"We're looking for a woman," said Mr. Goldstein. "She's armed, and extremely dangerous. She's already attacked a man." The man in the jeans rubbed his swollen jaw.
"And you're knocking on my door because …?"
"We have reason to believe she's hiding in one of these rooms."
Rodriquez ducked his head under Turner's arm, the smell of tequila wafting up. "That's her purse! The little brown one and that's her shoe. I have the other in my—." With a flourish, he pushed his way inside the room. "Val! Valentina. Come out. Come out now or I'll drag you out by the scruff of your neck!"
Turner’s body stiffened. A vein throbbed in his temple. "Hey you can't…Get the fuck out of my room!"
It was too late. Ignoring the purse on a chair, Rodriquez glanced to the closed bedroom door and then over to the stairs. Pausing, he appeared to decide on the later and raced up the stairway. He shouted Val’s name every step of the way while slandering her in Spanish. When he didn't find anything, he headed back down. He took two steps at a time with loud ka-thuds. He grinned at the bedroom door. He tried the handle but it was locked. His fist pounded on the wood. "I know you’re in there, Valentina,” he shouted. “I can hear the water running. Open it or I'll break the door down."
“Oh no you don’t,” Said Turner. He yanked Rodriquez by the shirt. He pulled him so hard he went flying across the room. With a look of astonishment, Rodriquez landed against the wall with a startled, “Ooomph.”
"There’s no one here and you’re trespassing,” Turner shouted.
“Oh yeah,” said Rodriquez. “Then whose that running water in there?”
Turner’s body went rigid. He clenched his teeth as he grabbed Rodriquez’s arm. “ What kind of man are you? Of course, there's someone in the shower and yeah it’s a woman. This is Vegas for god's sake.”
Rodriquez stared with hard eyes toward Mr. Goldstein.
“I told you this was a bad idea. We’ll need a search warrant, Roddy.”
Rodriquez stuck out his bottom lip. "Are you telling me that's a prostitute in your shower?"
"I didn't say that."
Rodriquez grunted. “Yeah, you didn’t have to and I wouldn’t believe you anyway.”
Mr. Goldstein nodded his bearded head. He tipped back his black hat. "Come on. Roddy. This may not be the right room."
Rodriquez looked desperate as Turner clutched his arm with a vise-like grip. “Woe mister. Don’t hurt me, okay?”
“Get out of my room before I do,” Turner warned.
"But…but..Hey!” He pointed over to the sofa. “That’s her purse and I'm sure that's her shoe."
Without letting go, Turner grabbed the purse and draped it around his shoulder.
“Don’t think this belongs to any of us so I’ll just keep it right here for my lady friend, shall I?” He patted the purse on his hip and then he picked up the shoe. "Looks to me like this is one of the staff's shoes." He pushed Rodriquez toward the door. He stumbled into Mr. Goldstein who righted himself, and then brushed off his long coat. Then Turner threw the shoe at Rodriquez, hitting him square in the chest. "The shoe was here before I rented the room. Probably left by one of the maids. Got a problem with that?"
Mr. Goldstein cocked his head. "That makes sense," he told Rodriquez.
He glared at Rodriquez. "I'm sure a man like you wouldn’t allow your own wife to work as a…servant. Am I right?" asked Turner.
Rodriquez scowled. "What about the purse?"
Turner shrugged. “Like the man said. You’ll need a search warrant. Everything in this room is mine and last I checked the two of you have no authority anyway. I think you better talk some sense into your client, Mr. Goldstein.”
“Come on, Roddy,” said Mr. Goldstein but Rodriquez wasn’t budging. He made a disappointed sound in the bottom of his throat. He glanced toward the closed bedroom door and then at Turner. "Why should we take your word for that being a prostitute in there?"
Turner bottom lip tightened. "You are wearing my patience, little man. Listen, just because you’re pissed off your wife, doesn’t mean you have the right to invade a man's privacy. She isn’t here, dammit!" He jutted his chin at the Jew. "What the hell has she done anyway?"
