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She studied her drink. This man lived on the other side of the country. Any future with him would be impossible. Her family was in New York, and she couldn’t imagine a life where she was thousands of miles away from them.
A glass of red wine soon appeared next to her cocktail glass. Yet another sign to show that Bryce was definitely not the sort of guy she usually encountered on her resort assignments. Most American men tended to go for a craft beer, or if they were trying to impress her, a Scottish whisky. Her dinner companion this evening broke all the rules.
And she liked him for that, for drinking what he wanted rather than trying to make a statement.
* * *
That short blue dress and those sky high heels made him weak at the knees. The moment he laid eyes on Vivian from across the sandstone tiled bar entrance, Bryce had slowed his steps. He took in the halter neck and bare back. The way her long light brown hair hung over her shoulder had him sucking in a deep breath. There was something about long straight hair that did it for him. The symmetry of its lines coupled with her soft womanly curves had Bryce wanting to worship every inch of Vivian with his mouth. And that was just for starters.
She was statement dressing tonight. Her intentions clear. Or at least he hoped that was what was happening, because if he was reading the blue silk dress and the way it clung to Vivian’s body wrong, then he was in for a long evening of discomfort.
If only his cousin Camille could see her little blue rebel dress and how it had caught the eye of every man in the room, she would be thrilled.
He was tempted to tell Vivian that he had been there the day that dress had first come to life on Camille’s sketchbook. Next to the sketch, she had written the wordson the prowl,and they had both laughed about it. A woman wearing that dress was definitely hunting for either a man or a handful of compliments. Or both.
At that time, no one else knew Camille Royal was secretly designing a ready to wear collection for one of the major New York department stores. A bold career move which would eventually see her thrown out of her father’s haute couture workroom and banished from the family estate just outside of Paris. Bryce had immediately offered her sanctuary at his London home.
Camille, your little blue rebel dress is perfect.
He couldn’t help himself. As soon as he drew close, his fingers reached out and touched Vivian’s naked skin. When she let her head drop back and took in a deep breath, he sensed she was as tightly wound as him. If he asked, there was every chance she would let him take her by the hand and escort her from the bar. Their evening would begin and end in his hotel suite. But he wanted to wait. All good things took time. And Vivian Holte was exceptional.
Sliding into the seat next to hers, he paused, letting the subtle hint of her perfume wash over him. Warm botanicals sat softly on her lightly tanned skin. He’d noted that when they had been together at the poolside, Vivian had spent much of her time staying out of the sun. Her skin spoke of a woman who was serious about protecting it from harmful UV rays. Smart girl.
He took in the barman’s name tag and hazarded a quick guess that in a city where almost half the population was of a Latino background, Santiago might well speak Spanish. Bryce’s Spanish wasn’t flawless, but as he chatted with Santiago it soon became apparent that his efforts to speak in the man’s mother tongue were greatly appreciated.
Wine glass in hand, Bryce turned his attention back to where he planned it would remain for the rest of the evening.
“How many languages do you speak?” she asked.
He grinned at her. “I’m fluent in French, as I learned it at school. I can hold a decent conversation in Italian, and of course you just heard me talk to the barman in Spanish. I do however draw the line at German, it’s beyond my capabilities. Fortunately for me, English is widely spoken in business in Germany.”
It sounded like he was bragging, but his command of several other languages had just been something which came from being part of a global family. He doubted there was anyone within the Royal family who didn’t speak at least one other language outside of their native tongue. Even his French cousins had learned to speak English albeit reluctantly.
“So what do you actually do for a living, Bryce? I know you said you were in homewares, but what does that really mean?”
He could tell what she was doing. Trying to find out a little more about him. Put her finger on what sort of man spoke many different languages and traveled a lot for work. His cover story was a variation on the one used by many members of his family when they were trying to remain incognito.
“I work for a homewares distributor. Europe has been my base, but I also deal with Mexican and South American suppliers. Which is why I am currently based in San Diego. It’s a quick, cheap flight to Mexico City from just over the border in Tijuana.”
Vivian nodded and sipped her drink. She looked as if she had bought the dull story and was ready to move on with spending time with him. Bryce was more than happy to accommodate her wishes.
“Would you like to move to our reserved table? I expect we’d both be more comfortable in a chair, these bar stools are not the best,” he suggested.
If they were tucked away in a corner, they could talk in private. The bar was too public a place for any real conversation. He wasn’t lying about the bar stools being uncomfortable. The padding on them was almost nonexistent. They were hard on the back and hips. Someone had gone for look rather than function when they ordered them. And the guests were the ones who would be paying the price for such an obvious oversight.
It was yet another resort failing Bryce would be adding to the growing list of problems he intended to include in his report to his father and the Royal Resorts board.
I wonder if Jordan has even sat at this bar. He surely couldn’t have thought this was the sort of comfort we should be offering to our high paying guests.
As Vivian stepped down from the bar stool, Bryce offered her his hand. His gaze settled briefly on her thigh as the dress rose higher. An involuntary gasp escaped his lips.
Their eyes met and Bryce could have sworn that Vivian’s bluish green ones shone with more than a hint of challenge. She was daring him to say something. And as much as he would love to have made a comment about the blue silk and her skin, he sensed it was too early in the evening to let their growing lustful attraction take full command.
“Let’s eat. I have a feeling we are both going to need our energy later.”
Her soft approving smile as she accepted his hand went straight to his loins.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
