“I would love to photograph you,” he said, slipping his sunglasses down to give her a look that was only barely not a leer. “You have this joyous life to you. I wish to capture it on film.”
Laura knew a line when she heard it. She hooked a finger on her own sunglasses and looked at him over the top in a deliberate mirror of his own. “Nude, of course,” she said dryly.
Her sarcasm was lost on him. “Of course. It is the only way to do you justice!”
Laura settled back into her sunchair, realizing that subtlety was not her friend here. “Nope.”
“You won’t get another opportunity like this! I am an artist...”
“Go find some other naive woman with low self-esteem to try this on,” Laura suggested. “I’m not interested, I won’t be interested, and I’m not above reporting you to the staff if you continue to harass me.”
She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, every other sense alert. “Get lost.” She curled her fingers around her water bottle and prepared to throw it at him if the matter escalated.
The photographer sputtered in surprised outrage, then muttered, “Bitch,” and took himself somewhere else.
“Don’t mind if I am,” Laura muttered after him, then took a sip of her water. The old her would have fallen for his flattery. He wasn’t bad looking, if perhaps a bit outclassed at a tropical resort filled with male pageant contestants and staffed with men who could have given them a run for their money.
But she knew better. He’d picked her because she was wearing a modest one-piece by the pool and wasn’t model thin like so many of the beauty coaches and personal assistants. She was probably obvious about dodging Fred at this point, so she looked like easy pickings for the self-esteem pickup… he’d flatter her, she’d decide to do the pictures to make herself feel better about her looks, there would be drinks, a pass that she wouldn’t feel good about saying no to. Men suck, she reminded herself. She was done with them.
Except that she couldn’t get Tex’s face out of her mind. That gorgeous, stunned smile, those clever-looking fingers. The perfect laugh crinkles around his big brown eyes.
No, she thought fiercely. Done with men.
Tex was behind the bar, handling the light traffic of the sweltering afternoon. Laura couldn’t see him from the pool deck, but she knew he was there. It was hard to pretend that she wasn’t irresistibly drawn to him, but he’d been impeccably professional when she had returned to the bar the evening before. He’d clearly been confused by her, and Laura hated the longing hurt in his eyes, but chivalry seemed to be his first order of business. He’d filled her drink order without grilling her or pressing her further, keeping conversation to the business at hand.
That was how it was going to be, then. She would pretend there was nothing there, and he would respect the distance she was insisting on.
Laura was wryly aware that this plan would not have worked with anyone less than a perfect cowboy like Tex.
“Can I get you anything, Mademoiselle?”
Laura sat up to find that a young dark-haired woman in a crisp white housekeeping uniform had a tray full of bottled water, one of them open.
“Thank you, no,” Laura said, settling back on the lounge. She indicated the half-full bottle she had contemplated throwing at the photographer.
To her surprise, the woman didn’t move on right away. “You are enjoying your stay at Shifting Sands, I hope?” she asked leadingly.
Laura considered. If she hadn’t been stressing so hard about maintaining her cover, this would have been a perfect vacation spot. The bar was well-stocked, the hotel was comfortable and well-appointed. She loved the aesthetic of the whole place, with its copious tile and riotous jungle gardens. The restaurant could get crowded between the Mr. Shifter events, but Laura recognized that this was a temporary state of affairs, and had learned to schedule her visits to the services during times when most of the guests would be busy with the pageant affairs. If Jenny had been with her, she might have wanted to spend more time watching them like so many of the other visitors, but without her, if felt empty and disappointing.
That, and she kept comparing the contestants to Tex.
It was all too complicated to explain to the maid, so Laura simply said, “I’m having a great time.” It wouldn’t have been a lie if she hadn’t been working so hard to hide her true identity.
“And you know Tex, I think?”
Laura was trying so hard to figure out what kind of accent the maid had — it didn’t sound Spanish, she thought - that she wasn’t expecting Tex’s name, and she started. “I… er… we met once a few years ago. In Austin.” It was mostly the truth.
“I see.” The woman’s icy tone surprised Laura, but as quickly as she recognized it, it was swept away in a bubbling laugh. “He is a great bartender! We love his juggling!”
Taken aback by the pendulum swing of the woman’s demeanor, Laura laughed hesitantly along. “Yeah, he’s great at it.”
“He plays and sings so beautifully, as well, you have heard him?”
Laura shook her head.
“Always with the saddest songs. You are sure you do not want a fresh eau?”
“Ew?” Laura said, then her brain caught up with her ear. “Oh, eau, water, no, no thank you.” A French accent, then.