Tropical Tryst: 25 All New and Exclusive Sexy Reads

by Nicole Morgan

  She laughed and her fingers, taut from the distance, pulled out of his. “You’re too far away.” The words came without thought.

  “Come closer, then.” He spoke right away, patting the deck chair beside him.

  And she did; she got up and sat back down next to him, and he pulled her half on top of him, half beside him, their bodies hot together from the sun, and they lay that way for an hour, breathing together, saying nothing, just letting the sun trace shadowy patterns over their bodies, and the slight breeze ruffle their hair.

  CHAPTER 18

  “So you’re actually going out with that guy from Barrio Café, Mike?” He sounded incredulous and disappointed.

  “You were the one who told me to hook up more,” she retorted.

  “I didn’t say that,” he corrected. “Or I didn’t mean with him.” He frowned. “He looked like a player.”

  “Zach, you didn’t even talk to him. You only saw him for like five seconds.”

  “That’s enough time to get a first impression. I thin-sliced him.”

  “Oh, you did, like ham?”

  “Like Malcolm Gladwell.”

  “Is that a kind of ham?”

  “It’s a kind of modern economist slash philosopher. He says that people do something called thin-slicing when they meet someone new or enter a new situation. Within just a few seconds, using the available information, we are often able to get a very accurate assessment of an individual’s trustworthiness.”

  “Oh, I see. So you went all deli clerk on my date and found him lacking.”

  “I did.”

  “Well, I,” she picked up her purse, “found him to be quite interesting and charming, and we are going out for dinner at Rustler’s Rooste. I will see you later. Remember, no flirting.”

  “But you get to?” He crossed his arms.

  “No camera.” She held up her hands. “I am completely honoring my end of the bargain. You should, as well. Maybe on your dateless night you can read some books by your philosopher slash economist to keep you busy.”

  “I can go on dates. I just can’t do other things, according to you.”

  “I can’t believe that you could go on a date and not close it, or even act like you want to close it. Hard for regular guys, impossible for you.”

  “I could. In fact, I’m meeting with one of my investment partners tonight for dinner to discuss a future joint venture.”

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Well, better not bring your camera, or else you’re going to lose our bet.”

  “Me? I’ll be just fine.”

  “You sure? There are some sweet views from that restaurant. You’re going to die, holding back.” He mimicked holding a camera to his face and clicking.

  “Well, is your date cute? Maybe you’ll die holding back.”

  “She’s not cute.”

  “Oh.”

  “She is fucking gorgeous.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lip. “Whatever. Fine. Look, I have to get going. The bet is stupid, anyway. Forget about it. It’s dumb. Let’s just not bother.”

  “Are you jealous?”

  “No. Are you?”

  “No.”

  They stared at each other, then he softened. “Maybe the problem is that we are both jealous, Harper.” He came closer; when she didn’t back away, he touched her cheek and hair. “Do you think so?”

  “Zach, we already talked about this.” But she couldn’t look away. He put both hands on her shoulders and her breath hitched.

  “Maybe we’re being ridiculous with this bet,” he said, his voice low. “And the only reason we’re doing it is so we can keep talking about the sex we’re not having with each other. Hmm?”

  “I—I don’t know.” Her face felt hot; her stomach fluttered.

  “I think about you,” he confessed. “About how it would be with us, Harper.” His eyes were mesmerizing. “And I think you know it, and you do the same.”

  “Why do you think that?” she managed, her voice breathy.

  “Because you’re leaning in to me right now instead of away,” he whispered, brushing a kiss down her cheek. He pressed his fingers against her wrist. “And your pulse is racing, and your skin is flushed. And when you look at me, you look just a little longer than a person does, when things are truly platonic. Because yesterday you came into my arms when I asked.”

  “I just think we would—it wouldn’t work out.”

  “You keep saying that. The thing is, I think it would work out. Really, really well. I promise you, I can make you very satisfied, Harper.”

