Latin Heat

Latin Heat

Denise L. Wyant

Latin Heat

Simone ambled down the paved path toward her private bungalow. Nina, the woman who’d checked her in, explained that she would be staying in one of the resort’s nicest bungalows. Despite the heat and humidity, the breeze coming off the Caribbean Sea cooled her skin.

She dug through her purse and located the keycard. Simone walked up the couple of stairs to the door of her retreat. Her body dragged due to the early three hour flight. Plus, sweat now trickled between her breasts in a very unladylike fashion; Simone hadn’t dressed for island temperatures when she left D.C. No need to worry, though. The bellhop would soon arrive with her bags, and she could change into her swimsuit and head for the beach.

Sliding the card through the reader yielded a locked door. The little light never changed from red to green.
Well
, she thought,
maybe I need to flip the card
or perhaps the humidity is affecting the sensor?
She tried again and even turned the card; each swipe was met with the same result: the blasted red light would not change to green. Simone huffed out a breath, plopped into one of the chairs on her porch, and stared out at the water. The scene couldn’t have been more perfect. Two palm trees framed the view of a white sand beach and green-blue water.

Several minutes passed.
Where the hell is the bellhop? Surely he will have a working keycard
. Simone’s stomach rumbled, reminding her that she’d only snacked since she left Dulles Airport.
Well, what a way to start my so-called renewal trip!
Now that the terms of her divorce were final, she wanted time away to reflect upon all that happened.
Yeah, girl, how did you miss all the signs of Asshole’s lengthy affair with his legal intern?
Little did he know that the barely legal Barbie he fucked regularly would leave him when she found a younger sugar daddy who brought in more money than her ex-husband. Justice would be so sweet.

Still no sign of the bellhop. Her mood worsened as time passed.
Damn it! Paradise was supposed to be worry-free and relaxing.
In desperate need of a cold drink—something of the alcoholic variety— Simone trekked back to the lobby. Of course, she didn’t pass anyone on the way that could provide assistance. She wondered if the bellhop made off with her bags. Sighing, her thoughts drifted to what kind of exclusive retreat the management ran. None of the reviews she read online indicated any problems. Everyone raved about the scenery, the quality of the accommodations, and the professional staff.
Well
, Simone thought,
we shall see just how professional the staff is
.

Another couple checked in with Nina, and no other staff lingered in the lobby. Simone tried to wait patiently, but ended up with her hip cocked and her foot tapping. Finally, Nina motioned for her to approach the desk.

“My keycard doesn’t work. Obviously something’s wrong with it.” Simone thrust the card at the woman.
Knock it off; don’t take your frustrations with Asshole out on her. She has no control over the island humidity. Sheesh!

“My apologies. Let me reprogram it.” The woman maintained her polite smile while she fiddled with the card.

Simone looked around the lobby. She didn’t see any refreshments.
What kind of place were they running? Surely they realized travelers would appreciate something to drink—especially in the heat.
“Is the restaurant open? I’m rather thirsty from my trip.”

The woman looked up. “Actually, the restaurant won’t be open until six for dinner. The bar is off to your right. Drinks and appetizers are available there.”

She caught sight of an older couple walking from the direction the woman indicated. They each carried a drink with an umbrella. Simone licked her lips in anticipation.

The woman interrupted, “Señora, the machine is having difficulty with your card. Perhaps you’d like to get a drink, and I will bring you a new card shortly?”

Really? They can’t even give me another card? This isn’t rocket science.
Simone picked up her purse and rolled her eyes. “That would be fine. Thank you.”
See,
she thought,
I can be polite even if I am cranky. And hot. And tired.

Twenty minutes later — Simone noted the time when she ordered her drink — a tall man dressed in a linen suit walked into the bar. She tried to watch him without being obvious. He carried himself with an air of authority. She thought she spotted a name tag on his lapel. It did nothing to detract from his looks. The man was the Latin American Adonis. Simone took another swig of her blue frozen alcoholic concoction and watched as his chocolate eyes perused the bar. As she caught herself imaging what lay under that suit, her brain reminded her he was probably just like her cheating ex-husband. Someone that good looking probably had women falling all over him.

