Ew. Too much info. But I was going to try to be positive here. Maybe he was simply waiting for the one—being me. Moving on.
“Then we have target number two. Grayson Thomas, tech genius who made his first million—or rather, two hundred million—at the age of seventeen when he sold his video game to Sony. He’s only increased his wealth since then as he continues to develop more apps and games. Aside from his obvious geekiness, he’s actually one of the hottest billionaires on the list. Unfortunately, he’s also very reclusive. Which might make it hard to even get on his radar except for the small window when he’s out golfing.”
“He checked in this morning,” Penny said. “He’s staying in one of the villas that’s not too far from here.”
Bingo. This was the kind of information that was going to be invaluable to the operation.
I tried to sound casual. “I was thinking that in your capacity as the front desk shift manager, you might be able to see if any of our targets have recently made any bookings or reservations through the concierge service. In case I wanted to, say, be there at the same time?”
“I suppose I could find that out for you. As long as you promise not to do anything crazy with that information. I don’t want to get a call from hotel security because you broke into someone’s room and were found naked in their bed.”
“No promises,” I joked. “But seriously, the last thing I want is these guys to see me as just a bimbo willing to put out for a night with a billionaire. They get that all the time. I’m looking at the big picture. You know the old saying, no one’s going to want to buy the cow if the milk is free. As my mom would tell you, this dairy truck is closed until there’s a ring on it.”
“You’re the cow in this story?” Holly asked.
“You get my point.”
“So what are you planning on doing to get their attention?” Penny asked. “Are you just going to walk up to them in the bar and offer to buy them a drink?”
“I don’t know. These guys are used to supermodels and actresses hitting on them all the time. Even if they arrive alone at the bar, their defenses are going to be up. My approach is going to have to be a little less…conventional. If I could meet them when they’re in their element, doing something they enjoy, with their defenses down, they’d be more susceptible to my charms.”
Penny stood, leaving the drink I’d topped off on the coffee table. “Well, as fun as this is, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll be off at six and then we can go get something to eat. I’ll see what I can find out while I’m there.”
I smiled at my friend. It felt good to have her in this with me, reminding me of some of the scrapes we got into when we were kids. I wasn’t fooling myself into thinking that she believed this was going to work, but I’d take her support any way I could.
She and Holly would see. This was going to work, and I was going to have the freedom and the security to pursue what I wanted on my terms. And hopefully, love in the process.
4
Tiny beads of sweat were pooling above my upper lip as the sun baked my pale skin, despite the 1000 SPF sunscreen I’d slathered on. It was nearly one o’clock in the afternoon, and I had been sitting poolside for nearly two hours with no sign of Brennan Thornock Junior. He was late.
According to Penny’s friends in Housekeeping and Food Services who she spoke with last night, for the past three days, Brennan Junior had spent the morning golfing before retreating to the garden pool, where he swam ten laps before enjoying a poolside massage.
If he didn’t get here soon, I was going to be a nice baked crab cake.
Grabbing the end of my towel, I dabbed the skin above my upper lip, careful not to smudge the tawny-colored lipstick I’d put on. My mouth felt like I’d stuffed cotton balls in it, thanks to a late night of drinking with Holly and Penny.
It felt strangely like I was lying in an Easy-Bake Oven, slowly cooking myself with the heat of an eighty-watt bulb. I eyed my now empty glass of iced water. I was on a budget, and spending twelve-plus dollars on one watered-down drink was not in my best interests. So water it was.
Pushing my sunglasses down so I could get a better view, I looked around for the server who’d brought me the original water, but I was guessing a non-tipping water-swilling guest was not on his priority list of customers when there were billionaires around who would tip far more generously. Or at all.
Grabbing my phone, I texted Penny.
No sign of BJ. (The nickname had seemed easier to use for Mr. Brennon Thornock Junior.) You’re sure he’s coming?
I texted Holly next, who had been passed out in bed when I left.
What would I have to pay you to bring me a bottled water and a package of peanuts?
Holly was such a lightweight. Literally. Not just because it only took two shots of rum to get her singing the theme song to Singing in the Rain standing on the chair on Penny’s porch in nothing but her Puritan-like navy, high-necked swimming suit, but because she weighed like maybe a hundred and ten, a hundred and twenty tops. She had a figure that I would kill for.
While I was definitely the shorter, more Rubenesque of our trio, and Penny was the mid-statured athlete who had gotten up at the nightmare hour of six to go running—running!—Holly was the Gigi Hadid. All tall and slender and with cheekbones I’d cut off my left boob for. Okay, half of my left boob, which would still give me plenty to fill my DD-cup bra. But you’d never know it from the way she hid behind baggy ankle-length dresses and those thick, black-framed glasses.
Penny’s response came a couple minutes later.
He pulled his hamstring and is running late. Still has the massage booked. Give it fifteen more.
I sat up and adjusted my position, the slats on the chair sticking to my thighs for one painful moment. Fifteen more minutes. If he wasn’t here by then, I was going to have to bail or risk sunstroke, which would definitely set me back.
Holly never replied.
That’s it. At this rate, even if the guy showed up, I’d either pass out or be unable to speak since the inside of my parched mouth felt glued together.
Swinging my legs to the side of the lounge chair, I slipped into the three-inch black slingbacks and stood. A quick glance at my backside showed horizontal stripes from where the chair had pressed into my flesh. Lovely. Well, hopefully that wouldn’t be what would catch the guy’s eyes.
I glanced down and took a moment to adjust the girls before tucking a finger in the hem of my bikini and pulling out the wedgie. The white bikini was a risk, as I was well aware that, should this thing get wet, I might as well be standing completely naked. But when I saw it, I was immediately inspired by an old Bridget Bardot movie thanks to its 1950s vibe and knew I had to have it.
With a nod to Ms. Bardot, I walked as gracefully as I could to the bar set up in the corner of the pool area, having given up on Holly bringing me any refreshment.
I slowed a little when I saw the bartender. It was the same guy from yesterday who’d momentarily made me forget I had a mission here. Mike. He watched as I approached, the slight smile that tugged at his lips blooming into a full gorgeous grin by the time I made it to him.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Banana Daiquiri. How is day two of your vacation?”