"Miss Valentina Rodriquez is a very dangerous woman,” said Mr. Goldstein calmly. “She's about to be deported and will do anything to stay in this country. I can see she's not in your apartment but if you do see her…" He handed Turner a business card. "Please call me right away. Let's go Roddy. We've wasted enough of Mr. Howe's time."
"Howe?" said Rodriquez. "As in the famous Land Lover Brothers?"
"Afraid so."
“Bet you stay in a lot of rooms like this, huh?”
“When I travel,” said Turner.
“Well…” His face brightened. “Perhaps you’re not the kind of man who…Here’s my card.” He pushed it toward Turner but it fell on the floor. Stooping he picked it up and placed it in Turner’s shirt pocket. “If you ever find yourself in need of anything.” He grinned. “Anything at all. Really.”
"Come on, Roddy," said Mr. Goldstein tugging his client out the door. "We have other rooms to check." He tipped his hat toward Turner. "Have a nice day."
As Turner watched them walk away, he wondered if he had made a mistake. After all, she did pull a gun on him and she definitely wasn’t a clean as a whistle snowflake. He could tell that right off. She could be a mass murderer for all he knew. Too late, he told himself but his curiosity was peaked.
After pronouncing the coast was clear, the bedroom door swung open. Out stepped Valentina, soaking wet. Water dripped from her jet black hair. The white cotton blouse clung to her breasts like a second skin. She shivered , dripping all over the carpet.
"What happened to you?"
"I jumped in the shower when I heard them and…" She looked like a cat who just had his tail rocked over a thousand times, her gaze tense and untamed.
Turner knew he was a cad for staring but he couldn't control himself. The white blouse, unbuttoned at the throat, was practically see-through. Her brown areolas shone right through two different fabrics. Sports bra. That's what they called it. He could only think of one sport and it had nothing to do with brassieres as play equipment. He looked away so as not to disturb her with his stare but sudden warmth still flooded his fevered groin. When he looked up, she was smiling at him. Those lips. Raspberry. That lip balm definitely was raspberry. Tamping down his desire, he forced himself to smile. "I am so sorry," he said. "I have a bad habit of not turning the shower off all the way. I leave it dripping all the time. You aren't the first woman to try and shut the shower off only to get doused with a full spray."
Val peered down at her bare legs. She had ripped off her stockings after getting out of the shower but it did little to keep her dress from dripping all over the carpet. Trying to hide her embarrassment, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Got anything for me to wear?" she asked giving him a sheepish look.
Now that was a loaded question. Even her under garments must have been drenched. The thought made his cock itch. “Come on.” He took her by the hand and went inside the bedroom. Almost grateful there was somewhere else to direct his gaze, he flipped open his suitcase on the stand and reached inside. Rustling through the neatly folded dress shirts, he selected a blue striped one. He handed it to her. “Wear this. It’s all I’ve got…for now.” He smiled. There was nothing more alluring than a naked woman wearing one of his silk button down shirts and nothing else although he was sure she wouldn't look right leaving his hotel room like that. She needed proper clothing. He had no desire to see her put that uniform back on either. She appeared too….classy for that.
Valentina took the shirt but didn’t put it on right away.
Turner pulled a wallet out of his pants pocket. "I uh… could order you some clothes. Nice ones."
"I don’t' have any money,” Val snapped. Her voice was curt, full of challenge. She backed up against the bathroom door, her eyes narrowed.
"Wh
o said anything about money? Please. Allow me." He pulled a Visa, MasterCard, and a Discover from his wallet and waved them at her.
"I saw a nice boutique down in the lobby. I'm sure they can fix you up right fine." He threw the cards on the bed. "Pick one. They're all unlimited. Please. Money's no object. Really."
Her body thumped against the door. Was that fear he saw in her eyes.
"Oh, no. I couldn't really," she murmured.
"Well you have to wear something."
"I have clothes."
Turner looked her up and down. A frown creased his brow. "You have a uniform. You don't have clothes…and I doubt you want to risk running back to wherever you came from to find any. Am I right?"
"Maybe," she said timidly.
"Then let me buy you some.”
She seemed to ponder this for a bit and then said, "Why?"