When the man’s gaze landed on hers, Simone quickly looked away. She picked up her drink and took a healthy pull from the straw. For some reason, her throat felt suddenly dry. She sensed the man’s presence before she looked. The power and control he radiated brushed across her skin as he stood next to her. Simone fought back a shiver.

“Excuse me, Señora Blackburn?” His voice was oh-so-smooth. Sinfully smooth. His Spanish accent sent a chill down her spine to regions she would rather banish from her mind.

Simone uncrossed her legs and slid off the bar stool. Lifting her chin, she replied, “I am.” She tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear before continuing, “And you are?”

The man’s smile nearly blinded her and caused her heart to flutter. She’d obviously had too much to drink. She pushed the glass toward the bartender, out of her reach. He held out a manicured hand. “Roberto Vargas. I’m the general manager of the resort.”

She gripped his hand delicately, enjoying the smooth feel of his skin.
It’s not freaking fair his nails look better than mine! Just like Asshole’s
.
Why’d you have to go there, girl? Get back to the smoking-hot man in front of you.
“Good to meet you,” Simone licked her lips before she released his hand. She shook herself. Now was not the time to flirt. “Do you have my keycard?”

“I do. In fact, I would be honored to escort you to ensure the card works.” He offered her his arm after he’d slipped her card into his suit jacket pocket.

Oh. So he’s going to try and woo me.
Simone visualized Asshole using the same move on Barbie.
Whatever. I’ve had my fill of men, especially ones who think they’re God’s gift to the species
.
Manwhores. All of them!
Simone picked up her purse. “Lead the way.” She stood beside him and ignored his offered arm.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed he tried to hide a smirk.
What was that about? Apparently he did think he was all that and a bag of chips.
The thought disgusted her. She found herself walking too fast and having to slow down so he could go first as he led her down a path she hadn’t previously noticed. They walked around a large clump of hedges and plants, arriving at a golf cart. Roberto stopped and motioned to the passenger seat with another of his sexy smiles. “Your chariot awaits.”

Simone brushed past him, and plopped down in the seat.
I can’t wait until I’m finally alone in my room.

****

Roberto waited for the explosion to happen as the sexy vixen with the sharp tongue made herself comfortable. She twisted, glancing at the back seat of the cart. He watched in amusement as anger lit her features. Even so, he couldn’t help but be intrigued by the way her lips flattened in disdain.

“What are my bags doing here? The bellhop should’ve delivered them a long time ago.”

He felt an easy confidence, despite the livid fire in the woman’s pale green eyes. He’d become accustomed to dealing with American women while living in the States during his undergraduate and graduate studies. Normally, he’d appeal to their softer side, but he knew this one would take a little more finesse. He could feel that her anger stemmed from something deeper. He would have to be on his game to soothe this beautiful creature. Roberto welcomed the challenge.

“Enrique received an emergency call from his younger sister. An ambulance rushed their mother to the hospital after she suffered a stroke.”

She didn’t speak, just raised an eyebrow. Roberto started, “Ms. Blackburn, Enrique’s father passed away in a tragic car accident not long ago. His mother’s health has been failing ever since.”

Roberto could feel the señora stiffen beside him. A moment or two later she spoke. “Things do happen out of our control, but I’d really like to get to my bungalow.”

Interesting. Her comment was rather cold. Does this woman not have family? He found that hard to believe. Such a beautiful creature was sure to have someone who cared for her. Has travel made her disposition foul or is there something more?
He decided he didn’t want to anger her further. “My apologies. I’m sure you want to get settled.”

Roberto typically didn’t pay much attention to the guests who passed through his resort.  When his father offered him sole ownership of La Isla Bonita, he told himself he wouldn’t let   anything distract him from making this small piece of the island a huge success.

However, there was something different about Señora Simone Blackburn—something that made him want to pry deeper, to learn what made this woman tick, and if need be, crack her impenetrable shell.  

