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Bristling with annoyance, Sean set up for his first show at a makeshift bar on the beach. Leona had shared the schedule of events with him, mainly to notify him when he was required to perform and to which venues the bar would move. She’d been creative, planning a party on the upper deck of the restaurant for the second evening, on the lawn of the garden for the third, and in a variety of other interesting places. Had it not been for the nature of Juan’s business, Jeanne’s dagger stares, and the information he had to somehow miraculously obtain, he might have even enjoyed it. Scrap that. There was nothing enjoyable about being in a contest with Asia when the desired outcome was her failure.
The guests started spilling onto the beach from eight in the evening, dressed in swimwear. Some bathed in the ocean while others lounged in chairs or relaxed in the Jacuzzi on the restaurant deck. The restaurant was a big hall a short distance away from the private, double-story beach units in which the guests resided. The staff huts were at the back of the kitchen and laundry area. The guest and staff quarters were connected to the dining hall by paths that ran beneath the palm trees. The paths leading to the guest quarters were off-limits to the staff, except for the cleaners who serviced the accommodation.
The fires had been lit for a lobster barbecue. As soon as his show was done, all he had to do was man the bar and serve mood cocktails or whatever else the guests fancied. It was long after sunset when he caught sight of a pair of transparent pants and a bright blue bikini top. Sean followed Asia’s progress over the beach until she flopped down on one of the bar stools.
“How did it go?” he asked.
Earlier in the day, he’d strolled to the upstairs massage room near the jetty and studied the booking list on the door. She was working from nine to seven with a one-hour lunch break. All the slots for the week were full. It was going to be a tough seven days for her.
“Good,” she said, not offering more.
Thinking about her hands on those horny old men only aggravated him. What if Juan had employed her for more than innocent massages?
He didn’t quite succeed in keeping his voice nonchalant when he asked, “What does a massage entail?”
She was onto his meaning because she gave him a reprimanding look. “I’m a massage therapist, not a hooker.”
“I only meant—”
“I know what you meant. My occupation is professional. Strictly business.” Her posture relaxed somewhat. Glancing around, she added, “But I can see how you got that impression.”
Half of the girls were topless and the men’s hands wandered everywhere, including into bikini bottoms.
“Try to ignore it, kitten. It’s just for a week.”
She looked back at him quickly. “Are you being kind to me now?”
“I haven’t even started being nasty or kind, but I could be anything you want if you asked nicely.”
Snorting, she got to her feet. “I’m knackered. I just came by to say I’m off to bed. Try not to make too much noise when you sneak in.”
Suddenly, he didn’t want her to go. “You can’t leave without having a drink.”
“I don’t really drink.”
“I’ll make you a virgin cocktail.” He pointed at the bar stool. “Sit.”
He still needed to convince her to leave this island, or that was what he told himself. For a moment, he thought she was going to turn him down, but then she put her tight ass back on the plastic seat, for a reckless moment making him wish that seat was his lap. There was something about the warmth in her eyes and the way they lit up when she smiled that appealed to him. Not to mention those C-cup breasts that were too big for her small body. Tearing his attention away from her chest, he tried to find a point on her face on which to fix his gaze, but it was drawn to her lips when she said, “Aren’t you going to ask me what I want?”
“It’s my job to know.” Except, where his thoughts were going had nothing to do with her preferred liquor and everything with what would bring her pleasure. He took a glass from under the counter and wiped it clean.
“How do you know?” she asked.
“By looking at you.”
“You know what people like to drink just by looking at them?”
“It’s more like sensing what they need to drink.”
“How does it work?”
He shrugged. “Practice.”
Leaning her arms on the counter, she said, “This is going to be interesting.”
Just as he’d lined up the bottles he needed on the counter, one of the bodyguards stepped up to the bar.
“A Sex on the Beach,” the man said. “Make it a double.”
