Taylor hurried down the hallway, pausing briefly at the registration table to speak with David and Adele before entering the empty salon. Grateful for a moment alone, she crumpled into a chair near the back of the quiet room.

Her temporary assignment at Loving was ending. Tomorrow. And her heart was breaking. She’d been elated when Jagger had invited her into his suite because she’d assumed he was going to offer her the position, or tell her he didn’t want her to leave. When he’d gotten down on one knee, she’d almost burst into tears. Instead, he’d given her back her shoes. Leaping to that conclusion had been humiliating and she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

In a short amount of time, they’d forged a special bond. She shouldn’t have fantasized about being with him long-term, but she had. By doing that, she’d set herself up for heartache. As she glanced down, the sparkle from the bracelet caught her eye. Stop being selfish. This is Jagger’s big day and all I can think about is myself. I’m no better than Kate and I owe him an apology.

Steeling her spine, she shifted her thoughts to the task at hand. Her job at Loving wasn’t over yet and she owed him her utmost professionalism. The upcoming shows were the pinnacle of the resort’s grand opening. And she was committed to ensuring each went off without a hitch. Which meant, she’d stay and watch, no matter how uncomfortable she felt.

“Excuse me,” said someone behind her.

Rising, Taylor approached a man wearing a suit, but no mask. “Are you here for the show?”

“Taylor, I’m Dusty Whitner of Whitner Hospitality. I’m very impressed with what you’ve done for Loving Resorts and I’d like to discuss the possibility of your working for me.”

* * *

Jagger needed to find Taylor. The forty minutes he spent with his VIP guests was more than enough. Not even Kate’s evil eye could stop him. As he headed toward the salon, his phone rang.

“Loving.”

“Sir, it’s Enrique.” His concierge.

“Everything okay?”

“Robby was taken away in an ambulance.”

“Call for a car. I’ll be there shortly.” Jagger hung up and peered down the hallway. David and Adele sat behind a registration table outside the salon. Rather than alarm the staff, he texted Taylor.

“Robby taken to ER by ambulance. No idea why. Headed there now. Keep this to yourself. Sorry to miss the erotic show with you.” He slipped his phone into his pocket and powered toward the lobby.

Stopping in front of the concierge’s desk, he removed his mask. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Enrique said, “but he was taken out on a stretcher. Harbor-UCLA Medical Center.”

Forty-five long minutes later, Jagger charged into the emergency room. After he spoke with the receptionist, she buzzed him through the double doors to triage. He found Robby resting, his red eyes swollen closed and his skin covered in giant red splotches.

Robby tilted his head back to see. “What are you doing here?”

“Jesus, what happened?” Jagger asked, dragging a chair over.

“I told them not to tell you.” Pausing, Robby sipped from a Styrofoam cup. “I had an allergic reaction, but I’m okay.”

Robby didn’t just have allergic reactions. He had anaphylactic ones. “What did you eat?”

“Food. Delicious, yummy food.”

“Robby, this is serious. You scared the hell out of me.”

“I ate whatever Kate gave me.”

“What? Did you check with her?”

“Of course I did. She told me there was no shellfish.”

Jagger called his chef and hit the speaker button. “Charles, it’s Jagger. Robby had a serious allergic reaction. I’m with him in the ER.”

“Hi, Charles,” Robby said.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry to hear that,” Charles said. “Remind me what you’re allergic to again.”

“Shellfish and peanut butter.”

“Did you dine in the restaurant?” Charles asked.

“No. Since I hadn’t eaten all day, Kate brought me a plate of hors d’oeuvres.”

“With so many food restrictions, I made hors d’oeuvres to suit every palate,” the chef said. “Everything was carefully labeled with tent cards. Where’s my list? Ah, here it is. There was seafood in the lobster muffins with poached egg, caviar, spinach and hollandaise. Shrimp drizzled with peanut sauce. And deviled eggs with langoustine lobster tails. I’m sorry, Robby, and I hope you’re okay. The restaurant is packed. I’ve got to run.”

“Thanks for taking my call.” Jagger hung up.

“I didn’t eat shrimp,” Robby said, “but I wouldn’t have eaten the muffins or the deviled eggs if I’d known they were made with lobster.”

“Does Kate know about your allergy?” Jagger asked.

