Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
Autor: Evelyn Blackwood
Heroes: Elena Vance – 29 years and Marcus Thorne – 34 years
AFTER MIDNIGHT AT THE HOTEL
Chapter 1
Check-In
The neon sign of the ‘Azure Bay Resort’ flickered in the damp night air, casting a sickly violet glow over the deserted parking lot. Elena stared at it, her fingers gripping the strap of her heavy leather tote, her boots clicking rhythmically against the concrete. It was 12:47 AM, and the humidity of the coast made her silk blouse cling to her skin, damp and suffocating. All she wanted was a shower, a glass of cold White Zinfandel, and several hours of oblivion.
As she pushed through the heavy glass revolving doors, the blast of air conditioning hit her like a physical blow, sharp and bracing. The lobby was a temple of expensive silence, floors polished to a mirror shine, gold-trimmed columns reaching up toward a vaulted ceiling. The scent of expensive lilies and old money permeated the air, mixing with the faint, underlying metallic tang of floor wax.
At the mahogany reception desk stood a man.
He wasn’t the kid in a cheap blazer she expected at this hour. This man was broad-should
bred, late thirties, wearing a charcoal suit that cost more than Elena’s car. His dark hair was slicked back, sharp-edged, and his eyes—dark, heavy-lidded, and impassive—were fixed on her as she approached. It was the kind of steady gaze that made most women tremble and men look away. But Elena had traveled the world dealing with the powerful; she wasn’t intimidated, just tired. And goddamn, she was turned on. He was the kind of man who commanded a room without saying a word, exuding a silent, masculine competence that vibrated under the surface of his composed exterior.
“Good evening,” he said, his voice a low, resonant rumble that she felt in the center of her chest. “Welcome to the Azure Bay. I’m Marcus Thorne, the resort manager. I wasn’t expecting any late arrivals tonight.”
Elena leaned against the dark wood of the desk, her hips brushing the own. The movement caused the silk of her blouse to slide back, exposing a полоска of pale skin at her throat. “Flight was delayed. The goddamn airline lost my checked luggage, and I don’t have the energy to fight with them. I just need a room.”
Marcus’s gaze dipped, tracing the line of her collarbone down to where her blouse tensioned across her breasts. It wasn’t a furtive look; it was an appreciation, unsheathed and direct. The heat of it seemed to seep through the fabric of her clothes.