Sunburn (3 page)

“Oh,” she muttered. “They’re already lining up to check in. Come on. I hate lineups.” She grabbed her luggage and struggled toward the counter, her ankles just about ready to give up from the flimsy, high-heeled sandals. She could almost hear her ankles pleading with her. They were screaming, “Kill us, already!”

Angie and Doris followed, but slowly, taken aback by the scenery in the open-air lobby. Patience frowned as they stopped to ooh and aah over each flower arrangement and the teak furniture.

“Guys, come on. I have to get to my room to check my e-mails from work, and I want to see the state of the rooms. The first thing I always write about is what kind of toiletries they use.”

“Stop rushing, Patience,” Doris cried. “Eet’s Mexico. No one rushes here.”

Angie pointed. “Ooh, I saw a macaw!”

Patience wobbled over, grabbed the two of them by the elbows, and dragged them to the check-in counter. “You can stare at birds all you want later. Now, we check in,” she said, ignoring their pouts.

“May I offer you a welcome drink, ladies?”

Patience looked toward the penetrating, deep voice. Her friends did the same. Angie whispered, “Well, fuck me.”

There was a man in front of them holding a tray laden with icy drinks the color of a coral sunrise. And he was even more beautiful than the drinks. Maybe six five, and he appeared as broad as he was tall. Short, blond waves. Eyes the color of blue diamonds. Lips so luscious and full. She knew women who’d pay good money to get injections that would produce lips like that.

Despite her better judgment, Patience allowed her gaze to drop. He wasn’t wearing much. Board shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt that looked as if he’d distressed it over time. The first thing that hit her was the size of his shoulders. She had to forcibly move her gaze so it wouldn’t get stuck on those massive, golden muscles. And of course, they were merely ornamentation for an already sculpted chest and arms. Hating herself for being weak, she glanced lower, taking in the line of his powerful thighs through his shorts. His calves were equally scrumptious: muscled and hard. Even his feet were perfect, clean and buffed, clad as they were in blue flip-flops that matched his shirt.

He was an altogether divine specimen.

If it weren’t for the fact he was clearly a beach-bum bartender, one who was trying to get them drunk when they were barely off the bus. She could smell the rum in the cocktails. It was a familiar smell, one that made her want to retch over memories she’d never banished.

How she hated the vile odor.

She’d known she’d be surrounded by booze this trip, had known her friends would have a few cocktails, and she was okay with it. They respected her right to not drink, and she respected their right to drink. Still, wasn’t this a bit premature? They hadn’t even unpacked yet.

She turned away from the man, even though her eyes begged to orbit back. “No, thank you.”

“Did I say something wrong?” the divine specimen asked quietly, grinning.

Angie stepped in front of her and smiled brightly enough for the angels to see it. “Don’t mind Patience. She won’t drink it. But I’ll take hers.” Angie lifted both cocktails off the tray with a wink and took a sip from both.

Patience felt the eyes of the blond man on her. Burning into her, actually, which was highly annoying. After a moment, she turned to him, feeling strangely angry and even sweatier. God, she was sure her mascara was smeared into her sweat! His frank gaze invaded her personal space, making her vulnerable, something she didn’t enjoy. Shouldn’t he be tottering off to inebriate the next customer? “Is there a problem?”

“No problem whatsoever.” He stared and then gave his head a little shake. “Can I get you something virgin, perhaps?”

Doris exploded into husky laughter. “Virgin! That’s so funny!” She giggled at the joke in her head.

The bartender just continued looking at Patience. “You sure you wouldn’t like
some
sort of drink? OJ, maybe? Something to take the stress away.”

“I’m not stressed,” she barked, clearly demonstrating the opposite. Why wouldn’t this guy leave? She just wanted to check in, change out of these ridiculous heels and damp clothing, and peruse the resort. And avoid rum-soaked males at all costs. “I don’t like lineups. That’s all.”

“Your name’s Patience?”

She nodded.

“That’s ironic.”

Fuming, she glared. Who did this gorgeous drink pusher think he was anyway? “Look…”

But then he smiled at her, really smiled. His gem-like eyes glinted as if lit from behind by the very sun itself. For a moment, tiny suns paraded in front of her eyes. She felt like one of those vintage cartoon characters who got hit by a truck and saw a circle of stars around their heads. The effect was so startling and unexpected, she grabbed Angie’s arm to steady herself.

