Chapter Three

Blake

“I’m sorry, sir, but it says here that your baggage has been picked up. It scanned at the checkout about an hour ago.” The woman behind the counter quickly typed on her keyboard, looking at the screen rather than him.

Blake took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. He had already been through this exact conversation with the other clerk, and had ultimately been sent over to this desk to talk about it with this woman.

The company jet wasn’t working properly, and there had been no mechanic available to work on it immediately. So he’d flown commercial, with so many layovers that his intended afternoon arrival had morphed into late evening. And now he found himself at the smallest airport he had ever been in, his luggage lost for over an hour, the clock ticking on the few hours of sleep Blake was hoping to steal before starting fresh the next day. The only thing he had with him was a small carry-on bag. Thankfully, he had one spare suit, exactly for such situations.

“Can you check the cameras? There must be something you can do—I refuse to believe that someone was able to just walk out of this airport with all my things and no one saw them, especially if you’re right when you say that it was scanned about an hour ago. That was just after I landed!” Losing his patience after hours of the same mess, he uncharacteristically thumped his fist on the table as he spoke, and the woman behind the desk gave him a warning look.

“Sir, I understand that you are frustrated with the situation, and I very much apologize for any inconvenience this has caused you, but there is nothing further I can do to help. If you have spoken with security already, that is all we can do. I’m sorry.” She looked at him with raised eyebrows, as though she was challenging him to hit the desk again. Blake knew that if he did, he would have all the security in the airport down on him in an instant, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Mustering a smile, he thanked the woman in a tone that was far too sweet for the situation. She gave him a curt nod, then turned back to her other tasks. Blake hesitated for a brief moment, trying to decide if it would be a good idea to say anything else. With a final exasperated sigh, he grabbed the lone bag on the floor next to him and headed for the door.

He hailed a taxi as soon as he got outside, then sat down in the back seat with a grunt.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Take me to the best hotel that is within fifteen minutes of here.”

The driver looked at him curiously. “Everywhere is within fifteen minutes, sir, except for the new hotel they’re putting up on the West Side, but I hear that isn’t going to be done for several months yet.”

Blake blew air through his teeth in exasperation, praying this bit of news was no more than hearsay.

“Is that so? Well, I’m here to take a look at the progress, as a matter of fact. They better be on schedule.” He sat back in his seat and looked out the window, narrowing his eyes to slits.

The driver turned around in his seat and put the car in drive, laughing and shaking his head as he did so.

“I hope you get the answer that you want, but I wouldn’t put too much hope in that,” he said. “Laidback applies to just about everything around here, including construction. Especially construction, I should say. We’ve got hotels that have been being built for years.”

Blake didn’t reply. The way his day was going, he didn’t want to discuss what else could go wrong, fearing that if he did that would somehow tip the universe off. They drove along in silence, the driver making a comment every now and then. Blake didn’t feel like talking to the man, and he wanted to tell him so, but he bit his tongue.

He really didn’t want to be the snobby rich man who had flown commercial, lost his luggage, and pitched a fit. It wasn’t characteristic of Blake, and furthermore, a meltdown by a prominent developer would probably be the talk of the small island. Really not something else he needed to deal with.

The driver had been right; it took less than 15 minutes to get to the hotel, 15 minutes during which Blake vaguely noticed the beautiful scenery backlit by the setting sun, but mostly texted various clients who he’d been going back and forth with throughout the day. He was surprised when the driver announced they’d arrived, but one plus—the only plus—of not having a suitcase was that it took no effort at all to slide out of the cab, pay, and head inside.

Immediately, he noticed two things about his surroundings: the gaudy luau décor, with fake tropical plants set against a backdrop of even tackier fake gold surfaces, and all the women walking around in next to nothing. They were beautiful, sure, but he didn’t go for the fake pneumatic look any more than the cheesy stuffed parrots tucked into various corners of the lobby.

Blake smiled slightly at the utter tackiness of the place. Even though Parker Industries had every intention of building an upscale venue here, Blake had a special spot in his heart for the tackier side of Vegas nightlife, where he’d spent more than one drunken spring break. The décor brought back all manner of memories.

In a far better mood suddenly, he walked up to the counter.

“Reservation for Blake Parker,” he told the redhaired young man sitting behind the counter. The kid looked up at him for a brief moment, then turned to the large monitor in front of him.

“There you are,” he said after a moment. “We have everything ready for you, Mr. Parker, including the gym equipment you requested.”

Pleased, Blake handed over his credit card. Some hotels were willing to take dumbbells from their ubiquitous gyms and loan them to clients for their stay. Exercise helped keep him stay sane, and with the schedule Blake kept, it was easiest to roll out of bed, workout right there in the room, and jump in the shower. Truthfully, Blake was kind of a loner, unlike his brothers, so working out in the privacy of a hotel suite was something he preferred to a crowded gym.

The clerk handed him a pen and Blake signed on the various dotted lines. “Thanks,” he nodded at the kid. “Oh—the airport may deliver some luggage for me at some point today. It went missing.”

The kid smiled. “That happens quite a bit around here. I can’t promise your items will be recovered, Mr. Parker, but if you need anything, just let us know and we’ll do our best to make it happen.”

“Thanks,” Blake said again, glad that the cheapness of the décor clearly didn’t extend to the concierge service. He grabbed his small bag and started toward the elevators, framed on either side by plastic palm trees with more parrots perched in them, a couple of them animatronic.

Just as he arrived, a beautiful young woman with black hair down to her waist stepped out, wearing an off-white dress that was as elegant as the Hotel Andrade was not. Her knockout curves were contained by the dress’s modest design, but in no way diminished. Her tanned skin seemed to glow against the cream fabric, and a simple blue agate stone at her throat caught the light and reflected it. She walked with total confidence, moving with an easy sway to her hips. On the one hand, she blended in with every other gorgeous woman in the place. On the other, there was immediately something about her that made her stand out.

Too tired to look twice to see what it might be, Blake excused himself as he pushed by, but the scent of her perfume nearly made him stop dead in his tracks. The sultry fragrance wrapped around him like a tropical night, a real one that didn’t require lianas and plush parrots to raise his body temperature.

He turned toward her once more, almost automatically. Briefly, their eyes met, hers a warm, alluring black, and her full lips lifted slightly in a hint of a smile. Then she walked past him and toward the lobby.

The doors to the elevator closed and Blake sagged back into the faux wood, pushing the button to the penthouse. There was something about her, all right. But he didn’t have time to explore it. He never did, which explained why he was the eternal bachelor when Hawk was in honeymoon heaven and Cole was about to become a dad.

Then a thought slowly started its way through his mind.

He had a thousand questions about the island, and little idea how to get any answers—if he was going to learn where things were and how things operated, he was going to have to engage one of the people who knew what they were doing. He needed someone who knew their way around. Intimately.

By the looks of things, most of these lookalike women were some form of escorts. They definitely weren’t hotel guests; not with the noticeable similarities between them and those come-hither looks at every man. He felt guilty assuming it, but not much, since he’d even noticed some money being outright exchanged between a couple as his penthouse reservation was being processed.

What if … he took her out and showed her a nice evening for her trouble, and at the same time she could give him the grand tour of the island?

It wasn’t his favorite plan in the world, but it was the best he could come up with.

As Blake arrived on his floor and stepped inside his faux tropical haven of a penthouse, he found that, in spite of the faint smell of mildew and the garish green plastic vines climbing the walls, he was smiling.

Strange.