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It had taken me a lot of guts to buy it, a white triangle string bikini that might have been normal in Europe, or on an eighteen-year-old girl. But I was a twenty-seven-year-old American woman, not used to letting it all hang out, especially with the new styles that were practically little more than thong bottoms. But I figured fuck it. I didn’t know anyone here, and after I left I’d never see them again, anyway.
After lubing myself up with enough sunscreen to paint a house—couldn’t let those virgin ass cheeks burn—I slipped on my sunglasses, the broad-brimmed hat I’d found at Target, and crossed the infinity pool to head toward the sand.
It was a bit of a relief to see I wasn’t that far out of place when I spied a lot of swimwear far more daring than mine. One woman, with what looked like natural olive toned skin and glossy black hair to her waist, wore a light pink tank suit that was completely translucent without even being wet, letting anyone and everyone knowexactlyhow she looked underneath. She looked awesome in it.
When I could tear my gaze away from her, I snagged one of the resort’s cushioned lounge chairs and an umbrella, stretching out as I watched the sapphire blue water lap at the white sand.
The beach was a lot larger than I’d expected, stretching maybe a half mile or more in each direction, capped on one side by a rocky outcropping and on the other, what looked like thick tropical forest. But along my stretch of beach there was nothing but smooth sand, delicate like powdered sugar. Up by the rocky outcropping there was a floating dock stretching a hundred feet into the water with three small boats tied to it, and at the top of the towering rocks, people were jumping off into what I hoped was pretty deep water.
Not for me.
In the shade, I let the filtered sun and heat soak into my unexpectedly tired muscles. After the evening’s intense session with my vibrator, which was at that moment recharging in my room for when the need called again, sleepiness had hit me like a sledgehammer. And while I had slept a good eight or nine hours, I was still inexplicably drowsy.
Guess it was that thing they calledjet lag.
“You looktrèscomfortable,ma belle,” a voice said from behind me.
Shading my eyes, I turned to see Jean-Pierre approaching. Behind my sunglasses, I had to blink several times in order to make sure the jetlag and the heat hadn’t caused me to hallucinate.
He was just that sexy. And delicious. And plain old goddamn beautiful. He was all pure, lean muscle, his broad shoulders framing a rocky chest with the most delicious set of nipples I’d ever seen on a man. A light line of hair leading from between his pecs trailed down the middle of his washboard abs, disappearing into the waistband of his dark blue lifeguard swim trunks.
There was nothing like a suggestive happy trail, and his was one of the sexiest I’d ever seen.
“Jean-Pierre,bonjour,” I said, swallowing back what I really wanted to say.
I hoped my nipples weren’t tightening inside my bikini top because at that moment I was feeling a whole different kind of heat than what the tropical temperatures were providing. “How’s your day going?”
“No emergencies so far,” he said. “May I join you for one moment?”
“Of course,” I said, indicating the lounge chair next to mine. “You don’t need to be in the lifeguard chair?”
He looked over at the shaded tower and shook his head. “Not today. There are not many people in the water, and I have other staff watching the docks. I can keep an eye on things from right here,” he said, giving me a dazzling smile. “Would you like a drink?”
“A drink?” I asked. “You’re serving drinks?”
He laughed softly, shaking his head. “No, but I have someone I can call for you. But I will let you in on a little secret first. The drinks they deliver to people on the beach?” He leaned closer. “They are a little watered down. They don’t want people to have too much and then make it so I have to rescue them all. Especially the American tourists. Word has it they will sue you for looking at them wrong.”
I dropped my head back and laughed. “Oh my god. I think you’ve got Americans nailed. They love nothing more than a lawsuit if there is someone they can blame for whatever happens to them.”
He nodded. “Yes, that is what I hear. Rob has taught me a lot about American culture, besides what I learned from all your TV shows.”
Ugh. Now that was embarrassing. Learning about the US from TV?
But I had a brilliant idea. Maybe I’d have the chance to teach him something new...
“Well, I promise not to sue you if you can find me something cold, slushy drink, and tropical,” I said, making him laugh.
He waved over an attendant with whom he chatted in French, giving me a moment to check him out and imagine what it might be like to see him without his swim trunks.
“Jean-Pierre, I can trust you not to get me drunk?”
He brushed a few grains of sand off the edge of my lounge chair. “I would never dream of letting anything happen to a woman as beautiful as you. Personally, I enjoy being in full control of my faculties, and I sincerely want my partners to remember and enjoy every second that we are together.”
* * *
5
Jean-Pierre