For the first time in a long time, Patience felt a stirring in her sex. A quivering that had nothing to do with her tragic footwear or the lush, Mexican heat.

Before she could recover sufficiently to make a remark, he had moved. He walked behind the check-in counter, put his tray of drinks down, and said a few quiet words to the employee there. Within seconds, another counter had opened up for business.

The bartender manned it himself and gestured to her. “I can help you here, Patience.”

Dumbfounded, Patience looked around. Was she the only one who thought it odd the bartender was now working the check-in desk, and thus granted access to guests’ personal information? She glanced at the other employees. None of them paid him any attention and were consumed with helping their own customers. Why would the clerks allow him behind the counter? Maybe he snuck them drinks. Maybe they were drinking buddies and traded quips over tequila.

Doris pushed her toward the man’s counter. “Now who’s making us wait? Go!”

Patience stopped short in front of the bartender, who had check-in slips and plastic wristbands ready to go. She stared at him. “You’re allowed to do this?”

He grinned and nodded. “I’m allowed to do this.” He took her passport and double-checked the details on his papers. “First time here with us at Helios?”

“Um, yes.”

“Terrific.” His blond eyebrow shot up. “What are your first impressions?”

Her gaze dropped to the succulent curve of his bottom lip, and she bit her own lip in response. You mean other than the resort staff’s men so impossibly good-looking they could cause riots among groups of sex-starved women? “It seems nice.”

He narrowed those strange, penetrating eyes. “At Helios, we strive to be better than ‘nice.’ We’d prefer to take your breath away.”

As if on cue, Patience suddenly found herself bereft of all air in her lungs. She struggled to maintain eye contact with the maddeningly magnificent man.
What’s wrong with me?

Once again, she pulled at her bangs, tugging them over her forehead. And then she mentally berated herself for indulging in her usual nervous reaction.

He made a few notes on her file and completed the check-in process. He handed her the passport back, and she tried hard not to let his hand make contact with hers. He regarded her with a curious expression, as if seeing right through her.

“Is that it? Are we done here?” she asked, as saliva pooled in her cheeks.

“Not quite,” he replied in a deep, quiet voice. He picked up the phone and dialed an extension, his gaze upon her as he waited for the person on the other end to answer. “Sí, Carlotta. Please send one of our tropical fruit baskets to the room of Miss Patience O’Connor. Gracias.”

What? That wasn’t part of her package! “You don’t have to…”

“Your hand, please.”

“Excuse me?” She gaped at him as heat spread from her neck into her face.

He smiled, surely deciding if she was a regular, everyday buffoon or a world-class, award-winning buffoon. He dangled the bright purple wristband that identified guests at Helios. “I need to put this on your wrist.”

“Oh, right.”
Dammit, Patience! Stop acting like you’ve never seen a hot man before
. Granted, she’d never seen a man who was
this
hot before. Not even close. Not even in the movies. This guy made Brad Pitt look like a butt-scratching orangutan from the freaking circus.

With hesitation, she extended her hand and he gently wrapped the plastic band about her wrist, touching her only through the plastic. He seemed determined not to touch her skin and was holding his hands in such a way his fingers wouldn’t make contact with her wrist. Their eyes met once or twice during this interval, and she wasn’t sure which of them was more uncomfortable. He finished wrapping the band about her and slowly moved his hands away, as if he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to. So curious at his reaction, a moment of madness overcame Patience and she brushed her hand against his before he could move it away completely.

The whole bizarre transaction had taken mere seconds, but Patience froze upon feeling his skin. She was struck by the oddest sensation in that moment, as if she’d been clawing her way through a dark tunnel all her life and was finally seeing a bright light.

Weird.

And the man was looking at her as if he’d been slapped. He tucked his hands behind his back, as if wanting to get them out of her vicinity, and took a step backward. He nodded toward her key card, which was lying on the counter between them, the counter that now seemed an immeasurable divide. “Welcome to Helios,” he muttered.

