Page 18 of Caught Up In You (Indigo Royal Resort)
If Leona had ever thought she could imagine just what everlasting damnation would bring, this would be it. Being face to face with Cullen Cruz in his hotel suite, holding towels. What had she ever done in life to deserve this fate?
Despite her best efforts to get a moment with Vaughn Quinlan today, it just hadn’t happened. Every time she thought she had an in, one of them would get a phone call or a text that required immediate attention. There hadn’t been a day at the Indigo Royal that required so much attention in years. Just when she thought everything was finally under control, and she’d found him sitting in his office alone and not on the phone, both their phones went off with a 222 emergency code.
The emergency code system was something that the Quinlans had created when the resort was first opened and before cell phones were in use. At the time, every department manager and a few other key staff were required to carry around a pager so they could be contacted no matter where they were on the grounds. These pagers were also used to alert them to any kind of emergency on the property, since they all agreed that, while they had a loudspeaker, making an announcement might not always be the best idea. So the brothers had created codes for every type of crisis they could think of, and those were what was sent to the pagers when needed. Even though the pagers were long gone, and everyone on staff had a cell phone, the codes were still texted out any time it was necessary. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
A 222 emergency code wasn’t a life or death situation—they used the standard American 911 for that—but it was still an all hands on deck call. One never knew what they were going to find on arrival after a 222 call, and today’s was no different.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she muttered to herself as she arrived at the pool.
A large crowd was gathered around the side of the hot tub, surrounding a drunk twenty-something whose swim trunks were partially pulled down as he’d awkwardly crouched over the drain. Apparently somehow the young man and his buddies, who were also drunk and still in the hot tub, had gotten into a literal dick measuring contest, trying to see how many of them, if any, were bigger than the small-ish circular drain hole next to the filter. This guy had lost—won?—the dare, and was now stuck.
“Uncle Vaughn, I need to talk to you at some point today,” she said, grabbing his arm as he had dialed the paramedics.
“Sure, let’s just get this situation cleared, then I’m all yours.”
It took almost a half hour, but they’d finally cleared the crowd and closed the pool. After another fifteen minutes, and quite the debate among the managers about who the job of helping free the guy actually fell to, they’d finally worked him loose and sent him off to the local ER to be checked out.
When the ambulance took off, Leona looked at her watch, disappointed to see how late it had gotten. At this point she had no choice but to forgo her conversation with Vaughn and try again tomorrow. La Isla Bonita required attention, and it was already much, much later in the day than it should have been considering the importance of the guest staying in said villa. It was just a task she had been hoping to pass off. However, apparently today was not her lucky day.
Now, she was standing here face-to-face with him all over again. Their interaction last night hadn’t exactly gone as planned and she didn’t know who she was angrier at about that little fact, Cruz or herself. Without question, he took advantage of the moment, scooping her up like that and kissing her. However, not only had she not fought him off, she had kissed him back, even if only for a brief moment. Thank heavens it appeared as if no one saw anything. She hadn’t wanted to field questions from anyone today on top of dealing with the fact that her feelings about the event were all over the place.
She’d be lying if she told herself that the kiss hadn’t lived up to all the memories in her head. There was no denying that Cullen Cruz was an incredible kisser, both then and now. If anything, the man might have actually gotten better over the years. That kiss lit her up inside. She wanted more, so much more. In that moment she’d had to fight off the urge to wrap her legs around him and grind against his center, to lean her head back so he could kiss his way down her neck before ripping off her shirt and feasting on her breasts. If anyone else had kissed her like that, she would have found herself in the towel hut with him in about five seconds flat, ripping each other’s clothes off. But no, it wasn’t anyone else. It was Cullen Cruz. And she hated that he made her feel that way. A way no one else had ever come close to making her feel.
Pulling her professional face together, she smiled at him like nothing was wrong. “There are fresh towels for you, Mr. Cruz. And I have made sure that all your toiletries have been topped off. Including your bubble bath.”
He just stood there, looking her up and down. She wished he would say something, even if it was just to tell her to pound sand. This awkward silence was deafening, and it was making her even more uncomfortable.
“If there is nothing else,” she finally said, breaking the silence, turning to go.
“Menina,” he responded softly, just above a whisper.
Hearing his pet name for her, she turned around sharply, dropping the used towels in the process.
“Why do you call me that?” she spat. “I know what it means, you know. And I know it’s not flattering. So why do you feel the need to insult me?”
“It’s what you are—you are a little female,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Oh, so if we’re simply stating facts, I could just refer to you as ‘ogre’?”
“Except that’s not what you really think of me,” he said, smirking. He walked slowly toward her, holding her in place with his gaze.
“You think you know what I think of you, huh?” She put her hands on her hips, trying to look tough. She felt anything but tough in this moment, his gaze penetrating her like he saw straight into her mind.
“What I know is how you kissed me last night. That was not the kiss of someone who thinks of me as an ogre.” His smirk became a sly, charming grin, and he winked just to get his point across.
“Don’t you dare think for one moment that you know me because you kissed me. And don’t you dare think that just because you kissed me that things are okay between us, because they most certainly are not!” She pointed at him and stomped her foot in emphasis but was afraid she looked more like a temperamental pony than the confident i
n-charge woman she wanted to be.
“Leona,” he said, his tone turning from charming to pleading.
“Oh, so now it’s Leona!” she exclaimed.
“Leona,” he repeated. “I’m sorry—”
She cut him off. “Sorry for what exactly? Sorry for pulling out your wallet and trying to pay me off like a hooker? Or for abusing your power all these years and treating me like your personal maid? For accusing me of harboring our secret love child? Or for getting handsy last night with that kiss?”
“It was a pretty great kiss,” he commented.
