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“You know.” I point at her. “That’s the second time this morning you’ve hinted around marriage. Is there something Imi and I need to know about?”
“I’d like to dignify that with a very smart and sassy comeback,” she retorts, “but Mr. Dark and Dangerous DILF from the airport is looking over here, nine o’clock.”
“Oh no,” I whisper, looking down at my plate. “I was kind of hoping not to run into him.”
“Why?” Charlize sounds genuinely surprised.
“I second that. He’s hot,” Imogen agrees, subtly looking past me as I poke around the food on my plate, hoping he won’t come over.
I really didn’t want to run into him again.
Of course, it immediately brings back the memory of them both saying all those dirty things about him that I want to acid wash from my brain permanently.
“What’s he doing?” I whisper.
“I hope he can’t lip read,” Charlize whispers back, trying to mute her lips. “But he’s a fucking hot sausage. Pepperoni hot. I can’t believe you never told us that James’s dad was hotter than James. I thought the airport and the pool was just a fluke, maybe the altitude from flying… but fuck me. Come to mama, you sexy beast.”
My eyes go wide as Imogen clears her throat. “Don’t look now, he’s heading this way.”
“Shit,” I curse under my breath.
I take a gulp of my coffee, and I suddenly feel very conspicuous.
“Just act natural.” Charlize smiles as her gaze stays glued over my shoulder.
Give me a goddamn break.
Mr. Bentley has always been a formidable presence to begin with, and in this bustling buffet in the hotel he recommended to me, it’s no different.
I feel his presence before I even see him. It’s like he animates power.
“Ladies,” he says as he approaches and comes into view.
You would expect a man on vacation to be wearing appropriate attire.
Shorts, and maybe a tank top, or at the very least, a t-shirt. Hell, a sarong for all I care.
But not Mr. Bentley. Oh no, he’s in a league of his own.
He dons linen pants and a long-sleeved shirt with a collar, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I still cannot believe or get over his array of tattoos. I can’t even…
I feel Charlize kick me under the table.
“Mr. Bentley!” I say, finally remembering my manners. “Good morning.”
Unbeknownst to you, we spent the better half of yesterday afternoon ogling you and your hot body in the pool….
“Good morning. We have to stop meeting like this,” he replies, his eyes sparkling with humor as our gazes meet. “And I insist you call me Lukas.”
Not awkward at all.
He turns to my friends. “And who might these beautiful ladies be?”
My friends practically melt into a puddle when his gaze falls on them, which gives me a good opportunity to study him a little more as he woos my friends into submission.
“This is Charlize,” I reply when she holds her hand out, and he shakes it as she gives him a wide grin. “And that’s Imogen. They both fight for best friend status; it changes daily.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Charlize croons as she sizes him up. I kick her under the table this time.
