“If it’s not for the reason I think, you must be blind because that man is hot with a capital hot damn. How could anyone in their right mindnotwant to go home with that?” Kat asks.
I close my eyes for a second. “Oh Kat, where did we go so wrong with you?”
“I’m not the one with something seriously wrong. You are. He cannot stop looking at you. If I had a man that fine—and that rich—giving me the eye like that, I’d be all over him like a heat rash.”
“Because he’s so hot?” I ask, even though I shouldn’t encourage her.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Okay, here’s the thing. This is work. Think of all the people you work with like you would Uncle Dan.”
“Ew.”
“Exactly, ew. Second, he’s a total jerk. He’s probably staring because… I don’t know… my face is too shiny for his liking or something. He’s trying to decide if he should walk over to recommend a million-dollar face powder to fix my skin.” Either that, or he’s reveling in the fact that he’s so all-powerful, he has the ability to make a woman run out and buy new clothes.
Unable to resist any longer, I glance back at him. He’s dressed in another suit—jacket, tie, and all, even though it’s about a thousand degrees out here. But does he look sweaty and uncomfortable, like he should? No. He looks put-together and cool as a cucumber, while I’m standing here sweating in this stupid silk dress. Why the hell did I wear silk tonight? His eyes land on mine before I can tear my gaze from him, and I feel my cheeks warm as the two of us play a game of chicken—whoever looks away first loses.
Mike the Moose, the Canadian contestant I greeted earlier, strolls over, forcing him to turn away.Ha! I win, sucker.
When I turn back to the table I’m greeted by a pair of green eyes and a smile that could melt a nun’s resolve. The rest of him is equally impressive—muscles on muscles, thick, long chestnut hair that falls around his shoulders, but not scraggly long, like a lot of men have. This guy must use conditioner, judging by how easily he slid his hand through it and tossed it out of his face just now. He’s wearing a fitted burnt orange T-shirt, distressed jeans, and a puka shell necklace. The whole look screams “totally relaxed surfer dude who understands what really matters in life.”
Next to me, Kat makes a little squeaking noise, and for once in my life, I totally understand her reaction. He grins at both of us. “Hi, ladies. I’m Paz.”
“Hi,” Kat says, her voice nearly a whisper.
I snap out of a quick fantasy of running my hands through his luscious locks. “I’m Nora, the events coordinator for your event.”Oh, come on. Events coordinator for your event?
“My event?” he asks, looking slightly confused.
“The competition. I work for the resort. I’m the events coordinator,” I tell him. “Well,oneof the events coordinators. And you are Paz Castillo. You came in second last year and are favoured to win this time around. You do that extra flip that sets you apart from the other competitors. Well done on that, by the way.”Stop now, Nora. Just stop. “Anything you need, you just let me know. I’m your woman. Well, notyourwoman, obviously, just a woman who likes to help.”Seriously! Stop NOW!“Welcome to Paradise Bay.”
I can feel Kat staring at me in disbelief.Yeah, Kat, that’s how smooth your big sister is when it comes to the men folk.You better take notes.
Paz doesn’t seem put off, however. He’s still smiling. “A fellow service industry pro. Nice.”
He swings his lethal attention to Kat, who looks like she might melt right where she’s standing. “Hi, I’m Paz.”
“Kat,” she manages.
“Cute name. Are you a fellow service pro?” he asks, and there’s something about the way he asks that makes it sound a bit dirty. But it’s probably my imagination, because my subconscious wants everything he says to be a bit dirty.Bad, Nora, bad.
“I’m an intern.” She bats her lashes. “My big sister got me the job.” She points to me.
“Sisters? Nice.”
He glances at the remaining name tags, then picks up the one meant for him. Peeling the back off, he sticks it over his right pec, then flexes his chest so it dances a little. Kat and I both laugh like a couple of simpletons. “I better go size up the competition,” he says with a wink.
“Don’t forget your welcome bag.” Kat fans her hand at them.
“Oh, cool.” Looking inside, he adds, “Say, can I leave mine here and pick it up at the end? I hate walking around, carrying stuff.”
“You’re in the wrong job then,” I say, putting on a funny voice.
It takes him a minute to get it, then his eyes light up. “Right! Because I’m a bartender. Good one.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, oddly proud of a joke no one laughed at.
He looks around the pool deck and his expression changes from totally relaxed to looking like he’s just seen those two creepy girls fromThe Shining. I follow his gaze, only to see it’s Theo Rojas he’s looking at. The Rum King is staring right back with a scowl. They lock eyes for a second, then Paz lifts his chin in acknowledgment. Theo, however, does not return the gesture. Instead, he turns away, jaw set.
