I took his card and dropped it in my purse. “I’ll be sure to do that. Good night, Fredrick.”

I hurried away and toward the guest elevators. As I waited for the elevator, my chin dropped to my chest, and I tried to stop the memories of our evening from replaying in my head.

Anger, shame, disgust—all of it swirled like a cyclone.

I was not only furious with him but also disappointed in myself. Then again, I tried to reason, we hadn’t done anything, not really. We’d talked and eaten dinner. Yes, I’d had some wine, but there was no touching. Well, he’d kissed my hand and helped me into the suite, but nothing overtly intimate.

It was still wrong.

I did my best to ignore the other resort guests passing by me. It didn’t matter what I told myself, how I tried to justify it, I was appalled with Nox and with myself. I lifted my unseeing eyes and faced the truth; this was exactly what I deserved for going on a mystery date. I may never have made my prospective dates fill out a ten-page résumé, as Chelsea had joked, but at least I knew their names and marital status before I agreed to go out with them.

I could justify my situation as all Nox’s fault, but if I did, it made me the victim. I wasn’t a victim. I refused to be one. I’d been there and done that. Alex Collins was not a victim. I’d made the decision to meet Nox for dinner, me and no one else. He wasn’t to blame for my decision.

When the doors of the elevator finally opened, a happy couple stepped from the elevator. If I hadn’t noticed the way they looked at me, I wouldn’t have even realized I wore a scowl.

Stupid, naïve people.

Happiness in another person wasn’t real. All people did was betray one another: if not on the first date, then eventually. Look at Alton and Adelaide. They were supposed to be my example of love, of a healthy relationship. Hell no! They were dysfunctional on more levels than I cared to admit. Alex Collins was better off without someone. Just because continuing the Montague bloodline had been pounded into my being, since I was old enough to understand, didn’t mean that I intended to do it. There was nothing Nox or any other man could do for me that I couldn’t do for myself. This was the twenty-first century. I didn’t even need a man, if and when I wanted to continue that bloodline. That’s what sperm banks were for.

Riding up to our floor, my neck straightened with determination. I’m Alex Collins and I have a future and plans.

Shit!

I stepped from the elevator onto the multicolored carpet. Each slap of my shoes more determined than the last. The last thing a future hotshot attorney needed was an affair scandal in her closet of skeletons. How dare he lure me in? So what if he had a sexy voice and even sexier eyes. Who cared if he had a body like a Greek god? Not me. None of it mattered because that pale line on the fourth finger of his left hand told me all I needed to know.

Nox was a filthy cheater. Just like Alton and just like seventy percent of the married men out there. Well, I shrugged, as I dug in my handbag for the key to my suite, I actually made up that statistic. It was probably higher. Once I was out of this damn dress, I would Google that shit. Maybe civil law wouldn’t be so boring. If there were that many cheating assholes out there, I could have a rosy future as a divorce attorney.

My lips snaked upward into a smile. This night had just been a learning experience, something to point me in the right direction. Tapping my keycard on the lock, I opened the door to our dark suite and stood silently for a moment, suddenly concerned I was walking in on something, or more precisely, Chelsea and someone. Instead, I was greeted by more silence.

The curtains were open. Without turning on the lights, I made my way to the balcony and opened the glass door. The mild air fluttered the hem of my dress, and I wrapped my arms around my waist remembering the softness of Nox’s jacket as it blocked the chill. In the darkness the rush of the surf created a low rumble. Our view might not be as spectacular as the one from the presidential suite, but it was nice. As I kicked off Chelsea’s high heels, I suppressed the emotions that threatened to bubble to the surface. Nox wasn’t worth my anger or my tears. I wouldn’t give him any more of either.

By the time room service finally answered my call, I had my silver necklace and earrings lying in a pile on the desk. “Hello, this is Al—this is Charli Moore. I’d like to order a glass—no a bottle—of your house red.” I didn’t wait for him to figure the total. “Charge it to my room and if you have it here in less than ten minutes, I’ll double your tip.”

Hanging up the phone, I pulled the blue dress over my head. I had wine coming and I planned to enjoy it. Some rotten cheater wasn’t going to ruin my second night of vacation. No, I was going to make a night of it. Before sitting alone on the balcony and listening to the ocean, I would soak in a nice, warm bubble bath.

“I can do this,” I said aloud to no one. “I don’t need Nox.” I worked to remove the bobby pins from my hair. “I don’t even need Chelsea.” I raked my fingers through the red-brown waves. “Pretty soon I’ll be living alone in New York.” I nodded to myself in the mirror. “And I’m nearly twenty-four years old. It’s about time I get used to spending some time alone.”

Realizing that I was carrying on an audible conversation with myself, I stepped from the bathroom and took another look around the suite. It was one thing to talk aloud to myself. It was another to have anyone hear me. Maybe I’d get a cat when I moved to New York. Then talking aloud wouldn’t be considered crazy.

I read the different bottles of bubbles, oils, and salts while warm water filled the tub. As I tried to decide which one to use, which fragrance I’d choose to replace the lingering memory of Nox’s cologne, I washed the makeup from my face. It was ridiculous that I was so nervous about our dinner. He didn’t deserve the time I’d spent in his suite or the time I spent getting ready for it.

With each passing second my indignation grew.

I turned off the running water in the tub as a knock echoed throughout the suite. Wrapping the white satin Del Mar robe around my body, I walked barefoot toward the door. In a few minutes I’d have wine and a nice bath filled with bubbles. Who needed anything more?

Looking through the peephole, I saw the customary navy jacket on the young man through the lens. His face was slightly distorted with the dome of the glass, but I could see him plain enough. Had it been less than ten minutes? I wasn’t sure. Hell, I’d go ahead and double his tip. He’d made it before my tub got cold. Besides the way this week was working out, I would probably become very acquainted with the room service staff. It was best to keep myself in their good graces.

I opened the door, but before the waiter could speak, my eyes went to the man standing off to the side, the one with the pale blue eyes I wanted to forget. Regret and sorrow morphed into hunger as Nox scanned my new attire. Although the robe was long, nearly to the floor, the rich satin did little to hide my body’s reaction to his gaze.

I crossed my arms over my traitorous nipples. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“May I come in?” The low thunder rumbled my insides.

“No,” I answered too quickly, suddenly conscious of my lack of clothing beneath the robe. Even the loss of the high heels put me at a marked disadvantage. The man with the ravenous stare towered over me, taller than only an hour before.

“Miss Moore?” the young man in the navy jacket asked. “Would you like me to bring your wine into your suite?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Nox said. “I may have changed your order—a little.”

“Yes,” I said louder than I intended. “I do mind.” Turning toward the waiter I mellowed my tone. “Please go back to the kitchen. Bring me the house red and if you can manage to return alone, I’ll triple your tip.”