Rio's lips curve into a smile.
”Well, count me in for that," he declares, throwing me a wink that makes my stomach flip despite myself.
Snorty wheezes softly from his Louis Vuitton carrier.
"It will be okay, pal," says Rio, pulling the netting down to stroke Snorty's ear while he hums a low tune.
Snorty quiets, then nuzzles Rio’s fingers with his snout.
Watching this little act of kindness almost makes me forgive Rio for his arrogant demeanor.
Almost.
We follow the attendant deeper into the spa, where she splits Rio and myself into separate changing rooms.
Inside mine, she faces me with a resolute smile and clears her throat.
"I must apologize, Miss Smith. We usually stock designer swimwear for purchase, but..."
She presents me with what has to be the most depressing swimsuit I have ever seen.
It is a beige one-piece that looks like it was snatched from a hospital supply closet. The beige color better belongs on a Band-Aid.
The opposite of the kind of racy swimsuit that would drive a gorgeous rockstar hot with desire.
But then again, that was never my intention. So this rag-like suit should be fine.
At least that's what I tell myself as I carry Snorty to the spa's lagoon area. I settle him, inside his carrier near the lagoon's edge.
"Come on in. The water's perfect," Rio calls, his voice a low rumble that makes me shiver despite the water’s warmth.
Marco and Ben slowly come forward, adjusting their lenses to capture every angle.
Fully aware of my unattractive swimsuit, I hide under my towel until I reach the water's edge.
Then I drop it and quickly slip into the lagoon.
The hot water envelops me like liquid silk, bubbling against my thighs.
Yet the ugly swimsuit feels even worse wet. As the beige fabric soaks through, it turns transparent in patches, sticking to my skin in all the wrong places.
I catch Rio's eyes traveling down my body, lingering where the material clings to my chest.
Then I feel a rush of heat that has nothing to do with the water's temperature.
My body betrays me as my nipples harden against the wet fabric. Then I feel a hungry need between my legs.
Can Rio see it?Sense it?From the way he's looking at me, I can't be sure.
Either way, I sink lower in the water until it reaches my chin. I cross my arms over my chest for good measure.
Rio's gaze is different now—darker, more intense. It's as if he's mentally peeling away what little coverage I have left.
"Sorry about this swimsuit. It's not part of my 'schoolmarm' wardrobe, I swear. It's all the hotel spa had to give me."
"You still look tempting as hell in it," he says, his voice lower than before. "Take it off. The water's dark enough. No one will know but me."
Antoine calls from the side. "Closer for the cameras. Sell the romance."
