Chapter 9
The weekend ahead promised to be an amazing sensory overload. For the first time since I’d started working at the Hot Horizon Hotel, we were hosting the Total Fitness Expo. Eye candy had never been hotter, and it was impossible not to drool at the bodies that had been traipsing through my lobby since my shift started an hour ago.
So far, I’d been unlucky in my quest to find a man for this week’s sexual challenge. Not one available contender had walked through the sliding glass doors of the Hot Horizon Hotel, and with only eight weeks remaining in the year, I had every intention of fulfilling my mission. I was excited about what and, in particular, who was on my agenda before New Year’s Eve arrived.
Now, with a hundred or so hot bodies to choose from, I was quietly confident this week’s challenge would be fulfilled before Sunday night rolled around.
Tonight was set-up night for the Total Fitness Expo, and from tomorrow morning through the next two days, thirty-two stallholders would be showing off a variety of items that could and should improve one’s fitness. That ranged from equipment to clothes to supplements and a variety of other products I’d never seen before.
They were a happy bunch, and after listening to their excited chatter for an hour or so, I set the ‘back in five minutes’ sign on the counter and headed into the conference room to see the enthusiasm for myself.
It was impossible to know where to look, and as my eyes flitted from one hunk to the next, I wondered if I’d died and gone to heaven. A man standing on what looked like an oval skateboard caught my eye, and I strolled toward him.
“Hello, I’m Jane Nichols, the night manager here. How’s everything going?”
“Hi, Jane, I’m Xavier. We’re nearly set up. Had a few issues with the power cords, but it’s all good now.”
“Excellent. What’ve you got there?”
His eyes lit up. “Here, jump on.” Xavier was the epitome of what a fitness instructor should look like, from his perfectly toned bulging muscles to his tanned flesh to his pearly white teeth.
“Oh, okay.” Grateful that I’d worn my flat shoes today, I stepped onto the machine and had to clench my stomach muscles and center my balance to stay upright.
“Hang onto my shoulder.”
If you insist. I did as he instructed and felt the corded muscle beneath his flesh as I clutched his shoulder.
“Did you notice that you needed to engage your core muscles?” He glided his hand over his tight-fitting T-shirt and nestled it over his non-existent belly.
“Yes, I did.”
He grinned as he pressed a button on a remote control he’d removed from his pocket. The skateboard vibrated, and giggling at the new sensation, I clutched his shoulder tighter.
“Now try to let go.” His smile was extraordinary, worthy of any toothbrush commercial.
I raised my hands and needed to engage my core muscles to keep upright.
“See how it works?”
“Yes, it’s great.” I giggled at the vibrations rattling through me, teasing all the nerves in my body.
“Ready for more?” He wriggled his neat eyebrows.
“Sure.”
He dialed it up. The vibrations hit a new tempo, and I squealed and held onto his shoulder again.
“Let go, you cheater.”
Giggling, I let go and grabbed him again. Over and over, I tried it, each time letting go for just that little bit longer until soon I was able to stand upright unassisted.
“See? You’re a natural.” He seemed as proud of me as I was.
I laughed at his encouragement. “Okay, I’ve had enough now.”
Xavier jabbed the remote. The machine stilled, however my body continued to sizzle. “You’re still feeling it, aren’t you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s the beauty of it. Ten minutes on this machine, and you’ll feel it working for another ten minutes after you step off. It’s brilliant.” His smile dazzled, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d be handing over my credit card. With the way I was feeling, in addition to the way he was looking at me, I had no doubt Xavier was in for a very successful weekend.
I had to escape, and quickly before I’d need to find room in my apartment to fit this wonderful device.
I took a brochure, to which he’d stapled his card, and I thanked him for his excellent demonstration. He exaggerated a sad face as I said goodbye, and I giggled as I carried on strolling through the stalls.
At the supplement stand, a woman with boobs perky enough to rival Lolita’s encouraged me to sample the protein shake and power bars. They were so good I promised to come back and buy some tomorrow, and I meant it.
At one of the clothing stalls, I eyed off a lime green Lycra top and matching shorts set that was just to die for. I asked the young man with the tribal tattoo adorning his bulging bicep to put it aside for me.
He obliged with a smile, and I carried on. At this rate, I was going to spend my night’s pay before the conference had even started.