“Awhile back we talked about food allergies. Her husband has the exact opposite allergy as me. He’s allergic to fish, like tuna and salmon, but not shellfish.” He set down the cup. “Anyway, I’m stable and the itching has subsided. It was an accident.”

Jagger’s stomach clenched. I’m not so sure about that.

* * *

Taylor chatted briefly with the hotel owner. She didn’t want to be rude, but she had no interest in working for Whitner Hospitality. Once he left, she confirmed the first two erotic performers were ready, and checked in with the audio engineer. Since the talent couldn’t wear mics, stage props had to be wired for sound. Once her checklist had been completed, she left the salon to speak with David and Adele.

“You guys look great,” Taylor said. “Love that mask, Adele.”

“The feathers are driving me nuts,” David said. “They keep getting in my mouth.”

With an eye roll, Adele rose. “Trade seats with me.”

Taylor waited while they switched places. “Have either of you seen Jagger? He’s speaking to the audience before the show starts.”

“Nope,” David replied, adjusting his mask.

“Some time ago, I saw him heading this way,” Adele replied. “But he got a call and flipped back toward the lobby.”

Furrowing her brow, Taylor glanced down the hallway. “Hmm, I wonder what that was about.”

“Text him,” David said.

“I left my phone in my room, charging,” Taylor said.

“Use mine.” David lifted his from the inside pocket of his tuxedo and tapped the home key. “Oops, it’s dead.”

Adele checked in several guests and David jumped up to open the salon door.

“You’re going to have to introduce the first couple,” Adele said as a line formed at the registration table.

Again, Taylor glanced down the hall, hoping to see Jagger. Unless he showed up in the next five minutes, she’d have to do it.

As guests took their seats, Taylor waited in the wings, mic in hand. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. I did this once. I can do it again.

When David closed the salon doors, Taylor walked onstage as the audio engineer started the smooth jazz music.

Be bold. Surveying the packed room, she smiled. “Good evening, I’m Taylor Hathaway, event director. Welcome to the spicier side of Loving. Before we get started, I’d like to remind you that these taboo relationships will be performed by professional sex artists. So, when inspiration strikes you”—she paused while the audience laughed—“please play in your suite. If you get rambunctious in your seats, security will remove you. Let’s not upstage the performers. They work hard for you.”

She waited while the audience applauded.

“Time to turn up the heat. Though strangers, our first couple doesn’t stay that way for long. Ladies and gentlemen, ‘The Massage’.”

Taylor walked off the stage and up the aisle so she could watch from the back of the room.

An attractive man, wearing a fluffy white robe, walked onstage and disrobed, revealing his muscular, naked form. He slipped beneath the linens on the massage table and lay on his back. A flashy woman sauntered over, dressed in a short, black, front-zipper dress that displayed her ample cleavage. Her patent leather thigh-high boots glistened beneath the lights. As they exchanged pleasantries, she uncovered his shoulders, slicked her hands in oil, and began massaging.

“How’s my pressure?” she asked, stroking his skin.

“The harder, the better.”

She peeled back the sheet so she could massage his chest. “Your muscles are super tense.”

“Mmm, that feels great,” he said.

As she leaned over him, her breasts spilled from the dress. “What about this? Is this okay?”

“Definitely.”

“If you’re interested, I offer a different type of massage.”

“How so?”

“I start with a happy ending so you can be more relaxed for the rest of the massage.”

“Baby, that sounds perfect.”

She massaged his groin over the linens until his cock tented the sheet. “Feels fantastic,” he said, and released a long, deep groan.

She pulled a foil packet from her pocket, slowly unzipped her dress, and let the garment drop to the floor.

“Wow,” he said, eyeing her naked body.

After tossing off the blanket, she mounted him, and rolled the condom over his jutting erection. Then, she coated her hands in more lubricant and massaged his cock. Up and down with slow, tantalizing strokes. With a gleam in her eyes, she placed him at her opening and took him inside.

The audience’s collective moan filled the otherwise hushed room.

Gliding on her client’s shaft, the masseuse arched her back and fondled her breasts until they shimmered beneath the stage lights.

