Latin Heat by Denise L. Wyant Page A

isn’t rocket science. Simone picked up her purse and rolled her eyes. “That would be fine. Thank you.” See, she thought, I can be polite even if I am cranky. And hot. And tired.
    Twenty minutes later — Simone noted the time when she ordered her drink — a tall man dressed in a linen suit walked into the bar. She tried to watch him without being obvious. He carried himself with an air of authority. She thought she spotted a name tag on his lapel. It did nothing to detract from his looks. The man was the Latin American Adonis. Simone took another swig of her blue frozen alcoholic concoction and watched as his chocolate eyes perused the bar. As she caught herself imaging what lay under that suit, her brain reminded her he was probably just like her cheating ex-husband. Someone that good looking probably had women falling all over him.
    When the man’s gaze landed on hers, Simone quickly looked away. She picked up her drink and took a healthy pull from the straw. For some reason, her throat felt suddenly dry. She sensed the man’s presence before she looked. The power and control he radiated brushed across her skin as he stood next to her. Simone fought back a shiver.
    “Excuse me, Señora Blackburn?” His voice was oh-so-smooth. Sinfully smooth. His Spanish accent sent a chill down her spine to regions she would rather banish from her mind.
    Simone uncrossed her legs and slid off the bar stool. Lifting her chin, she replied, “I am.” She tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear before continuing, “And you are?”
    The man’s smile nearly blinded her and caused her heart to flutter. She’d obviously had too much to drink. She pushed the glass toward the bartender, out of her reach. He held out a manicured hand. “Roberto Vargas. I’m the general manager of the resort.”
    She gripped his hand delicately, enjoying the smooth feel of his skin. It’s not freaking fair his nails look better than mine! Just like Asshole’s . Why’d you have to go there, girl? Get back to the smoking-hot man in front of you. “Good to meet you,” Simone licked her lips before she released his hand. She shook herself. Now was not the time to flirt. “Do you have my keycard?”
    “I do. In fact, I would be honored to escort you to ensure the card works.” He offered her his arm after he’d slipped her card into his suit jacket pocket.
    Oh. So he’s going to try and woo me. Simone visualized Asshole using the same move on Barbie. Whatever. I’ve had my fill of men, especially ones who think they’re God’s gift to the species . Manwhores. All of them! Simone picked up her purse. “Lead the way.” She stood beside him and ignored his offered arm.
    Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed he tried to hide a smirk. What was that about? Apparently he did think he was all that and a bag of chips. The thought disgusted her. She found herself walking too fast and having to slow down so he could go first as he led her down a path she hadn’t previously noticed. They walked around a large clump of hedges and plants, arriving at a golf cart. Roberto stopped and motioned to the passenger seat with another of his sexy smiles. “Your chariot awaits.”
    Simone brushed past him, and plopped down in the seat. I can’t wait until I’m finally alone in my room.
    ****
    Roberto waited for the explosion to happen as the sexy vixen with the sharp tongue made herself comfortable. She twisted, glancing at the back seat of the cart. He watched in amusement as anger lit her features. Even so, he couldn’t help but be intrigued by the way her lips flattened in disdain.
    “What are my bags doing here? The bellhop should’ve delivered them a long time ago.”
    He felt an easy confidence, despite the livid fire in the woman’s pale green eyes. He’d become accustomed to dealing with American women while living in the States during his undergraduate and graduate studies. Normally, he’d appeal to their softer side, but he knew this