Laughter at the back of the hall caught my attention, and I headed in that direction. An elaborate stand had somehow been created to replicate an old-fashioned curved caravan. Out the front were picnic chairs and tables nestled on fake grass, and everyone around the caravan held a clear plastic cup with amber liquid inside. Smiling, I made my way through the crowd to see what the fuss was about.
The man behind the counter was unlike any other man in the room. He was a tad scruffy, with honey-colored hair that met his shoulders and blended in with his full beard.
“Hi, I’m Jane Nichols, the night manager of the hotel. How’s everything going?”
“Hello, Jane. Let me guess—you’re a wine drinker, right?”
I chuckled. “Yes, you got me.”
“Well, we need to fix that. Let me introduce you to my low-carb, low-calorie, high-nutrient brew.” He handed a plastic cup to me. “I’m Frankie, by the way.”
“Hi, Frankie. Do you make this yourself?”
“Sure do. Wild Horses is my brewery up in the Adelaide Hills. It used to be a stud farm, hence the name, but we make more money out of beer than we do the horses. I’ve been perfecting my beer since before I was legal to drink.”
I felt the pressure to like his drink and took a tentative sip, but the taste grabbed my tongue, and before I knew it, I scrunched up my face.
“Okay, so that was Bucking Bronco. By the look on your face, I’d say you’re a sweets kind of girl. Let me guess—chocolate mud cakes are your thing. Am I right?”
I was pleased he wasn’t upset with my reaction and nodded in response as he took the plastic cup from me and tossed it into a waste bin.
He poured a decent quantity of a different brew into another plastic cup and handed it to me. “This is Curious Colt. It’s at the other end of the spectrum. It’s sweet, and you’ll taste notes of honey and pear.”
Again, I sipped, bracing for the affront to my taste buds, but I needn’t have worried. This one was much more pleasant.
“And . . .?” I was taken by Frankie’s green eyes as he watched me. They were a fascinating shade, like freshly podded peas, and there wasn’t even a hint of any other color in them—no gold flecks, no shades of blue. It was as if his eyes were absolutely pure.
I took another sip, just to be sure, then I nodded. “This is much more to my liking.”
“Hmmm, but could you drink it all night long?”
I frowned and sipped some more. “No, probably not.”
“Right.” He took my cup, binned it, and spun toward the back of his stand where he had six large silver barrels lined up. He paused, with a cup in his hand, and turned back to me. “Corn chips or white chocolate?”
“Pardon.”
“Which one, quick?”
“Corn chips.” I laughed as he held the cup beneath a barrel and turned the tap.
He handed the cup to me. “This, Jane Nichols, is the brew for you.”
I was fascinated by both his powers of deduction and his conviction that I’d love this drink. With his fabulous green eyes on me, I sipped. It was fresh, crisp, and more like a complex wine than a beer. A few sips later, I nodded, and Frankie slapped his hands together.
“Boom! I’ve got you, Jane. You, my lovely, are a Frisky Filly woman.”
I laughed at his enthusiasm and the interesting name for his drink. “I guess I am.”
Frankie enraptured me. His jovial manner, his fascinating eyes, his enthusiasm—all of him made me wish I could stay with him all night long. It took a mammoth effort to drag myself away from the bubbly hunk with the honey-colored hair and his vibrant energy, but I’d already been away from reception for too long.
I returned to my desk, pleased that there wasn’t a line-up of people waiting for me.
The next couple of hours were a beautiful blur as some of the hottest bodies on the Gold Coast cruised through the lobby. They drifted between the conference room, the Triple H Bar, or outside and then, ultimately, up to their rooms.
Frankie was one of the last to leave. He came out of the conference room, laughing with a couple of buff men. None of them looked my way as they headed toward the elevator. Whilst the two muscular gods at his side walked with a stiff gait like every muscle was made of steel, Frankie had a manly smoothness to his stride as if he was walking through a grassy meadow. As they waited for their ride, he turned to me, and our eyes caught. “Oh, hey, Jane.”
I blinked at him, stunned that he’d remembered my name. “Hi, Frankie.”
“What time do you finish?”
“Not until six-thirty tomorrow morning.”
He whistled, and the sound echoed about the marble expanse. “You poor woman. I feel for you. Come by and see me tomorrow.”
My heart fluttered at his invitation. “Okay, I will.”
I was sad when the elevator doors opened, and my fun-loving, beer-brewing, green-eyed hunk disappeared from view.
Frankie from Wild Horses had declared himself Memphis’s next adventure.
I just had to figure out how to do it.