  His lips lingered on her neck and she gasped. “I don’t doubt it, Zach. I just, the next day, you know? What then?”

  He pulled back. “What do you want to happen then?” His eyes were dark and mysterious, his voice earnest, and for the first time she thought that maybe, just maybe, he wanted more than a simple fling.

  “I don’t know. And obviously nobody can predict or promise more than what fate brings. But I want to try with someone who’s at least open to the possibility of a future relationship, no matter what kind it is. I like you too much to want a one-night stand with you, Zach.”

  “Harper, I don’t think you’ve really given me a chance,” he said, his hand warm on her arm. “Okay? If you just let me explain, I think we might be more on the same page than you think. Because—”

  But a call from her phone interrupted their gaze. “It’s my Uber. He’s waiting at the entrance.”

  “Harper, if you want a night of passion, I promise you I can deliver better than your pretty boy Mike.”

  “I—I have to go.” Flustered, she pulled away and hurried to the entrance, looking back to find him still staring after her, hands in his pockets.

  AS SHE WALKED up the entryway to the restaurant, she was distracted by the faint but definite smell of manure. Then, to her complete surprise, there was a bull. A real, live, big bull with horns, right there by the entrance.

  “Yeek!” She yelped and stepped back, even as she was registering the fact that the bull was in a disturbingly small pen with a wooden fence. “Oh. Hi, there.”

  The bull regarded her steadily, then made a snuffing sound. Harper grabbed for her camera bag, then bit her lip. Did the bet even matter anymore? Who cared, really?

  But the light wasn’t very good, and the bull wasn’t doing anything especially interesting, other than being a bull, which to him was probably fascinating, but to her was kind of boring. The whole scene was bleak—the kind of thing that didn’t belong in a fun, upbeat photo essay about how cool and unique and awesome Phoenix could be. Rather, it might be better suited to a serious piece about the odd and depressing spectrum of how animals can be revered, enjoyed, tolerated, ignored, abused, mistreated, slaughtered. This animal, although healthy, was still not on the happier part of that curve.

  When she stepped into the restaurant, she was greeted with cheerful chatter, clinking of plates from the kitchen, cowboy music, and—a slide? There was a large metal slide, several feet wide, build right into the staircase leading down into the main seating area. Two boys, younger than ten, to her untrained eye, shrieked and ran, one with a runny nose, the other with unlaced shoes, over and over, up the stairs and down the slide.

  “Welcome!” A server greeted her. “Table for one?”

  “No, I’m meeting someone.” She glanced around. “I don’t think he’s here yet.”

  “Well, if you want to get started, I can have Mabel set you up. Just head down and talk to the woman at the podium. Have a wonderful dinner!”

  “Thanks. So the slide?”

  “Oh, please give it a try, if you’d like.” The server smiled broadly. “It’s one of our favorite features, apart from the view.”

  “And the bull?”

  “Oh, yes, our bull. Everyone loves him.”

  Not everyone, thought Harper, but she smiled and nodded, then got distracted by the view. Oh, so pretty!

  From up on this hilltop, the cit
y lights were visible below, sparkling until they tapped out at the edge of the mountains ringing the valley. She put her hand onto her camera bag again, automatically seeking the best vantage point. A close-up of someone on the slide, with the plate glass windows and the view; maybe a couple at dinner, leaning their head together with that glorious view behind them. Soon it would be sunset, and the lights would be perfect—

  “Harper, hey, you look amazing.” It was Mike.

  “Oh, hi.” She smiled and raised her hand. Mike leaned in and kissed her cheek, leaving a trail of expensive cologne in her nostrils. Too recently applied, it was sharp and acrid and she touched the side of her nose to prevent a sneeze, hoping the particles of scent didn’t get trapped too long and make everything she ate smell like his cologne.

  “Thanks. This place looks great.” She adjusted her purse strap and looked around. “What an amazing view.”

  “Yeah. So amazing.”

