Tropical Tryst: 25 All New and Exclusive Sexy Reads

by Nicole Morgan

  CHAPTER 3

  SAMANTHA

  I was fighting the desire to throw myself off my chair to see if I was awake. I was sitting at an ocean-side bar, the breeze warm and salty, with one Lord Eric Godfrey. Lord. Was that even real? Were there really people with that title just strolling the earth anymore?

  I couldn’t imagine anyone more suited to the title of Lord than the man sitting next to me. Attractive was an understatement. He was taller than me, which was always a plus since I’m tall for a girl, and leanly muscular. He had the kind of body that came from playing sports like soccer and rowing rather than hours spent grunting in a gym. His hair was lushly black and waved away from his high forehead. Eyes of palest grey, almost silver, were framed with those thick lashes most women couldn’t achieve even with copious amounts of mascara. The icing on the cake was that voice. Just low enough and butter smooth with a posh British accent. He sounded like Prince Harry.

  He was a gentleman, too. When we got to the bar he pulled out my chair and helped me onto it with a light hand on my back before settling into his own seat. He turned to me with the same dazzling smile he’d given me earlier. There was something not quite sincere about it.

  “So, what can I get for you?” he asked politely.

  “I’ll have an iced coffee, please,” I replied.

  He raised his eyebrow at me. “Iced coffee? You’re a young woman on a tropical vacation and you want iced coffee.”

  I bristled. Why did he care what I drank? “Yes. I don’t drink alcohol. And it’s not even lunchtime.”

  “Very well, one iced coffee.” He waved at the bartender and placed the order, getting a beer for himself.

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping on our drinks and watching a flock of seagulls dip in and out of the emerald waves.

  “So, Miss Tate,” he relaxed back into his chair, amber bottle dangling from his fingertips, “where are you from?”

  “Please, call me Samantha,” I replied and wondered what I should call him. Sir? Lord?

  “Samantha, then.” He gave me another smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “Well, I’m from Chicago…” I started.

  “Yes, I’ve been there. Very nice town. Dreadful this time of year, I hear. And your parents? Do they live there?”

  “Um…” I took a sip of my drink. I should just lie and tell him, yes but wasn’t the kind of person I was, “I don’t know. I grew up as a foster child. I don’t know my parents.”

  “Ah. I see.” His eyes drifted thoughtfully back to the waves before he looked at me again. “And what do you do in Chicago, Samantha?”

  The way my name rolled off his tongue, like honey and silk, sent a shiver up my spine. I almost forgot what he’d asked. “I’m, uh, a college student.”

  “Studying what?” His grey eyes flicked up and down my cheap cotton sundress and dollar store shoes. I felt like a lab specimen being studied.

  “Business,” I managed to choke out.

  “At least it’s not something completely useless like French Literature or Sanskrit.” He smiled tightly at me. “But I’m sure a girl like you carefully weighed your options before applying to University.”

  “A…girl like me?” I sputtered at him.

  He completely ignored my question. “What do you do when you aren’t studying or attending class?”

  “I work as a waitress and sometimes as a tutor and even occasionally as a dog walker or babysitter.”

  “Why so many jobs?” He seemed genuinely confused as to why a young college student would need to work so much.

  “Because I’m broke and getting broker by the day,” I said flatly. I set my cup on the bar. I didn’t want to talk with Sir Lord Eric blah blah Mr. I’m-better-than-you anymore.

  Just as I was about to get up, he pulled his wallet from his pocket and took out the wad of cash I’d shoved back inside. Was he…? Was he going to give me reward for returning his wallet? I hadn’t meant to come across as needy and I certainly didn’t want his pity but I wouldn’t turn down an award if that’s what he was up to.

  He quickly began to shuffle through the bills.

  “What? You don’t trust me?” I joked and grinned at him.

  “No. I don’t.” The smile he gave me in return was cold and heartless. “And furthermore, if it’s not all here, I shall have you arrested.” He started to flick through the bills again.

