be thinking about a man, romantic or otherwise.
***
Alexis immediately curled up in bed and fel asleep. The bed in her room was ridiculously comfortable, with silk sheets and soft pil owcases.
She’d never stayed in a place like this, ever. Most of the hotels she’d been in were Super Eights or Holiday Inns.
They didn’t leave mints on your pil ow or have a stocked mini bar. Not that she was going to take anything out of the mini bar. The bag of M&M’s alone cost eight dol ars. Eight dol ars! And it wasn’t even a ful bag -- it was one of those snack-sized ones.
But she did need food. So when she woke up at around two o’clock, she took a shower, dried her hair, and slicked on some lip gloss. She pawed through her bag until she found a hot pink t-shirt that wasn’t too wrinkled.
She headed downstairs and poked around in the little hotel store, browsing through the sandwiches and flipping through the rack of bathing suits. But everything was ridiculously overpriced, and so after a few minutes, she walked outside.
A few blocks down there was a string of little boutiques and shops, and Alexis started looking through stores until she found a reasonably priced bathing suit that was semi-flattering.
“You should definitely get that,” the clerk said when Alexis emerged from the dressing room to look at herself in the three-way mirror. “It looks fabulous on you.”
“I don’t know.” She pul ed at the straps on the top of the red bikini. “I usual y only wear a one piece.”
The clerk laughed. “Honey, nobody wears a one-piece in this town. Not even my grandmother.”
Alexis checked the price tag again. Forty-nine ninety-nine, but it was on a seventy-percent off rack, probably because no one else in Tampa was a size eight. From what Alexis had observed so far, if you weren’t a zero or a two, you were practical y plus-size.
She paid for her bathing suit and a pair of flip-flops, then stopped at the deli next door and bought a cobb salad and a lemonade. She sat outside on a little wrought-iron table, watching people pass by as she ate.
When she returned to the hotel, she headed back up to her room, changed into her bathing suit, and then pul ed on an oversized t-shirt to use a makeshift wrap. She slipped into the beaded purple flip-flops she’d picked up at the swimsuit store for three dol ars.
Something told her that beaded and purple weren’t going to exactly be the footwear of choice at a place like this, but it was the best she could do on a budget.
When she got to the pool, she picked a chair down by the end. The sun was bright, with just the perfect amount of warmth, and she turned her face to the sky and sighed contentedly. Luckily, whoever had been there before her had left a huge stack of trashy magazines – Cosmo, US, InStyle, and Star
Alexis was happily ensconced in an article about Kourtney Kardashian and al her fashion problems, when a waiter in white shorts and a hunter-green polo shirt came by and offered her a drink.
“Would you like a cocktail, ma’am?” he asked.
Of course she would have liked a cocktail. The air was warm, and the drinks looked delicious – al bright-colored and icy, with little umbrel as poking out of the top.
“Oh,” Alexis said. “Um… “ She was pretty sure the drinks weren’t complimentary. The hotel couldn’t just go around giving away alcohol, could they?
“You can charge it to your room if you didn’t bring cash with you,” the waiter offered helpful y. He had a perfect smile and longish brown hair. Probably some kind of aspiring model or actor.
Alexis sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was run up some big tab on Reid’s company. It wouldn’t be right.
“No, thanks,” she said.
“Go ahead,” a voice said behind her. “Get a drink if you want.”
She turned around, and when she did, her breath caught in her chest. Reid was standing there, wearing a pair of black board shorts and no shirt. Damn. She knew he had broad
***
Alexis immediately curled up in bed and fel asleep. The bed in her room was ridiculously comfortable, with silk sheets and soft pil owcases.
She’d never stayed in a place like this, ever. Most of the hotels she’d been in were Super Eights or Holiday Inns.
They didn’t leave mints on your pil ow or have a stocked mini bar. Not that she was going to take anything out of the mini bar. The bag of M&M’s alone cost eight dol ars. Eight dol ars! And it wasn’t even a ful bag -- it was one of those snack-sized ones.
But she did need food. So when she woke up at around two o’clock, she took a shower, dried her hair, and slicked on some lip gloss. She pawed through her bag until she found a hot pink t-shirt that wasn’t too wrinkled.
She headed downstairs and poked around in the little hotel store, browsing through the sandwiches and flipping through the rack of bathing suits. But everything was ridiculously overpriced, and so after a few minutes, she walked outside.
A few blocks down there was a string of little boutiques and shops, and Alexis started looking through stores until she found a reasonably priced bathing suit that was semi-flattering.
“You should definitely get that,” the clerk said when Alexis emerged from the dressing room to look at herself in the three-way mirror. “It looks fabulous on you.”
“I don’t know.” She pul ed at the straps on the top of the red bikini. “I usual y only wear a one piece.”
The clerk laughed. “Honey, nobody wears a one-piece in this town. Not even my grandmother.”
Alexis checked the price tag again. Forty-nine ninety-nine, but it was on a seventy-percent off rack, probably because no one else in Tampa was a size eight. From what Alexis had observed so far, if you weren’t a zero or a two, you were practical y plus-size.
She paid for her bathing suit and a pair of flip-flops, then stopped at the deli next door and bought a cobb salad and a lemonade. She sat outside on a little wrought-iron table, watching people pass by as she ate.
When she returned to the hotel, she headed back up to her room, changed into her bathing suit, and then pul ed on an oversized t-shirt to use a makeshift wrap. She slipped into the beaded purple flip-flops she’d picked up at the swimsuit store for three dol ars.
Something told her that beaded and purple weren’t going to exactly be the footwear of choice at a place like this, but it was the best she could do on a budget.
When she got to the pool, she picked a chair down by the end. The sun was bright, with just the perfect amount of warmth, and she turned her face to the sky and sighed contentedly. Luckily, whoever had been there before her had left a huge stack of trashy magazines – Cosmo, US, InStyle, and Star
Alexis was happily ensconced in an article about Kourtney Kardashian and al her fashion problems, when a waiter in white shorts and a hunter-green polo shirt came by and offered her a drink.
“Would you like a cocktail, ma’am?” he asked.
Of course she would have liked a cocktail. The air was warm, and the drinks looked delicious – al bright-colored and icy, with little umbrel as poking out of the top.
“Oh,” Alexis said. “Um… “ She was pretty sure the drinks weren’t complimentary. The hotel couldn’t just go around giving away alcohol, could they?
“You can charge it to your room if you didn’t bring cash with you,” the waiter offered helpful y. He had a perfect smile and longish brown hair. Probably some kind of aspiring model or actor.
Alexis sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was run up some big tab on Reid’s company. It wouldn’t be right.
“No, thanks,” she said.
“Go ahead,” a voice said behind her. “Get a drink if you want.”
She turned around, and when she did, her breath caught in her chest. Reid was standing there, wearing a pair of black board shorts and no shirt. Damn. She knew he had broad
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