Read the first pages of Surrounded by Roses

*~* Brand New Release *~*

NICOLE MORGAN

Copyright © 2013

Chapter One

“Repel boarders! Repel boarders! Small, unknown craft approaching quickly from the starboard side!”

The duty section quickly jumped to life. Fueled by instinct, Alex and Trevor ran up to the space right outside the officer’s berthing area to quickly get outfitted with a flak jacket, ballistic helmet, and gas mask.

Once outfitted, they hurried to the forward gun locker to be issued 9mm handguns. Both of them made jokes that it would have been more effective to throw the guns at the attackers rather than shoot them, referring to the limited range and stopping power of the pistols they had both been issued.

Sonar Technician Seaman Robby Fulkerton had just reported on board the Austin a week prior to the drill. It was reflected in just about every move that Robby made. He looked nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs as he fumbled around with his flak jacket. He could barely hold his pistol due to his hands shaking so badly.

Alex tried to calm him down. “Don’t worry, kid. It’s only a drill. Just don’t put a magazine in the gun and don’t point it at anybody.”

The advice was good and exactly what Trevor would have said if Alex hadn’t beaten him to it. Both of them headed topside to the outside of the sub unaware that Robby had already put a magazine with live rounds into his gun. It was a fact that Trevor wouldn’t learn until later and when it was too late.

They came up top and the sunlight nearly blinded him. It was beating against the black surface of the boat, making it that much hotter. It was then that Robby came up the weapons shipping hatch to meet with the rest of those already in position.

The ship’s duty officer, Lt. Max Santee, shouted orders for the crew to engage the cardboard cutout of a speedboat heading toward them. Alex turned toward Trevor and started to say something when a shot rang out.

The bullet hit Alex’s face as the round penetrated his right eyeball and spread a distinct pink mist out of the back of his helmet. A split second later his best friend fell lifelessly over the side into the Gulf of Bahrain. Trevor turned to see Robby Fulkerton with his hand shaking. The 9mm he held had a small puff of smoke emanating from the barrel.

Trevor’s eyes jolted open. Wide eyed he lay in his bunky, his entire body covered in sweat. His breaths came in rapid succession as he tried to fight for air. For several painful moments he tried to erase the images from his mind. These nightmares were not only visiting him every night, but they were beginning to consume him. His thoughts, his every action brought about memories of that damn day.

He sat up in his bunk and ran his hands through his sweat drenched hair. This couldn’t go on. He couldn’t continue on a sleep-deprived path when his brothers depended on him to keep his head on straight.

Frustrated, he stood up and reached for a pair of pants and T-shirt from his locker. It pissed him off that he hadn’t been able to sort things out on his own, but it was no longer about his pride. It was about his duty. He needed help, and if seeing the Doc was what he needed to help him, so be it.

Fifteen minutes later Second Class Petty Officer Trevor Purlington sat in the corpsman’s quarters, otherwise known as Doc’s office, on board the USS Austin SSN 917. He wasn’t looking forward to this visit. It was not only mandatory, but necessary. For weeks he had been losing sleep due to the same nightmare. Each and every night as he hit the rack he knew that it wouldn’t be long before he was woken up in the midst of memories he wished he could forget.

Had it really only been weeks ago that he had sat across the table from his best friend, Electronics Technician Second Class Alex Gardetto? It seemed like a lifetime ago since he’d seen the man who grew to become his brother, and they were brothers, in every sense of the word. The two of them had met at the US Navy’s Basic Enlisted Submarine School in Groton. They also went to sub job specific school with one another and reported on board the Austin within twenty-four hours of each other.

During each of their qualification days they raced to see who could finish first. Their deal had been that the second person to get his dolphins had to buy a round of beers at the first bar they stopped at during their first six month deployment. They took it so far down to the wire that they were neck and neck for weeks. Finally Trevor had beaten out Alex by only fifteen minutes. He remembered looking down at Alex and saying, “Rule was second guy to get pinned has to buy the round.”

Alex gave him an ear to ear grin. “That’s fine. I’m buying the cheapest shit available then.”

Both of them had cracked up laughing at his reply. It wasn’t long before the rest of the sailors within earshot joined along. Those were the good old days and much happier times where all that mattered was his sub and his dolphin brothers.

They stood proudly that night, amongst members of the crew’s mess as they were welcomed into the submarine brotherhood. The silent service of submarine warfare wasn’t talked about too much in the media and that was exactly how naval command wanted it. If they were invisible and went unnoticed that only meant they were doing their job.