  That arrogant asshole just accused me of being a thief. I jumped out of my chair so fast it clattered to the ground behind me. Before Lord Arrogant could move I was in his face, my cheeks burning with fury.

  “You arrogant, elitist, pompous, snob!” I ground from between my clenched teeth.

  He cocked one eyebrow at me. “Well, you certainly have a university vocabulary.”

  I grabbed his chair by the arms and leaned forward until I was inches from his face. “You, sir, are a grade-A asshole. You think because I’m a poor foster kid from Chicago, that I’m a thief?”

  “You certainly made it sound like you needed money,” he drawled.

  “Smug bastard,” I spat at him.

  “Yes. I’ve been called that one before.”

  Fury started making my vision go red. I was a little afraid I might hit the guy.

  “You’re a bigoted bastard. You think anyone who’s poorer than you is less than you. You sit around on your private island and in your gated country home, protected from us poor plebs. You and your kind sit around talking about how poor people should just ‘pull themselves up by their bootstraps’ or that we’re lazy and looking for handouts. You’ve had everything handed to you on a silver platter and so did your father and his father. You don’t know anything about how the real world works.”

  “I think I know plenty about how the world works, darling.” His smile was smug and self-assured.

  I smacked at the arms of his chair, rocking it backward and enjoyed the startled look on his face. “The hell you do. There are less than two thousand people like you in the entire world. That makes you very much in the minority. You don’t know what it means to wonder where your next meal is coming from, or if you have a safe place to sleep at night, or if junkies are going to rob you of what little you have, or if you’re going to have to move for the fourteenth time. Or whether you’re going to live through the night because the house you’re in is below freezing because your foster parents haven’t paid their electric bill. There are almost half a million kids in the United States alone who live just like that every day. So, don’t tell me you know what real life is like. You don’t, you arrogant prick.”

  His face was truly shocked this time. His eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open.

  “One more thing. Yeah, I considered keeping that money. It would have meant a lot to me. When I go home I’m going to lose my place at school and maybe my apartment because I can’t make enough money to pay for everything. So, while that money is just pocket change to someone like you, it could have saved my entire world. Losing your wallet was just a minor inconvenience for you. It was a huge sacrifice for me to give it back.”

  I was panting, I was so angry. I knew my cheeks were flushed bright red and I was inches away from his face.

  And then his mouth was on mine. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to move. His lips slanted over mine and I tasted the salt air on his lips. Right before I slapped him. I shoved at him, rocking his chair again and pushed away.

  “Stay away from me, Sir, Lord…whoever you are.” And I spun on my heel and stalked away from the little oceanside bar.

  “Eric,” I heard him call to me. “You can call me Eric.”

  I sped up and once again found myself on one of the many jungle paths that crossed the resort. I stopped. And the tears started, flowing hot and fast down my cheeks. I shouldn’t have come here. I didn’t belong with these kind of people. The kind who thought just because I was a poor kid from Chicago that I was going to rip them off. I’d never understood why people thought money made som
eone a good person. I’ve watched the poorest people I know give other people the last of their food while I’ve watched people I know can afford it walk past a starving kid on the street. Money doesn’t buy morals or compassion.

  I dashed the burning tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand, rubbing my sniffling nose. I’m done here, I decided. I was going to the office to see if I could cut my trip short. And if not, I’d stay locked in my room until it was time for me get off Elitist Island.

  CHAPTER 4

  ERIC

  M y face was stinging from Samantha’s smack. I rubbed ruefully over the burning mark on my cheek. Surprisingly, I didn’t think I’d ever been slapped by a woman before. I grinned as I tossed back the last of my drink and headed off in the direction I saw her walking.