  “Yeah.” She opened her mouth to say something more, but nothing came. It was like a faucet whose valve had failed shut. A gate slamming closed, like one of the great cartoon gates with the spikes and bars, diving into the ground and causing a minor earthquake. “Um.”

  She was horrified at her lack of words. She was never at a loss. She glanced around rapidly. How was it possible to create entire intricate conversations out of nothing with Zach, out of air, to talk about random things with Elle, and have not a scrap of an idea for Mike?

  “Yeah. I love to take people here, when they visit from out of town. Never fails to impress.” He gestured at the lights below. “Behold Phoenix!”

  “Yes.”

  Together they beheld for several seconds, and Mike put his hand on her arm, his fingers curling in too possessively, a little too tightly, she thought. She moved away with the pretext of looking further down the valley. “Gorgeous. So, hey, should we ask for a table?”

  “I have reservations.” Mike grinned. “I asked them to save me the best table by the window. Nothing but the best for the prettiest girl from Chicago.”

  Ugh. “Oh, awesome. Thanks.” She held back a wince.

  “It really is a great view.”

  “Do you ever think about why the city lights flicker when you see them from a distance?”

  “When they what?”

  “Flicker. You know, sparkle. Lights the way the city of Paris sparkles from the Eiffel Tower. Or even here—see how the lights seem to flicker a little bit down below us in the valley?”

  “Oh, I guess I never thought about it, really. Probably an atmospheric thing.” He coughed. “Dirt in the air and such.”

  “But isn’t that interesting, the idea that something unwanted, like dirt, can cause something so gorgeous? Like a grain of sand in an oyster makes a pearl.” Her voice gained enthusiasm. “The utility of things that you never knew were useful.”

  “I guess, if you think that’s gorgeous and useful. Maybe it’s just, you know, noise. Light noise.” He shrugged. “But I think it’s a lot more fascinating to learn about the buildings themselves that make up the city. I’m an architect,” he said, almost as a way of apology for his words. “So buildings are kind of my thing.” He laughed.

  “No, that’s cool,” she agreed. “What do you build?”

  “Well, right now, mostly hotel design, but I’m a modular designer. Do you know what that means?”

  “No.”

  “So it’s bigger in Europe but it’s making waves in the US. Basically, instead of building a hotel from the ground up, we prefab the bedrooms and bathrooms in a factory. Then each discrete room is transported to the hotel site and lifted by crane onto the scaffolding that holds it all into place. When it’s done, you can’t tell the difference from traditional construction.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s crazy.”

  “It cuts down on erection time by at least three months.”

  She started to laugh, saw that he wasn’t; checked herself with a start.

  “What? That’s a sizeable amount.” He raised an eyebrow.

  She coughed. “It seems so futuristic. Kind of scary. Maybe because it makes it seem more impersonal than before. That things can be manufactured in bulk and put into place. It makes me think of clones, human clones, and arrays of kidneys growing in pans.”

  “I don’t see how that relates.” He frowned. “It’s a sensible way to cut costs and even increase safety and comfort. Because the pods have to be built stronger for transportation, some people find them more noise-proof than traditional hotel rooms.”

  “Sure, sure, I can see that. But isn’t there something a little unsettling about the way everything is becoming more modular and prefabricated, the way we’re trending to 3D printing? A little bit like we’re losing the soul of things? Or that it’s another step in the direction of machines building our machines, and then more people are out of jobs? Not that progress is a bad thing at all! It’s just different. We’ll have to adjust, find new ways to be useful in society. As a whole. You know?” She wanted to talk about a future where machines did the bulk of the work, something far off, hundreds of years off, maybe.

  Mike frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t follow.” He looked frustrated.

  “Never mind. Forget it.” Harper took a breath.

  “It is a great view, though, right? I love this city. Growing all the time. We’re going to put a hotel there,” he pointed in the flickering distance to the left, “and one there,” he pointed out into the middle. “It’s going to be legit awesome.”

