Biker's Virgin

Molly

The air was different in Hawaii. It seemed crisper and cleaner, somehow. I could smell salt and coconut in the wind and felt my body relax instantly. It had been a long flight, and I was severely jet-lagged. My eyes were tired, but I didn’t want to miss any of the sights.

Tristan had had a car ready for me when I’d arrived at the airport. It had been a short drive to an expansive meadow-like area where a helicopter, of all things, had been waiting for me. The resort’s name was emblazoned on the side in an understated font, and I couldn’t help marveling at how far Tristan had come.

The helicopter ride to the resort was nothing short of spectacular. I only wished that I had been more alert to enjoy the experience. Hawaii was hands down the most beautiful place I had ever seen. The pictures and travel shows didn’t do it justice. Even the colors were brighter and bolder; the greens were greener, the blues were bluer, and the reds were redder. Everything jumped out at me in living HD.

Making sure my earphones were firmly fastened, I leaned out a little and looked down at the ocean below me. It was the most impressive collection of blues I had ever seen. It almost seemed like the ocean was graded with color. I could see soft blue-greens merging into cobalt that flowed into sapphire that rolled into aquamarine that dazzled the eye.

Ten minutes later, we approached the resort’s helipad, and I braced myself for landing. The blades of the chopper were powerful, and the wind it manufactured threatened to throw me off the roof. Luckily, there was a tall man at the door, ready to guide me into the resort. He had intense hazel eyes that bordered on frightening, but his dark hair and tall build softened the effect of his slightly stern features.

We entered the building through a large elevator perfumed with a floral scent and decorated with mirrors. The moment the elevator doors shut, the sound of the helicopter was cut off completely, and I could hear the light classical music that was playing in the background.

“Welcome, Ms. Sinclair,” the hazel-eyed man greeted. “I’m Ben Brown, Mr. Dubois’ hotel manager and personal assistant.”

I shook his head. “It’s nice to meet you, Ben,” I replied. “And please, feel free to call me Molly. Being referred to as Ms. Sinclair makes me cringe just a little.”

One corner of Ben’s mouth turned up in what I assumed was a smile. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, Molly,” he said easily.

Just then, the doors of the elevator sprung open, and we stepped out into a massive marbled foyer with a glass-domed ceiling from which the sky was visible.

“Wow,” I breathed.

There were a few different reception counters, and Ben led me to the largest one, situated across the marbled foyer, directly in front of the elevator we had just stepped out of.

“Uh…my suitcase is on the helicopter,” I told Ben.

“Don’t worry about your things, Molly,” he assured me. “They’ll be transferred to your suite.”

“My suite?” I repeated.

“Yes,” he nodded. “You’ll be staying at the grand suite for the duration of your stay. It’s the finest room we have here at the resort.”

“Uh, I’m sure it is,” I said politely. “It’s just that… I don’t need a fancy suite. Any old room will work for me.”

“We don’t have ‘any old room’ at this resort,” he said. “Plus, Mr. Dubois left strict instructions with me.”

“Did he?” I asked, slightly flattered that he had gone to so much trouble for me.

I wondered momentarily how much a single night in the grand suite would cost. Looking around at my luxurious surroundings, I suspected I wouldn’t have even been able to consider a night here if I was paying for the room myself.

There were two women standing behind the reception counter that Ben and I stepped up to. One was small and caramel-skinned. She was staring fixated at her screen. The other woman was slightly taller and extremely beautiful. She had gorgeous thick black hair, large exotic eyes, and delicate native features.

“Welcome, Ms. Sinclair,” she greeted in a friendly, welcoming tone.

“It’s Molly, please,” I said quickly.

“Of course, Molly it is,” she nodded. “I’m Alani, assistant manager at the resort. Feel free to let me know if you need anything at all during your stay. I’m more than happy to help.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Iolana, is the grand suite ready for our guest?” Ben asked, addressing the small young woman next to Alani.

“It is, Mr. Brown,” Iolana nodded.

She walked towards a huge framed picture behind the reception desk, hooked her fingers around the side, and pulled. The frame opened out like a door to reveal a collection of brass keys hanging neatly in rows. She reached up and grabbed one of the top-most keys, then closed the frame and walked back, offering Ben the key.

At the same moment, a sharply-dressed waiter materialized on my right, pushing a cart with a wide selection of refreshments. First, he handed me a cold towel for my face, which I accepted gratefully, hoping it would wake me up a little. Then he offered me a choice from the vast array of options on the cart.