  I’d just made it to the entrance of the path when a sound stopped me. It sounded like…sobbing. Quietly, I moved forward a few feet and saw Samantha. Her hands were over her face, and her shoulders were shaking slightly. I couldn’t believe she was crying. I couldn’t believe I made her cry. And that she ran off to hide before she started. Portia didn’t mind letting loose the tears if she thought it would get what she wanted. Samantha was no Portia.

  I moved back, stepping into the shadow of swaying palm just far enough that Samantha wouldn’t see me if she turned around. I’d respect her right to cry privately, but I didn’t want to leave her completely alone. After all, if it weren’t for me and my completely ass-like behavior, she wouldn’t have been sobbing on a jungle path alone.

  Why did I count the money in front of her? Why did I threaten to have her arrested? Especially when she was right. Losing that money wouldn’t have meant anything to me. I’ve lost more than that in a single poker hand before. I never thought about money. It was just there. It always had been. I’ve never had to work a day in my life. My family had companies and investments that ran themselves with the help of savvy and trusted business managers. The money had and would continue to flow into my family’s coffers for generations without any of us ever lifting a finger if that’s what we wished.

  But for Samantha, having that small bit of money that Portia would have spent on a handbag would have helped her stay at university and pay rent on her flat. I thought she was right about something else; I didn’t know anything about the real world. Peripherally, I was aware that most people in the world weren’t as wealthy as me or the people I knew. I’d seen poverty. Like most people of my station, I had taken charity trips to Africa and India to see the schools and orphanages our fancy fundraising dinners had funded. I’d seen people in the governmental housing in my country, barely scraping by each month. But, aside from philanthropic trips, I never thought about what it meant to have less, to be poor. Because I had never been, nor would I be.

  I was an utter ass.

  I watched Samantha from behind my palm tree. She straightened up and rubbed roughly at her face. Now her shoulders, instead of shaking, looked firm and resolute like she’d made up her mind about something. I hoped not about me.

  I SPENT my night tossing and turning in my bed. I couldn’t stop thinking about Samantha. She was not like any of the girls I’d ever known. And not just because she was a broke, American university student. She had a passion inside of her that she wasn’t afraid to show. No stiff upper lip for her. She was no stranger to hard work. The most work Portia ever did was dialing for reservations. And she was gorgeous.

  Damn, was she gorgeous. She was so tall I felt like we’d line up perfectly in bed. And those long legs, muscular and bronze. I’d love to feel them wrapped around my waist.

  Bloody hell. I threw off my blankets and crossed over to the doors leading to the veranda, pushed open the curtains and watched the sun rising bright and bronze over the dark blue ocean.

  By the time my breakfast was delivered to my room I’d made up my mind. I was going to find the lovely Samantha today and try to get to know her better. I was highly attracted to her but, even if nothing but friendship came from our meeting, I simply wanted to know her. I wanted her to know I wasn’t the elitist asshole she thought I was.

  After breakfast, I threw on swim trunks and a t-shirt. I was trying to look casual and non-threatening. More down to earth. Then, I headed out of my villa to find Samantha.

  It’s still early, so I checked the restaurant and dining area first, thinking she might be at breakfast. When I didn’t catch any sight of her I headed off to the pool. There was no one there except some botoxed woman draped in jewels. No wonder Samantha thought wealthy people were ridiculous. Because we kind of were.

  I’d circled the resort twice with no sign of her. I even stopped by the excursions desk to see if she booked a dolphin snorkel trip or boat for the day. Nothing. And I didn’t know what room she was in. I was about to give up when I saw Jacob crossing the lobby and heading to his office. I’d just have to pump Jacob for information.

  I hurried across the lobby and caught him just before he slipped into the security office.

  “Jacob, how are you this morning?” I gave him a friendly smack on the shoulder and shook his hand.

  “Good morning, Lord Godfrey. I’m well. Please come in.” He gestured me into his office. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything?”

  “Thank you, no.” I slid into the seat in front of his desk, and waited for him to settle into his chair.

  “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?” he asked me. “Nothing missing again, I hope.”