  Fuck. Are we going to talk about the view for an hour, or however long it takes to eat a meal at this place? She saw a couple in the throes of love at another table, a couple who cared nothing for the view, because they were completely and totally engrossed in each other’s eyes, laughing, touching hands. The sexual tension was palpable, and without meaning to, she thought about Zach and his date. What were they doing right now?

  CHAPTER 19

  “If you want, I can tell you about everything we see from the window,” offered Mike, leading her to the table. “For instance, see that building there? That one, with the thing?” He pointed.

  “Uh, yeah. That one there. With the thing. Yes.”

  “So that one…” and Mike launched into an enthusiastic and somewhat spit-spangled architectural description. His height and dark hair were no longer attractive, coupled as they were to this man with whom she had zero connection.

  I thin-sliced him, like ham, she thought to herself. She wished she could text that to Zach.

  The chair was a little uncomfortable, digging into the edges of her thighs in a way that made her shift. The couple to her right didn’t care about chairs. Soon enough, they’d be in a bed, anyway.

  She sighed and tuned in for a few seconds to make sure she hadn’t missed anything critical.

  “…built in 1964, developed by David H. Murdock and designed by architect W. A. Sarmiento, it is fascinating because they originally intended to build a second one…”

  Nope, she was still good. She thought about texting Talia. But that would be far too rude. Mike was boring, but still, there were basic human standards to acknowledge.

  She decided to try harder. Everyone was interesting, right? Hadn’t she been waxing poetic about how people were fractals just the other day? “That is so fascinating. That reminds me of a time when I was in Chicago photographing stuff downtown. Did you know that the Water Tower survived the great Chicago Fire? Well, I’m sure you knew that. Haha. But when I saw it—”

  Mike’s eyes glazed over.

  WTF? She was trying! She was even talking architecture.

  “Excuse me, I have to get this.” Mike pulled a phone from his pocket and tapped. “Text from my partner. Sorry.”

  Oh no he didn’t. Well, hell, if he was going to do it first! She pulled out her phone and tapped the messenger icon. But when she saw Zach’s name pop up first, from his earlier text, she hesitated, finger hovering.

  Finally she decided. “How’s your
big date going?”

  “Great. How about you? Did you cave to the pressure and take a picture yet?”

  “No. But I bet you already lost with your whatever, fucking gorgeous date. Did you lose the contest yet?”

  “See for yourself, Harper.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re going to forward me some nasty homemade porn you just made.”

  “My porn is top-notch quality, Harper, but no. I’m here. Look to your left.”

  Startled, she glanced up and there he was, sitting in a table across the restaurant. Alone.

  “Haha!” she typed back. “Trying to decide if your date is a)imaginary or b)already under the table blowing you.”

  She was gratified to see him snort into a chuckle, his shoulders shake. She smiled.

  “Are you done?” Mike tapped her arm across the table.

  “Excuse me?” Startled, she looked up.

  “With your call? I’m done with mine. I was just wondering if I should start another thing or wait for you. I mean, if you could give me a time frame. Are you thinking thirty seconds, or more like two minutes?” Mike seemed serious.

  “I’m good.” She put the phone by her water glass.

  “Great! So back to what I was saying.”

  “Actually, I was telling you about…”

  “So that building next to the one I mentioned? That’s…”

  Her phone buzzed. She casually slid her finger across the screen to see Zach’s text. “He looks nice.”

  She burst into a giggle, trying to hide it in her hand. Mike gave her a look, then continued talking.

  She glanced across the room, and he was looking right at her. As they made eye contact, he raised his glass of wine. She rolled her eyes and looked back to Mike, then glanced back over when she saw movement at Zach’s table out of the corner of her eye. A gorgeous brunette in a tight black dress—elegant, not trashy—came from the direction of the restrooms, leaned in to speak to him, hand on shoulder, and slid gracefully across from him. Her smile faded.

  “What do you think about that?” Mike looked away from the view. “Harper?”