Only those who wore the dolphin knew just how integral they were to the safety of the world. There were things that could be done underwater, under the guise of silence that no other plane, helicopter, or surface forces could accomplish. That was what set them aside from the rest in all armed forces. That was the reason they were such an elite form of service understood only by those who served on the submersible vessels.

He wished life was as simple as it once was. He knew it never would be again though, and that was what was eating away at him. Trevor started to relive the events of that fateful day which took the life of his best friend.

It was supposed to be just another standard security drill, one that the crew had run hundreds of times before. The rundown was simple. In the scenario, the Austin was to be docked in a port somewhere in the Persian Gulf, and the ship would be attacked both on the water by a ship loaded with bombs as well as by a force of twenty-five insurgents that would attack the pier. They were actually located along the Gulf of Bahrain so the location wasn’t that far of a stretch, but with any drill, they had to pretend things were really happening as laid out to them.

The setup was modeled after the USS Cole bombing by a small craft loaded with explosives off the coast of Yemen in 2000. The day’s duty section had briefed the threat scenario at morning muster like it was a probable threat, and they were actually docked at a port in the Persian Gulf. All this helped create the realistic scenario to help train the sailors for what to do if this were to, God forbid, ever happen in real life.

He could still remember the expression on Alex’s face as they sat on the same crew’s mess where just thirteen months before they were getting their dolphins pinned on their chests. He was smiling, his look carefree and relaxed after making some insignificant joke.

Suddenly the ship’s 1MC broke the calmness in the air as loud shouts came overhead. “Repel boarders! Repel boarders! Small, unknown craft approaching quickly from the starboard side!”

Trevor could still remember the blinding sunlight as they came up top. It beat down on them against the black surface of the top, increasing the temperature by at least ten degrees.

With the drill in full force it was obvious that this crew could use some practice in the area of defending their boat. While a majority of them kept their wits about them and remained calm in the light of potential danger, there were a select few of his sub brothers that gave new definition to the terms chaos and disorder. With most of the faux boarders eliminated, the drill appeared to be almost over. After only a couple of minutes they could soon get back to what they were doing.

He could still see it playing before him. It was just like a movie set to slow motion, almost as if some evil entity was hidden inside him constantly reminding him of what had happened, never letting him forget that he could have saved his friend.

The crew, who a second before was primed and ready for an imaginary attack, stood completely still. Then the shot rang out, the puff of smoke followed and the trail of crimson dripped down Alex’s face.

“Trevor! Trevor…God damn it! Snap out of it!” The distinct voice of Hospital Corpsman First Class Vincent Soprano brought Trevor back to the present.

The crew had a few funny nicknames for the one corpsman on board the Austin. Some called him “mob doctor” because of his last name being the same as cable television’s famously notorious Tony Soprano. Others referred to him as “thumbs” because, when asked a medical question, more often than not he would give them thumbs-up or thumbs-down responses.

The most popular of all the names given to Doc was “pokey.” He loved to razz the young sailors. He would use them as a practice dummy for IV needle training if any one of them showed up hungover after a night of carousing. It was a threat that he never made good on, but it sure scared the newbies into not getting too crazy while on land.

Today was different. He no longer felt the camaraderie that was once so easy. All he could muster today was calling him Doc.

“Jesus, where the hell did you go? Did you hear anything I just said?”

Trevor shook his head and let out a sigh of frustration. “No. Sorry, Doc.”

Doc set his pen down and crossed his arms over his chest. “All right. Talk to me. What’s going on with you?”

“Shit, Doc. What do you want me to say? You know what it is.”

“The dreams still?”

“Yeah, constantly, and every damn night like clockwork it comes back.”

Doc, true to his nature, responded with a barrage of the usual medical questions. All of which Trevor answered honestly. It was the last question that was new and one that took Trevor by surprise.

“Look, I have to ask this. And whether you want to or not, you’ve got to be straight with me. This isn’t a game. We’re at war, and I need to know where your head is. So, I need to know if you feel like you could hurt yourself.”

Trevor shook his head emphatically. “No, it’s nothing like that. I swear to you. But I can’t sleep, and I really think I need some time away. I need to process this, and I can’t do it here. Maybe Emily could help me sort it out. I don’t know. Maybe she can’t. Maybe I just need to see her and be reminded of all the good things in the world. Not death. Not Alex’s death.”

Doc looked around his office and stood up. He walked to the other side of his desk and grabbed hold of Trevor’s arm. “Let’s go.”