  “No, no, nothing like that. Listen, Jacob, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

  He ran a hand over his shiny head, his face thoughtful before he carefully said “In a manner of speaking. You and your family have been coming to Diamond Cove for over twenty years. I’ve known you since you were a teenager.”

  “So, you trust me then?” I said.

  “What do you want, Lord Godfrey?” His gaze was shrewd as he took in my casual clothes.

  “Samantha. The girl who found my wallet.”

  “You want the girl?” His eyebrows shot up to his bare head.

  “Yes. No. I mean, I just want to know where she is. I was a bit of an ass yesterday and I’d like the chance to apologize properly to her.”

  “I see.” He was staring at me from across the desk and the silence was the most uncomfortable I’d ever experienced. I could feel the judgment in his gaze. “She came to see me yesterday evening,” he finally said.

  “What? Why?” Bloody hell, had she lodged some sort of complaint against me for kissing her?

  “She wanted to know how quickly she could leave the island. Seemed very upset,” he answered.

  I twisted in the chair, nervous. These weren’t the types of feelings I was accustomed to having.

  “Mind telling me what went on?” Jacob asked.

  “Er, I didn’t come across very well.” I could feel my face getting hot. “I may have insinuated that she was a thief and threatened to have her arrested. Then I kissed her without her permission.”

  “Well, no wonder she was so charmed by our lovely resort.” Jacob guffawed.

  “So, I’d just like the chance to apologize to her. Can you tell me where she is?”

  Jacob was still chuckling. “You are a right bastard.”

  “Blithering ass, more like. Come on, Jacob. You going to help me out or not?”

  “Technically, I’m not supposed to give out guest information. And I think you should leave the girl alone. You really upset her last night.”

  “Do you want me to beg, Jacob?”

  He chuckled again and tapped at his computer. “No. Just keep this strictly between us. She’s in room 310, South Wing.”

  “Thank you so much, Jacob.” I jumped up from my chair and hastily pushed it backward. “Isn’t your daughter going to be sixteen soon? I’ll buy her a car.”

  Jacob’s face was stunned into disbelief before he stuttered, “No, she’ll be six.”

  “A pony, then. Thank you again.” I left his office at a jog and w
as at a full sprint by the time I was crossing the resort lobby.

  I wove through the lobby and around pots of tropical plants. Too impatient to wait for the elevator, I took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. I slowed to a walk as I headed down the hall, trying to catch my breath as I read the numbers off the doors. I found Samantha’s door almost at the end.

  Standing in front of door 310, I took a few deep breaths and pushed my fingers through my hair to straighten it. Finally, I knocked.

  “No service, please,” echoed from inside.

  She thought I was housekeeping. I knocked again.

  “No, thank you, I’m fine,” came back again, sharper this time.

  I knocked harder and the door snatched open before my knuckles landed the final strike.

  “Hi.” Oh yes, that was a smooth opener. It was no wonder this girl thought I was a complete and utter twit.

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she stared at me like I was something on the bottom of her shoe.

  “Er…” I continued with the smoothness.

  “What do you want?” she finally asked me. And a little rudely, quite frankly.

  “Well, I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”

  “Fine. Thank you. Apology accepted. Have a nice day.” She started to push the door closed. I stuck my foot in the crack. She pushed harder. It hurt, actually.

  “Wait. I wanted to know if we could start things over. I’ll forget you just tried to break my foot and you can forget I’m a…”

  “Pompous asshole? Smug elitist? Arrogant shit?”

  “All of those, yes.”

  The corner of her lip twitched slightly.

  “Please? Have another drink with me?” I gave her my dazzler smile.

  “I know that smile is fake,” she replied.

  “You are very observant. Yes, it’s my charity event newspaper article smile. I apologize. Only the sincerest of smiles for you from now own.” I lay my hands over my heart and tried to look as sincere as possible.

  “I appreciate your attempt at sincerity. But I don’t think we should have another drink.”