It’s beautiful. Sunny skies and a mild, balmy temperature greet us when we leave the plane. It’s heavenly not to have inches of snow and shivering ice-cold winds tearing through my clothes. A limo is waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs. I feel like royalty as I sink into the backseat, absorbing the lavish luxury surrounding me. Let me tell you, kissing in the back of a tricked-out limo is amazing. Of course, we put up the privacy window thingy. There’s so much groping and clothes rearranging that I feel when we stop and the door opens, everyone will know what we’ve been up too.

“Dinner out or dinner in?”

I’m standing at a window in a penthouse suite, in awe of the panoramic view of the gulf, complete with a setting sun.

“Whichever you’d like,” I reply, still watching the sun as it continues to sink into the water.

Drew pulls me into his arms and we watch the dying rays together.

“Okay, let’s eat in and then walk on the beach, and then…”

“Then?” I prompt as he pulls me closer and I feel what “then” is, but it seems like it will be “now” and “then.”

A long hour later, we’re seated at a cozy patio table on the veranda, eating an abundance of food. We’re dressed in matching plush white robes and the cool sea breeze is gently caressing our exposed skin.

“I think I just gained about ten pounds,” I say as I pull away from the table, amazed at the amount of food I just ingested.

“We’ll just have to find a way to work those off then, now won’t we?” Drew scoots his chair over and pulls me onto his lap, his hand working at the knot in my robe.

“Wait, we have to wait an hour after eating,” I state firmly and giggle at his awkward attempt at undoing my robe.

“That applies to swimming, and that’s not what I have in mind. What the hell have you done to this knot?”

“It’s called a ‘keep your hands off me’ knot, and that means you.” I slap playfully at his hands and he pulls up the bottom of my robe. The devilish strokes of his hand on my exposed skin cause me to shiver. He stands up, and I moan at the loss of his hand. He holds me tightly as he takes me to the massive California King-sized bed, throws me in the middle and joins me, shedding his own robe in one fluid motion.

Several hours later, I’m exhausted, so spent that I haven’t even the energy to walk on the moonlit beach like we talked about earlier. Drew is sound asleep, and I curl up next to him. I feel his arm drape around me before pulling me closer. I feel my eyes growing heavy. I sigh as Drew plants a kiss on my head.

I wish we could stay this way forever.

22

“But I want you to come with me. I don’t want us separated for a minute,” Drew says sweetly.

“Okay, I’ll hang out with you today, but tomorrow I’m going to the beach. I need to get a tan.”

“No way are you sunbathing on the beach. I’ll have to beat all the guys to a pulp who get a glimpse of you. Anyway, I bet you don’t tan.” He puts his hands on his hips, looking me up and down.

“No, but they have umbrellas I can hide under, and if I take it slow, I’ll get some color.”

“But I love your skin just the way it is. I don’t want it burned.” He’s running a finger down my arm now.

“You’re just looking out for you. If I get burned, it will be no more fun. I’m a big girl and I’ll make the decision. Don’t worry, I won’t burn.” I lift his finger from my arm and slide my mouth up and down it, watching his eyes go dark with desire.

“Not fair. We have to leave, and I can’t do a shoot all hard and horny. I don’t have time for a cold shower. I’ll make you pay for this later.”

I giggle and move quickly away from him, grabbing my bag and heading for the door. Let’s just say the elevator ride down didn’t cure either of his problems.

The shoot is a beehive of activity, and I’m suddenly really nervous being here with Drew. Moving down the sand, I walk a few feet behind him. A guy with a clipboard has been by his side since we left the limo. The sun is bright, even with my sunglasses, and the sand is loose, so it’s really hard to walk on. I’m praying I don’t fall flat on my face. That would be a total fail and would probably embarrass both Drew and me.

I tug on the short shorts I’m wearing, feeling self-conscious as a few people start staring at me. I left my hair down and the wind is blowing the curls in my eyes. I dig in my bag for a headband to keep it out of my face.

When I look up, Drew is far ahead of me and clipboard boy trying to keep up with his long strides. The sight would probably have made me laugh if I wasn’t feeling so self-conscious right now. More people join the original gawkers as I pass by them. I feel like there’s a spotlight on me instead of the sun.

As if Drew can read my mind, he stops in mid-stride and pivots, ignoring Mr. Clipboard. He jogs back and puts his arm around me, making more people take notice.

“Sorry, Dora. I had to work out some problems with the shoot. I didn’t forget about you, honest. Don’t worry about our audience. They’re just wondering where I found such a hot woman.” He squeezes me close, and my confidence rises by at least ten percent.

“Drew, hurry. The lighting is perfect for a morning shot, and then I think we’ll break until sunset to get the rest. Alex is waiting for you in the red tent, so get a move on,” an older woman with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth belts out like she thinks he’s hard of hearing. Her hair looks like a bird’s nest, and pencils are stuck behind both ears. The best part is that she’s as short as I am, so I immediately feel a kinship with her.

“Sandra, this is Dora Phillips, and those things are going to kill you.” He points at her cigarette while shaking his head.

“Hi, nice to meet ya, Dora, and no, these won’t kill me. Angela will. I can’t believe Joe put her on this shoot. She’s a fuckin’ bitch, and I refuse to be nice to her. I’ll probably be handed a pink slip, but I’m fuck-nuts fed up with that prima donna attitude of hers. She thinks that just because she’s the hot thing right now, she can act like a complete twat.” Sandra stops her tirade, takes a drag and then turns to shout at a man nearby.

“Sorry, have to run. Red tent, Drew, and Dora, hope you enjoy yourself.” She doesn’t wait for a reply as she rushes toward the poor man she just yelled at. He looks petrified.

“Don’t let the cursing like a sailor and chain smoking fool you, she’s actually a really sweet woman,” Drew says. “She’s been married three times, has four children, and six grandchildren. She’s the director of this organized chaos, and she won’t get fired because everyone is scared of her. We better get to the tent before I get yelled at too.” He leads me to a row of huge tents, all different loud colors. “Yeah, the prop man loves color.” Again, it’s like he’s reading my mind.

Inside the tent, the air is cooler, and two chairs that look like they belong in a beauty salon are sitting in the middle. Surrounding the chairs are rolling carts full of drawers and bins. A multicolored-haired young woman popping her gum is standing by one of the chairs buffing her nails.

“Thank god you’re here. I thought Sandra was going to have a heart attack. I know CPR, but everyone would hate me if I brought her back to life. Now get your ass in the chair. I have to make your ugly butt beautiful.” Her New York accent is obvious, and I instantly like her feistiness.