The Affair (The Evolution of Sin 1)

She laughed but it wasn’t the full-bodied sound I was used to. Brenna Buchanan was Hollywood royalty and my best friend from Paris. It was thanks to her that I was here in the first place, due to a scheduling conflict with an up-coming film. But something about her tone had me second-guessing that.

“How are things on set?”

There was a telling pause and the creak and bang of an old door slamming shut. “Great.”

“You must be in,” I paused and raked my foggy brain for the details, “Verona now?”

“Mmhmm.” A whistle in the background sounded suspiciously like the call of a boiling kettle. “Listen, darlin’, I don’t have much time between scenes, I just wanted to call to square away the details at the resort.”

I sighed wearily as I got into the warm interior of the car. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you, B?”

“No.” Her own sigh echoed my own. “Maybe. I just needed to, um, take some time off from the fans.”

“Don’t let all this fame go to your head,” I leaned my head back against the sticky leather and gave the driver directions to the resort. “I miss Brenna Buchanan, curvy misfit, not the Glamazon on red carpets in couture gowns.”

She made a humming sound. “Fair enough, darlin’, and for you, I will always be that girl. But admit it, I rock haute couture.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed for the second time in weeks. “I wish you were with me.”

“I know.” Her voice softened into a croon. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” I murmured as the cab flew past brilliantly painted low buildings and old trucks lagging under the weight of debris in the peeling cabs. “I’m happy for the time to paint.”

“It will be good for you to relax,” she agreed before a cacophony of falling metal erupted in the background. “Listen, I should go. But don’t worry about anything. I’ve got a handle on the situation over here and I set up everything with the resort under my name. Just relax, drink the tequila and find a man who makes your heart beat.”

I smiled wryly as I thought of the handsome Frenchman I’d met on the plane. He had my heart racing the moment I caught sight of those electric eyes.

“Will do. Take care of you and your gowns.”

She laughed and kissed me through the phone but I held it to my ear for a minute after she hung up. Brenna had lived in Paris for the last three years with her husband Franklin Robinson, a wealthy Brit with business in France. She had taken me under her wing as soon as I arrived and she was the first one I had turned to when Christopher had shown up in Paris to destroy my life.

We pulled up to the Westin Resort and Spa in Los Cabos and I was immediately blown away by the sheer size of the resort. The multistory tangerine building sprawled across a massive lot dotted with palm trees and dense green shrubbery. Women wearing expensive jewelry and small bathing suits wandered in and out of the hotel and a group of men in exquisitely cut suits exited a huge black SUV ahead of me.

“Brenna,” I muttered, as a bellboy took my luggage with a smile.

“Ah, Brenna Buchanan.” The man behind the grand marble desk smiled warmly at me. “Will Mr. Robinson be joining you later?”

I blushed at the mention of her handsome husband. “No, I’m here alone.”

He frowned and his fingers clattered across the keyboard ominously. “We have you booked into a deluxe suite with the couples package. I’m afraid it’s nonrefundable.”

Of course. I smiled prettily. “I completely understand. Thank you.”

He nodded briskly and printed out the necessary documents but as he handed me the keycards he winked. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to share it with before the week is out.”

I laughed lightly. “I don’t think so. Have a nice day, Senor.”

Despite my disavowal, the Frenchman’s silken voice wound through my thoughts as the swift elevator carried me to the twelfth floor. He had been so perfect that I doubted the reality of what had occurred between us.

It was just as well though. I was in Mexico to relax before the inevitable rockiness of my family reunion. Just thinking about seeing them again made my heart race and I was glad to open the door to my room to find the AC cranked and the fan on. It was a lovely space with large French doors leading to a small patio overlooking the beach and the interior echoed the soft colours of the sea. I waited anxiously for the bellman to drop off my things and then, with a squeal like a preteen girl, I jumped onto the brightly dressed bed.

Later that night after a bracing shower and a quick rest, I walked through the resort just as they were lighting the torches lining the walkways. The light south of the equator was different. Sunlight poured like honey, fragrant and gold across the brilliant tropical gardens and as the sun brushed the horizon gem toned hues exploded across the sky. I raised my camera to my eye and allowed my subconscious to take over, capturing shot after shot as I walked the darkening paths. Being somewhere so beautiful soothed my ragged heart and though I was hyper aware of the couples strolling past and scrutinizing my lack of partner, I felt more at ease with myself than I had since my youth in Italy. I had one week to relax before my family reunion and I intended to make the most of it.

There was a large outdoor dining room beside the beach with a mariachi band in full swing beside a roaring blue green fire. A few couples swayed gracefully on the dance floor but I was drawn to the quartet of men toiling away in the intense heat. As I drew closer, I saw one of them with his eyes closed, the body of his large guitar cradled against his round stomach. I inched closer and took a picture of his passion.

“Signorita!” Another Mexican man, handsome and young with his glittering black hair slicked back, caught me and walked over to me with a large smile. “What is a beautiful woman doing on the ground? You must be dancing!”

“No, thank you,” I demurred as the semi circle of well-dressed diners turned to look at me. Somehow, I had become the evening entertainment.