you know, it’s morning.” He gestured below his waist to my favorite body part. Sure enough, it was waking up and taking notice.
I brazenly watched him pull on his jeans and yank his T-shirt over his head, shamelessly ogling what was finally mine to ogle. He smirked, then stalked to the bed and flattened me with another searing kiss.
I gasped for breath as he pulled away and said, “See you tomorrow, babe. This is good. Now I have time to make sure there are no lingering thongs under my mattress.”
I shrieked and grabbed one of the dozens of pillows from behind my head, launching it at his retreating form.
“ Kidding! You know I’m only kidding.” He flashed a huge smile, kissed the air between us, and ducked out the door.
I fell to the bed, the giggles escaping despite my efforts. About thirty seconds after he left, I passed out and slept forever.
* * *
The next day Trip had some errands to run, but he set a time to come get me later in the evening. My room was a beautiful suite that took over the entire top floor of the hotel. I thought it was a bit excessive, but I decided to shake off my misgivings and just enjoy it. How often would I ever get a chance to stay in a room like that? I didn’t date too many heirs to hotel fortunes.
I took a l ook out the front windows and checked out the view of Beverly Hills’ main drag. It was lively and bustling; not quite at New York City levels, but busy nonetheless. It was strange to be in such a populated city and hardly see any pedestrians. The opposite windows looked out over the pool in back. It was a known social gathering place for the young and beautiful set of Los Angeles; the place to see and be seen. And my God. Even the tourists were beautiful.
I threw on a bathing suit and decided to check out the action poolside. When I headed outside, a young man came up to me and introduced himself as Philippe. He explained that he was my personal cabana boy for the day, which almost made me crack up laughing. A personal cabana boy? What exactly was I supposed to do with him?
There were blue and white striped tents bordering one side of the property, and Philippe escorted me toward one of them, letting me know that it was reserved exclusively for me during my stay. I peeked inside briefly, took note of the pile of spare towels stacked on the white Adirondack chairs inside, but opted to head out near the pool instead. I needed some color . Not only just because my skin was practically blinding white in February, but because I especially wanted to get some sun-kissed glow before the Academy Awards the following week.
I settled into a poolside lounger, and whipped out my cell phone to call Lisa. She answered with her usual tact. “How’s the sunshine, bitch?”
I laughed. “How did you ever leave this place? It’s incredible!”
“Well, if you’d ever come out to visit during the four years we lived there, you would have known that already, dipwit.”
“You know I don’t fly. But after travelling first class, my opinion may have changed on the matter.”
“Nice, isn’t it?”
“Mmm hmm. You know what else is nice?”
“What’s that?”
“This fricking hotel! I’m poolside right now on the comfiest lounge chair ever created, a cabana boy at my disposal.”
“Mmm. Cabana boy. Is he hot?”
“He’s adorable. But he’s probably nineteen. Get your head out of the gutter.”
“Can’t. Pregnant, remember?”
“Obviously. Lord knows you never let anyone forget it.”
“Shut up, you turd. Oh, hey! Make sure you get their avocado salad. It’s delicious.”
My jaw gaped open at her unwitting revelation. “Wait. You’ve eaten here? Here ?”
“Uh, no. I just heard that it’s really good.”
I wasn’t buying it for a second. “You traitor! You’ve been to this hotel before,
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