there had simply been a mix-up regarding the first names.
“Yes, it is for Herculea Sanchez.” The man confirmed.
Furrowing her brow, Herculea requested, “Well, then, yes, please send it up to my room.”
She hung up the phone and darted out of bed. Rushing to her duffel bag, she dug out a wrinkled satin robe and threw it on, tying the sash tightly around her waist. There would be no time to dress or shower, and she would have to greet the porter in her robe.
A knock sounded at the door, and Herculea marched over to answer it.
“Good morning, Miss Sanchez. I have a package for you.”
The young Brazilian bellman, handsome in his navy uniform, immodestly raked his eyes over her body before clearing his throat and offering the package. Ignoring his shameless gaze, Herculea fixed her eyes on the package, a small, rectangular box wrapped in pink with a notecard on top.
“Thank you, Senhor .” Herculea grasped the package and handed the bellman some coins as a tip.
“ Obrigado .” The bellman brazenly took one last look at Herculea, disheveled dark hair cascading over her slinky robe, and walked away.
The box looked to contain some sort of jewelry, perhaps a wristwatch or necklace. On the other hand, it could be a ballpoint pen. Herculea frowned, lightly shaking the box, as she tore off the notecard and read the words printed in capital letters: “SEE YOU SOON, BEAUTIFUL.” There was no name or signature, just those four bold words. Unwrapping the box and lifting off the lid, Herculea revealed a sapphire choker set in solid gold. The necklace was stunning and glittered enticingly in the morning light. But who was it from?
Herculea walked across the hall, rapping firmly on Kent’s door. Kent answered almost immediately, and Herculea nearly fainted. Wrapped only in a terry cloth towel from the waist down, Kent was dripping wet. His frame was even more muscular than it looked under his usual khakis and button down shirts. His solid board of a chest was covered in dark gold hair that gave Herculea the urge to reach out and twine her fingers through it.
Flaming red, she looked up into his eyes and was surprised to see that he was ogling her body as well. Suddenly wishing she had freshened before she came so impulsively to his door, Herculea’s scarlet cheeks grew even hotter.
Kent swallowed visibly and audibly, his eyes moving to her face as he managed, “Good morning. Did you, um, sleep well?”
Returning to her senses as she met Kent’s familiar blue gaze, she replied, “Like a baby. How about you?”
“Um, yes, very well indeed. Did you want to get some breakfast?”
“Yes. But first I wanted to show you this.” Herculea handed him the gift box. “Open it,” she prodded.
“Is this for me?” Kent asked, looking confused.
“No.” Herculea frowned, instantly knowing that the gift had not been from Kent. “No, it was delivered to my room this morning. Someone brought it to the hotel.”
Kent opened the box, his eyes widening as he inspected the shiny jewelry inside. “Who gave you this?”
“I don’t know. Someone anonymous who wrote this notecard.” Herculea placed the card in his hand.
“See you soon, beautiful?” He read on a questioning intonation. “But who could this be from here in Rio?”
“That’s what I was wondering. I have no idea.” Herculea shook her head.
“I’m no jewelry appraiser, but I would say this looks authentic. These are genuine sapphires, and the gold could be 18 Carats,” Kent said in amazement.
“I think I should call the front desk and see if they can give me any more information.” Herculea took the box from Kent and started to walk away. “I’ll meet you in the dining room in a half hour for breakfast, okay?”
Giving her a stern look, Kent replied, “Yes, I’ll meet you there. Be careful, Herculea.”
The warning was spoken in an avuncular fashion, but the
“Yes, it is for Herculea Sanchez.” The man confirmed.
Furrowing her brow, Herculea requested, “Well, then, yes, please send it up to my room.”
She hung up the phone and darted out of bed. Rushing to her duffel bag, she dug out a wrinkled satin robe and threw it on, tying the sash tightly around her waist. There would be no time to dress or shower, and she would have to greet the porter in her robe.
A knock sounded at the door, and Herculea marched over to answer it.
“Good morning, Miss Sanchez. I have a package for you.”
The young Brazilian bellman, handsome in his navy uniform, immodestly raked his eyes over her body before clearing his throat and offering the package. Ignoring his shameless gaze, Herculea fixed her eyes on the package, a small, rectangular box wrapped in pink with a notecard on top.
“Thank you, Senhor .” Herculea grasped the package and handed the bellman some coins as a tip.
“ Obrigado .” The bellman brazenly took one last look at Herculea, disheveled dark hair cascading over her slinky robe, and walked away.
The box looked to contain some sort of jewelry, perhaps a wristwatch or necklace. On the other hand, it could be a ballpoint pen. Herculea frowned, lightly shaking the box, as she tore off the notecard and read the words printed in capital letters: “SEE YOU SOON, BEAUTIFUL.” There was no name or signature, just those four bold words. Unwrapping the box and lifting off the lid, Herculea revealed a sapphire choker set in solid gold. The necklace was stunning and glittered enticingly in the morning light. But who was it from?
Herculea walked across the hall, rapping firmly on Kent’s door. Kent answered almost immediately, and Herculea nearly fainted. Wrapped only in a terry cloth towel from the waist down, Kent was dripping wet. His frame was even more muscular than it looked under his usual khakis and button down shirts. His solid board of a chest was covered in dark gold hair that gave Herculea the urge to reach out and twine her fingers through it.
Flaming red, she looked up into his eyes and was surprised to see that he was ogling her body as well. Suddenly wishing she had freshened before she came so impulsively to his door, Herculea’s scarlet cheeks grew even hotter.
Kent swallowed visibly and audibly, his eyes moving to her face as he managed, “Good morning. Did you, um, sleep well?”
Returning to her senses as she met Kent’s familiar blue gaze, she replied, “Like a baby. How about you?”
“Um, yes, very well indeed. Did you want to get some breakfast?”
“Yes. But first I wanted to show you this.” Herculea handed him the gift box. “Open it,” she prodded.
“Is this for me?” Kent asked, looking confused.
“No.” Herculea frowned, instantly knowing that the gift had not been from Kent. “No, it was delivered to my room this morning. Someone brought it to the hotel.”
Kent opened the box, his eyes widening as he inspected the shiny jewelry inside. “Who gave you this?”
“I don’t know. Someone anonymous who wrote this notecard.” Herculea placed the card in his hand.
“See you soon, beautiful?” He read on a questioning intonation. “But who could this be from here in Rio?”
“That’s what I was wondering. I have no idea.” Herculea shook her head.
“I’m no jewelry appraiser, but I would say this looks authentic. These are genuine sapphires, and the gold could be 18 Carats,” Kent said in amazement.
“I think I should call the front desk and see if they can give me any more information.” Herculea took the box from Kent and started to walk away. “I’ll meet you in the dining room in a half hour for breakfast, okay?”
Giving her a stern look, Kent replied, “Yes, I’ll meet you there. Be careful, Herculea.”
The warning was spoken in an avuncular fashion, but the
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