Minutes later he was standing outside the commanding officer’s stateroom as Doc knocked on the steel door.

“Come in.” The loud and authoritative voice of Cdr. Mike Dobbs ordered.

Both of them went inside as instructed. Cdr. Dobbs had two distinct personalities. One was the top of his class at everything from the Naval Academy to his present, formal “game face” that he had on when it was required, and the other was that of a regular guy. While he was the commanding officer of the sub and took that responsibility seriously, he also wanted the crew to know that he was one of them as well. A guy that they could come to if they needed. When the time warranted a relaxed CO, that’s exactly what they got.

“Doc, Purlington, what’s up?”

Doc looked at the Commander and said, “Sir, Petty Officer Purlington is still having some recurring problems due to the events of several weeks ago. It’s affecting his sleep, and I don’t want him to fall asleep while on duty and hurt someone or damage vital equipment. I could medicate him to help him sleep while we’re here, but that would involve some very heavy drugs, and if there’s a casualty, I couldn’t guarantee his safety. Not to mention that would only be a temporary fix. Those kinds of drugs can become addictive and habit forming. The last thing I want is an addict aboard this vessel.”

Dobbs looked at the two of them and seemed to be weighing his options.

“I see.” The commander looked to Doc and then back at Trevor. “How could we help you get some rest?”

Trevor looked at Doc nervously, then back at his CO. “Sir, I think I need some time at home with my girlfriend. She could keep an eye on me at home, and I could report to the base’s psychologists during the day. Just being here is a constant reminder of Alex. She might be able to help me forget, or at least move on.”

“Shit, Purlington, I’ve seen some fast talkers in my day try and get some R and R, and I know nine times out of ten it’s bullshit, so how’s it going to look if I let you go shack up with your little honey for a few days because you can’t sleep at night?”

“I could order it, sir. As a necessary medical evaluation,” Doc chimed in.

Commander Dobbs rubbed at his chin and eyed the two of them. “Damn it. I don’t want to see one of my best sailors crack under the pressure. Besides, we’re supposed to be more tolerant these days anyway. Aren’t we?”

It was a rhetorical question. One he was asking aloud and not really expecting an answer. Trevor understood his hesitance. On one hand his CO knew him well enough to know he wasn’t bullshitting them to get home to have a quick slap and tickle with Emily. At the same time Dobbs could be a hard-ass, and he knew it was a reputation that he relished in.

“All right, Purlington. You’re asking for help, and I don’t want to see you throw your career away because you can’t get past this. But, hear me when I tell you this, you have got to get past it. This is war we’re in, and we may not be on the front lines, but men die in war. You’ve got to be able to handle that or the navy isn’t for you. Understood?”

Trevor nodded. “Understood, sir.”

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*~*  BRAND NEW RELEASE  *~*

 

NICOLE MORGAN

Copyright © 2013

 

Chapter One

Jenny looked up at the clock on her wall. It was only half past nine and in the short span of a couple of hours she had spent in her office that morning her day had gone from shitty to shittiest ever with just one ring of her telephone.

The second hand moved itself around the face of the clock. It’s pace slow and purposeful. Unlike her job. She had no more purpose, no more drive or direction. She was just spinning her wheels while she listened to her boss list his diatribe of reasons as to why she was the worst general manager the Callaway Corporation had ever seen.

Her nerves were wearing thin, her patience running on low, and her manners were starting to run away in fear of her impending break from reality. With every word he hollered into the phone she became increasingly agitated and listened less.

She gritted her teeth and squeezed her pen, almost snapping it in half. She wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to listen to the evil little tightwad on the other end of the phone go on and on, constantly questioning her business decisions. She’d been running this hotel for five years now. Quite well in fact.

The Arcadia was like her baby, and she treated it as such. Now suddenly every dime she spent—hell, every damn penny—was being scrutinized. From the food to the toilet paper, she had to account for every single morsel eaten and every perforated square used.

Well, no more! This time he had gone too far! Cutting more payroll wasn’t an option. There simply was nowhere else to cut!

“Jenny! Jenny, are you listening to me?” Mr. Callaway shouted.

She cringed at his high-pitched, anything-but-masculine voice as he screamed at her once again. Tell him, she silently encouraged herself. Tell him what an asshole he is. Tell him he can take this job and shove it clear up his ass until it reaches the empty hollow where his brain is supposed to be. Don’t be a coward this time. Say what’s on your mind!

“Did you hang up on me?” His shocked tone irritated her all the more.