"What do you mean, why?"
"Why do you want to dress me up? Is it so you can take them off later and hold it over my head while you do?"
Turner was flabbergasted. "You think I …? That I'm a man who …? No! No, I don’t expect anything. I told you that. I'm loaded. You need something and I just happen to have the means to give it to you. Just let me do this. I don’t expect anything in return."
She eyed him suspiciously. "Like I said, why?"
Turner let out a frustrated breath. "Listen, if it makes you feel any better, you can pay me back."
"I can?"
"Yeah, sure."
"But I told you I don't have any money."
"Something tells me you're a very resourceful kind of gal. I have a feeling you'll find a way."
Val bit her lip."Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah."
"Then it’s a deal." He held out his hand and they shook on it. There was something mysterious about this girl and a fizzle of electricity added to his curiosity. "I'm Turner by the way."
A shy smile splayed across her lips."Valentina but you can call me Val."
"Hi Val. Now go put my shirt on before you freeze to death in those wet things."
She raised her eyes, making him chuckle at his own foolishness.
"All right. You're not about to freeze to death in this room but I'm sure you'll be much more comfortable in my dress-shirt than in a sopping wet blouse." He gave her a wink. "Don't worry. It's long enough to hide all your parts."
Her lips curved up and she cocked her head. "I may be more comfortable wearing nothing but your shirt…” She gazed down at the bulge in his trousers. “…but I'm guessing not everyone will be comfortable." She threw the shirt over her shoulder like a sack and grinned.
The blouse wasn’t all those breasts were clinging to. They were tattooed on the back of Turner’s eyelids. He grinned at the thought. So that's how she wants to play it, eh?
He took his cell phone out of his back pocket. He called the front desk, knowing exactly the kind of outfit he wanted to see Val in.
Chapter 5
The door closed behind Val.
She leaned against the door, huffing and puffing while she tried to regain what she considered her usual nerves of hardened unbending steel. She took a deep breath. Just being near the man was enough to ignite a small fire. She had to be strong. She was not about to let that sexy smile or those sweet-talking lips derail her from her objective. She needed money and she needed to stay in this country. Probably needed a job as well. Her job as housekeeper was certainly toast by now. Her Ex would have seen to that.
When he’d handed her the shit, she had a sudden urge to lick him. He smelled that delicious, like hot chocolate on a cold day. Surprised she could be so attracted to someone in such a short span of time, warning bells sounded off her brain. Focus, Val. He’s a man like all the others. Nothing special.
The longer he looked at her the more turned on Val became. It was as if he could see right through her or at least read her dirty little mind.
His body oozed sexuality. His sleeves had been rolled up, something she’d always found incredibly sexy in a man. It showed off his wrists and the flexing of his triceps. His mop of dark hair begged to be tousled.
The way he looked at her was a crime though. When his gaze snapped up and down her body, currents of electricity shot sharply through her core. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move. It looked as if he couldn’t either. What was it about a wet woman that turned a man into stone like that? Pushing through the bathroom door, she moved around the hot tub and went toward the mirror over the sink. A wet bedraggled woman stared back at her. "Holy shit!"
"What was that?" Turner called from the other room.
"Um, I said I hope it fits," Val lied.
Standing before the mirror, she pulled her blouse tight against her chest. How hell! How long have my nipples looked like that? No wonder he was drooling all over the carpet. If she was going to play hard to get, she had better get into some less revealing clothing. Or at least stop taking showers in her clothes. Jeans, definitely jeans, but for now the shirt was all she had. Throwing her wet skirt and blouse into the tub, she sniffed Turner’s shirt. Disappointed that it didn't smell like man, but more like dry-cleaning, she placed it on the top of the closed toilet. She realized the wet bra was even worse than no bra at all. Unhooking the front clasp, she took it off and then decided the panties may as well come off too. She threw them in the tub and then slipped into the shirt. She buttoned it to the neckline. Stepping back, she surveyed herself in the mirror. “Hmm. Still a bit damp in the booby department. I need a distraction.” Reaching up to unpin her hair, the dark tendrils partially obscured her chest. “That should conceal them a bit.” Thankfully, the shirt nearly hit her knees, making it more of a dress than anything else.