So much had changed since the last time Taylor had seen this type of show. Rather than blushing and cringing, she stood with confidence. The woman’s dirty talk, paired with the man’s grunts and groans, made her insides throb, but she ached for the one man who could bring her relief and fill her soul with love.

Despite feeling heartbroken about leaving, she was returning home with a newfound confidence. That would never have happened if she hadn’t worked for Jagger. By helping him overcome his issues, she’d been forced to confront hers.

As the couple neared their climactic ending, several in the audience fidgeted in their chairs, while one man hurried from the salon.

Taylor slipped out and over to the registration table, still being manned by Adele and David. The thirty-minute break between shows would allow time to grab her phone and text Jagger. Was he purposefully avoiding the entertainment or had something else detained him?

“Adele, can you cover for me?” Taylor asked. “I’ll be back before the next show begins.”

After Adele agreed, Taylor headed toward the elevators. Once on her floor, she walked down the quiet hall and into her suite.

Kate, dressed in a gown, sat sobbing on the sofa, a tablet on her lap. “What’s wrong?” Taylor asked as she removed her masquerade mask.

Black trails of mascara streaked down Kate’s cheeks and her nose glowed bright red. “I am ruined. He’s ruined. You want to know why bringing back the smut was a terrible idea?” On a loud sniffle, she shoved the tablet at Taylor. “Here’s your answer!”

As soon as Taylor glimpsed the photo, her stomach dropped. Jagger was sitting in bed with a woman, her nude back to the camera. “Where did you get this?”

“A reporter staying in the hotel.” Kate started sobbing again. “He’s trashed out of his mind and I blame you.”

“Ohmygod,” Taylor whispered. She pressed her hand over her heart to soothe the shooting pain. Had she done this? Was she to blame for Jagger’s setback?

“There’s more than one photo,” Kate croaked out.

Taylor swiped the screen. Jagger was in bed with two women. Ohgod, no. She swiped the screen again. He was kissing the first, while the second snapped a shot of her breasts pressed against his face. Something isn’t right. Taylor swiped back to the first photo and enlarged it.

In addition to Jagger’s hair being shorter, he had a dime-sized mole on his upper chest, near his shoulder. Either this photo had been doctored, or it had been taken a while ago, because he had no distinguishing mark like that on his chest or anywhere else. And she ought to know. She’d stared at his gorgeous, naked body like an artist studies his nude model.

Until she could figure out what Kate was up to, she’d say nothing. Despite not knowing where Jagger was, she refused to believe he was drunk and screwing two women. The one thing Kate could count on was Taylor running scared. Not this time.

“Why show these to me? Shouldn’t you be corralling your drunk client back into his pen?”

“I told you if you flaunted tits and ass, he’d get caught up in it,” Kate said, her voice thick with smugness. “I warned you, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“The hotel is sold out.” Taylor hitched her hands on her hips. “Jagger wanted results and he got them, plain and simple.”

“I’m going to start damage control, and I’d hate to have to rake your good name through the muck. The shit is going to get so deep, I’m not sure I can pull poor Jagger out this time.” Glaring at her, Kate rose. “If I were you, I’d be on the next plane back east.”

“If you were me, you wouldn’t be such a bitch.” Taylor tossed the tablet on the sofa, and walked away. After shutting her bedroom door, a little smile danced on the corners of her lips. I’m not going anywhere.

Hoping Jagger had contacted her, she grabbed her phone. And her mouth fell open as she read the waiting texts.

“Robby taken to ER by ambulance,” texted Jagger. “No idea why. Headed there now. Keep this to yourself. Sorry to miss the erotic show with you.”

Fifty minutes after the first text, he’d sent another. “Anaphylactic reaction. Doc stabilized him. Everything OK?”

Oh, no. Poor Robby. “Didn’t have phone until now,” she texted. “Sorry to hear about Robby. Everything’s going great. ETA?”

Tiny dots appeared, and then his text. “Waiting to see if they’re keeping him overnight or discharging. I’ll text you when I know more. How was the first show?”

“Sexy. Heading back for the second. Tell Robby I hope he’s OK.”

More tiny dots and then a red heart appeared. She replied with an X and an O.

Before leaving her bedroom, she viewed herself in the mirror. “I’m good just the way I am.” Though she didn’t fully believe herself, she smiled at her reflection. She was moving in the right direction, one step at a time.