’ve all seen my boobs anyway.
I pull my hair off my neck, wishing I’d worn it in a ponytail like Emily did. Most of the women—all except Misty—have their hair up. What was I thinking?
Apparently the same thing I was thinking when I didn’t wax my pussy clean and said Sebastian’s name—I wasn’t.
My gaze settles on Brett, who’s talking to Evangeline and River. He casually slides his blue trunks over his hips.
He’s not erect, of course, but he’s still a gorgeous sight with his muscles and blond bush.
“Hey, you,” a deep voice says.
I turn and see Alex, trunks still on, thank God, holding two bottles of water.
“Hi,” I reply.
“So you’re my lovely companion for this evening.”
“Yes.” I smile, willing myself not to stammer. “I’m looking forward to it.”
He pulls out a chair. “May I?”
“Of course.”
He takes a seat, unscrews the cap on one of the bottles, and hands it to me. “Stay hydrated, per Evangeline.”
I nod and take a sip.
“So…I want to make this date fun for you. What kind of things do you like to do?”
I tilt my head. He’s so handsome in an understated way. I imagine him wearing tortoise-shell glasses and a tweed blazer. The hot professor type. The thought makes me smile. And squirm.
“What is there to do here on the island?” I ask.
“There’s swimming. A home theater. A gourmet meal. A walk under the stars. Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”
You could morph into Brett.
I don’t say that, of course. I want to give Alex a chance. Every one of these men is a catch, and I’d be lucky to have any one of them fall in love with me.
“What do you like to do on a date?” I ask.
“This isn’t about me, Ariel. It’s about you.”
“How can you say that? This whole event is about you. You and the other three men.”
“True, but it’s also about you ladies. We want to please you as much as you want to please us.”
I look at him—really look at his firm full lips, his light brown stubble, his beautiful hazel eyes with dark brown lashes. His thick chestnut hair and his sculpted jawline. His good looks aren’t as obvious as Brett’s are—and he’s not blond—but he’s striking. Striking and very nice. My nipples harden against the fabric of my suit as I gaze at his perfectly muscled tan shoulders.
“I’d like to learn more about what you do,” I say. “I can’t imagine writing words for a living.”
“I’d be happy to enlighten you.” He smiles. “Tell you what. Let’s have a private meal on the deck or in the courtyard, and after that, we can watch From Darkness to Disclosure.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“That’s the name of the initial book in my Nash Beckett series. It’s the first in the film franchise.”
“Oh, yes.” My cheeks burn. “I read that in your bio.”
“What? You didn’t memorize it?”
I drop my jaw, but he chuckles.
“Relax, Ariel. I’m kidding. We’ll have a nice dinner at, say, seven? I’ll answer any questions you have about writing. And then the movie?”
“That sounds great.”
“What should I tell the chef to prepare for us?”
What I’m really craving is some of Mama’s barbecued ribs and greens, but I’m talking to a billionaire here. If I tell him I want some down-home southern cooking, he’ll probably laugh in my face. “I don’t know. What kind of food do you like?”
He laughs. “Anything and everything.”
I draw in a breath. May as well be myself. Mama told me never to change for any man. “You really want to know what I want?”
He nods.
“Some good old-fashioned southern cooking. Ribs and greens and mac and cheese.”
“No sweet potato pie?” He grins.
Is he making fun of me? My first inclination is to back away, but I don’t. I hold fast. “Sure, if your chef can make it as good as my mama.”
He smiles. “That sounds great.”
I take another sip of my water as others begin to meander toward the tables up front, which are now bursting with an array of colorful food. “I suppose…it’s time to eat.”