When she entered the sitting room, Val found Turner engaged in a heated conversation on the phone. Curious but also hungry, she sat in the breakfast nook where she could both eavesdrop and stuff her face.
"That's not like him at all," Turner was saying. "I mean I know he's a picky eater but…uh huh, uh huh…so make him what he wants. Screw the doctor's diet. He's gotta eat, right? A long pause. “ I don’t' care what you feed him but he's gotta eat. Anything. No. Don't wake him. He needs his sleep too. I'll call you tomorrow but please…call me if things get worse. All right?" Turner popped the phone in his breast pocket, with a frown. He looked like a dog who found out its owner died.
"Problem?" Val asked, looking up from her coffee cup.
"A bit. You know how that saying 'I am my brother's keeper'? Well in my case it's true."
"I take it you're the older brother?"
"By five minutes, yes." Pulling out a chair, he took a seat across from her. With a fork, he speared a chunk of pear from a bowl of tropical fruit.
" So what's his problem?"
Turner's troubled expression lightened. "Not a problem per say. Just, circumstances."
"Circumstances,” repeated Val, intrigued.
"Depressing chain of events actually. You don't want to hear it. It’s awful. Just awful." He shook his fork for emphasis and then picked up a napkin. He dabbed at his lips. "I'd rather talk about you, Val."
Val flushed, the heat of dread settled in her heart. Before she could decide how much of her private life she wanted to divulge to this total stranger, the doorbell rang. What was it with this guy that people were dropping in at all hours.
Turner jumped up to answer the door, the anxiety on his face vanished. “Ah, that was fast.” As he swung open the door, two men and a girl strolled in pushing two separate rollaway racks containing clothes on hangers.
"Oh, wow," exclaimed Turner. "This is great but…I told you to be discreet and you show up with this monstrosity. I don't want anyone to know she's here and if someone gets wind of these clothes—" Hanging his head outside the door, he glanced up and down the hall. Seeing no one, he pulled back. The door slammed with a thud.
"I assure you, Mr. Howe. No one saw where we were going?" said the man.
"This is a huge place. How ca
n you be so sure?"
"I pulled the fire alarm," chirped the girl. She was wearing a tie-dye shirt, her blonde hair braided with pink and purple stripes. "Everyone is outside waiting on the fire department."
"What? No way.” Turner’s low-slung brows creased.
Val ran to the window and gazed down. A crowd had formed right behind the pool and the courtyard. The place was teaming with guests. "He's right," she announced. "There must be a thousand people down there."
Turner laughed. "How the hell did you… and why didn't we hear the alarm?"
"You're in a luxury suite. It's sound proof."
"But what if there was a real fire?" Val asked.
"Then we would have sounded the private alarm attached to this room," said man.
"Splendid," said Turner. "Now what have you got for us here?"
***
Val wanted to jump out of her skin when she saw her new wardrobe. Giggling on the inside, she tried to hide her enthusiasm but the clothes were nothing short of amazing. Much better quality and glamour than Val was used to. The fabric caressed her skin and she had never worn jeans that fit so perfectly before. It was like being in the movie of Pretty Woman. Not a wrinkle, pucker, or baggy seat to be found. Everything felt as if they were sewn right onto her body. The jeans were her favorite. Val chose two, in different shades of blue denim. She put one pair on and then paraded herself before Turner while clutching the other pair under her arm. She couldn't help smiling. “Thank you,” she said for the fourth time and then blushed when Turner grinned at her.
"Try this one on now," Turner was saying. "For me." His dark smoldering eyes sparkled as he held up a scarlet red dress encased in plastic. How did he know she would look beautiful in that? Red was so her color. It brought out the highlights in her hair. Lifting the dress bag, she fingered the stretchy fabric, knowing it would fit her like warm stockings but who needed warm stockings when one was wearing a uniform or lounging around the house? "I don't wear dresses," she said in a low voice. She took a step back. It was gorgeous though.
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