Calming her nerves, she placed her hands flat on the desk and took a deep breath. “No, Mr. Callaway, I did not hang up on you. I didn’t want to be rude and—”

True to his rudeness, he cut her off. “Well, speak up next time, then. You got something wrong with your hearing? Is that as defective as your managerial skills?”

Calm down, she willed herself. Just calm down and take a deep breath. “No, sir.”

“Well, then?”

“‘Well, then’ what?” she wanted to scream back at him, but as usual she didn’t. Instead she bit her tongue, just like she’d been doing for the past three months ever since the Callaway Corporation had taken over the management of her small resort hotel.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Callaway. I’ll see what I can do to cut the payroll back a bit more.”

“I don’t want to hear that you’ll see what you can do! Get it done! The Arcadia is becoming a money pit. If you want to keep your job I suggest you find a way to manage the hotel’s expenses a bit better. Or we won’t be able to pay you either!”

Emphasizing his point, he slammed the phone down. She winced as the loud bang echoed through the phone, reverberating into her ear.

A moment passed, and she waited for the stinging in her eyes to go away. She refused to cry. She wouldn’t be one of those women who couldn’t handle it in the dog-eat-dog world of corporate America. She knew things would be different when Calloway Corporation bought this property from the previous owners, but she hadn’t been prepared for all of this.

She steeled her nerves and pushed the tears back down inside. Then she slowly set the phone down, placing it back on its cradle. Her heart was racing, and she knew why. There was no way she would allow herself to be one of those people dependent on medication, though. A minute or two of calm breathing would make it pass, and she would be just fine. At least she hoped so anyway. At twenty-nine years old, she was sure her stress level was sending her heart rate into dangerous categories.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in—BEEP…

The loud noise permeated the silent room, startling her. Her heartbeat skyrocketed that much more and nearly jumped out of her chest. The room was now filled with the high-pitched squeal of Marianne, the front-desk reservation agent, who seemed to be in an eternal state of happiness. It was times like this when she wanted to take Marianne’s smile and stick it where the sun didn’t shine. Not because she didn’t like Marianne, but because at times like this she just didn’t like to smile.

“Jenny, we have a gentleman here who is inquiring about the maintenance job.”

Great. The maintenance job. The one she desperately needed to fill and had placed an advertisement for with the local travel magazine. No matter how much she and the hotel needed it, there was no way she could follow through on that now, though. That position for the hotel would be left empty, just like everything else since Callaway and its micromanaging sharks took over her books.

Shaking her head, she wondered how they even expected her to run this hotel without a full staff. She had already cut back in every department. The front desk staff, the restaurant, the lounge, anywhere and everywhere they were down to the bare bones in employees. Just that morning she had to let go of two housekeepers. Now, with his most recent tongue-lashing, there was no way she could afford hiring a maintenance worker.

This resort wasn’t huge, but it had potential. There were two swimming pools and three hot tubs that sat on the east side of the hotel. Just properly maintaining those with the proper chemicals and cleaning ran her upward of several hundred dollars a month.

Their two restaurants were also suffering from her recent budgetary cuts. Normally she was able to order top-of-the-line seafood and prime cuts for the steak-faring clientele. That had all come to a halt in these past several weeks. The amount of money she spent on food had been drastically reduced, yet Mr. Callaway insisted that she keep the menu prices the same. Not only was it unethical to mislead their dining guests, it was just plain wrong. She sometimes wondered if the higher-ups at the Callaway Corporation even had a clue how to run a resort property, let alone a hotel.

It was becoming impossible to run things properly on the limited budget they allotted her. She wondered if all of their other properties were suffering the same cutbacks. Or if maybe instead they weren’t forced to because they were already dilapidated and infested with roaches.

The several acres of land the Callaway Corporation owned on this small island down in the Caribbean were untapped and not being used to their full potential. If they used their money wisely and invested in more amenities for their guests, she knew they would have a full house every day of the year. Her experience in the hospitality industry had at least taught her that. Their lack of reservations was due to her inability to maintain the property properly, mixed with the neighboring islands offering much more to vacationers.

The island just three miles to their south had a water park installed in the past year for all ages. There was another island about ten miles away which catered to the more adult crowd by offering night clubs, casinos, and several other swanky hot spots.

There were a million different things this island could use which would benefit not just their guests, but Callaway’s bottom line. She never dared to mention her ideas though for fear she might be literally smacked through the telephone. They took penny-pinching to a whole new level.

“Jenny? Did you hear me?” Marianne asked.

