Page 78 of Pure Abandon

I blush, thinking that comment sounded like he was talking about me. I look over in the mirror and see I’ve regained some color in my face since the early morning hours. The nap on the plane and sunshine from the car ride agree with me. I’m relieved.

“I have a meeting I have to attend to, but I’ll catch up with you by the pool.” His glowing skin also agrees with the little bit of sunshine from the car ride.

If he has a meeting, then I should go. That’s why I came here. “I’ll freshen up and go with you,” I offer.

“It’s a private meeting.” Asher glances at his Rolex. “Why don’t you put on a bathing suit and meet me by the pool in two hours.”

“I have work to do,” I say, walking over to the desk where I left my bag and all my files.

“You can do it by the pool. Put on a suit and enjoy yourself. When I get down there, we’ll go over everything.” He assures me.

I assess the situation. I don’t have a bathing suit. I don’t have anything for that matter. I still can’t believe I traveled thousands of miles with, literally, just the shirt on my back.

Asher sees the hesitation on my face and points to the bag on the bed. “Devon went out this morning and bought you a few items.”

Bought me a few items? Devon? The driver?

My jaw falls as I try to take in just how insane that sentence sounds. My boss sent his driver out to buy me a few things. What kind of things? If that bag contains more gratuitous offerings, then I cannot accept them. I have my own money and can easily head out to Deco Drive and buy myself something to wear. I give Asher a knowing look, but he’s already read my mind.

“Stop thinking, and just accept them. End of story. I’ll see you by the pool.”

When he leaves the room, I inspect the contents of the bag. There is a pale-blue sleeveless dress and metallic-gold sandals, a black bikini with gold rings on the hips and bust with a matching black cover-up, a long, green one-shoulder dress, gold strappy stilettos, a nightie, and two bra-and-panty sets.

Before I can even get upset about my boss having his driver buy me underwear—or shall I more appropriately call it lingerie?—I find a card from a personal shopper named Avalyn at the bottom of the bag. I feel better knowing a female third party selected these items. The card suggests I call if something doesn’t fit.

To my surprise, everything fits perfectly. I organize the items in the closet and make outfits into them. It’s a sparse selection, which means they were specifically chosen for meetings I’ll be having this weekend. They’re not necessarily my style for the workplace, but this is what the boss wants.

After a long shower, I dive into the bag and put on the bikini, cover-up, and sandals. I can’t help but notice I look pretty good. I should, considering the price tags. Thankfully, the full-service hotel sent up a razor, toothbrush, and all the toiletries I need to get bikini ready. I’m also thankful Avalyn threw in a mascara and lip-gloss. She was clearly informed I traveled down here sans everything.

With my hair tied in a ponytail and my sunglasses in place, I make my way down to the pool area. The lounge chairs are soft and luxurious. As the sun hits my skin, I relax into the much-needed therapy.

I don’t have a laptop, so all my work is in printouts on my lap. I go through each document and make markings of the changes that need to be made. Eric was right. I am behind on my work. I compile a list of what needs to be done. I’ve found myself making a lot of lists these last few weeks, without actually accomplishing everything on my list. Glancing at my phone, I see it’s already close to four in the afternoon. I can’t believe I lost an entire day traveling. I will feel a thousand times better when Asher and I get to work.

A Pitbull song plays through the pool area, and I absentmindedly sway my hips to the melody. I’m not a dancer, at all. I love music but have always been rhythmically challenged. Even still, I am a fantastic seat dancer. Kind of like how I was dancing this morning in Asher’s car. I smile at the thought of Asher letting loose, too. It was a completely different side of him I’d never seen before.

“Enjoying yourself?”

My sashaying hips are halted by the sounds of said fellow seat dancer. If I thought him dancing was a new experience, seeing him in shorts is another. He looks so casual.

Wearing a black bathing suit and white shirt, Asher saunters up to my chair with two drinks in hand. I grab mine from him and take in how his highlights almost dance in the sunlight.

He must sense my embarrassment by the way he quickly settles himself in.

“Glad one of us is having a good time. I just had the meeting from hell. The fucker won’t give in to my offer.” Asher takes the seat next to me, his skin glowing against the crisp white of the lounge cushion.

I sit up slightly. “Sorry the deal’s not going to happen.”

His enigmatic smile crosses over his face. “Oh, it’s going to happen. I always get what I want. Some things just take a little more time.”

He kicks off his shoes and leans forward, grabbing the back of his shirt and hoisting it over his head. The muscles in his back flex as he raises his body back up. His arms pull the T-shirt over his head in what seems like slow motion.

My jaw unlocks at the site of perfectly formed abdominal muscles… six… no, eight of them. I’m thinking this is what the term “washboard abs” is supposed to mean.

His waist is narrow and widens, revealing a broad chest and broader shoulders supported by two beautifully sculpted biceps and forearms. Asher lifts the shirt farther over his head and throws it on the end of the chaise. He’s like Thor, but without the hammer.

Thank God for sunglasses. I place my head back on my chair and wipe the drool from my mouth. I hear Asher laugh, and I hope it’s not at me. I grab my cocktail and inhale it, looking for a distraction.

Seeing my glass empty, a waitress no older than twenty-two saunters up. Before I can ask for a refill, she stops in her tracks to admire Apollo, the god of the sun, sitting to my left. I immediately hate her.