Slammed Read Free

toward the dock, her feet sinking into silky pale sand. She’d give anything to get out of these clothes and into a swimsuit. But that wasn’t exactly professional attire for an important business meeting, even if this was French Polynesia.
    Women in tiny bikinis and sarongs wrapped around their hips strolled along the deck, men in flowered board shorts with some of them. She regarded their casual attire enviously. A family with several small children squealing with excitement headed toward the pool. Brooke studied people, looking for Dylan.
    She hadn’t seen him in person for years but she was pretty sure she’d recognize him. They’d gone to the same high school in San Amaro, but that had been ten years ago. She’d seen recent PR photos though, the ones on his website, the ones they used to help market their apparel and other ones on the Internet about the Association of Surfing Professionals World Tour surfers. He hadn’t changed much since high school, according to those photographs. He still had longish dark hair that hung over his forehead and he still had those amazing silvery-gray eyes fringed with thick dark lashes, still had that sexy smile that beamed white in his tanned face.
    She wandered down the deck, glancing at the bungalows, unsure which was his. Perhaps she should have left a voicemail. But she had a feeling he wasn’t going to return a phone call from someone from Jackson Cole wanting to arrange a business meeting.
    Drunk. High. Orgies. Her stomach clenched thinking about Dylan’s activities lately. He’d always been a bit of a bad boy, even in high school, with girls after him all the time. He probably wouldn’t even remember her. She’d never been one of those lucky girls who’d attracted his attention. Not that she’d wanted his attention. Okay, well, she couldn’t say she would’ve turned him down if he’d noticed her, but really, that was so far outside the realm of possibility she hadn’t even entertained that as a fantasy. He’d been a jock, a surfer, athletic and talented, someone everyone knew was going to make it big. He’d been fearless and exciting, charming and fun.
    She blew out a breath. She’d lost patience with this. She returned to the front desk. “Hi,” she said with a smile. “I need to know where Dylan Schell is staying.”
    “I’m sorry,” the young woman said, as expected. “I can’t give out that information.”
    “You can give it to me,” Brooke said, giving her a businesslike smile. She pushed her card across the desk toward the other woman. “I’m with Jackson Cole, one of Dylan’s sponsors. We need to meet with him urgently about some business matters.”
    “Oh.” The woman looked at the card, then back at Brooke, taking in her attire, so different from the casual clothing everyone else there wore. Also taking in her lack of makeup, lank hair and sweaty face. Clearly she wasn’t a beach bunny trying to get with a pro surfer. “Jackson Cole. Really?”
    She no doubt recognized the name as one of Dylan’s biggest sponsors. They were well known in California and getting more known in the US, maybe even this far away. After all, the ASP event had just happened there; probably everyone had been aware of the surfers and the big sponsors and all the media who’d been there covering the event.
    “Yes.” Brooke kept her smile in face. “It’s pretty important for his career.”
    “I could put you through to his room,” the girl said.
    “I tried that already.” Brooke leaned closer. “He didn’t answer and…not that I’m worried…but I hope he’s okay. Apparently he’s been pretty…um…busy lately.”
    The girl nodded and lowered her eyes. “Er. Yes. He has.”
    Flerkinschmidt. She knew it because she’d been with him. Brooke resisted an eye roll.
    The girl lifted her eyes and Brooke saw the ire there. Oh damn. The other woman was pissed at Dylan. No doubt he’d blown her off for other girls.
    “He’s in bungalow eighteen,”