She hit the intercom button. “Yes, sorry, Marianne. Thank you, but could you please just tell the man that the maintenance position has already been filled?”

“Oh, it has? I didn’t know—”

Jenny quickly cut her off, “No, Marianne, it hasn’t. Just please, tell him that, okay?”

“Um…sure, Jenny. I’ll tell him.”

She heard the hesitation in Marianne’s voice and knew there was going to be a round of Twenty Questions at some point later that day. The two of them had worked together for far too many years for Marianne not to pick up on the stress in her voice. She didn’t want to get into it with her though. How could she explain that this hotel barely had enough money to pay for the guest essentials, let alone payroll, with the joke of an operating budget those vultures approved for her?

Marianne was a sweet woman and someone she would even consider her friend, but she was first and foremost an employee of the hotel. Jenny wasn’t willing to cause a panic in the ranks by alluding to the financial restraints they were under.

Stretching her legs beneath the desk, she wished she could go for a run. She missed being able to lose herself in the cool evening breeze as the mist came off the ocean. She missed being able to put her feet up and eat a pint of ice cream. She missed living.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Jenny. You have a job to do,” she chided herself in the quiet room.

In the far corner of her office, next to her potted palm tree, sat the bucket of tools she had been avoiding all morning. Glaring at them, she pushed out her chair and got up from her desk. She took off her blazer and neatly hung it on a hanger then placed it in her small office closet. She kicked off her heels and grabbed her tennis shoes. Sitting down on the small sofa that flanked her desk, she laced them up, double-knotting the bows. Two deep breaths later and she walked over to the bucket holding her wrench, hammer, screwdrivers, and plumber’s snake and strode out of her office.

She approached room 115—the room Mrs. Grierson had made a complaint about earlier that morning—and used her master key to unlock the door. Luckily, she was able to sneak in without anyone seeing her. No witnesses meant no explanations. The last thing she needed was to have to explain to a staff member why she had a bucket of tools in hand.

“Oh God.” Her whole body cringed when she walked into the bathroom.

She closed her eyes and turned away for a moment, silently hoping and praying that when she looked back it would have all been a dream. No such luck, though. The leak Mrs. Grierson had reported was actually a lake—a very large lake, in fact, which was flooding the entire bathroom in one of their nicest suites.

“Well, here goes nothing.”

Jenny walked through the water which was rising to as high as one inch. Her shoes were soaked inside and out after just two steps, making an awful squishing noise. Luckily the bathroom had a step down from the main living quarters so there was no immediate danger of it flowing into the living or bedrooms of the suite.

Hesitation wasn’t an option as she knelt in inches of water on the tile floor. She studied the pipe that had water pouring from it for a moment before she reached for her wrench. Something her grandfather had told her when she was little stuck in her mind. “Righty tighty, lefty loosey.”

“Hmm.” She smiled.

The concept was so simple, really. Why she had been so worried about having to try to fix a silly, little plumbing problem, she wasn’t sure. Righty tighty. Lefty loosey. No sweat!

Much more relaxed and pleased with herself, she grabbed her wrench, adjusted the fitting to be snug around the pipe, and turned to the right, pulling the wrench away from her and toward the wall.

Oh no!

Water shot everywhere, all around her, covering her and everything within five feet. Recovering from the shock of what had just happened, she squinted her eyes, trying to keep the spraying water from obstructing her vision. With water pummeling her directly from the fitting she had inadvertently loosened, she could barely tell where she was placing the wrench. After fumbling through a few tries she finally had the tool snug back around the fitting.

Finally!

She pulled the wrench in the opposite direction and…”Oh, shit!” She screamed the four-letter word loud enough for people to hear her on the top floor.

Somehow in her efforts to tighten the loose fitting she had instead managed to break it, causing a full rush of water to shoot out at her. Not unlike Old Faithful, the diligent geyser in Yellowstone National Park, the pipe erupted with such force she was nearly dumbfounded by it.

“No, no, no, no!” she continued to shout.

“Oh my gosh. Jenny, are you okay?”

Marianne’s voice came from behind her, but she didn’t turn to look. Instead she sat staring at the eruption before her, drenched and completely frozen in disbelief. She wanted to do something, but had no idea what.

Hands touched her shoulders then moved down and wrapped themselves firmly around her upper arms. Suddenly, she found herself being moved out of the way. She was able to catch a glimpse of a tall man with brown hair. He was saying something, but she couldn’t make out what it was over the rushing sound of water.