****

Simone breathed a sigh of relief when Roberto slid the new card through the reader, and it worked. He held the door for her and motioned for her to precede him into the bungalow. She smiled her first genuine smile of the trip as her eyes settled on the fabulous suite. A large ceiling fan turned lazily in the main room, spreading a light breeze. She opened the French doors to allow the scent of the beach to permeate the bungalow. The walls were painted a soothing mint green and wicker accents softened the dark wood furniture. Coral-colored pillows in floral designs added a pop of color while not disturbing the serenity in the room.

Simone walked past the king-sized bed and ran her hand over the sumptuous light-weight silk comforter. Then she walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. She gasped. Incredible didn’t begin to describe the space. The jetted tub would easily fit four NFL football players. The stand-up shower had more showerheads than she could count on one hand. Expensive bath products—anything and everything a woman could want to pamper herself – flanked the double sink.

“I trust everything is to your liking?” Roberto’s tenor voice sounded from behind her. She hadn’t heard him approach, but she felt his warm breath tickle her neck.

Simone turned abruptly, losing her balance when she ran into Roberto’s muscular chest. His warm hands grasped her arms, steadying her. She nearly lashed out at him for startling her but felt mesmerized by the varied shades of his brown eyes and the tenderness they projected. Her ex hadn’t looked at her like that since their wedding day.
Was my marriage really that cold, my ex-husband really that uncaring?
Tears threatened; however, she refused to cry over that cheating bastard. Nor would she show weakness in front of this sexy Latin lover. Lowering her eyes, she pulled from his grasp and stepped around him. “Everything is beautiful. I especially love the fresh flowers and the view.”

This time she heard Roberto’s footsteps on the marble tile. She tensed, waiting to see what he would do. In a moment, she felt the heat from his body against her back. He swept her hair away from her ear and whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

What was with this man? All touchy-feely
. Simone started to step forward when his hands landed on her shoulders, holding her in place. She cleared her throat. “You didn’t upset me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to unpack and freshen up before dinner.”

His hands dropped away immediately. He brushed past her, leaving a trail of spicy—and most definitely manly —cologne in his wake. Simone couldn’t help but notice the loss of his presence. She hadn’t wanted to be comforted by him—by the feeling of his hands on her body— but it had been so long. Unlike her ex, she had remained faithful even though opportunities had presented themselves. Even as the divorce progressed, Simone didn’t find comfort in a man’s arms. Anger and hatred flared to life when she considered the male species. Just recently she moved beyond strangling one who tried a cheesy pick-up line on her.

Roberto’s voice was professional when he spoke. “I do apologize for your inconvenience with the lock.” He pulled a heavyweight business card from his pocket and scribbled something on the back before he handed it over. Simone’s fingers brushed his, and she reveled in the heat that passed between them.
Stop it, girl!
He explained, “My personal cell number is on the front if you need anything further. Please don’t hesitate to call. Also, on the back is a note to my spa staff. You are welcome to the treatment of your choice, gratis.”

She flipped the card. The man had elegant handwriting, smooth and even with subtle flourishes. As a graphic designer, she noticed little things like that. The card was obviously expensive and well-designed. The more she thought about it, Roberto’s handwriting and the style of the card fit his personality perfectly. “Um, thank you, but it really isn’t necessary.” Simone nibbled on her bottom lip and met Roberto’s eyes.

Something passed through his eyes – sadness? – before his professional persona went back into place. “Really, I would like to make amends. I hope you take advantage of my offer.” Nodding, he turned and headed for the door. He paused and looked back, “Dinner starts at six, but I normally eat at seven-thirty. You are welcome to join me if you’d like some company.”

Roberto didn’t wait for an answer, which surprised Simone. She shook her head and called “thank you” to the breeze.
Well, that was interesting
. Dinner sounded tempting, but she needed to remember the whole point of being there: to get over a cheating bastard.
I’m not here to get involved with a smooth-talking Latin — no matter how handsome.

****

Roberto entered the dining room shortly after six. When work allowed, he mingled with the guests as they ate dinner, ensuring they were happy with their stay. Since he’d started doing this, he’d observed an increase in return guests and more positive comments at checkout. He assumed his guests liked it when an executive took notice. It wasn’t common knowledge that he owned the resort; Roberto had urged his father to remain in business with him, but the older man had insisted his son could bring new blood and ideas.