Pool Man Read Free

hero—or antihero—was a rocker who heartlessly seduces an innocent, charming, beautiful publicist into a scorching affair, makes her think this could be it before dumping her on her ass in a very public and humiliating venue. That he bore a striking resemblance to Harlan Rivers was merely a coincidence.
    He would pay, of course. Oh, would he. It gave me great delight to plot his imminent demise. I hadn’t decided yet if I would kill him. But he was definitely getting herpes.
    As fun as that was, I kept getting distracted. Every time Jimmy happened to pass by one of the wide open windows, my attention would snap to him. He had lost the apron. And, may I say, he looked mouthwateringly delicious in shorts and a tee shirt. That he appeared to be bedazzled by the sight of me working on my tan in that ridiculous bikini didn’t hurt my ego one iota.
    So he wasn’t a rocket scientist. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.
    Maybe a scorching fling was what I needed to expel Harlan from my brain once and for all.
    I didn’t like being used, and he had used me.
    Maybe I needed to get my own back.

Chapter Two
     
    I spent the rest of the morning floating in the pool, contemplating a torrid affair with a pool boy, and accepting fresh drinks from said hunk whenever he brought them by. If I got too overheated, I rolled into the cool waters of the pool. There was a hot tub on one end and I made a mental note to try that later.
    I was deep in contemplation—envisioning Jimmy and me in that hot tub—when a shadow fell over me. I cracked open one eye.
    The tequila was doing its job, softening the edges and washing away the harsh clutch of travel jitters. I gazed up at Jimmy, who stood at the edge of the pool. Damn, he was fine. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at me.
    “You’re starting to burn.”
    Oh, I knew it. I could feel the sun baking me. It felt wonderful. I took another swig of my drink—surprised to find the glass empty—and smiled at him. He blinked. His lips opened and closed.
    I waggled the glass at him. “Could you bring me another?”
    His chin firmed. “Come and eat. I made a frittata.”
    I really wanted another drink…but my stomach growled. I realized it had been hours since I’d grabbed that anemic burger in the Miami airport.
    “Okay,” I gusted, rolling into the water. It hit my skin with a delightful shush. I shuddered and sank deeper, dunking my head. And then, streaming with water, I stepped from the pool.
    Poor Jimmy looked poleaxed. It was probably wrong of me to tease him so. Probably wrong of me to be so delighted at the way his eyes widened, nostrils flared. The way his gaze raked my near-naked body, from my head to my little pink toes, and then zeroed in on my breasts.
    My nipples were pebbled. I didn’t have to look down to tell. Hours of thinking about him, in combination with the sudden cold hit of water, had done the trick. They rubbed against the fabric of the suit with a tantalizing annoyance.
    I was possessed of the sudden urge to just rip it off. Rip it off and rip his too-tight tee shirt off and then rub against him like a cat. He probably had that wiry hair all over his chest. How good would it feel to—
    I teetered a bit and he caught me. Hard hands. Hard and warm. But gentle. “Easy there,” he said in a low thrum. Amusement threaded his voice.
    Heat walked through me, sizzled at the spot he touched. I glanced up at him, realized for the first time how tall he was. How truly broad his chest was. How exquisite he smelled.
    Some pricey men’s cologne that didn’t smell like cologne, and certainly didn’t smell girly. I wanted to lick him.
    Annoyance curled in my gut at the thought that Marlee had bought him that cologne. She’d probably licked it from him.
    He let me go—yeah, a curl of annoyance at that too—but only for a second. He reached down to grab an enormous multicolored towel, which he wrapped around me. His hands briskly rubbed my shoulders, as