Then, as if he had magic hands, he reached below the antique pedestal sink and turned a knob. The water, which had been coming out at her as if it was on the attack just moments ago, slowed down to a light flow, then a drip, then finally nothing at all.

The water shutoff valve! How could she have been so stupid? Not sure if she was overworked, overwhelmed, or just overwrought, she felt completely mortified that her inaction could have made things so much worse.

Her epiphany was interrupted by the tall, wet stranger asking, “Well, did you?”

“I’m sorry? Did I what?” she asked him, confused and still frazzled by the events of the past minutes.

A smile cocked up on one side of his mouth. “I asked if you had considered shutting off the water valve before doing any plumbing repairs.”

For the first time since he’d walked into the room she was finally getting a good look at him. This man, whoever he was, was tall and slender, but his wet T-shirt showed her what was hidden underneath the cotton fabric. His chest was defined by muscles, and while he didn’t have large, overly muscular arms like so many men she saw on the beach these days, they were definitely the arms of a working man. The smile he was giving her wasn’t half bad, either. In fact, if she had the time for a boyfriend, she would say he was just handsome enough to be her type.

Time for a boyfriend?

That ridiculous thought brought her back to reality. Bracing her hands down at her sides, she pushed herself to a standing position. Holding out her hand toward his, she meant to shake it, but somehow when his hand met hers, she lost her balance. The next thing she knew she was slipping and falling to the ground. With his hand in hers, she unwillingly took him with her and they both crashed down on the hard floor.

A loud crack echoed in her head when it met with the tile floor. It disoriented her for a second. That was, until she felt the strong, hard body lying on top of her. Opening her eyes, she realized their faces were just inches apart, and she could feel his breath caressing her lips.

Heat warmed her wet body, despite lying there in inches of water. Her heart began to race again, but not like it had before in her office. She swallowed a lump of nervousness as it hit her throat. She attempted to speak, but no words came out.

“Well, sugar. You know, normally I like to spend a little time getting to know someone before I get horizontal with them, but since you’re so forceful, I might just make an exception for you.” He winked at her when he spoke the last word.

That wink, or maybe it was the words he used, caused that heat she was feeling to sink to her belly. A throbbing tingle shot down to her pussy and awoke all of her nerve endings. It caused moisture to pool in between her thighs which had nothing to do with the leaking pipe. Had anyone else said that to her she would have smacked him and laughed in his face, so why did this man give her the desire to wrap her legs around him and grind her hips into his?

“Who are you?” Jenny asked.

A giggle interrupted him from answering, and they both looked over to see Marianne still standing there in the doorway.

“Um…perhaps this would be a good time to see what I can get together to help you clean this up. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.” With a smile she shut the door, leaving them alone.

They turned their heads back to face one another again, and time seemed to stand still for a moment too long. Nervous, she was about to ask him again when he finally answered.

“Beck, and you must be my new boss,” he said, with an even bigger smile covering his face.

“Excuse me?”

“The maintenance job. I was the person at the front desk inquiring about it, and I think that you should fire yourself from that position and hire me instead. No offense, but you lack certain plumbing skills.”

His sexy grin was affecting her more than she cared to admit. That, and the fact that his tone was sounding more and more condescending, was confusing and irritating her all at the same time. He was sexy and obviously had a way with making her body react, but she didn’t care for any man criticizing her. She got quite enough of that in her professional life.

“I see. Well, we are just fine, thank you. We do not need a maintenance worker for our hotel.”

“You don’t need a maintenance worker?”

His boisterous laughter filled the room as he moved off her and lay down beside her. Holding his stomach in apparent amusement he scooped up a tiny amount of the leaked water into his hand and allowed it to cascade over his head.

Shocked by his arrogance and caring little for the way he was clearly mocking her, she got up from the floor and stood over him. The obnoxious smirk and a cock of his brow made her realize she was standing close enough for him to see up her skirt. Disgusted with his crude behavior she took a couple of steps back.

“Mr. Beck, we do not need a maintenance worker. Now, I appreciate the help, but unless you are a guest of this hotel I would like you to leave.”

Annoyed with his behavior she walked out of the room, needing to get to her suite and clean herself up.

He shouted to her, “Not Mr. Beck. Just Beck.”

“Of all the arrogant, condescending, overbearing…” Her voice trailed off, muttering the words to no one but herself as she got in the elevator.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And don't forget...The second book in the Incessant Passions series comes out on January 24th, so that gives you two weeks to read this book and gear up for the next installment!