As a chill rippled through her, she picked up the key card. She turned to her friends, keeping an eye on him through her periphery vision. He was quickly closing up his check-in counter, a scowl on his more-than-handsome face.

Feeling unusual and, in a queer way, disappointed, Patience turned to mutter a begrudging “thanks” to the blond man, but he’d already disappeared. Perhaps he had to get back to his bartending job.

After all, someone needed to prop up the drunks.

She waited, more than dazed, as Angie and Doris were checked in. They followed as a bellboy led them to their respective rooms. While Patience settled in, and unpacked her laptop, she couldn’t stop thinking of the blond bartender and his strange reaction to touching her. However, she had to post her first blog, so she sat on her comfy bed and crossed her legs under her, determined not to think of him again.

* * * *

The Travel Chick

Blogging from Helios!

Hello travelers!

Travel Chick, here. And today I come to you from the renowned Helios Resort in Mexico’s sunny Mayan Riviera. I just arrived; in fact, I just got off the bus and had to sneak in some blogging time as soon as I made it past check-in.

Check-in was interesting.

I’m still mulling over my initial impressions of the resort. Not that it’s unwelcoming. Indeed, from what I’ve already seen, it far surpasses the beauty of many resorts. Marble walls. Colorful vegetation all around. Staff ready and willing to help.

For the first time, however, I find myself wondering if a staff member might be too willing to help. Never mind. I’m sure they just have a rigorous cross-training program here for employees. That must be it. I’ll reserve my opinions until I see more.

Lots of friendly locals working here, which is nice. Lots of beautiful sights to see.

Inhumanly beautiful.

Oh well, hope to check out the pool soon. Will keep you posted on the state of the towels. Hopefully the poolside ladies’ room will be better than the one at the last resort. We don’t want to relive that experience!

Chapter 2

Later that day, Apollo took the opportunity to man the bar by the pool. He didn’t need to. As owner of the resort, he could spend his time lounging or golfing or fucking. There was no shortage of partners for any of those activities. However, as always, he’d told the truth to Artemis when he said he liked being kept busy. And being at the bar allowed him to fraternize with the customers to ensure they were happy there. It was his experience that if an irate customer were to voice a concern, it would be at the bar as his inhibitions were being decimated by tequila and vodka.

So sue him for being a hands-on manager/owner.

Helios Resort gave him something he hadn’t had in years. A distraction. It wasn’t like the old days when Greek gods could pick a side in a monumental battle and dirty their hands as the mortals fought for life and power. Mortals didn’t look to the gods for guidance any longer. They looked to bloggers like The Travel Chick and her ridiculous reviews.

Okay, so maybe he was feeling a little superfluous.

It was easy for some gods. Artemis had never been much of a people person anyway. She kept to herself. Aphrodite spent her days as she’d always spent them, wiling them away in the beds of ever-new partners. Poseidon liked to fish, and Zeus tended to his cows. That never changed. Hades tormented the damned. Same old, same old.

Apollo wanted something more. Gods help him, as much as some of them infuriated him, he liked hanging with the mortals. They fascinated him with their petty squabbles and love for reality TV about hoarders and coupon clippers. They helped him forget who, and what, he was, even just for a little while.

It was good to forget, and lately he’d felt the need to forget even more.

He hadn’t told Artemis about his latest visions because he hadn’t wanted to worry her. But every time he was alone, they came to him in frightening Technicolor. Visions of a woman having her heart plucked out by a demon, ripped from her chest, leaving her undeniably dead. And the worst part was he couldn’t see the woman’s face. That led him to believe it was someone connected to him, which was bothersome to say the least. As much as it hurt, physically hurt, to confront the vision, he had to. What if it was one of his employees? It was his duty to help. What if someone were after Artemis or one of the Muses? They couldn’t die, but he’d do his best to spare them any pain.

Damn these visions!

And they wouldn’t stop coming. Look at what happened when he touched the uptight brunette at the check-in counter. He’d been assaulted by yet another foul prediction. Only in that case it hadn’t been clear at all. When the O’Connor woman had brushed her hand against his, he’d seen darkness. Swirling, enveloping darkness that had frightened him. He might have looked like an idiot when he pulled away, but there’d been no option.