Love At First Taste (Love Comes First 3)

“When is that going to be?”

He looks at his watch and then shrugs. “When your friends get tired of them I suppose.”

I lay back on the bed and pull out my phone as he disappears down the hall. I text Westin.LUKE

You owe me big time.WESTIN

Is it a rowboat?LUKE

Not even close. It’s a superyacht.

And it’s full of strippers.WESTIN

A superyacht?!? Put your phone away and go schmooze. I want that business!LUKE

You’re talking about the strippers, right?WESTIN

Luke! Go get it!I sigh as I slip my phone into my pocket and head back to the pool area. One of the girls is lying on the bar topless as the bartender pours tequila into her navel.

Gabriel licks the salt off her nipple, sucks the tequila out, and then takes the lemon between her lips as everyone cheers.

Two guys are in the pool, each with a topless stripper on their shoulders as they have a chicken fight. Noah and some other guys are dancing with the rest of the girls.

I look up behind me and see the Captain bobbing his head to the music as he watches the scene on his deck from the second-floor balcony. He’s an older guy with a big bushy gray mustache and a captain’s hat on his head.

There’s a girl standing beside him who looks annoyed as she watches. I only get a glimpse of her before she storms away, but that glimpse sears itself into my brain. It’s enough to shock me to my core.

My heart starts beating like crazy as I try to hold the fading image of her in my head. She’s stunning. She’s spectacular.

“Whoa,” I whisper as I stare up at the empty spot on the balcony, unsure of what to do.

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck raise as I close my eyes and try to picture her again. Curly blonde hair. Defiant chin in the air. Wide hips that could rock me harder than this boat.

Someone slaps my shoulder and I jerk my eyes open, wanting to snarl at them for taking her image away.

“Come drink,” Noah says as he hangs off me, already barely able to hold himself up. He’s got a half-empty bottle of Jack in one hand and a trashy looking hammered stripper in the other.

“Come dance,” she says as she takes off her pink beaded necklace and puts it around my neck. “You’re hot.” She reaches for me and they both stumble forward when the boat sways on the water. I catch them and drag them over to the leather sofa. They’re laughing as I plop them down on it and they’re making out before I can turn away in disgust.

I can’t be here anymore. Not when I know that an angel is hiding somewhere on this yacht.

With my pulse racing, I rush along the side of the yacht, desperately looking for her. I run into staff everywhere as I race up a flight of steps, but I don’t see her.

“Where’s the girl?” I bark at one of the maids. She has short black hair, which looks like she cut herself and is sitting on a bed, staring at her phone.

“What?” she says, never taking her eyes off the screen.

“The girl. With the… hair.” Fuck. I’m all thrown off. My nerves are all jittery. She’s no help so I continue charging through the yacht. I pass a gym, a library, a few offices with a conference table, another bar area with a pool table. “Come on,” I hiss through gritted teeth when I can’t find her.

I pass the dining room and head right into the kitchen. The Spanish chef turns to me with a psychotic stare. The man is built like a bull and looks just as angry as one. “What are you doing in my kitchen?” he asks in a thick Spanish accent.

“I’m looking for someone,” I say as my eyes dart around. It’s all spotless stainless steel, huge refrigerators, and ovens, but no girl.

“Get. Out.”

I jerk my head back in shock when I see him squeezing the butcher’s knife in his hand. “I’m a guest! Aren’t you supposed to be nice?”

“My job is to delight you in the dining room, but if you walk into my kitchen again, I will gut you and serve you to your friends for breakfast!”

“Whoa, fuck!” I shout as he steps forward with the knife in his hand. I turn and fly through the doors before he can get me.

And I nearly crash right into her. She’s standing in the dining room, shaking her head.

“You never step into Santiago’s kitchen,” she says as she crosses her arms under those gorgeous breasts. “We’ll be in international waters soon enough and he has no problem feeding the fishes if you know what I’m saying.”

I swallow hard as my eyes feast on her. She’s wearing a long white pencil skirt with a turquoise blue blouse that matches her eyes perfectly. It’s the staff uniform, but it looks like it was designed specifically for her by the most talented fashion designer in Paris. She makes it look that good.