First Class Seduction
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Anita Bunkley
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16,4K
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32
Chapter 1
Lori Myles finished her virgin strawberry daiquiri, slipped off her barstool, tugged down the hem of her ruffled miniskirt and accepted the stranger’s outstretched hand. Moving with precise steps in her black stilettos, she followed her new dance partner into the pulsing throng that was grinding and bumping to Usher’s latest single on Club Azule’s too-small dance floor.
The club, named for its spectacular view of Acapulco Bay, was a popular “in” spot in the resort town’s throbbing nightclub scene. The exclusive nightspot, tucked away on a quiet curve of the bay, dished out music that drew locals as well as tourists who wanted to socialize, enjoy the music and dance the night away.
Whirling strobe lights flashed overhead and cool neon color beams glowed in the semidark, providing Lori with a fractured glimpse of the man who was guiding her into the gyrating mob. He was slim, but his tight booty was high, round and encased in fitted jeans. His V-shaped torso, flanked by muscular arms that bulged impressively under a short-sleeved polo shirt, tapered into a wide leather belt studded with silver nails. His wavy black hair swept the ridge of solid shoulders as his slight jerk of a swagger sent the teardrop earring in his right earlobe into a dance of its own. As each burst from the strobe lights hit his golden brown skin, he glowed like copper money.
As soon as her partner elbowed space for them in the frenzied crowd, the music suddenly shifted from Usher’s fast-paced beat to a sensuous number by Mary J. Blige, changing the mood entirely. Some couples left the dance floor. Others slid into place, arms wrapped around each other to execute slow, sexy moves.
Lori gave her partner a quizzical look, wondering if he still wanted to dance. He responded by taking her hand and easing her into position, his arm circling her waist. She dropped her shoulders, sucked in a silent breath and tightened her grip on him, surprisingly shaken by the way his probing dark eyes were boring into her. Something told her that this man wanted to show off his stuff, and she planned to match him step for step.
Biting back a satisfied smile, Lori followed his lead, impressed by the near-perfect moves he was throwing down. In her opinion, this was the best way to spend a free evening—in the arms of a handsome stranger who was all about the music and the moves, and not into a lot of disjointed, phony conversation that served no purpose and went nowhere. She did not go to clubs to meet men, but to dance, and this guy was one smooth operator. He had not uttered a single word.
Fine with me, Lori thought, appreciating his lack of conversation. She spoke Spanish well enough, but rarely spoke to the men she danced with. No English was the best route to take. That way there were no complications, no false promises or drama, only a good time and a fast exit when it was time to leave.
At twenty-nine, Lori had worked for Globus-Americas Airlines (GAA) for six years, with a flying schedule that took her from Houston to Mexico City, and then on to Acapulco—a dream of a schedule that fit her carefree lifestyle as well as her love of travel and adventure. An avid dancer, Lori had come to Club Azule to escape her hotel and spend a few hours of her overnight layover having fun in Acapulco. Working as a flight attendant for GAA was exciting, but stressful work, and dancing was a good way to wind down after her long flight. Keeping things impersonal, uncomplicated, and stress-free was the only way to go. For her, a perfect night out meant bumping and grinding to music with someone who had no interest in anything other than a good time. Someone who shunned name-giving, requests for cell phone numbers, and questions about her plans for tomorrow. Why bother with all that nonproductive talk? By tomorrow morning, she’d be high in the sky, flying away from Acapulco, and on her way back to Houston.
When Mary J hit a high, soulful note and ended the set, Lori stepped out of her partner’s arms, nodded her thanks and turned to walk away. However, she was jolted to a halt when he tightened his hold on her hand and forced her to look at him.
“Thank you for the dance. It was beautiful,” he said in flawless English that had no trace of a Spanish accent. “You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight. And a hell of a dancer, too.”
His melodious voice, his gentlemanly manner and his striking good looks made Lori’s heart turn over. He sounded sincere, as if he actually expected her to be impressed by his words of praise. She tried to suppress a smile, but failed. Grinning at him, she lifted her chin, blinked her acknowledgment and started to pivot away, but he pulled her forward, placed two fingers beneath her chin and raised her mouth to his. Instinctively, Lori backed away, but when he leaned in and pressed a firm kiss on her lips, she froze. A buzz of heat flashed through Lori, carrying a warning signal to the rational part of her brain, which her lips obviously ignored. When her tongue touched his, the kiss intensified, and Lori sank into it with little hesitation, as if accepting a souvenir of her evening at Club Azule.
Standing on a dance floor in Acapulco and kissing a stranger—that was the craziest thing she’d ever done. But it seemed so natural. Why? She worried as the kiss broke off almost as quickly as it started.
Without a word, her handsome dance partner slipped into the crowd, leaving Lori to watch him go. He walked with his head tilted back, his shoulders high, as if he owned the world. As if he did as he pleased and got whatever he wanted, she thought. Hadn’t he just proven that by the moves he’d made on her? Lori could still feel his black eyes caressing her face and his muscular brown arms holding her close, and was oh-so-tempted to go after him. Just to talk to him. To find out who he was, and when he’d be at the club again.
But why bother? she decided. This has been fun, but it’s time to go back to the hotel and forget this ever happened. He’s long gone, anyway.
Shaking off crazy thoughts of seeking out her mystery man, Lori went back to her seat at the bar to settle her bill, but before she could ask for it, a mature man wearing a white suit and a charming smile offered her his hand. Lori checked her watch.
One last dance before shutting down for the night, she told herself. Exactly what I need to shake off that last go-round.
With a flip of her hair and a wide smile of greeting, Lori stepped into a hot salsa number with her new partner, wrapping her mind around her early call tomorrow morning instead of the kissing stranger she would never see again.
From the opposite side of the dance floor, Ramón Vidal watched Lori execute a sensuous salsa routine with her new partner. A shimmer of interest slid through him, making it impossible for him to tear his eyes off the woman who was not like any he’d ever met at the club before. Her silky tan skin reminded him of sweet almonds. Her dark hair, flying free as she swung from side to side, created a sensuous frame around her heart-stopping face. Luscious full lips called to him from across the room, begging for another kiss, and her sexy round hips, swinging with the beat of the music, initiated surges of desire—and even jealousy.
Why do I feel like I want to get close to her? he wondered. He didn’t even know the woman’s name, let alone have any claim to her. He never picked up girls in clubs, and tonight would be no exception. With a flip of his wrist, Ramón slapped a $20 bill down on the bar and squeezed his way through the crowded club to the front door. Once outside, he took a long breath to clear his head. Staring across the dark waters of Acapulco Bay, he swept two fingers across lips that still burned from the luscious hot kiss he’d just shared with a stranger. A beautiful stranger whose touch had sparked jolts of desire that both disturbed and excited Ramón.
